Текст книги "Mama Gets Hitched"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

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?”

I immediately felt a rush of guilt, and tried to make my voice sound normal. Carlos had a lie detector hard-wired into his brain. “Nothing much. Finishing up dinner.”

“Well, I’m thinking of you.”

“Right back at ya.” I imagined Tony listening in. “I know you’re busy; I’ll let you get back to work.”

We said our goodbyes and rang off, and I returned to the living room. Tony sat upright, the defeated posture was gone.

“What was that all about?”

I hesitated for a moment. He’d find out one way or another. “Your aunt,” I said. “She’s down at the police department.”

I repeated what Carlos had told me to say, but Tony seemed to barely hear me. He’d already yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and started punching in numbers. The look on his face was frightening in its intensity.

“Yeah, Arthur. It’s me. We’ve got a little trouble in Himmarshee,” he said into the phone. “Who do you know in Florida who can get here quick?”

His speech was rapid-fire, the cultured cadence slipping into New Jerseyese.

“Goddammit, Arthur! That is not what I want to hear. What do you think I pay you for?”

He stood up and walked to my front door. “That’s unacceptable, Arthur. We’re talking about my family.”

He turned his back and walked outside. But not before I’d seen the hard set to his jaw and the ice in his eyes. I felt like I was watching The Godfather, at the moment when a young Michael Corleone makes his transition from nice college boy to cold-blooded killer.

“Mama’s social merry-go-round is making me motion sick.”

That was the closest Marty would come to a complaint. But as we gathered at the Speckled Perch to decorate for Mama’s party, Maddie ranted enough for the three of us.

“The whole thing is unseemly,” she huffed. “Drinking in the middle of the day. A bachelorette party, at her age! And this is marriage No. 5. Mama’s no blushing virgin.”

“Maddie!” Marty looked around to see who might have overheard, but the place was dark, quiet, and empty.

We’d arrived early as the appointed decorating committee. The Perch was normally a dinner and night spot, but the owner agreed to open for the lunch gathering as a favor to Mama. The party would begin at noon.

The manager, dark smudges under his eyes, clip-on tie askew, looked like he climbed off a cot in the back to come let us in. He’d disappeared after unlocking the door, but not before I noticed specks of toilet paper on the spots where he’d cut himself shaving. We waited in the dimly lit dining room, but he hadn’t returned.

“I don’t think that manager’s a morning person,” I said. “I’m going to find him, and see if I can get him to at least turn on some more lights.”

Rising from the table in the dark, I promptly banged my shin on a chair. Just as I let out a curse word, the lights in our half of the dining room came on.

“Timing is everything, Mace,” Maddie said.

We quickly got to work, hanging green garland with white paper roses, and a big sign that said Best Wishes! The latter was a bit bedraggled, since Maddie had kept it in her garage since Mama’s last wedding, four years ago. As we strung and taped and hung, we dissected the latest news about C’ndee.

“Carlos might have had her come down there, but she didn’t stay overnight,” Marty said.

“Who told you that?” I was a little miffed she had a better pipeline than I did.

“I stopped at Gladys’ for coffee, saw Donnie Bailey from the jail,” Marty said. “He said Carlos never arrested C’ndee.”

Finger poised at my button, Maddie went ahead and pushed. “Looks like that beau of yours is keeping secrets, Mace.”

“It’s a murder investigation, Maddie. Not pillow talk.” I ratcheted back my snippy tone. “Besides, Carlos already told me she came in voluntarily. He asked her in for a chat.”

Maddie pursed her lips. “And she ran right in, with no lawyer? That’s weird, considering her family’s connections.”

“If you can believe what you read in the papers,” Marty said.

I handed her the roll of tape. “Reporters can’t just make things up, Marty.”

Maddie stood back to scrutinize our handiwork. She unfastened Marty’s garland and re-taped it, more to her liking. Marty and I sniggered behind her back.

I thought about filling them in on Tony’s reaction. But I didn’t want to suffer Maddie’s lecture on how he came to be at my house last night when Carlos called with the news.

“Do you think C’ndee will show up to the party?” Marty replaced a bit of the drape Maddie had straightened.

“Of course,” Maddie said. “That woman has more brass than a lamp factory.”

The restaurant door swung open, sending in a shaft of sunlight and the chatter of women.

