Текст книги "Mama Gets Trashed"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

_____

My Jeep bounced over the rutted entrance to Kenny’s camp, more a claustrophobic pathway than a road. Live oaks raised gnarled limbs overhead, creating a dark tunnel. I remembered how sweet bay and wax myrtle crowded in from both sides. The cramped lane gave me the sense I was sliding blindfolded into a long, narrow chute.

I tried to keep my eyes out for potholes, while my mind focused on what I’d find when the Jeep came out the other side. Even in the dark, I could see the white blossoms on a wild sour orange. The tree’s branches scratched at the Jeep, rubbing paint off my already-

battered ride.

Finally, I broke free of the woodsy tunnel and entered a small clearing. My high-beam headlights played over what would be the camp’s front yard, if Kenny had ever bothered to plant grass. No lights shone in the windows of the ramshackle camp house—a scrap-wood building with a broad screened porch and patched tin roof. Kenny’s truck was nowhere in sight. Weeds were flattened and small shrubs crushed in the area he and his hunting buddies normally used for parking. No one was parked there tonight.

The Jeep rolled over what looked like a huge anthill. I pulled to a stop about twenty-five feet from the front porch door. Grabbing a flashlight from the glove box, I got out and made my way to the structure.

I knew the camp was larger—and nicer—inside than it seemed from the yard. Kenny had put in electricity and indoor plumbing, which was a plus when it came to convincing Maddie or Mama to ever visit. Marty and I definitely got all our family’s nature-girl genes. Aiming the flashlight at the top of the door jamb, I ran my finger along the wood. There was the key, just where Kenny always hid it. Once inside the door, I flipped on the lights.

The first thing that struck me was the smell of cigarette smoke. Aside from Sal’s occasional cigars, no one in our family smoked. Kenny didn’t either, as far as I knew. Judging by the pungency, the smoke was fairly recent.

Only after the cigarette odor registered did I notice another, fainter smell. It was lemony, like perfume or cologne. I’d smelled it somewhere before. When I sat down on the couch, the sweet scent was stronger. It seemed to rise up from the cushions. I definitely preferred it to the smoke stink, or the stale beer I could smell in a bottle on an end table next to the couch.

The bottle was about two-thirds full. Cigarette ashes littered the top, and someone had dropped their butts into the remaining beer. Lovely. The ashtray on the coffee table also overflowed, and lots of those discards were stained with lipstick. I poked through the ashtray with a pencil, and found at least three different shades on various cigarettes.

It looked like more than hunting was happening at Kenny’s camp. Fearing what I’d find, I made my way to the bedroom.

The bed was rumpled, a jumble of black satin sheets and tossed pillows. No way were those linens Maddie’s. My prudish, fiscally conservative sister would be more likely to sleep on a bed of nails than on slinky, pricey, black satin.

Thong panties, bright red with lacy insets, draped a lampshade. Again, not Maddie’s. On the nightstand sat two empty cans of diet Mountain Dew, Kenny’s favorite. Next to those were three packages of condoms in camouflage colors. An unopened bottle of Dom Perignon rested on the bed.

I may be more Budweiser than fine champagne, but even I knew that was some pretty pricey hooch. Another two bottles, empty, were up-ended in silver ice buckets half-filled with water. The water was still cool to the touch, but all the ice had melted. I counted five champagne flutes. Three were on top of a bureau. The other two were on the floor by the head of the bed, one on each side. I checked them for lipstick stains. All but one had the telltale marks.

I fetched the ashtray from the living room to see if the shades matched. At least one did—the lipstick on several of the cigarette butts matched one of the champagne glasses.

I stood there, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. No matter how I figured, it didn’t look good for Kenny. Several women had been here—or maybe just one woman with an unusually diverse lipstick palette. There was drinking—which Maddie didn’t approve of. There was the appearance of sex. And there were those camouflage condoms. Those had Kenny and hunting camp written all over them.

I hadn’t found him, but I’d certainly found something. What in the world was I going to tell my sister?

