Текст книги "Mama Gets Trashed"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“That’s a thoughtful thing to say. It appears kindness to strangers runs in your family,’’ she said.

“You must not have met Maddie yet,’’ Henry said.

He found an extra chair for the table, stuck it right beside Prudence. As she scooted a bit to let him in, her jacket fell off the chair back. Henry bent to the floor to retrieve it, dusting off some cornbread crumbs. Shaking it out, he returned it with a flourish. “I believe this belongs to you, pretty lady.’’

Her cheeks flushed adorably. She fluttered her eyelashes, Mama-style. “So gallant!’’

Henry waved a hand. “It’s nothing.’’

“You’re right about that,’’ I muttered.

Marty kicked me under the table, but Henry and Prudence ignored me.

“I just love your Southern manners. British men are not nearly so courtly.’’ What sounded like a giggle escaped her lips. My cousin puffed out his chest.

“So, Henry, how are those young’uns of yours?’’ I asked. “And how ’bout your sweet wife? Is she pregnant again?’’

Taking my hint, Henry announced he had to meet some colleagues for lunch. Prudence pushed back her chair to stand. Shooting out of his seat like it gave him a shock, he helped her out of the chair. “Don’t let Mace scare you away,’’ he said.

“She hasn’t scared me.’’ Prudence put a hand on his sleeve, stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-down shirt. “Don’t be daft. I’m making a quick stop in the loo, then I’m on my way out.’’

As soon as she was out of hearing range, I lit into my cousin. “Slimy much? Are you really flirting with a woman whose sister was just murdered?’’

He looked wounded. “I most certainly was not flirting! I was just being a gentleman; ‘gallant,’ in fact.’’

“What’s even weirder is she was flirting back. Right, Marty?’’

“I didn’t see it that way,’’ my sister said. “Don’t be so critical, Mace. Her sister was just brutally murdered, as I shouldn’t have to remind you. She’s entitled to act a little strange.’’

Strange? Oh how I wanted to tell them about Prudence at the golf course.

“I’m right and you’re wrong.’’ Henry stuck his tongue out at me. “Just because Maddie’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stand in for her role as bitchy sister.’’

He looked around the diner, waggled his fingers at Mama. She was now cadging a spoonful of creamed spinach off someone else’s plate.

“Where is Maddie anyway?’’ Henry asked.

They both cocked their heads at me. Maddie’s whereabouts was the last question I wanted to discuss. I shrugged.

“Henry’s right, you know.’’ Marty buttered a biscuit. “You’re doing a pretty good job of playing Maddie’s role. You’re acting all judgmental, just like she always does.’’

Henry rose. “I’m going to find a table for my meeting, before you two start throwing cutlery.’’

With barely a nod at our departing cousin, Marty continued in the same vein, telling me how she understood people far better than I did; how I should rely on her judgment about Prudence.

“Maybe you should stick with the critters and let me handle the people,’’ she said.

Henry had announced I was acting like Maddie. But listening to Marty harangue me, I realized both of us were taking on some of our absent sister’s least lovable traits. Maybe Marty suspected something was amiss. Maybe imitating Maddie was a way both of us were dealing with that unvoiced suspicion.

I decided to let my little sister blow off steam. I’d curb my impulse to take offense. As she talked, my gaze wandered around the room. Prudence was at the counter, waiting while Charlene collected her take-out order. Brewing hot tea—an uncommon request in Himmarshee—was taking some time. Prudence seemed to be explaining that hot tea isn’t made by microwaving a glass of sweet iced tea.

Charlene rushed past us to a serving station at the rear of the diner, muttering as she went. “I know I’ve seen a single-size tea bag around here somewhere.’’ She called over her shoulder to Prudence. “Just give me a sec, hon.’’

A good-looking cowboy waited at the register to pay his bill. He tipped his hat to Prudence, and they struck up a conversation. Before long, the two of them were chatting away like old friends. They gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two souls in the place. He said something to make her smile, and she leaned toward him, placing a hand on his broad chest. He put an arm around her. She stepped close. Her tiny but well-developed frame fit neatly against the intimate contours of his body. Surely, they’d just established a record for quick canoodling.

