Mama Gets Hitched (8 page)

Barreling along US Highway
441, I’d put five miles between me and the fish camp before I finally felt my grip begin to loosen on the Jeep’s steering wheel. I was holding on like I expected Darryl to vault into the driver’s seat and yank me out with those blood-stained hands.

That was one creepy dude, for sure.

What had C’ndee Ciancio been thinking? I can understand occasional slumming. Bad boys can be exciting. Plus, let’s face facts: One of my exes showed up shirtless on
Cops.
It’s kind of hard for me to criticize another woman’s flawed taste in men.

But Darryl? He seemed to go beyond dangerous to deranged.

I searched through my purse on the passenger seat for my cell phone. I needed to call my boss. Nothing like hearing all the afternoon tasks that awaited me at work to banish the image of Darryl and that knife.

Slice, glint. Slice, glint
.

I hit the speed dial for the park office. The cultured purr on the other end of the phone was reassuringly Rhonda, my way-too-gorgeous-for-government-work supervisor. Not only did she carry herself like an elegant African queen, she was smart, too. I always told her she was wasting her time shuffling schedules and pushing papers at a nature park in middle Florida. She could have been a model-turned-mega-industry, like Tyra Banks. But Rhonda had moved home to Himmarshee from New York to help care for her ailing grandmother. She wound up as the boss for the county’s parks.

“How are plans coming for the big day, Mace?”

She’d been great about arranging my shifts to accommodate my obligations to The Wedding of the Century.

“Don’t get me started,” I said. “Suffice to say the ring-bearer’s a yappy dog in a top hat, my dress makes me look like a lime pop with a parasol, and Mama can’t serve enough booze to make anybody forget this is the fifth time she’s tied the sacred knot of matrimony.”

“That bad, huh?” Rhonda chuckled. “Listen, no pressure, but I just wanted to check if you’re still doing that sunset nature walk tomorrow. I’ve had a few calls about it, so I know there’s some interest. I can handle it if you can’t.”

Damn. I’d completely forgotten. I was about to beg off, but I didn’t want to take advantage of Rhonda. She wasn’t really the nature-loving type; and I might need another favor before the week was out.

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll be there early enough to feed the critters and then do the walk.”

There was a pause from Rhonda’s end. “About the animals, Mace … Ollie nearly ate a raccoon that found its way to the bank of the gator pond today. Some church school kids who were at the park on a field trip were awfully upset. Their teacher complained about nightmares.”

As Rhonda spoke, I watched a big truck gaining on me in the rearview mirror. It always surprises me how fast people drive on this narrow stretch of the road that rings Lake Okeechobee.

“Did you hear me, Mace? Can’t you do something to make sure none of the other animals have access to Ollie’s pond?”

“Gators eat raccoons, Rhonda. That’s nature. We’re a nature park.” I glanced at the mirror again. The driver’s face was shadowed by the brim of a beat-up straw hat. Was the truck going to pass me or run me over?

“I’m aware it’s nature, Mace. But it may be just a little too much reality for young kids to witness. And suppose there was a toddler down there on the bank instead of that raccoon? Oh my god, that would be horrible. Not to mention the liability.”

I didn’t answer. Now the truck was right on my bumper, flashing its lights.

“We might have to talk about getting rid of Ollie, Mace.”

The truck’s horn blasted. I couldn’t hold this conversation right now with Rhonda, not with some moron about to race up my tailpipe. “I hear what you’re saying, Boss. Let’s talk about it when I get in, okay?”

I rang off quickly, dropped the phone on the seat, and gave my full attention to the truck behind me. I’d had a bad experience last summer, when I was run off the highway into a roadside canal. That night, I’d been caught by surprise. Now, I wasn’t about to let the same thing happen again. I began tapping my brakes, signaling to the driver to back the hell off.

Slowing, he leaned out the window and gestured for me to pull over. When he did, a slant of sunlight revealed his face. It was the big man in overalls from the fish camp. A knot of fear formed in my chest. I sped up; he did, too. I slowed to a crawl; so did he. We were miles from anything. A deep canal ran close by my side of the road. Huge trucks rumbled past in the other lane, hauling sugarcane or sod.

I could keep going, and take the chance he’d bump me off the highway. Maybe I wouldn’t be as lucky this time. Or, I could stop and see what he wanted. I eased off on the gas and reached for the tire iron I learned to keep hidden under the seat.

