Mama Gets Hitched (5 page)

Mama’s house smelled of
carnations and lavender, scents she recommends when stress is a problem. Aromatherapy was a definite improvement over the stinking mess on Alice’s porch. But how well would it work for Alice? Finding out your husband was murdered, and then discovering the decapitated head of a wild boar on your front porch is probably more stress than can be soothed by sniffing at the essential oils of herbs and flowers.

“How’s Alice, Mama?” Marty asked.

“About as well as can be expected.” Mama plopped a handful of ice cubes in her warm wine, which had been forgotten a couple of hours earlier along with our pizza when Alice pounded on the front door.

Next door, the police activity was slowing down. Teensy had barked himself out with the comings and goings at Alice’s. My sisters and I had returned to Mama’s, where she’d been taking care of her devastated neighbor.

“I burned some candles, and then drew a nice hot bath for her with a few drops of chamomile oil. That seemed to work, along with a sleeping pill I had left over from when I was going through my divorce to No. 4.”

I looked from the kitchen entry down the darkened hallway to a closed door at the end.

“So she’s in Maddie’s old room?” I asked.

“The Rose Room, yes,” Mama corrected me.

After the three of us girls moved out, she redecorated our rooms in floral colors and gave each a fanciful, English-garden title. Rose. Buttercup. Violet. I suppose it could have been worse. She could have saddled us instead of our bedrooms with those flowery sounding names.

Maddie rummaged through Mama’s freezer, probably looking for something sweet.

“Grab me a couple of ice cubes, will you, Sister?” Marty held up her wine glass with one hand, lifting the lid on her cheese-pizza box with the other.

“Humph!” issued from the freezer.

Though muffled, it was Maddie’s snort of disapproval. I should know. I’ve heard it enough.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

She turned around, holding Mama’s old-fashioned plastic ice bin upside down. She gave it a couple of hard shakes, raising an eyebrow at our mother.

“Now, I wonder who used the last piece of ice?” Maddie said.

Mama sipped her now-chilly wine, overflowing with cubes clinking against the glass.

“I said, I wonder …” Maddie only got those few words out before Mama interrupted.

“So sue me for helping myself to the ice in my own freezer, Maddie. Just open another tray. Don’t make a federal case out of it.”

“All I’m saying is the last person to use it should replenish it. It’s a rule.”

“I wasn’t aware my freezer falls under the ruling authority of the principal’s office at Himmarshee Middle. And if you’re looking around in there for the ice cream, Teensy and I ate it after I got Alice into bed. Besides, you know what they say about dessert, Maddie: A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”

I held up my hands like a referee before Maddie could snipe back at Mama for that jab about her size-16 shape.

“Enough!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low so as not to wake Alice. “You two are really something, you know? After everything that’s happened today to that poor woman in Maddie’s room …”

“The Rose Room,” Mama said with a pout.

“Whatever. You both need to keep in mind what’s important. And it’s not empty ice bins or a tiny bit of fat on somebody’s butt.”

“Amen, Mace.” Marty clinked her glass against my bottle of warm beer.

“I’m big boned,” Maddie grumbled under her breath.

There was silence at the table for the next few moments. Without a word, Maddie cracked open a fresh tray of ice, filled the bin, and added a couple of cubes to Marty’s glass.

“It’s been an awful day,” Mama finally said, looking chastened. “Sorry, girls.”

“Me, too,” Maddie echoed.

I expected tears at any moment from Marty. Instead, a low knock sounded at Mama’s front door. Teensy barked twice and started toward the living room. But even Mama’s manic dog seemed to have less energy than he’d had at the start of the night.

“Mace?” The voice through the door was masculine, with the slightest trace of a Spanish accent. My breath quickened, like always when I hear Carlos speak my name. “Is anyone still up?”

Maddie reached over and straightened my hair. Mama handed me the tube of lipstick she always keeps in her pocket. Marty got up, loaded two slices of cold pizza onto a plate, and slipped it into the microwave.

“Be sure you invite him to come in and have some dinner with you,” she whispered. “Tell him you know how hard he’s been working, and how you just thought he might be hungry.”

“That’s right, Mace.” Maddie nodded. “Men are always hungry. And for God’s sake, dab on a little something of Mama’s before you go out there. You should smell sweeter than that awful thing on Alice’s porch.”

The Committee to Fix Mace’s Love Life had swung into full operation. The three charter members weren’t about to let little details like a murder investigation or a butchered hog get in the way of their mission.

“Don’t forget to smile, honey.” Mama bared her own teeth in case I needed a demonstration.

“Just be yourself,” Marty said.