I was about to leave when I remembered the napkin with the phone number I’d shoved into my pocket. I pulled it out and held it next to the champagne flute that matched one of the cigarettes. The rosy red phone number to the 19th Hole Lounge was written in exactly the same shade of lipstick.

_____

Outside on the front porch, I let my eyes adjust again to the dark. Beneath a waxing moon, there was light enough to see the sabal fronds beginning to shudder in a gusty wind. The temperature had dropped. A storm brewed. Silvery clouds swollen with rain scudded across a black sky.

A limpkin screamed from a nearby creek, raising the hairs at the back of my neck. No matter how many times I heard the wailing cry of the bird, it always gave me a start. Not for nothing did early Florida settlers call the limpkin the Crazy Widow.

Rustling sounds came from all around the dark landscape. It might have been the wind; or maybe wild hogs. Between the mournful bird and the imminent storm, I was feeling uneasy. Soon, the weather wouldn’t be fit for man or beast—or woman, either. I had planned to look around for signs of Kenny. He might have parked the truck somewhere else on the property. But the thought of tramping through the dark woods in a pounding rain didn’t hold much appeal.

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with Kenny once I found him. Where would I start in trying to unravel the story of that scene inside the camp-house? I needed to think about the best way to extract the truth from him. I decided to head for home, a good night’s sleep, and a chance of staying ahead of the storm.

The breeze picked up. Leaves skittered over the tops of my boots. The wind changed direction. I smelled rain coming, and something else: the acrid odor of cigarette smoke.

I was not alone in the woods.

twenty-nine

I hurried to my Jeep, stumbling a bit over the rough ground. The wind gusted harder. Still, I could smell the cigarette. It was probably just a hunter, settling in for a smoke before the rain began. But something about this whole episode at the camp hadn’t set right with me. I didn’t intend to stick around to find out exactly who was puffing away on Kenny’s isolated property in this lonely stretch of the county.

Grabbing the handle, I flung open the driver’s side door. My fingers scrabbled nervously at the waistband of my jeans, where I’d tucked my keys. They slipped from my hand, jangling to the floor. I bent to find them, just barely catching a reflection moving across the passenger side window. In the same second, my brain recognized it as an aiming dot, and I heard the loud crack of a rifle. I ducked my head as a tree limb shattered to my left. Leaves and chunks of bark rained onto the hood of my Jeep.

Hand shaking, I retrieved the keys and jammed them into the ignition. The engine clicked, but didn’t kick over. I cursed my reluctance to spend money on a new battery. Still slumped low in the seat, I turned the key again. The Jeep started. The relief that flooded through me was short-lived.

Another rifle shot split the air. A new branch burst, this time to my right. Chips of wood dinged off the fenders. A scatter of leaves clung to the windshield. Still ducking, I hit the gas. The tires spun in the sandy soil, and finally grabbed. Backing over the ant hill, I swept the steering wheel in a wide circle. Straightening the Jeep, I thrust it into drive. Peering up and over the dashboard, I spotted the rifle’s aiming dot dancing above the tree branches.

A third shot sounded just as I made it to the potholed driveway. Whoever was shooting had aimed very high. No storm of foliage followed the last shot.

Still, I hunched low in the seat, taking no chances. Toward the end of the tree tunnel, open space appeared ahead. The paved road was within sight. I hung a wide right off Kenny’s property, jouncing over the shoulder onto the pavement. Just as I made it, the first fat drops of rain slapped against the Jeep’s roof.

My eyes searched the rear-view mirror, but I saw only darkness behind me. What in the hell had happened? It was either a hunter with appalling aim, or a marksman aiming to intimidate. I swallowed; took a deep breath. My mouth was desert-dry. The thumping of my heart echoed in my ears. My hands were so tight on the steering wheel my knuckles ached.

I was beyond intimidated. I’d been terrified. Now I was ticked-off.

_____

My mood hadn’t improved much by the next morning. Mama was pouting. I would not concede a point. It wasn’t pretty.