He slowed as I did, pulling off on the narrow, grassy shoulder. The water was so near, I could smell the mud and the grassy scent of hydrilla floating on the canal’s surface. Easing open my door, I kept my eyes on the rearview as he hefted his bulk out of the truck. His hands hung by his sides; no weapons. Then again, those overall pockets were so big, he might be carrying a cannon and I wouldn’t see it. My fist clenched around the metal rod, which I’d brought to a ready position on the seat.

As he approached, I flew out of the Jeep, waving my tire iron. A look of utter surprise flitted across his face.

“Don’t come another step closer. My other hand’s on the phone in my pocket, ready to speed dial 911.” I cursed the fact I’d actually left my cell on the seat where it fell. I prayed my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I felt.

He raised his hands, palms showing in a gesture of submission. “Whoa, ma’am. I don’t mean you no harm. I just want to talk to you.”

I lowered the tire iron a half-inch. “You weren’t exactly chatty earlier.”

“I couldn’t talk at the camp. That bastard Darryl keeps an eye on everything that goes on there. He’s my stepfather.”

I immediately felt a surge of sympathy for Overalls. Looking at him now, I realized he was no older than Maddie’s college-girl daughter. “What’s your name?”

“Rabe, ma’am,” he said.

“Dietz?” I asked.

He spit on the ground. “Hell, no. Darryl married my mama, but I still have my daddy’s name. Adams. All Darryl ever gave me was black-and-blue beatings.”

I dropped the tire iron a bit lower, feeling faintly ridiculous.

“Sorry I scared you,” Rabe said. “I was just trying to get your attention. I heard you asking Darryl about that woman, C’ndee.”

Now I realized why Rabe had been at the boat dock: He was watching; listening. Kids who grow up in a home with alcoholism and abuse learn those skills early.

“What about C’ndee?” I said.

“I heard the two of them fighting before she cleared out of camp. If you’re worried about her, you might have cause. Darryl’s a real violent man. I watched him beat Mama for years, and she’d always go back to him. He used to do me the same way, until I finally got big enough to knock him stupid.”

I thought about Rabe as a boy, cowering on a narrow bed in one of those rundown little cabins. It about broke my heart.

“Thanks for coming after me,” I told him. “I hope it doesn’t get you in trouble with Darryl.”

“Naw,” he said. “Him and me give each other a wide berth these days. And Mama says she’s finally done with him, too. I just wanted you to know he gets crazy jealous. If that C’ndee is your friend, you should keep an eye out for her. No telling what Darryl will do.”

He jiggled the keys to the truck in his hand, looking thoughtful. “I once saw him take after Mama with his belt, just because he
thought
she looked at another man. And he did even worse one time in a bar. Some guy bought Mama a drink, friendly-like, and Darryl just about beat in his skull for his trouble. The ambulance came and everything.”

His face got a distant look, like he was replaying those events from the past. I thought of one more thing I wanted to know about the present.

“You said you heard Darryl and C’ndee fighting. What about?”

“She was breaking it off. She told him it’d been fun, but she found somebody new.”

Fun? I shuddered at the thought. “How’d he take it?”

“’Bout like you’d expect. He cussed a blue streak and kicked one of the cabin doors right off its hinges. Slash lit out and hid under one of the cars for a full day. Darryl never touched C’ndee, though.” Rabe’s eyes looked far away again. “He would have, given time.”

“Did C’ndee tell Darryl who she was dating?”

He rubbed a hand through the sparse beard on his chin. “Not by name, no. But she did throw it in Darryl’s face that the guy was a successful businessman in Himmarshee. She said he owned a catering business.”

The Jeep’s tires hummed
as I drove over the little wooden bridge at the entrance to Himmarshee Park. All usually felt right with the world when I heard that sound. But today a lot felt wrong in our little town.

Ronnie was dead, a fact I couldn’t forget because I kept seeing a filmstrip in my head. Darryl Dietz could have had a motive to kill him, based on what the stepson told me. And where did C’ndee fit in the equation? Had she just been playing with Darryl, or was it something more? And why hadn’t she let on how very well she knew Himmarshee’s only caterer?

A leafy tree canopy shaded the narrow lane. It was like driving into a green cave, with the dim coolness doing its best to soothe my mind. Alongside the winding road to the parking lot, butterflies flitted in the yellow tickseed that grew in sunny patches. I turned off the radio and tuned in to the outdoors. Frogs croaked in Himmarshee Creek. A pileated woodpecker
rat-a-tat-tatted
on a dead pine. A gator bellowed from the distant swamp. I started to feel some of the stress leaving my body, like a reptile shedding skin.