“Oh, Lord.” Maddie rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell her that.”

Mama dug in her pocket again and pulled out a tiny bottle of almond oil mixed with secret scents. “There’s ylang-ylang flower in this.”

Carlos rapped a little harder. Teensy gave a half-hearted yip.

I’d been about to knock away Mama’s hand, but when she held out the open bottle, it did smell good. Musky, yet sweet. I let her swipe a bit of the scent on my neck.

As I finally ran to get the door, I heard Mama whisper to my sisters: “It’s an aphrodisiac.”

The old swing on
Mama’s front porch squeaked as Carlos and I pushed with our feet against the wood railing. Leftover pizza crusts sat on a plate on the floor. We each had a cold bottle of beer.

“I really appreciate the food, Mace.” He clinked his Bud bottle against mine. “I missed dinner.”

“No problem.” I added a silent thank-you to my little sister, much wiser than I am in the ways of men. “Crazy day, huh?”

“Yeah. You could say that.” He swigged from the bottle. “I don’t know what’s in the water here, but things aren’t quite as peaceful as I thought they’d be when I moved up from Miami.”

I held my tongue. We’d gone around on this topic before, like other topics. I usually ended up getting mad about Carlos’ notion that Himmarshee was some kind of bizarro-world version of Mayberry. Truth is, bad things happen anywhere. It just so happened in the last year or so our little town had experienced more than its share of bad things. And since Mama had managed to stumble right into a couple of them, my sisters and I had become necessarily familiar with murder investigations, not to mention with Carlos as the investigator.

“Do you think the hog’s head is related to Ronnie’s murder?” I asked him.

This was the first chance I had to ask questions. He’d had no time earlier; and then I let him eat. Maddie, Marty, and I had hung around for more than an hour in front of Alice’s with a few of the other neighbors. We’d watched the authorities come and go, and speculated about what the butchered animal might mean. But talk was all it was. Nobody really knew anything.

Carlos sipped his beer thoughtfully before he answered. “It seems like a pretty strange coincidence if the two things aren’t related. Better safe than sorry, which is why I asked for the scene to be processed as if it’s part of the homicide investigation.”

I would have followed up, but I was a bit distracted. From my angle, I could see into Mama’s front window. My sisters lurked behind the curtain like Mutt and Jeff. I couldn’t see Mama, but I was fairly certain she was eavesdropping right behind them, probably holding that ridiculous dog. I wanted to say something scandalous just to see what they’d do.

Carlos, you look good enough to eat. Why don’t we forget our differences, rip off our clothes, and do the wild thing right here on Mama’s front porch
swing?

But, of course, I didn’t say that. I called through the window instead. “Maddie, Marty, why don’t y’all come on out here?”

The curtain moved. I heard quick steps inside, and an annoyed growl from Teensy. Then, Maddie’s voice drifted through the house from the kitchen. “What’s that, Mace? Did you want another beer?”

“We’ve barely started these. But sure, why don’t you bring them out? Put ’em on the ring pillow. Let’s have Mama’s little dog practice toting them on his back.”

More running around inside. Now Mama’s voice came from her bedroom, which opens onto the opposite side of the porch.

“Mace, honey, you’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you from way inside here. Did you say something about Teensy?”

I got up, opened the front door and hissed into the living room: “I said, it’s a good thing poor Alice took a sleeping pill with the three of you shouting and stomping around. Now, come on out on the porch and Carlos will fill us in on what he can.”

In no time, Maddie, Marty, and Mama squished themselves together on a white wicker love seat across from the swing. Unable to help herself, Mama motioned me to move closer to Carlos. He caught her signal and looked amused, which was fairly humiliating.

Now, hands folded in their laps, they looked at Carlos expectantly. Three teacher’s pets in the classroom’s front row. He cleared his throat.

“You know I can’t talk about much. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

Their faces fell, like the teacher just chose somebody else to help take attendance.

He relented. “I can tell you the medical examiner will check the knife wounds on Ronnie’s body against the hog’s head to see if the same weapon was used.”

“I knew it!” Mama said. “It’s just like on
CSI
.”

Carlos smiled. “Well, not exactly. There’s a lot of dramatic license on TV and in the movies. And don’t get me started on murder mystery books.”

He spent the next few minutes trying to establish what we heard from Alice’s house and when we heard it. Of course, we couldn’t agree on the answers to those crucial questions.

“Teensy would have barked if he heard anything before Alice screamed,” Mama insisted.