“Well, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Mace. It’s just a tiny bit out of your way, and it sure means a lot to me. Any other daughter would be happy to give her poor mama a ride to work.’’

“You happen to have two other daughters. Why didn’t you call them?’’

Mama stuck out her lower lip. She punched the scanner button on the radio to find a Christian music station.

“Hey, I was listening to that!’’ I punched it back to country.

“You are sure in some kind of snit, girl. Who licked the red off of your candy?’’

I didn’t want to tell her my foul temper might be a result of being shot at—or at least thinking I was being shot at. I couldn’t be absolutely certain about last night. Was it the most inept hunter in the county? Maybe someone held a weird grudge against trees. Whatever, it felt an awful lot like the series of shots was some kind of message meant for me.

If Mama knew what I’d found at Kenny’s camp, let alone that I was alone out there on the wrong end of some moron’s target practice, she’d throw a fit. My stomach churned when I considered how easily those shots could have ripped into me instead of the trees. I shook off the thought, and returned to picking at Mama.

“I’m just saying that old convertible of yours is in the shop so much maybe you should get rid of it. You should have dumped it after you found the body in the trunk.’’ I glanced over, my face deadly serious. “Maybe it’s cursed!’’

Mama snorted. “You know I don’t believe in that supernatural mumbo jumbo. It’s against the Bible.’’

“So what is it, if not a curse, that you’ve stumbled upon dead body after dead body ever since?’’

Silently, Mama took out her lipstick. She turned my rear view in her direction. Surely the base was stripped by now. She Iced, then smacked her lips a couple of times.

“I’ve just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, honey. Several times.’’ She kissed a tissue to blot off the excess. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve found all the bodies stashed in the back of my convertible.’’

We were both quiet for a moment. I thought about the dead girl in the dump. Mama must have, too, because she asked, “Has Carlos found out any more about Camilla?’’

“Nothing he’s said to me. You know how he is when he’s working a case.’’

I eased to a stop on Main Street, at one of Himmarshee’s two traffic lights. She tilted the rear-view mirror back toward me. It showed me a narrow slice of the left rear window and the top of the driver’s side seat belt. Sighing, I realigned it. As the light turned green, I eased into the intersection with U.S. Highway 441.

“By the way, I did try Maddie and Marty before I called you for a ride to Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow,’’ Mama said.

“So I wasn’t your first choice? Imagine that.’’

“Marty had a doctor’s appointment bright and early. Maddie never picked up. That girl is avoiding me for some reason. I don’t understand it.’’

“Maybe she’s sick of hearing about how you hate that yellow dress.’’

Mama cut her eyes at me.

“What’s the problem with Marty?’’ I changed the subject. “She’s not sick, is she?’’

Mama waved a hand. “She and Sam are ready to have kids. Marty wants to have the doctor check her over, make sure she’s in good health.’’

I nearly swerved off the highway. “Kids?! What? How come nobody told me? This is big news.’’

Mama looked smug. “You don’t know everything, Ms. Smarty Pants. Of course, Marty would turn to her mama to have a talk about children. It’s not like you’re the most maternal woman on the planet.’’

I was still shaking my head about my little sister when Mama hit me with something else to ponder.

“She’ll do fine. It’s not Marty I’m concerned about, honey.’’

I motioned a 4 X 4 hauling a stock trailer to pull out from the feed store parking lot. Tipping his cowboy hat, the driver slowly turned in front of me. My raised eyebrows signaled to Mama to continue.

“It’s Maddie.’’ Mama’s forehead wrinkled with worry.

I knew I had to tread carefully. I didn’t let my face reveal a thing. “How so?’’

“For starters, she’s lost weight.’’

“Isn’t that all you ever nagged her to do? Now she has, and it’s a problem?’’

Mama folded her arms over her chest. “Something is not right. I know my girls. I just hope whatever’s wrong won’t ruin Kenny’s birthday. Maddie has worked so hard to plan that celebration for him.’’

