Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery)

by Sharp, Deborah

  “You’ll have to pick up your tickets in your vehicle so we can make sure the tag matches,’’ the announcer continued. “Stop by the station between noon and one o’clock, and we’ll hand ’em over. You’ll be sittin’ pretty, watching Maximum Destruction crush everything in sight …”

  _____

  “Duck!’’ I said to Henry, as I slid down in the front passenger seat of his wife’s minivan.

  Talking on his cell phone, he wasn’t paying attention. “Sorry, hang on,’’ he said into the phone. “What are you doing?’’ He stared at me, as I’d folded myself nearly in two to get under the dashboard.

  “Get down, I said!’’

  “Yoo-hoo, Henry!’’ The horn on Mama’s convertible tooted. “It’s Aunt Rosalee.’’

  My cousin ended his phone conversation, too late. Our cover was blown. “Way to go, Henry.’’

  It was 11:50 am. We were staked out in the parking lot of the radio station. I heard the familiar rumble of Mama’s vintage car as she pulled up beside us. If Kenny saw that distinctive turquoise cruise liner, he’d never drive into the lot. That’s why we were in the white minivan. It wasn’t as recognizable as any of the cars we usually drove.

  I hopped out of the van.

  “Where’d you come from, Mace?’’

  I opened the driver’s door of her car, and talked fast. “Scoot over. We have to hurry. It has to do with Kenny. I’ll explain while I drive.’’

  I gave her a little push, and to my surprise she moved. With the minutes ticking away until Kenny might show, I didn’t have time to argue with Mama, or devise an elaborate subterfuge to get rid of her. She’d never leave simply because I said so. I had no choice but to include her in the plan.

  “Henry and I set up a fake radio contest to lure Kenny to the station. We’re waiting for him right now so we can finally confront him about what’s been going on.’’

  Gunning Mama’s car, I crossed the street and drove around to the rear of a convenience store across from the radio station. A cluster of dumpsters would provide a serviceable hiding spot.

  “We don’t want him to spot us, so we’re going to have to hurry back and get in Henry’s van. How’d you come to see us, by the way?’’

  “I was driving past. I just picked up my car from Juan’s Auto Repair and Taco Shop.’’

  I eased her big blue boat in between the dumpsters and turned off the key. Cla-clunk, cla-clunk, cla-clunk.

  “Engine’s still knocking,’’ I said as I opened the door.

  “That’s not the only thing that’ll be knocking once I see my cheating son-in-law.’’

  Setting her mouth in a grim line, Mama gathered up her pineapple-sherbet purse and marched back to the parking lot of the radio station.

  _____

  Henry watched the street entrance from the driver’s seat. Mama was in the passenger seat. I was stretched out in the back, waiting for the word that one of them had sighted Kenny’s big truck. Mama swiveled in her seat toward me.

  “Is there any chance we can patch things up between them by Saturday?’’ Mama said. “I’d hate to see all those party plans Maddie’s been working on just go down the drain.’’

  Henry caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. I hadn’t told Mama or Marty that Kenny had been cheating with the murdered Camilla, or the implications of his involvement. Not even Maddie knew that yet.

  “Saturday doesn’t seem likely,’’ Henry said, with lawyerly understatement.

  “How long do you think it was going on?’’

  “We’re not sure, Mama. He’d lost weight, bought those spiffy clothes, and took up golf. All that made Maddie suspicious. The more she investigated, the guiltier he looked.’’

  Mama’s eyes took on a faraway glaze. “With Husband No. 2, it was cologne. That man would usually go around smelling like the bottom of a dirty laundry basket. I always knew he’d started running around on me again when he started pouring on the Eau D’Cheater.’’

  I remembered. When No. 2 got ready to go out at night, there’d be cigarette ashes in their bathroom sink and wet towels all over the floor. The moist air would smell like clouds at the men’s fragrance counter of a department store at Christmas.

  “Heads up,’’ Henry said. “Here comes his truck.’’