“Look at Prudence now,’’ I hissed, interrupting Marty’s rant. “You can’t tell me that’s not flirting.’’

I was rewarded by seeing Marty’s mouth drop open just after she’d finished the phrase “… your very bad judgment, Mace.’’ She looked at Prudence and then back at me, and then back again at Prudence. The cowboy was nuzzling the English woman’s pale neck. Prudence giggled.

Finally, Marty said the six words I loved above all others.

“I was wrong. You were right.’’ She nodded. “That is definitely flirting.’’

twenty-three

“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.’’ Mama sopped up the last of the gravy on her plate with a chunk of meat loaf.

As soon as Charlene brought our lunch orders, Mama had come running back to our table at Gladys.’ Between bites, Marty and I filled her in on Prudence’s encounter with the cowboy at the counter.

Marty wasn’t completely ready to pass judgment, though.

“We don’t know what’s going through her head, y’all. Everybody grieves differently. You’ve always said that, haven’t you, Mama?’’

“Grieving and making a spectacle of yourself in public with a cowboy you’ve never met are two entirely different things, honey. I can’t get my head around that gal’s behavior.’’

Mama patted her mouth with a napkin, and then whipped out her Apricot Ice. Using the screen on her smart phone as a makeshift mirror, she delivered a smack-smack kiss to her reflection.

“Now.’’ She snapped shut her lipstick. “Enough about Prudence and her impropriety. What do you girls suppose we can do about Maddie?’’

Uh-oh. I didn’t like where this was heading. What would I say if Mama mentioned she was concerned about my older sister’s emotional health? What if she started talking about saving Maddie’s marriage? She took a small sip from her water glass; regarded us with a grave expression.

“We simply cannot let her wear that yellow dress.’’

I shouldn’t have worried. Mama would let nothing dissuade her from her mission: Making sure none of her daughters ever embarrassed her with misguided color choices.

“Henry!’’ Mama called across three tables to where our cousin’s lunch meeting was breaking up. “Come and give your Aunt Rosalee some sugar, honey.’’

Like most everyone else, Henry rushed to do Mama’s bidding. No sooner had he kissed her cheek than she whipped out her phone to show him the picture she’d taken of Maddie’s dress at Fran’s Fancy Frocks and Duds.

“Isn’t that just awful?’’ she asked.

“Looks fine to me. The color’s nice and bright, like a flashing yellow traffic light. And I like those little short sleeves. They look like bells.’’

Mama shook her head, not hearing the answer she wanted from Henry. “That’s another thing. Maddie’s upper arms will look like hams in those sleeves.’’

“Why don’t you leave her alone, Mama? Maddie already bought the dress.’’ I signaled Charlene for some more coffee. “So what if it’s not perfect? Big deal. Let her wear what she wants.’’

Mama narrowed her eyes at me. Before she could start in on my snippiness or my fashion faux pas, Henry headed her off.

“Are you going to bring a pan of your lemon squares to Kenny’s big bash, Aunt Rosalee?”

“Ooooooh, I love those!’’ Marty said.

“It wouldn’t be a party without them.’’ Henry grabbed one of Mama’s hands in both of his; smiled into her eyes. “No one can bake like you do.’’

Smooth, I thought. It was no wonder my charming cousin had a way with a jury, particularly ones with lots of women members.

Mama patted her hair. “Well, of course I will, Henry. I know how you love them.’’

Talk among the three of them turned to detailed descriptions of their favorite party foods, despite the fact we’d just finished lunch. My appetite was definitely off. I was feeling guilty about what I knew—and they didn’t know—about Maddie. I wanted to tell them she was in real trouble, far more trouble than having an ugly party dress. I couldn’t violate her confidence, though.

I was deep in thought when a caress of warm breath and a kiss on my cheek brought me back to my surroundings. I smelled faint aftershave, sandalwood and spices. Carlos!