A speeding driver in a red luxury SUV zoomed past us with inches to spare. He veered so close to a sod truck in the oncoming lane I could see the truck driver’s eyes widen. His lips formed the F-word. The SUV cut back into my lane. He darted into the car length I’d left between my Jeep and the stock trailer so as not to tailgate and spook the cattle.

Mama stuck her head out the window and screamed, “Watch your manners, buster!’’

“Newcomer asshole,’’ I muttered.

“Language, Mace.’’

Mama was momentarily distracted from the Maddie issue by the prospect of the wild driver in the SUV killing someone, like us. I didn’t mention that a ruined party barely registered on Maddie’s problem-o-meter right now.

In the distance, the salon’s sign beckoned. A huge pair of mechanical purple scissors snipped at the air. The SUV pulled out to pass again, terrifying a white-haired couple in a Buick, and earning a one-fingered salute from the cattle-hauling cowboy.

I prayed we’d make it without the SUV causing a crash. If we did, it’d be the first time I was ever relieved to pull in under those scissors to park at Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow.

thirty

“Oh my goodness! My hair looks a fright.’’

Mama caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls of Betty Taylor’s shop. I trailed her into the salon, toting her box filled with aromatherapy candles and Color Me Gorgeous pamphlets.

“Windswept hair is the price you pay for sticking your head out the window to scream at rude drivers, Mama.’’

D’Vora glanced at us. Then she ducked her head and hurried into the stock closet. I was beginning to take her avoidance personally.

“What’s up with her?’’ I asked Betty, as I put down Mama’s supplies.

She shrugged. As she stood back to examine the haircut on the woman in her chair, I realized it was the dark-haired teacher from the scary incident with the kids at Himmarshee Park.

“Elaine, right? How’s the ankle?’’ I asked her.

A smile slowly replaced her look of confusion. “Oh, hi! I didn’t recognize you since I’m not hanging on to your neck and limping.’’ Lifting her leg under the purple drape, she showed off her taped ankle. “Not bad. Still swollen. I won’t be running around after the kids for a while.’’

The bells at the front door jangled. An older woman entered. Another customer waited to pay at the cash register .

“D’Vora, get out here! I’m busier than a short-tailed cow in fly season.’’ When Betty yelled, the young stylist came running.

Nodding a quick hello at Mama and me, D’Vora rang up the departing customer, and then settled the new one in a chair at the shampoo sink. I took a seat. Since I had to work over the weekend, I had the day off from the park. There was no better place in town than Hair Today to catch up on gossip, both useful and not.

I introduced Elaine to Mama. Exactly as I predicted, she offered the teacher some advice: “Honey, your hair is so pretty. You ought to let it grow out.’’

“Welcome to my world, Elaine. My mother’s not one to hold back on helpful beauty tips. Helpful tips of any sort, actually.’’

The teacher’s dark eyes sparkled. She seemed more amused than offended. “I’ll give it some thought, Rosalee.’’

I filled everyone in on how the mayor had nearly run down Elaine’s school class.

“I’ve done some checking up on that man. People say he bought the election. I didn’t like him before. Everything I’ve heard since makes me like him even less,’’ Elaine said.

“Join the club,’’ I said. “He’s bringing in some developers to build a big subdivision right next to Himmarshee Park; maybe even pave over the park itself.’’

“Our nature park?’’ Betty turned Elaine’s head back to the mirror. “Can he do that?’’

“This is Florida,’’ I said. “Anything’s for sale if the price is right. I made an appointment for this afternoon to talk to him about it. Mama’s coming along for moral support. Right, Mama?’’

She fluffed her hair. “It’s more like I’m coming along to charm the mayor. We all know which of us loses her temper and who smoothes things over.’’

“I can certainly understand losing your temper about the prospect of ruining that lovely park.’’ Elaine said. “When my family visited from Canada, that’s the first place I took them.’’

“See if you can find out anything from the mayor about that poor girl’s murder,’’ Betty said. “The sooner we know what happened, the safer I’ll feel.’’