My heartbeat quickened as I rounded a turn into the parking lot. A white, late-model sedan sat under the shade of a sabal palm. It was an unmarked police car. Carlos’ car. We’d gotten along pretty well at Mama’s last night. Maybe we could reconnect, enter a more lasting up in our up-and-down relationship. There’s always hope, right?

Within minutes, I was out of my Jeep and on the nature path to the park office. Drawing near, I saw him through the big windows that look out onto a hardwood hammock, thick with gnarled oaks and black tupelo. He was laughing at something Rhonda had said. I paused in the shade of a hickory tree, wanting to watch him for just a moment in an unguarded state. It seemed like the two of us were always walking on tippy-toes around each other.

He sipped a small cup of take-out coffee, which reminded me of the first night I met him in the lobby of the Himmarshee Police Department. I remember being bowled over by his looks—black hair, skin the color of buttery caramel, dark eyes that hid plenty of secrets. I’d had all I could do back then to stay mad at him for hauling Mama’s butt into jail.

And now? He still looked as yummy as a buttered biscuit. But I didn’t have trouble any more staying mad at him. And I’m not sure why, or what that means. Sometimes, I try to make sense of human behavior by looking to the animal world. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a Sandhill crane, which chooses its partner for life.

As I opened the door, Carlos smiled and held up a large-sized cup: “I brought
café con leche
for you and Rhonda.”

He’d been beside himself with happiness when he discovered a Cuban restaurant—more of a gas station with a tiny food counter—on the outskirts of Himmarshee. They only served breakfast and a couple of lunch specials. But the
café Cubano
flowed all day, giving Carlos the fix he needed. Sipping the super-sweet, high-octane brew seemed to make him feel more at home in Himmarshee.

I took the cup he offered. “You the man!”

Cuban crack, he called it, and the stuff
was
addictive. I drank mine mixed with three-quarters steamed milk. Carlos’ poison was the traditional
cafecito
, a tiny, sugared shot of pure caffeine.

My boss picked up her cup from her desk and lifted it toward us. “Here’s to a summer without hurricanes.”

“Here’s to the two most beautiful women I know,” he responded.

With Rhonda’s dark skin, I couldn’t tell if she was blushing. Probably not. Unlike me, she’d surely heard tons of such toasts before. They both looked at me, waiting.

“Uhmmm,” I said eloquent as always. “Here’s to finding Ronnie’s killer.”

And to murdering the moment. Carlos’ face hardened.

“Yeah, we’re working on that, Mace. It only happened yesterday.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

I tried to shovel out of the hole I’d dug. “I wasn’t criticizing.”

“That’s how it sounded,” he said.

“Sorry you’re so sensitive.”

“Now, that’s what I love.” Carlos glared. “An apology that’s actually an accusation.”

Rhonda averted her eyes, staring at the phone on her desk. I’m sure she was willing it to ring and rescue her. When did Carlos and I become one of those couples who embarrass everyone by bickering in public?

I reached out to touch his arm, but he sidestepped me. “Let’s start over again,” I offered.

His face was still stony; but a relieved look flickered across Rhonda’s features.

“Thank you for the coffee, Carlos.” I grinned at him. “You are really, really, really,
really
the man!”

A tiny smile chipped at the granite in his jaw.

“And I am sorry,” I continued. “It’s just that Ronnie’s been on my mind because of what I found out today at a fish camp at the southern end of Lake Okeechobee.”

Carlos lifted an eyebrow.

Here’s where I had to tie on those toe-walking shoes again. He hated it when I went off investigating. But there was no way I couldn’t share with him what I’d learned. Rhonda’s hand hovered over a stack of maintenance requests as she waited to see what I’d say next. No sense in making Carlos doubly mad, spilling information about a possible suspect with her listening in.

“Why don’t we go outside?” I said to him. “It’s nice and cool in the breezeway, and I’ll buy us something sweet from the vending machine to go with the coffee.”

Carlos gestured for me to lead the way.

“Okay if I take a few minutes, boss? When I come back, I’ll see if I can’t get a track hoe out here to dig another pond for the little critters to drink from. One without an alligator in it.”

Rhonda lifted her hand, shooing us toward the door. “I know you’ll take care of it, Mace. And, Carlos,
gracias por el
café con leche
.” Her Spanish accent was as perfect as everything else about her.