Turning in my seat, I pulled his face to mine for a real greeting. “Am I ever glad to see you!’’ I planted an unusually public, and long-lasting, smooch on his lips.

Carlos looked surprised, but pleasantly so. He returned my kiss with equal enthusiasm.

“My, my.’’ Marty smiled. “Must be something in the water at Gladys’ today.’’

Henry clapped Carlos on the back. They shook hands.

“Looks like ‘on-again’ is lasting longer than usual with Mace and her boyfriend,’’ Mama said.

I waved my ring hand in front of her face. “My fiancé.’’

Marty and Henry chuckled. Mama smiled her approval.

“Let’s call Reverend Delilah. You two can set the date. It’s about time you made an honest woman out of my daughter, Carlos.’’

“Soon,’’ he said.

“You hear that, honey? He’s ready to be caught! All you have to do is toss the net. And make it snappy. You’re not getting any younger.’’

“I’m not a quart of milk with an expiration date, Mama.’’

“Mace grows more beautiful every day,’’ Carlos said.

Marty coughed. I felt my cheeks flush.

“I am not the one setting up blocked roads, Rosalee. Your daughter doesn’t want to be caught, or else she’d slow down and let me catch her.’’

He was grinning, which made me smile. I thanked my stars Carlos didn’t seem to be embarrassed or put off by Mama’s constant nagging about our wedding. I was about to invite him to sit down, when the cow bells at the door jangled. I got distracted when I saw who was walking in.

Jason gave a big cheerful wave. In a polo shirt and cap emblazoned with the name of the golf course, he headed straight for our table. Nodding quickly at the others, he zeroed in on me.

“I was passing by and saw your Jeep parked outside.’’ He dropped a casual hand on my shoulder. “I hear you were asking for me at the pro shop this morning.’’

Charlene picked that moment to come pour my coffee. “Who’s the hottie,’’ she whispered, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen over the roar of the dishwasher.

“Jason,’’ he answered, with a flash of white teeth. “I’m the pro at Himmarshee Links. You should come out sometime. I’ll help you work on your swing. I keep trying to get Mace to let me finesse hers.’’

At the next table, a couple of women from the courthouse swooned. Flustered, Charlene knocked over the creamer on our table with her coffeepot. The cream splashed out to where Carlos still stood, landing all over the front of his slacks. He jumped back, and then grabbed a handful of napkins. I wasn’t sure whether his frown was due to Jason’s shameless flirting, or his fastidiousness about his clothes.

“Sorry,’’ said Charlene, flushed with embarrassment.

“Not to worry,’’ Carlos smiled at the waitress. “I keep a second set of clothes in my locker at work, which is where I need to be right now.’’ He glanced at his watch, gave me a peck on the cheek, and headed out the door.

“Was it something I said?’’ Jason aimed his tanned dimples at me. “I’ve got to get back to work, too. I just stopped to ask if I’m going to see you again.’’

The glances exchanged by my family members caromed around the table like pool balls. I lifted Jason’s hand off my shoulder.

Mama frowned. “Since when do you play golf, Mace?’’

Marty said, “The last I remember, you were saying you wished you’d left that gator you trapped in the pond at the golf course. You said maybe he’d do us a favor and eat a few newcomers.’’

“Ouch!’’ the pro laughed. “I don’t think that’s what the course’s architect had in mind when he designed our water hazards.’’

“Talk about your penalty stroke,’’ Henry said.

I mumbled something about stopping by the course soon. Jason left shortly after, to sighs from two tables of women.

Once he was out of earshot, Mama got serious. “Why are you going to the golf course?’’

I tried to think of a convincing lie. I came up blank.

“None of your business.’’

Even as the words escaped my mouth, I knew Mama would not rest until she made it her business. I had to discover what Kenny was up to before my family imploded under the weight of what I was hiding

I threw a ten on the table and rushed out the door after Jason.

twenty-four

“Wait up!’’ I yelled from the sidewalk outside Gladys’ Diner.