I noticed D’Vora hadn’t chimed in on the conversation. Not on the prospect of development, our sleazy mayor, or the murder. She didn’t even ask where Canada was. She concentrated on her shampoo job like she was curing cancer.

“Seriously, Betty … what’s wrong with D’Vora?’’ I whispered.

“Man trouble, I’ll bet.’’ Betty whispered back. “That man of hers fell out of the loser tree and hit every branch coming down.’’

More loudly, she called out, “D’Vora, you’re so quiet you’re scaring the customers. Is that no-account Darryl up to no good again?’’

D’Vora shook her head, kept right on scrubbing at the customer’s hair. Scabs were probably forming on the poor woman’s scalp by now.

Under her breath, Betty caught us up: “She tells me that mo-ron bought brand new custom wheels for his truck, even though they can barely cover the rent. I guess that’s better, though, than him being out there spending money on other women.’’

“Oh, I’ve been there,’’ Mama said. “My girls have been a lot luckier picking out men than I was. Well, it took Mace a while, but she’s got a keeper now.’’

Betty sighed. “That Carlos is sure gorgeous! Such thick, dark hair. And skin that looks like buttered rum. You’re a lucky girl, Mace.’’

“They all three are,’’ Mama said. “Marty and Maddie got a couple of princes, too.’’

A troubled look flitted across D’Vora’s face. She finally joined in, abruptly changing the subject to the charms of the golf pro. “I saw him at Gladys,’ speaking of men. He’s one tasty-looking hunk.”

“I don’t get the attraction of golf,’’ Elaine said. “Hitting a little ball all day? Bor-Ing!’’

“Golf may be God’s dullest gift to the world of sports, but D’Vora’s right about the pro,’’ I told her. “This guy will make you want to find the sweet spot.’’

Mama slapped my hand.

“Ouch! I meant on a golf club, Mama. That’s where you’re supposed to hit the ball.’’

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That boy’s forbidden fruit, Mace. You’re almost a married woman. You’re spoken for.’’

“‘Spoken for?’ What am I, a heifer at the Himmarshee Livestock Auction?’’

Elaine smiled.

“You know what I mean,’’ Mama said. “Once you’re engaged, you cannot waltz around flirting with anything in pants.’’

“Since when have I done that?’’

Betty butted in, nipping our squabble in the bud. “Speaking of flirting, I saw Sal’s man-crazy cousin C’ndee at the Booze ’n’ Breeze drive-thru. She told me about some of that Italian food she’s serving for Kenny’s party. I can’t pronounce it, but it sure sounded good. Who’s that Jersey sparkplug seeing these days?’’

Mama slapped her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell y’all. Guess who’s been beating his head against the wall, trying to get C’ndee to go out with him.’’

A salon full of women raised their eyebrows at Mama. Even D’Vora stopped her torture by towel. She cocked her head, waiting. Mama hadn’t shared any C’ndee gossip in awhile, so this news was bound to be fresh.

“Who?’’ D’Vora asked.

“Guess.’’

Not this routine again.

“The music director at Abundant Forgiveness,’’ Betty said.

“Nope.’’

“The cook at the Pork Pit,’’ said D’Vora.

“Guess again.’’

“Juan, from Juan’s Auto Repair and Taco Body Shop,’’ offered Elaine.

Mama shook her head.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mama. We don’t have all day. Who?’’

“The honorable Big Bill Graf. Our new mayor.’’

Mama looked satisfied when the woman at the shampoo sink gasped. She peeked out from under D’Vora’s towel. “But he’s married! Didn’t he run on a family values platform?’’

Betty waved off the question with her purple comb. “He sure wouldn’t be the first hypocrite to hold office.’’

Mama lowered her voice. “Now, I’m the very last one to countenance cheating, but have you met Mrs. Mayor? That woman always looks like she’s been sipping vinegar. What a sourpuss! Maybe the mayor wanted somebody cheerful and lively for a change.’’

