Mama Gets Hitched (19 page)

“Mama said you shot a man in Reno. Is that the truth?”

“It was Carson City, hon.” She adjusted the wrap around her shoulders. “And I didn’t shoot him; I stabbed the son of a bitch. I’d do it again, too. I’d just make sure my aim was better.”

As I passed the
turnoff to the Pork Pit, my stomach grumbled. Talk about your conditioned response. I was as predictable as Pavlov’s dogs. I made a U-turn, and circled back to the side road to the barbecue spot.

The food was tasty at Mama’s bridal shower, but those few ham-and-cheese cigars hardly filled me up. After all, I had saved a drowning man and then ravished him all afternoon. How many of my fellow shower-goers had burned
those
kinds of calories before the event?

I pulled into the gravel parking lot, no doubt grinning as a few choice moments with Carlos replayed in my mind. I was probably blushing, too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that immediately snapped me back to the present time and place.

“Meat is Murder!” The shout came from a large pig, enormous costume head bobbing in time to the words.

“Love Animals, Don’t Eat Them!” chanted a second, smaller pig.

They looked like characters at Disney, if Disney had a farm animal theme park.

As I parked, I noticed a couple of customers hurrying past the pigs into the Pork Pit. The man held the woman close, as if one of the porcine pair might pounce.

“Murderer!” the first pig yelled at me as I got out of the Jeep. Deep voice. Masculine.

“Boycott Barbecue!” the smaller added. That voice was familiar, and it sounded like she was running out of steam.

I walked closer to the shoulder of the road where they stood, and peered at the little pig. A smooth cheek and a blond dreadlock showed through the face hole.

“Linda-Ann, is that you?”

The big head nodded. “Hey, Mace, how you doin’?”

“Well, I’m fine, but what’s all this with the pig suits? How long have you been out here?”

“We’re protesting,” the big pig said.

“Eight hours today,” Linda-Ann added. “And it’s our second day. This is the boy I told you about.” She pointed a plush pink arm at her companion. “Trevor, this is Mace.”

“How do you do?” He extended a soft cloven hoof.

I shook it. With greater maneuverability than I’d have thought, he tightened his grip on my hand.

“Please don’t go in there, Mace,” he pleaded. “Have you ever seen a video of an animal slaughterhouse? We can show you things you wouldn’t believe.”

“Uhm, no. But thank you anyway.” I tried to extricate my hand. “You know, Trevor, my sister’s a vegetarian. I realize there are good arguments against eating meat. But I don’t see how dressing up like Halloween and screaming at people gets your point across.”

He clutched my hand more tightly. “Exactly! We have to do more to reach people, don’t we Linda-Ann? We have to try harder to get our message across.”

I thought I detected a lack of enthusiasm in her nod. But it was hard to tell. Maybe the giant head was just getting heavy.

“We’re passing out fliers next week at the rodeo,” she said.

“Didn’t you used to barrel race with that Quarter horse of yours?”

“Trevor says rodeo events are cruel to the animals.”

My hand was still in its plush prison. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Trevor.” I pulled hard. He pulled back.

“Please, Mace.” His voice rose. “You can’t go in there to eat. It’s immoral.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. It’s a free country. But we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on this issue.”

He finally let go, and I immediately stuck my hands in my pockets so he couldn’t trap me again. Raising his arms to either side of the giant head, he lifted it off. His dark eyes burned with passion and idealism and maybe some desperation. Had I ever felt that strongly about anything?

“You should love animals, not eat them.” His voice quaked with emotion. “When you do, it’s like you’re the animal’s executioner.”

Were those tears filling his eyes? It may just have been a reflection from the restaurant’s neon pink Pork Pit sign.

I was about to step away, when his words triggered a memory.

“Speaking of executions, did y’all hear about the wild hog’s head that was left at Alice Hodges’ front door?”

Linda-Ann’s head wobbled from side to side. Shock registered on Trevor’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Alice is the one whose husband got killed at the VFW this week.” When Linda-Ann turned her head to explain to Trevor, her voice missed the mouth hole and came out muffled.