A big ol’ boy in bib overalls and a cap touting Nutrena cattle feed turned with a hopeful smile. I shook my head and pointed at the golf pro in the parking lot.

Jason stood beside a red BMW convertible, which is a pretty fancy car for a pro who works at a small golf course built on a former cow pasture in middle Florida.

“Well, well.’’ He leaned against the driver’s door, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Looks like you did want to see me again, sooner rather than later.’’

“Don’t flatter yourself,’’ I said. “I needed to ask you some questions, but I didn’t want to talk in front of my family.’’ Not to mention my fiancé, I thought.

He glanced at his watch; lit a cigarette. “I’ve got a few minutes.’’ He exhaled. “Knock yourself out.’’

I decided to stick to my cover story, about trying to find out who might owe my brother-in-law money. Kenny hadn’t been back to the club since we’d spoken earlier, Jason said.

“Did you notice if he seemed particularly close to anyone out there?’’

Jason stroked the handsome cleft in his chin; appeared to give my question some thought.

He finally said, “He spends a lot of time at the bar, talking to Angel.’’

I hoped the surprise didn’t show on my face. She had told me she barely knew Kenny. It also seemed she was more into girls than guys. I decided to take the plunge; ask the question right out.

“Isn’t Angel gay?’’ I said.

He took a drag. “That’s complicated. I think her sexual leanings depend on what’s in it for Angel.’’

“Do you think there’s something in it for her to have some kind of sexual relationship with my brother-in-law?’’

“Nah. He’s not her type. Not enough money or power. I think it’s more a bartender-as-confessor thing for him. Lots of people pour out their problems to bartenders.’’

An image formed in my mind of Prudence’s jacket on the locker room bench; the tender look on the barmaid’s face. “Well, who is Angel’s type?’’ I said. “Is she serious about anyone?’’

He cocked his head. “Why? Are you interested in girls? Didn’t you say you were engaged? I assumed to a guy.’’

He grabbed my left wrist, holding up my hand to examine my ring. His grip was a little rough.

“That hurts.’’

He squeezed—hard—before releasing me. “Sorry. I can be a little dominant at times. Guess I don’t know my own strength.’’

I rubbed my wrist; decided to let it pass. In my mind, golf was kind of a girly sport. Maybe he was trying to show what a man he was with a crushing grip. I said, “What about the mayor?’’

“And Angel?’’ he asked.

“Well, I meant the mayor and Kenny, but yeah. What’s the deal with Angel and Mr. and Mrs. Mayor? It seems like they walk on eggshells around her.’’

He laughed. “Probably afraid if they offend her she’ll pour a stingy shot.’’ He put thumb to mouth in the sign for drinking. “Both of them like their booze. A lot.’’

“Kenny, too?’’

He crushed his cigarette underfoot, and then glanced at his watch.

“Nah, Kenny seems like he’s strictly a beer man. Doesn’t over-indulge, like a lot of folks do out there.’’ A strange smiled played across his lips. “Oh, yeah. There are all kinds of over-indulgences at Himmarshee Links.’’

“What’s that supposed to mean?’’

He put up his hands, signaling he’d say no more. “I really have to get going. Like I told you before, it’s complicated.’’

“You can’t say that and just leave me wondering. That’s not fair. Is there something shady going on out there? Is my brother-in-law involved?’’

That would be all Maddie would need: a husband walking the criminal path.

Jason gazed around the parking lot. The after-lunch crowd was starting to stream out. He lowered his voice. “I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell about what goes on at the club.’’

“Like what?’’

He hit the key fob to unlock the BMW; eased himself into the front seat.

“I really do have to go. I’ve got a lesson scheduled. Honest, I’ll fill you in on everything, just not right now.’’ He turned on the engine. It purred. “Meet me at the club for a drink.’’

I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he playing me?

He returned my look with a guileless grin. His cheeks dimpled, and the skin around his eyes crinkled with sincerity. “I swear I’m not coming on to you, Mace. It’s just a friendly meeting. Maybe I can give you some information that might help you find out who borrowed Kenny’s money.’’