“C’ndee is lively all right,’’ I said.

“She has some real fun events planned for Kenny’s birthday party,’’ Betty said. “Maddie and Kenny must be looking so forward to it. What a celebration they’re going to have.’’

D’Vora dropped a big bottle of shampoo. When all of us looked her way, she tossed the towel on a chair and pointed her chin at the customer, “She’s ready for you, Betty.’’

She hurried toward the door, averting her eyes from Mama and me. “Sorry, I’ve got to run an errand real quick.’’

She left the shampoo bottle where it fell. The bells jangled as the door swung shut.

“Weird,’’ Elaine said.

Mama and Betty exchanged knowing smiles. “Want to bet the errand has something to do with her checking up on her man?’’ Mama said.

“Nothing like hearing someone else’s husband is cheating to make you suspect your own,’’ Betty added.

I didn’t think it was Darryl troubling D’Vora. Why was she avoiding Mama and me? Did she know something about Kenny and Maddie she didn’t want to talk about?

I followed her out the front door to find out.

thirty-one

D’Vora sat across the street,on a bench under a magnolia tree in the courthouse square. She faced the building, where a handful of clerks and legal workers were arriving to start their day. I watched her for a while. She was fidgeting with the hem of her purple smock and chewing at her thumb like it was a Tootsie Roll.

I crossed the street and sidled up behind her. “Hey,’’ I said, and she nearly jumped off the bench.

“You scared me!’’

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’’ I pointed at the space next to her. “Mind if I sit for a bit?’’

She shrugged, and I was afraid she was going to bite clear through her thumbnail.

As I took a seat, D’Vora’s gaze lit everywhere but on me. “Listen …” I began.

She quickly called out to a couple of youngish women who looked like they could have graduated with her from Himmarshee High: “Hey, y’all. Already hot as hell’s hinges, isn’t it?’’

“Hot enough the trees are bribing the dogs,’’ one answered, as they entered the courthouse.

I tried again. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. There’s something I want to talk …”

D’Vora glommed on to another acquaintance, who was wearing a form-fitting dress in royal blue. “Hey, Amber,” she shouted. “You’re sure looking good. That’s definitely your color.’’

Amber beamed. “I’m coming in next week for blonde highlights. I didn’t lose all this weight to go through life with mousy brown hair.’’

“Give me a call, anytime. Better yet, let me give you a card.’’ D’Vora rocketed off the bench, but Amber motioned her to sit down.

“I know Hair Today’s number by heart.’’ She looked at her watch. “Gotta run! I’m just about late.’’

The stylist sat again, reluctantly it seemed. Her eyes darted here and there, but Himmarshee’s miniature morning rush hour appeared to have ended.

“Why do you keep running away from me?’’ I asked her.

“I’m not.’’ Now, she was worrying both thumb and index finger between her teeth.

“D’Vora, if you know something you think I should know, you need to tell me. I’ve always been straight up with you, haven’t I?’’

She nodded, twisting her hand at her mouth to gnaw on yet another fingernail.

“Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble?’’

She shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Are you afraid of getting someone else in trouble?’’

She nodded. Sure enough, a tear rolled down her cheek.

I put a hand on her knee. “Honey, it’s probably not as bad as you think. You’ll feel better once you get it off your chest. I can share some of the burden of knowing with you.’’

I saw her wavering. “D’Vora, you need to do the right thing.’’

That sealed it. She started blubbering, trying to get the words out: “Iiiii … ttttt … it’s …” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Slipped it back into her smock.

“It’s what?’’

“Not what. Who. It’s Kenny.’’

The thumb flew back to her mouth. She was biting so hard, I could hear her teeth nicking the nail. I gently took her hand, holding it still in mine.

“What about him?’’

“He’s cheating on Maddie.’’

I sighed with relief. Not that the news wasn’t bad. But I’d already dealt with the anger and disappointment of finding out about my brother-in-law’s philandering.