“Alice’s murdered husband ran a barbecue business,” I said. “The day he died, somebody cut off a wild pig’s head, and left it on the widow’s porch.”

“That’s so cruel!” the pig’s foot flew to cover Trevor’s mouth.

“Well, it was already dead,” I said.

“But the disrespect that shows!”

“To Alice or the hog?” I asked him.

He considered. “Well, both.”

“When you said y’all have to do more to get your message across, I was just wondering how far you’d go to do that?”

Trevor’s brows knit together in confusion. For a guy in graduate school, he didn’t seem that brainy. Maybe he was too tall for his available blood supply.

“Mace is accusing us of having something to do with that hog’s head,” Linda-Ann explained.

I put up a hand. “Not accusing. Just wondering.”

Revulsion raced across Trevor’s face. Then he got angry. “How could you say something like that? I’d sooner cut off my own head than hurt a pig, wild or not. I’d never, ever,
ever
hurt an animal!”

A stray drop of spittle flew my way. I stepped back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

A big-bellied trucker got out of his rig on the road’s shoulder and headed for the Pork Pit. Without another word to me, Trevor slipped his pig head on again. “Boycott Barbecue!” he shouted at the trucker. “Meat is Murder!”

The big man didn’t even break stride. He just flicked a cigarette butt at Trevor’s pig head and kept walking.

“That was rude!” Linda-Ann called after him.

The cigarette bounced off the plastic head and fell to the gravel. Crushing it under my boot, I headed for the door.

Inside, almost every table was taken. The protest didn’t seem to be making much of a dent in business. It wasn’t until I’d gotten my take-out order of ribs, pulled pork, and all the fixin’s, that I thought about what Trevor had said.

I’d never, ever,
ever
hurt an animal!

If they’d still been outside, I would have asked Trevor how he felt about hurting a human.

Matched against the sweet,
spicy smell of barbecue sauce, my willpower caved on the drive home from the Pork Pit. One hand on the wheel, I gnawed on a second take-out rib as I made the turn onto my property. Moments later, my mouth hung open, the rib swam in a pool of sauce on my lap, and I struggled to figure out how Tony Ciancio’s green Lexus came to be parked under an oak tree in my front yard.

I flashed my brights. He flashed back. So at least I knew he wasn’t hiding in a closet inside my house with a silencer on his gun, waiting to kill me. I really had to cut back on my diet of Mafia movies.

Tony got out of his car and raised his hand in a wave. In his aquamarine polo shirt and pressed khakis, he didn’t look like a hired hitman. I parked, and he walked over to meet me.

“Hey.” I opened the door to the Jeep. “How in the world did you manage to find me way out here?”

“GPS,” he said. “I called your mother and she gave me your address.”

Of course she did. Tony was an eligible male, Mafia ties or not.

“I’ll admit I had my doubts on some of these dark, lonely roads. I didn’t think the computer knew where the hell it was sending me.”

He slapped at a mosquito on his neck.

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” I said.

“Can I carry anything?”

I handed him the take-out, making note again of his courtesy. Too bad I’d have to rudely inform him I was involved with someone else. After my afternoon interlude, I felt closer than ever to Carlos, especially with the glimpse he’d allowed me into his childhood pain. I was through playing games.

Once we were inside my cottage, I started putting out plates and silverware as he arranged the take-out on the kitchen counter. “You hungry?” I asked.

“Starving. Do you have enough?”

“Plenty.” I didn’t want to mention I usually buy enough for three people and manage to eat it all myself. “I love barbecue.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Smiling, he pointed to the corner of his own mouth and his chin. “You’ve got a little evidence right there.”

I studied my reflection in the glass door of the toaster oven. Tony’s description had been kind. I looked like I’d had a ring-side seat at a wrestling match held in a vat of barbecue sauce. And there was that big blotch of orangey red on my lap, too.

Dabbing with a wet paper towel, I said, “Yeah, those little packets of moist napkins they give out are a joke. I need to be run through a car wash after I eat at the Pork Pit.”