We settled onto a wooden bench with our snacks—a package of lemon cookies for me; a gooey cinnamon bun for Carlos. And then I told him what I’d discovered about C’ndee and about Darryl.

“What’d the knife look like?”

“Long and thin, like a filet knife. Big, but not big enough to behead that hog. As for killing Ronnie? I don’t know much about what kind of blade you’d need to knife somebody to death.”

Carlos’ face was grim. “You’d be surprised at the kind of damage any knife can do if you hit the right spot.” He took a swallow of his coffee. “How’d this Darryl act?”

I wasn’t about to let on how frightened I’d felt. Carlos would just get angry.

“Like a sorry-ass redneck, showing off with a scary knife.”

He peered into my eyes. “Did he threaten you, Mace?”

I didn’t want to outright lie, especially when the truth might reveal a pattern of behavior.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“¡
Coño
!” I don’t know why you do things like that, Mace. Going out there alone? Do you have a death wish?”

“No.” I studied the toes of my work boots.

“Well that’s the way it looks to me. You’re not a police officer. It’s not your business to run around asking questions, especially to someone who might turn out to be a killer.”

He chomped off a hunk of the cinnamon bun, probably wishing it were my head.

I tried to make my voice neutral, not antagonistic. “It kind of
is
my business, Carlos.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Well, Ronnie was catering Mama’s wedding …”

He interrupted, “Not that stupid wedding again!”

I felt myself getting huffy on Mama’s behalf. I may have agreed her wedding was ridiculously over-the-top, but Carlos still shouldn’t call it stupid.

“I’m just saying that makes us involved, whether we want to be or not. And now that I know C’ndee was involved with Darryl, and then with Ronnie, and now she’s catering Mama’s wedding …”

“What?” he said.

I couldn’t believe what was about to come out of my mouth. “It’s just that I don’t want anything else to happen to ruin Mama’s Special Day.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m not talking about the wedding flowers being a little wilted, or the appetizers coming out cold. I mean, I don’t want anybody else to get hurt. We both know Mama manages to wind up in the middle of things. Suppose she comes to harm? You know it’s happened before.”

It didn’t escape me that I sounded as paranoid about Mama as he did about me. I guess seeing someone you care about survive some close calls will do that to a person.

The angry lines in his face softened. He took another, smaller, bite of the bun. Chewed thoughtfully. Finished his coffee.

“I’ll grant you, your mother manages to get herself into some serious messes. That still doesn’t give you the right to meddle in a murder investigation. You shouldn’t be sticking your nose into things that aren’t your business.”

It was amazing how much that part about me being nosy sounded like Darryl. All Carlos needed was a shiny knife and a Lakeport drawl.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be sure to hire an armed guard the next time I want to go out to a fish camp. Which incidentally, I’ve visited many of in the past. I’ll bring backup the next time I want to talk to some mean redneck. Which incidentally, I’ve probably dated worse guys than Darryl and lived to tell about it.”

I jammed a lemon cookie in my mouth so I wouldn’t say something I’d really regret. He waited for another outburst. I didn’t speak, just took another cookie from the pack and started on that. This time, I took off the top part and slowly licked all the cream filling from inside.

When I caught him staring at my mouth, both of us quickly looked away. He made me so angry. So why did I feel a sudden warmth spreading somewhere south of my belt?

Carlos cleared his throat. Stood up. It gave me a little thrill to see him try to subtly adjust the front pleats on his dark blue dress slacks.

“I’ve got a lot of work to get back to,” he said. “Please don’t take this to mean I approve of what you did, Mace, but I’ll definitely check out what you found out about the knife-wielding Mr. Dietz.”

That was as close as he’d come to a thank-you.

“What about C’ndee and Ronnie? What do you think that connection means?”

Crossing his arms, he stared at me, cop-like: “The case is still under investigation.”

“So I spill all the information I have, and you offer me nothing in return?”

He gave me a know-it-all smile, which really chapped my butt. “Sure, Mace, I’ll tell you everything I know and have it all over the Himmarshee Hotline before dinner.”

I felt a pout forming on my mouth, which I know doesn’t look as charming on me as it does on Mama. “I’m not a gossip, Carlos.”

“No, but your mother is. And you’re only one degree of separation from her.”

“Okay, just tell me if there’s anything I should know to keep Mama safe.”

He gazed into the trees, thinking. Maybe he remembered some of her prior scrapes, because he relented a little. “I will tell you Ronnie Hodges wasn’t exactly what he seemed.”