“I saw him out at the lake at sunset, in his truck. I knew it was his because it had that bumper sticker on the back, Proud Graduate of Bubba University.’’ She pulled a folded slip of paper from her smock, and placed it on my lap. “I also took down his license tag number, just so no one would think I was imagining things.’’

I put the paper in my pocket. “We know about it, D’Vora.’’

Shock played across her pretty face. “You do? Maddie, too?’’

“Unfortunately, yes. Even the best marriages get into trouble. I just hope Maddie and Kenny can get past this.’’

I stared off into the distance, wondering whether that would even be possible.

D’Vora took out her tissue and blew her nose again. As she composed herself, my gaze settled on the moss hanging like gray lace from the oak trees. I thought of the old Southern folktale that told of its origins. Supposedly, a Spanish woman was captured by Indians. They cut her long hair and tossed it high into the trees. In no time at all, the black hair turned gray. It spread from tree to tree, and that was the beginning of Spanish moss.

I was imagining the fear that dark-haired woman must have felt, when I realized D’Vora had stopped sniffling. She was speaking again.

“… and that’s why I’ve been wracking my brain, wondering if I should tell them.’’

“Tell who, D’Vora?’’

“The police, of course.’’

A shiver ran up my spine. Suddenly, my attention was riveted.

“Why would you tell the police Kenny’s cheating? If they got called out every time a man in Himmarshee cheated, that’d keep them pretty busy, wouldn’t it?’’

I searched D’Vora’s face. Her eyes were on the pavement. Her voice came out hushed.

“It’s not so much that he was cheating. It’s who he was cheating with.’’

The shiver in my spine turned into a fusillade of pinpricks.

D’Vora continued, the words flowing now like water. “I saw him, Mace. I saw Kenny parked in a public place, doing things with that librarian. With Camilla.”

A sob worked its way up from deep in her chest. “It was the night before you and your mama found the poor thing murdered, lying dead in piles of garbage out at the dump.’’

thirty-two

Bookshelves lined the walls of the living room at Camilla Law’s small, but tastefully furnished, home. A framed quotation by Jorge Luis Borges held a place of honor over a fireplace. In black letters bordered with gold, the words were illuminated by two small spotlights mounted in the ceiling:

I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.

I said a silent prayer that after what Camilla suffered, she had found just that paradise.

The police finished searching for evidence at her house. Camilla’s sister had been permitted to move in from the hotel. She planned to remain in Himmarshee to follow the details of the murder investigation. She also had to handle all the arrangements that follow any sort of death. Planning a funeral. Sorting out finances. Deciding what to do with the possessions left behind by a loved one.

I didn’t envy Prudence those tasks, even as she mourned her sister. I didn’t want to bring on added pain, but given the information I finally dragged from D’Vora, I had to find out more about Camilla. If I also happened to discover something about Camilla’s mysterious twin, that would be all the better.

I’d taken a seat on a sofa in the living room. A shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen. Prudence poked out her head. “I’m sorry there’s nothing to eat. I had to throw out some spoiled food. Will you have a cup of tea with me?’’

I thought about the kinds of questions I wanted to ask about her dead sister. It was almost lunch time. I weighed my need for fortification against her judging me to be a pre-noon lush.

“Have you got anything stronger than tea?’’

I saw the tiniest frown of disapproval before she banished it. “I’ll take a look. I never touch alcohol myself, but Camilla may have kept something in the house.’’

I recalled Prudence polishing off those brimming glasses at Mama’s house. Maybe the English didn’t consider sweet pink wine to be “alcohol.’’

She opened a closet door in a small hallway. She felt around on the top shelf, and then held up a dusty bottle of bourbon. “Will this do?’’

I gestured with thumb and forefinger to indicate a small amount. “Just a swallow or two. I’m driving.’’

She put the bourbon on the coffee table in front of me, and then went to retrieve her tea. She returned, carrying a small tray. On it was a delicate porcelain tea cup, a miniature pitcher of water, an empty juice glass, and a second glass filled with ice. The glassware looked like expensive crystal.