Tony laughed. “I don’t mind seeing a woman enjoy her food. It always kills me when I take a girl on a date, she orders some expensive entrée, and then sits and picks at a salad.”

“I hear ya,” I said.

“That won’t happen with you, right?”

He flashed that dazzling smile, and I saw Carlos’ face float in front of his. The feel of Carlos’ hands on my body was so recent, I think my skin still sizzled where we’d touched.

“Yeah, about that, Tony. We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

I dished some mac-and-cheese and coleslaw onto his plate. I held up the carton of collard greens. He sniffed, and made a face, so I finished off his portion with a serving of pork and several ribs.

“Let’s eat before we talk, okay?”

“A condemned man’s last meal, huh?” His smile was on its lowest setting.

I blurted out, “I’m serious about someone else.”

He tilted his head. “That cop in the bar?”

I nodded.

“Well, I could see that. You barely took your eyes off him.” Shrugging, he plucked a rib off his plate. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

That was it? I was relieved it wouldn’t be a long, drawn-out discussion. But I was a little insulted at being dispensed with so easily. Then again, Tony probably didn’t lack for female company. No doubt a honey or two waited for him back in Hackensack.

Being insulted apparently had no effect on my appetite. I slathered butter onto a piece of cornbread and reached for my third rib. We ate in comfortable silence, punctuated only by an occasional “Pass the salt, please,” or, “Can you hand me another paper towel?”

When we finished, Tony helped me tidy up, and we took our beers into the living room.

“Nice alligator.” He pointed to the preserved head on my coffee table.

“My key-catcher. He’s an old friend.”

I figured I’d save the rest of the story for after I changed out of my work clothes. I had so many sauce spots on my shirt, I looked like I’d been performing surgery.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He waved an arm, already settling onto the couch. “Take your time.”

In my bedroom, I traded my dirty T-shirt for a clean one, stripped off my boots and slacks, and retrieved my favorite pair of sweats from a hook on the closet door. Maddie’s not the only sister with post-barbecue fat pants.

Stealing a glance in the mirror, I noted my chin was sauce-free, and my teeth harbored no stray collards. The hair was a different story; too far gone after the lake and what came after to repair without a shower and shampoo. But the sex with Carlos had been worth a few snarls.

“You know, that is one beautiful smile, Mace,” Tony said as I returned to the living room. “It’s a shame you’re spoken for.”

I’m pretty sure I blushed, either from the compliment, or from fear that Tony guessed exactly what had prompted my smile.

Just then, a Siamese rocket streaked from the bathroom to the bedroom.

“What was that?”

“Wila. My cat. Normally, she greets me at the door. But she’s not used to having company.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not much of a cat person. I like dogs.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that. But Wila is pretty cool. She’s super smart. And once she gets to know you, she’ll stand up on her hind legs and wait to be petted just like a dog.”

He looked skeptical.

“No, really. I inherited her, kind of against my will. But she’s grown on me.”

As if the cat could sense we were talking about her, she let out a loud meow from her hiding place under my bed.

“That’s right, Wila,” I called. “You’re Mama’s good little gal.”

Now I’d revealed myself as one of those women who pad around the house in sweatpants and talk to their cats. It was a good thing I
wasn’t
interested in Tony.

When I sat in the chair across from the couch, he leaned over and clinked his beer bottle against mine. “This is nice, Mace. I don’t have too many women I can relax with and just be friends.”

“To friendship.” We toasted again. “And, speaking as a friend …”

“Uh-oh.” His eyes became wary. “The interrogation.”

“We never got the chance to finish that conversation we started by the animal pens. Then you disappeared so quickly after the nature walk. You seemed nervous around that blonde with the motorcycle helmet.”

His eyes flicked upward for just a moment. Was it a sign he was thinking up a story? Or, was he trying to remember the blonde? She seemed pretty hard to forget.

“Everybody seemed nervous around her.” Tony took a swallow from his beer. “She was strange.”