“Looks like the guests are starting to arrive. I’m going to duck into the Ladies before the party gets going,” I said.

I was inside a stall when I saw two sets of legs make their way to the bathroom mirror.

“I hope they serve those little fried mushrooms from the menu here. They’re yummy,” the first woman said.

“So is the bartender.” I recognized the sex and smokes sound of that second voice.

The first woman tittered. “It sure was nice of them to open up just for Rosalee’s party. I heard the owner is a former boyfriend of hers.”

“Frankly, who isn’t?” Dab Holt asked. “The woman has more exes than KFC has wings.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I hid in the stall until I heard them leave, and then rushed back to the table and shared the joke with my sisters.

“At least Mama’s never taken a knife to any of her exes,” Maddie said.

“Dab told me yesterday the wound wasn’t fatal,” I said. “She said she did some time, but her conviction got overturned on appeal. Her attorney claimed she was a battered woman.”

“Humph,” Maddie said. “I can’t imagine anyone pushing that gal around.”

Marty said, “That’s not fair, Maddie. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

We were gabbing about whose checkered romantic past was worse, Mama’s or Dab’s, when Mama breezed in, Alice on her heels. Alice turned right, and Mama joined us.

“Well, I’m glad to see you three looking so cheerful. I thought you’d be crabby about having to come to another one of my many, many affairs.”

We burst out laughing. Mama raised an eyebrow, leaned toward us, and sniffed. “You girls haven’t been getting into the liquor already, have you?”

“No, ma’am,” we answered as one.

_____

By half past twelve, the party was in full swing. True to his word, Mama’s ex had arranged for a fried-food extravaganza. There were mushrooms, onion rings, and jalapeno poppers. Another platter held catfish, shrimp, and hush puppies. Celery was the only green thing not battered and fried on the table, and it was drenched in blue cheese dressing to go with the hot wings.

My stomach would be tied in knots right through the wedding.

All of a sudden, light slanted in from the open door and a hush fell over the crowd. Alan Jackson sang “Who’s Cheating Who?” on the jukebox. C’ndee stood for a moment in the sunbeam as if basking under a stage light.

When she made a beeline toward the bathroom, my sisters and I rose from the table and followed. We crowded in behind her as she primped at the mirror, outlining that full mouth in fire-engine red.

“Ladies,” she said, with a pop of her lips.

“C’ndee,” we chorused. And then Marty retreated to the wall as Maddie and I stepped all over each other to ask our questions.

“What did Carlos question you about?” I began

Maddie elbowed me aside. “Are you going to jail?”

I nudged her back and stepped to the mirror. “Where’d you disappear to?”

Maddie yanked the collar of my shirt and cut in front. “Is your nephew in the Mafia?”

C’ndee backed against the sink, holding up her hands. “Marty, call your sisters off, would’ya? For Gawd’s sake, I thought you Southerners were supposed to be so polite!”

Maddie crossed her arms and glared. I mumbled an apology. “We just have so many things we want to ask you.”

“I’ll take Maddie’s last question first.” C’ndee held up a finger. “No, Tony is not in the Mafia. And, as a proud Italian-American, I resent your assumption that he is.”

“We read about the family’s criminal enterprise up north,” I said.

She recovered quickly. “Sins of the fathers, ladies. You can’t blame Tony for his dad’s business dealings. Not that I’m saying any of that crap in the papers is true.”

I started to interrupt, but she held up a hand. “I believe I have the floor, Mace. Secondly, I’m not going to jail. Tony was about to call in the legal pit bulls when I phoned him last night to tell him I wasn’t being held, or even formally questioned. That cop, Carlos, was nothing but nice.”

“Really?” I couldn’t help myself.

She nodded. “He was much more interested in Darryl than in me. Now ladies, I don’t believe in regrets when it comes to men. But if I did, I’d regret my … uh, dalliance … with Darryl. That is one nasty cafone.”

“Amen.” I wasn’t sure what a cafone was, but I figured it wasn’t good. “Does Carlos think Darryl killed Ronnie?”

She shrugged. “Hard to tell.” She opened the lipstick again and re-applied.

“As for where I went …” She blotted her mouth. “I just needed time alone to think. I really did care for Ronnie. More than you might imagine. We planned to go into business, but it was more than that. I thought we’d settle down, maybe even marry, after he and Alice were divorced.”