  Our plan was to let Kenny park, and make it halfway to the door of the station before we intercepted him. Mama hefted her purse into her lap. Having her along actually improved our odds. If Kenny gave us any trouble, she’d swing that big satchel right for his crotch. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate. I’d seen her go for the groin before—once at a would-be assailant wielding a shotgun, and several times after she’d gotten fed up with Husband No. 2.

  I didn’t expect Kenny to put up a fight. But I felt along the side of the back seat for the tire iron I’d stashed, just in case.

  He eased his truck into a spot at the far end of the lot, where he could have vacant spaces on either side. Kenny was a fanatic about his paint job, and careful to avoid dings and scratches. This worked in our favor. If we had to get rough with him, it was better not to have to do it right in sight of the station’s front door.

  “What in the hell?’’ Henry muttered.

  “Would you look at that!’’ Mama said.

  “Let me see.” I popped up my head between the two of them to get a better view out the front windshield. Kenny sported fake facial hair, dark sunglasses, and a black cowboy hat with a costume fringe of brown hair. He looked like Hank Williams Jr. after a very bad night.

  “Let’s go get him,’’ I said.

  Henry and Mama hurtled out the front of the car. I lost some time, looking for the safety button to slide open the minivan’s automatic door. I caught up with them midway across the lot.

  “Stop right where you are, Kenny.’’ Mama’s voice was as cold as the beer fridge at the Booze ’n’ Breeze. “You’ve got some explaining to do.’’

  I thought he might run. Instead, he turned slowly. He looked at Henry, whose big fists were clenched at his side. Henry may have added a bit of fat over the years, but he still had a lot of the muscle and speed of the high school wrestler he’d once been. Kenny’s gaze moved to his mother-in-law—purse at the ready, eyes singeing him with the “Mama Glare.’’ Finally, he focused on me, tire iron tucked alongside my thigh.

  “Are y’all going to kill me?’’ he asked.

  “I ought to,’’ Henry answered.

  I raised the iron, touched it lightly to Kenny’s zipper. “I can think of a better fate for a cheating husband.’’

  Mama put her hand over mine, lowering my makeshift weapon. “There’s no need for violence, Mace. Kenny knows he’s done Maddie wrong.’’

  She turned to him, eyes searching his face. “Surely there’s an explanation for all this? You don’t just throw away more than twenty years of marriage.’’

  He hung his head. The ridiculous shag-cut wig formed a curtain over his face.

  Henry was blunt. “Are you involved with the swingers’ club at the golf course? Is that what all of this is about?’’

  “How’s a club to practice your golf swing related to anything, Henry?” Exasperation edged Mama’s words. “Let’s stay on the topic.’’

  Kenny’s face was as scarlet as the feathers on a redbird’s cap. “I …

  I mean … I …”

  “My goodness, Kenny, spit it out. There’s no shame in having a bad swing. Lord knows Sal goes to the driving range to practice his all the time. He told me the swing is one of the most important elements in golf.’’

  My cousin and I exchanged a look. “Are you going to tell Mama it’s a different kind of swinging, or should we?’’ I asked Kenny.

  Silently, he shook his head.

  Henry and I took turns revealing to her what we’d discovered: About the sexual swingers’ club; how the mayor and his wife were members; that Jason, the pro, and Angel, the barmaid, were also involved.

  Mama’s face had paled. The heavy purse hung f
orgotten from one limp arm.

  “The reason Henry asked if Kenny was involved is that they meet out at his camp near the county line,’’ I told her.

  Throughout, Kenny’s eyes had remained fixed on the parking lot pavement. At the mention of his camp, he raised his head. “I didn’t invite them, and I didn’t want them there. But once I got involved with …” his voice tapered off.

  “I know who you were cheating with,’’ I said.

  His head shot up. He slid off the sunglasses to look at me.

  “D’Vora saw you with her in your truck out at the lake.’’

  Mama, startled from her trance, asked, “Who’s ‘her’?’’

  “Camilla.’’

  I heard her gasp when I said that name.

  Kenny nodded. “She was at the center of the whole swingers’ group, but I didn’t know that. Once I started … seeing … Camilla, Jason threatened me. One day, when I took him and the mayor’s wife out to the shooting range, he cornered me and said he’d tell Maddie about Camilla if I didn’t let them use the camp for parties.’’