If I was going to help Maddie, I did need information. It was just a drink. What could it hurt?

twenty-five

A loud laugh echoed through the cypress trees, shattering the quiet sanctuary of Himmarshee Park. Startled, a great blue heron took flight from the creek bank near the nature path. Another laugh sounded, even louder than the first. A group of men in business dress rounded a curve in the path near the park office. I was outside the office, in a vending machine alcove, battling a recalcitrant package of Corn Nuts.

The noisy crowd of suits and ties came to a halt on the boardwalk over Himmarshee Creek. The mayor, at the center of the group, nodded toward the water: “You know what they say about waterfront property in Florida, don’t you?’’ His voice boomed, and he slapped one of the suits on the back. “Get it while you can. They’re not making any more!’’

The man chuckled, a bit too heartily I thought. A second suit, much taller, stepped forward to peer over the railing. He pointed to the dark water below. An expensive-looking gold watch peeked out from the monogrammed cuff at his wrist: “So this stream also fronts the parcel we’ve been talking about?’’

Parcel? What parcel? These guys looked like developers. No telling what kind of proposal they’d cooked up.

I stepped out of the vending area and onto the wooden boardwalk, my indestructible snack bag in hand. My boss’s lectures about being more friendly and welcoming to park visitors ran through my mind. Well, here were some park visitors. I injected a smile into my voice.

“Can I help y’all?’’

Except for the mayor, the men looked like they’d all selected their outfits from the Timeless Fashions for Business Guys Shoppe: white shirts, dark suits, black dress shoes, red ties—with a couple of striped-blues thrown in to mix things up. It had to be 95 degrees outside. They stood in the full sun, and not a one of them had thought to take off his jacket. It was clear they weren’t from around here.

The mayor gave me a campaign-poster smile. I was surprised to see a diamond stud winking from his earlobe. Pretty hip for a guy sporting polyester beltless slacks, white loafers, and a T-shirt that screamed BILL GRAF FOR MAYOR in red block letters.

“I know you, don’t I?’’

“We’ve met at the country club.’’ I didn’t add that when we met, Mama had informed him she’d voted for his opponent, and then tried to browbeat him and his wife into attending her church. “I think you also play golf with my brother-in-law. Kenny Wilson?’’

He pursed his lips like he was thinking. “Nope. The name doesn’t ring a bell.’’

“The staff out there said you two played together. Big guy? Drives a pickup truck with silver mud flaps?’’

He grinned. “Oh, yes. The flaps with the naked girl silhouettes. You don’t see too many of those at the club.’’

“Naked girls or mud flaps?’’ said the tall man with the watch. A couple of the other suits smirked.

“I think I might have played a round or two with your brother-in-law, when one of my threesome didn’t show.’’

The tall suit leered. “Threesome? I’ve heard you like to play with a foursome.’’

The mayor ignored the comment. “Your brother-in-law’s a lousy golfer, by the way.’’

I didn’t reveal I’d heard the same assessment of the mayor’s game.

“Have you seen Kenny lately?’’

“Can’t say that I have. Look, we’re kind of busy here.’’ His tone was impatient. “We’re looking for the park supervisor. We need to have a cornfab about business.’’

Opening the office door, I pointed inside to my boss, Rhonda.

“ ‘Cornfab’ away.’’

A familiar wave of relief that I wasn’t management material washed over me. When the mayor and the four suits had filed into the office, I slipped in behind them and took a seat at my desk. I’d been working on an exhibit about the mating habits of the Sandhill crane. I arranged it so I could disappear behind it.

Rhonda, trapped in a dull phone conversation about budgets and such, quit talking in mid-sentence when she spotted the mayor. “Anyway, those are the salient points about personnel.’’ She quickly wrapped up the call. “I’ll have to get back to you. Something’s just come up.’’

As soon as she placed the receiver on its cradle, she unfolded her lithe body from her chair, and stretched her hand out toward Graf. “Mr. Mayor, what a pleasant surprise.’’