C’ndee’s voice shook a bit. I looked at Maddie, whose arms were still tightly folded. Marty’s face, though, mirrored the sad expression on C’ndee’s. I came down in the middle: not as skeptical as Maddie; not as trusting as Marty.

C’ndee dropped her lipstick into her big purse and snapped the top with finality.

“Now, I’d like to get a drink and offer your mother my best wishes.” She glanced at her rhinestone-clotted watch. “I have a little surprise for her, too. Should arrive at any minute.”

She pushed through the door and we followed, three little ducklings brought into line.

Spotting Linda-Ann loading up on fried fish, shrimp, and wings at the buffet, I detoured in her direction. My sisters flanked me. After we said our hellos, I pointed to her plate.

“Guess you’re not a strict vegetarian.”

“Don’t tell Trevor.” She popped a shrimp into her mouth, not looking terribly guilty.

“Linda-Ann, didn’t you hear anything I said about being true to yourself?”

Marty chimed in. “Mace gave you good advice, honey. You should do things because you believe in them, not because somebody else forces you.”

“Trevor never forced me.”

On the jukebox, Charlie Daniels launched into the loud fiddle solo on “Devil Went Down to Georgia.” Maddie leaned right into Linda-Ann’s face. “You’re telling us you dressed as a pig and scared those poor folks at the Pork Pit because you wanted to? Linda-Ann, I know you were never a top student, but you couldn’t be that dumb.”

I pinched Maddie’s left arm. Marty tugged on her right to drag her from Linda-Ann’s personal space.

“Let’s find a table,” my little sister said.

The lights were only on in half the dining room; the rest of the room was closed. The only empty seats were at Alice Hodges’ table. I led the way across the dance floor.

“Okay if we sit down?” I asked.

Alice nodded without looking at us.

“Are you getting enough to eat?” Marty said. “Can we get you anything?”

The food on her plate looked untouched. A glass of wine, on the other hand, was nearly gone. A second, full glass, awaited.

Alice glanced up. “I’m fine.” Her gaze rested on Linda-Ann. To the younger woman’s credit, she held out her hand.

“I’m Linda-Ann, Mrs. Hodges. I’m real sorry for your loss. I knew Ronnie from when he worked at the feed store. He used to add in a little something extra once in a while for my horse, Lucky. He sure was a nice man.”

Tears sprang to Marty’s eyes. But Alice kept her composure. “Thank you, dear. That’s kind of you to tell me that.”

We took our seats. An awkward moment passed, when none of us seemed to know what to say. But Maddie has never seen a silence she can’t fill.

“We were just talking to Linda-Ann about how she and her boyfriend dressed up like pigs for a protest.”

Alice raised an eyebrow.

“Trevor says we should love animals, not eat them,” Linda-Ann recited. “Trevor says meat is murder.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Mrs. Hodges.”

Alice gave her a weak smile.

“Her boyfriend’s beliefs are very passionate,” I explained.

“I’m a vegetarian now, just like Trevor.” Linda-Ann seemed to remember the animal parts crowding her plate. “Well, not a hundred percent.”

Maddie harrumphed. “Trevor sounds like a fanatic, Linda-Ann. How much do you really know about him?”

In her kindest tone, Marty said, “Honey, I’m a vegetarian, too. But it should be enough to do what you think is right. You don’t have to bully everybody else into doing the same.”

Linda-Ann tossed another shrimp in her mouth, chewed and swallowed thoughtfully.

“We never do what I want to do. It’s always protest, protest, protest. To tell the truth, I do feel kind of stupid yelling at people in that pig suit. And the plastic head smells nasty inside.”

She made such a face, my sisters and I laughed. Even Alice smiled. “I can’t imagine dressing up in that costume,” she said. “I grew up on a hog farm. I’ve seen pigs enough to last a lifetime.”

Just as Garth Brooks started up on the jukebox with “Friends in Low Places,” the door flung open. It let in a shaft of light, along with the best-looking cowboy I’d ever seen. Black hat, fitted snap-button shirt with most of the snaps unfastened, and leather chaps that showed off exactly what he was packing in those skin-tight Wranglers.

“Here’s our entertainment, girls.” C’ndee’s shout was part sideshow barker, part Jersey turnpike toll-taker. “Now, get those dollar bills ready and crank up the sexy!”