  “Did you?’’ Henry asked.

  Kenny’s voice was barely a whisper. “Yes. Camilla kept pushing me to party with them, but I wouldn’t do that. I only told them how to get to the camp and where I hid the key.’’

  Henry lifted one eyebrow, the same one he used in the courtroom when he wanted the jury to believe a witness on the stand was lying.

  Kenny raised his right hand. “I’m telling you the God’s honest truth.’’

  “I don’t think God had much to do with this,’’ Mama said.

  “I felt awful,’’ he continued. “All I could think was how hurt Maddie would be.’’

  He sneaked a glance at Mama. Arms folded tight across her chest, she simply shook her head. He sniffed, knuckled at an eye.

  “Unfortunately, you’ll have the chance to find out just how much you hurt her,’’ I said.

  “I know y’all won’t believe this, but I was only with Camilla …

  in that way … the one time. She started flirting around with me at the golf course. A few times, she sat down while I was having lunch or dinner. She complimented me. She tried to kiss me. It made me feel like I was young again. Sexy.’’

  Kenny took a deep breath. His voice shook when he continued. “We hadn’t had sex until that night at the lake.’’

  “Whose idea was that?’’ Henry asked.

  “I swear it wasn’t mine. Camilla asked me to drive her to Lake Okeechobee to see the sunset. She just about jumped me when we got there, doing things I’d never dreamed a woman would do.’’ His face reddened. “I couldn’t resist.’’

  “Was she wearing that outfit we found her in at the dump?’’ I asked.

  I saw a gleam of comprehension in Mama’s eyes. She butted in. “When exactly was this you were with Camilla at the lake?’’

  He’d clamped his lips shut again; his eyes cast down.

  The gleam became a flash. “Oh my Lord Jesus! You’re not just a cheater, you’re a murderer, too.” Mama clutched her throat. Her face had turned grayish-yellow. “I’m going to be sick.’’

  And she was, all over Kenny’s shoes.

  forty

  Mama dabbed her lips with a pineapple sherbet-colored hankie. She must have eaten a big breakfast, because the delicate handkerchief wasn’t up to the task. I handed her a super-sized bandana from my back pocket.

  I figured the vomit all over Kenny’s shoes was his punishment for cheating. My cousin, though, took pity on him. He ran to his wife’s minivan to get Kenny some wet wipes. It was either sympathy, or Henry had a lower tolerance for nasty smells than I did.

  “How could you think I’d murder that girl, Rosalee?’’ Kenny scrubbed at one shoe, his voice tight with hurt. “As long as you’ve known me?’’

  Mama turned her back on him.

  Henry said, “We all thought we knew you, Kenny. If I’ve learned one thing from all these years practicing law, it’s that any man—or woman—has the capacity to surprise those who know and love them.’’

  Kenny scrubbed even harder, shredding the paper wipe against his shoe.

  “Camilla was alive when I dropped her off at her house; and she wasn’t wearing any kind of black leather getup, either.’’

  Brakes hissed in the road. A horn blared on a tractor trailer hauling sugar cane. I waited until the big truck rumbled past, narrowly missing an oblivious tourist in a rental car.

  “What about the text you sent to Maddie?” I quoted it word-for-word, since it was seared into my heart the moment I’d read it: “I did something terrible. I don’t think you can forgive me. I’m so sorry.’’

  Kenny’s mouth dropped open. The paper wipe went still against his shoe. “That was private, Mace!’’

  “Yeah, well, sorry if I offended your ‘privacy’ by trying to help my sister patch together her shattered life.’’

  “That message had nothing to do with anything except the fact guilt was eating me up because I’d cheated. I betrayed my wife, the only woman I ever loved. That’s what I was saying I was sorry for!’’

  Mama turned, cocking her head at Kenny. Her expression told me she was judging his story.

  He looked at each of us in turn. It seemed he was trying to gauge whether we believed him. I wasn’t sure if I did or not. He’d shaken my faith. Not just in him, either. In all men. The fact I couldn’t tell if my brother-in-law was lying troubled me more than I wanted to let on to Mama or Henry.