A smile spread across her lovely face. Only I recognized it as one the former fashion model reserved for people she didn’t really want to see. It reached her angled cheek bones, but stopped short of warming her hazel-flecked eyes.

A couple of the suits seemed awestruck to find such a beauty wearing park department khakis. The mayor, though, barely gave her a second look. “Where’s your boss, doll?’’

Her smile was cool. “I am the boss.’’

Which of Rhonda’s characteristics confused him, I wondered: The fact she was black, or that she was a woman?

“So, you’re in charge?’’

She extended a long graceful finger, tapping the supervisor title on her desk nameplate. “That’s what it says.’’

“Well, screw me like a rabbit, I’m surprised.’’ It didn’t seem to register with the mayor he was pissing off a possible ally in whatever plan he was hatching. “We’re trying to find out anything we can about the owners of the properties next to the park.’’

“All you have to do is go to the county courthouse.’’ Rhonda took her seat again, started shuffling papers. “Property ownership is public record.’’

The mayor glanced furtively around the office. He didn’t seem to notice me slumping down behind a stuffed Sandhill crane—a tall, regal bird with a red cap of feathers.

He lowered his voice. “We’re more interested in off-the-record kind of information. Are any of the property owners having financial problems? Anyone contemplating divorce? Or, maybe one of the families is struggling with a tragic—and costly—illness?’’

I came out from behind my bird.

“In other words,’’ I said, “is there anybody in a bad way so a bunch of developers can take advantage and buy their land cheap?’’

“That’s rude,’’ one of the suits said.

“What’s rude is outsiders coming in here and buying up property to build ugly crap that nobody wants.’’

Rhonda lifted her palms in the air in the traffic cop position. “That’s enough, Mace.’’

“You know it’s true,’’ I said. “Why don’t you ask them what they have planned? No doubt it’s something that will compromise every living tree and critter, not to mention the water supply, in this end of the county.’’

“It’s a subdivision,’’ the mayor said. “Country Haven. New homes for five-hundred residents. The park will become a very important amenity. Everyone wants a house conjoining a park.’’

“Adjoining,’’ I said. “But nobody wants to live next to a shoddily built subdivision with cookie-cutter houses and too many cars and people.’’

The face on one of the suits turned thoughtful. “What’s the possibility of getting a zoning change for the park itself?’’ He looked out the window to acres of pristine woods and water. “That’s prime real estate, just going to waste!’’

The mayor glared pointedly at him, and then cut his eyes to Rhonda and me as if to make sure we noticed. “We’d never do anything to compromise this beloved park, or Himmarshee’s precious eco-system, for that matter. It’s what makes this part of Florida very unique.’’

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t correct him again. Lord knows, Maddie drilled it into my head enough: Unique is unique. Something can’t be “very’’ unique. Even beyond his grammar, though, I wasn’t buying his words.

A frown creased the face of one of the suits, the gold watch guy who’d first gazed over the railing at the creek. “I’m still troubled about the image of the community itself. Marketing Country Haven as ‘How Things Were Back When’ is difficult with headlines screaming about a sexually tinged murder.’’

The mayor tugged at his collar. Swallowed a couple of times. He looked nervous. Stalling for time, maybe? The suit had a point.

“Mrs. Graf and myself were just discussing this at breakfast.’’

I could stand the mayor’s misspeaks no longer. “That’s ‘Mrs. Graf and I.’”

He looked confused. “You and her have talked?’’

Rhonda caught my eye; shook her head. “Never mind,’’ I said.

“Big city sin can touch even the most innocent of towns. Satan likes nothing more than to wreak havoc where he’s not wanted. He loves it when he can get his hooks into the weak and the idle.’’ His voice rose like a hell-fire preacher. “The point is, all this about the murder will be forgotten by the time we break ground.’’

“It won’t be forgotten by the victim’s friends and family,’’ Rhonda said.

I nodded in agreement. “I’ll bet that’s exactly what’s troubling everyone who knew that poor girl: How will her brutal murder affect Himmarshee’s image?”