I’d give him that.

Still …

“Yeah, she was. But you seemed more nervous than the others. It was almost like you knew her.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “But I pegged her. Did you ever see the old film
Fatal Attraction
?”

I nodded.

“That woman at the nature park had bunny-boiling stalker written all over her.”

She didn’t strike me that way, but I decided to defer to Tony’s experience as a ladies’ man.

We sipped for a while in silence. Finally, I broached the topic of his background.

“About your family …”

“Here it comes.”

“Sorry, but people in Himmarshee have some pretty wild imaginations.” I wasn’t going to get into
which
people. “Those criminal cases involving your family and the restaurants up north definitely have people talking.”

“And what are
people
saying?” His voice was level, but his jaw was tight.

“Do you really want to know?”

He nodded.

“Well, that Ronnie was in the catering business and that all of a sudden your aunt shows up, and then you do, with plans to go into the catering business.”

“Event planning.”

“Which includes catering,” I said. “Which makes Ronnie a rival. And then Ronnie ‘The Rival’ very quickly ends up dead.”

All of a sudden, I retrieved a fact that had been floating around in my brain since I trapped that snake for the newcomer. “Not only that, but somebody saw your green Lexus in town the day before you said you arrived. The day Ronnie was murdered.”

He let out a long breath. “Wow. You don’t pull any punches with your friends, do you?”

I shook my head.

“First of all, who said they saw me? Because I wasn’t here until that morning I met you at the diner. And second, I guess I’d rather hear about this crap from you than from that cop, Martinez.”

“So?” I said.

“So, what?”

“Did you have anything to do with Ronnie’s murder?”

“Jesus, Mace!” The words exploded from his mouth. “You invited me into your house. Your life. We ate; we drank. Are you really telling me you think I’m capable of killing that man?”

I shrugged. His face settled into resignation; more sad than angry.

“It’s typical. You know a little bit about my family, and you think the worst of me. Most of the stuff the feds and the newspapers say isn’t true, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I’m just telling you what people are saying.”

He twisted the bottle in his hand, staring at the beer as it sloshed against the sides. “I’ve been to the best schools. I’ve studied, and worked, and tried as hard as I could not to become my father.” His voice was a whisper. “And yet, whenever anyone looks at me, The Family is all they see. I’ll never be able to get out from under that.”

“Tony, I …”

The ring of the telephone interrupted me. I’d finally broken down and ordered caller ID for moments just like this. I glanced at the readout.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

Head lowered into one hand, he waved me away with the other.

“Hey, Carlos.”

I walked with the phone the few steps to my bedroom, closing the door. Privacy would still be minimal. The walls of my little cottage were solid cypress. But the interior doors were cheap, made of hollow wood.

“Hey, yourself.” His voice was warm, caressing. Then he switched to his business tone. “I’ve got some information I’d rather you hear from me than the Himmarshee Hotline.”

“Is everything okay?” My heart began to race. “Nothing’s happened to Mama or my sisters, has it?”

“No, no,” he quickly reassured me. “It’s about C’ndee Ciancio.”

I instinctively turned my back to the bedroom door. Either I was shielding Tony from bad news, or trying to prevent him from eavesdropping. I wasn’t sure.

“I’ve got her down here at the police department.”

“Is she under arrest?”

“No. I just told her we’re going to have a little chat, like you say in these parts.”

“And she didn’t ask for a lawyer?”

“She says she has nothing to hide.”

She was either telling the truth, or it was the bravado of a big-city girl in what she thought was a hick town police station. It wouldn’t be smart of C’ndee to underestimate Carlos.

“Well, thanks for telling me,” I said.

“I need your help to spin this, Mace. Word is naturally going to spread …”

“I’m not a gossip.”

“We’ve been through that before. Let’s just say word will spread. I want you to play it just like I’ve told you: ‘C’ndee’s in for a little chat. She may be of help to the investigation.’ Can you do that for me?”

“Sure.”

His voice changed back to a lover’s tone. “What are you doing right now?”