  Finally, Mama spoke up. “I’m angry at you, son. What you did to Maddie makes you low enough to walk under a trundle bed wearing a ten-gallon hat. But I don’t believe you killed anybody, either.’’

  I heard a whoosh of air escape, as if Kenny had been holding his breath. He moved toward Mama with his arms outstretched for a hug.

  “Not so fast.’’ She took a step back. “I want to know how you’re going to fix this. How much trouble is he in, Henry?’’

  My cousin stroked his chin, thinking. “He’d be in a lot less trouble if there was somebody else who saw Camilla after he did. What time did you drop her back home after you left the lake, Kenny?’’

  “Right before eight o’clock. I wanted to get back to the motel in time to watch that reality show I like about the bounty hunters.’’

  “How appropriate,’’ Henry said. “Let’s hope you don’t end up starring in a real-life episode.’’

  I was surprised to hear Kenny had anted up the cash to get a room. It did explain, though, why I couldn’t find him. Given his reluctance to open his wallet, I hadn’t even thought to look for him at the handful of accommodations in the area.

  “Where’ve you been staying?’’ I asked.

  He pressed his lips together; put his sunglasses back on.

  “Mace asked you a question,’’ Mama said.

  He turned his face my way. The sun glinted off the dark lenses of his glasses. “How do I know you’re not going to send Carlos after me?’’

  “Believe me, if this whole mess didn’t involve Maddie, you’d already be sitting, dripping sweat, in his suspect’s chair.’’ I ran my fingers through my hair; encountered snarls. “Before it becomes common knowledge, I’m going to tell my sister what’s been going on. I owe her that. In the meantime, you ought to talk to Henry about the best way to frame all this when you do sit down to talk to Carlos.’’

  Henry gave a curt nod. “Good advice.’’ He dropped a hand on Kenny’s shoulder; not too lightly, either. “Why don’t you ride back to my office with me?’’

  “What about my tickets to the monster truck show? They said on the radio I’m a contest winner.’’

  Henry rolled his eyes. “You’re a winner all right.’’

  “It was a ruse,’’ Mama said. “There are no tickets.’’

  I sent up a silent thank-you to the Lord for seeing that their daughter, Pam, inherited her brains from Maddie instead of from Kenny.

  Kenny trudged along beside Henry toward th
e minivan. They were almost there when I called out to stop them. “Kenny, what’s the name of the place you’re staying?’’

  “The NoTell Motel.’’

  _____

  My supervisor at Himmarshee Park was an understanding woman, but even she had her limits.

  “Get your ass into work, girl. Your lunch hour has come and gone. I’ve taken a half-dozen phone messages, and now there’s a teacher waiting to see you in the breezeway.’’ Even through the cell phone’s crappy speaker, I could hear the testiness in Rhonda’s voice.

  “I’m just pulling in now, boss. I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’’ My Jeep bounced over the slatted wooden bridge at the park’s entrance. “I got caught up in some family trouble.’’

  “Humph! Your family is nothing but trouble,’’ she said.

  I parked under the meager shade of a slash pine. The asphalt lot baked under a mid-afternoon sun. Sprinting through the woods, it took me just a few moments to arrive at the breezeway outside the park’s office. Elaine Naiman sat on a cypress log bench, whistling off-key.

  “Sorry I kept you waiting.’’ I was a bit out of breath.

  “No problem.’’ She gave me a friendly grin. “I was just enjoying sitting under the trees, listening to the birds singing.’’

  “Yeah, I heard you accompanying them just now.’’

  “Hope it didn’t hurt your ears. I love all kinds of music, including birdsongs. But I’m actually tone deaf. No telling how I sounded.’’

  I flashed a thumbs up, withholding my opinion she’d never get a job as a professional whistler.

  “I got your supervisor’s permission to steal you for a few minutes.’’

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m on Rhonda’s bad side today. Did she say you could keep me for good?’’

  Elaine smiled. “Not exactly. She said we should make it snappy so you could get some work done. For a change.’’