At least one of the suits had the good grace to look embarrassed. But the mayor blustered on. “It was a horrible thing, but it’s over. Once we get this project off the ground, people are just going to be happy we’re bringing jobs and a boom to the tax base.’’

I think he meant boon. I said, “That’s assuming you do get it off the ground. Don’t underestimate how much people are tired of runaway growth. Maybe they don’t want yet another fake community to replace what’s real and natural about Florida.’’

One of the suits smirked. “Natural? Swamps and snakes? Bugs and humidity?’’ The others laughed.

He was hunting bear without a rifle, attacking my native state. Rhonda caught my eye again, though, and gave me the cease-and-desist glare. She’d heard me rant before about people who can’t appreciate Florida’s original beauty.

She said, “I think we can all agree we want what’s best for Himmarshee, and for justice. That’s where Mace comes in. Give her a few days, and she’ll be on her way to solving Camilla’s murder. She’s done it before.’’

A couple of the suits aimed curious looks at me. I wanted to hide again behind my bird. Sputtering, the mayor waved away Rhonda’s comment. “That’s preposterous! I’m confident the police have it in hand. They hardly need a redneck Agatha Christie sticking her nose in.’’

“Mace isn’t a redneck,’’ Rhonda said.

“That’s all right, boss. If the boot fits …’’ I lifted my foot, showing off my size-ten clodhopper. Some dried manure flaked off the heel and onto the floor.

“Well, she’s not the dumb kind of redneck, anyway,’’ Rhonda said. “She’s super-smart, even if she isn’t great with people. She keeps her mouth shut and her eyes open. I’ll tell you right now, Mace might know who killed Camilla before the police do.’’

The mayor pulled at his collar again, wiped some sweat from his forehead. He gave me a suspicious look. “Irregardless,’’ he said, as I winced at the extra ir, “surely the police don’t encourage amateurs to help solve crimes?’’

“I don’t have a bull in this rodeo, Mr. Mayor. I didn’t even know the victim. Besides, the Himmarshee police hardly need my help,’’ I said. “Carlos Martinez is the head of the homicide division, and he’s quite capable.’’

I didn’t elaborate that Carlos IS the homicide division.

“He earned his stripes solving murders in Miami,’’ Rhonda added.

“He’ll have this one wrapped up in no time,’’ I said.

The suit with the posh gold watch glanced at it. “I hope so. The sooner people forget about this murder, the more houses we can sell.’’

“I’m sure that will help Camilla’s soul rest in peace,’’ I said.

_____

It was quitting time. The mayor and his cronies had taken a couple of maps, and left to survey the park’s outlying areas. Along with the Corn Nuts and a Coke, one thing sustained me over the afternoon: The image of all those shiny black dress shoes and the mayor’s white loafers slogging through dank muck and soggy marshes. I only wished we’d had a drenching rain to make things worse.

In the parking lot, a huge Hummer commanded two spaces. I was sure it was the developers’ vehicle—a fitting symbol for an invading army. It sat in the full sun, soaking up heat. I hoped they all burned their legs on the Hummer’s black seats when they climbed in.

At the far end of the lot, the driver of a small school bus had wisely parked under the shade canopy of a live oak. She read a paperback in the front seat while a field trip group finished up. The kids were getting close. Childish laughter and piping voices filled the woods.

I heard a car engine start as I was putting some research files about birds in the back of my Jeep. The first children were just beginning to lope into the parking lot from the nature path. They were hot on the trail of a squirrel, which was making for the safety of the oak tree.

“Slow down!’’ a teacher’s voice called out.

A cluster of kids raced after the leaders, trying to close the gap on the squirrel. Only a few children heeded the teacher’s command.

The car engine revved. With a squeal of tires, a dark sedan rocketed out of a blind parking space, hidden by the big Hummer. The car’s tinted windows were rolled up. I saw the faint outline of a man in a white T-shirt behind the wheel, talking on a cell phone. He wasn’t paying attention.

The children skipped excitedly across the lot. The squirrel scampered up the tree. Gaining speed, the car came closer. The kids were directly in its path.