“Are you kidding? A serial killer could have been hiding with a hatchet in the next room and your dog wouldn’t have given a whit,” I said. “Don’t you remember? I’d just come in with the pizza and Teensy’s whole being was focused on getting a bite off somebody’s slice.”

“No, ma’am.” Mama shook her head firmly. “I do not remember that. Teensy knows better than to beg from the table.”

Even Marty snorted at that. “Sure, Mama. And you never steal food off my plate before I’m done either.”

“All right, all right.” Maddie, in the middle, put a hand on each of their knees. “We can all agree that Teensy—and Mama—are easily distracted by food.”

“Ring. Ring.” I held out a pretend phone to Maddie. “The black kettle wants to talk to you, Pot.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is that a crack about my weight?”

I was just about to say if the feedbag fits … when I noticed that familiar vein at Carlos’ temple beginning to pulse. He was trying to hold something in, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to.

“Would everybody just shut up?”

Mama gasped. Carlos had used the S-word, a sin in her book. She’d always made us say
hush
instead. “Only low-class types and Yankees tell people to shut up,” Mama used to lecture us. Since Carlos was originally from Cuba, which is farther south than us, it was clear which of those two camps his shutup-saying self fell into.

To his credit, he took one look at Mama’s frozen face and realized his verbal boo-boo.

“Sorry, Rosalee.” He wore that contrite look he’d been brushing up on since he moved to Himmarshee. “I just wish you four wouldn’t bicker so much. It reminds me of the first night I met you. Sometimes I wish I’d tossed you all into jail and thrown away the key.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I felt a frown coming on.

“Here’s a shovel, Carlos,” Maddie said. “Go ahead and dig yourself in deeper.”

Carlos naming Mama as a murder suspect was still a sore subject with me. Not to mention the fact he was insulting our family dynamics. Anybody with two eyes can see we love each other, even though we pick a little.

“Too bad you had to be content with just violating Mama’s rights,” I said. “Imagine sending a senior citizen, a Sunday school teacher, to the slammer.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me a senior citizen, Mace.”

I ignored Mama’s pout. “You’re lucky any of us forgave you, Carlos.”

“Oh yeah, I’m lucky all right …”

“Stop it!” Marty said, and both Carlos and I were taken aback. “I think Carlos was right earlier when he said there’s something strange in the water up here.”

“So y’all
were
listening in …” I started.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mace. Shut up!” Marty’s voice was soft, which made her rude use of the S-word no less shocking.

Mama blinked. Maddie’s mouth opened and closed without her uttering a single word. My face burned. Even Carlos didn’t seem to know how to react.

Marty leaned over and tried to pat my knee, but I jerked my leg away. “Sorry to say it so plainly, honey, but somebody needs to tell you to quit looking at every word anybody says as the start to a fight.”

I felt akin to that hog on Alice’s porch. Decapitated by the sharp, uncharacteristic criticism from my normally sweet sister. I sipped at my beer and stewed. Everyone else was quiet, too.

Finally, Mama could stand the tension no longer. “Let’s all count our blessings, girls. Imagine if any one of us were Ronnie, or his poor widow, Alice.”

I did as she said, adding a silent vow that I’d also try to be less of an argumentative jerk.

Out of the blue, Maddie said, “Maybe that hog’s head is linked to the Mafia.”

Mama tapped her lip with an index finger, thinking. “Wasn’t there something like that in a movie? I remember a pig’s head in a man’s bed.”

“A horse head,” Carlos said. “From the first
Godfather
.”

“With Marlon Brando as Don Corleone,” Maddie added. She was Himmarshee’s movie expert, on account of her daughter being in college in California, studying film. “The don sent the horse’s head as a message. Maybe this is the same thing.”

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Marty stared at Maddie. “A Mafia don? In Himmarshee? That seems a little far-fetched, Sister.”

“May I remind you of Jim Albert and his murder last summer, Marty? Not that I’m trying to start an argument.” I smiled when I said it, but I was still smarting a little.

Carlos said, “Jim Albert’s criminal enterprise was set in place a long time before he came down here.” His eyes got a far-away, thoughtful look. I had the urge to take my thumb and smooth the wrinkle in his brow, and maybe follow that with a little something with my tongue.

Maybe Carlos was right about the water. I was angry one minute, aroused the next. Either I was getting some kind of weird hormones from the faucet, or the shock of finding Ronnie’s body had upset me more than I let on.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

“Just that Maddie might be right.”

My big sister beamed.

“Not about a Mafia godfather,” he said. “But maybe about a message.”

An image of Ronnie’s corpse popped into my brain, all jumbled up with the blood-crusted head of the pig.

“What would the message be?” I asked. “This is what happens when you squeal?”