Mama regaled a group of guests with her garbage-truck adventure.
“I’ll never be able to wear my persimmon pantsuit again. It’s completely ruined.’’
Mercifully, my phone rang so I didn’t have to re-hear the already familiar story. My heart sank when I saw it was an unfamiliar number. Not Carlos. He hadn’t returned any of the messages I’d left.
I moved away so as not to disturb the crowd, and then clicked on the call. Glasses clinked and music played on the other end. Suddenly, I knew who’d called Maddie’s answering machine to say Kenny did not commit the murder.
“Hey, Angel.’’
“How’d you know it was me?’’ She seemed surprised.
“Sounds like the 19th Hole. Are y’all busy?’’
“Slammed. I just called to tell you I’m glad the real culprits were arrested. Camilla played me like she did everyone else.’’
The scene with the picture album at Camilla’s house ran through my mind. She’d paged through the photos, describing the more accomplished twin. Everything she said applied to Prudence—the sister she’d envied, hated, and finally murdered.
“Did you know Camilla was pretending to be Prudence?’’
“I suspected, but I wasn’t sure until she came to the swingers’ party. Camilla had a scar … well, let’s just say it was in an intimate spot. I saw it that night. Even before that, I tried to tell you to keep looking for the killer.’’
“I appreciate that.’’
“I would have said more, but I was afraid. Camilla could be vicious.’’
“Obviously.’’
“I’ve got to get back to the bar. I hope you come in sometime to visit. I’ll buy you a beer.’’
“Sure,’’ I said, though both of us knew I was lying.
As I hung up, I saw Mama was coming to the conclusion of her story. Clasping her hands behind her back, she spun two or three times, apparently acting out being rolled up in the rug. She gave a couple of short hops, her feet together as if bound.
“What in the world is she doing?’’ Marty had sidled up next to me.
“Performing the tale of the day she almost got trashed,’’ I said. “Either that, or dancing the most unfortunate bunny hop ever.’’
Marty gave a soft chuckle, before her expression shifted to something more serious. “I’m sorry about you and Carlos, Mace. Mama told me things aren’t so great between you.’’
She gently lifted my hand, looking in vain for the engagement ring. I patted my blazer pocket with my right hand. Foolishly, I was still carrying around the ring.
“Is Carlos coming to the party?’’
I shrugged. “I think I’ve really screwed things up. I left messages, telling him I’m sorry and I don’t want to lose him. But I haven’t talked to him since this morning, when he sped off with Prudence … I mean Camilla … handcuffed in the back of his car.’’
“Well, at least she’s used to handcuffs,’’ Marty said. “How do you suppose the murder happened?’’
Mama stopped beside us to butt in: “This is how some of the swingers say it went down. Camilla had the whole thing planned. She talked her sister into a visit so they could reconcile.’’
“Maybe she gave Prudence the diamond bracelet as a peace offering,’’ I said.
“Then she got her to dress up as a submissive for old time’s sake. She hooked her up with Jason, saying he liked to role-play being dominant,’’ Mama added.
“That set Prudence up to be strangled,’’ I said. “She picked Kenny as a convenient suspect, jumping his bones in a public place so someone would be sure to notice.’’
Mama said, “Camilla told Jason to make the rough sex serious—and fatal.’’
Marty’s eyes had begun to widen at “some of the swingers.’’ By the time Mama said “rough sex,’’ my little sister was sputtering: “How in the world do you know so much about this kind of thing, Mama?’’
“Honestly Marty,’’ I said, “that’s a part of the mystery you may not want solved.’’
George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart’’ started playing. Sal came and whisked Mama onto the floor for a slow dance. Marty went to find her husband, Sam, to do the same. To my surprise, Kenny and Maddie were also on their feet, swaying to the love song. George had just gotten to the part about making all the dreams come true, when I smelled sandalwood and spices.
Carlos must have rushed to get to the party before it ended, because his hair was still damp. A dab of shaving cream nestled near his ear. I wiped it off. He straightened my collar, which had bunched at the neck of my blazer. His touch made my breath catch in my throat.
“Buenas noches, niña.’’
“Good evening to you too,’’ I managed to say. “Did you get my messages?’’
“All of them.’’ He smiled. “You’re very determined.’’
“What can I say? I’m in love.’’
Side by side, we watched the dancers. Maddie and Kenny had inched imperceptibly closer. When the song ended, Kenny’s fingertips rested for just a moment on Maddie’s belly. I couldn’t begin to imagine the emotions each read in the other’s eyes.
Carlos leaned toward me. His breath against my cheek was warm. It smelled sweet and delicious, like flan and Cuban coffee. “Looks like Kenny is forgiven.’’
“Not yet,’’ I said.
“Do you think they’ll get there?’’
I nodded. “I do, eventually. I guess that’s how people in love are. They may argue. They may even disappoint each other. But they don’t give up, even if it takes some time.’’
“Kenny loves her. He’ll give her all the time she needs.’’
I turned to face him. “Are we still talking about Maddie and Kenny?’’
He traced the outline of my lips, his fingers as light as butterfly wings. I felt a shiver from my mouth to my toes.
“We’re talking of whatever you want to talk about.’’ His voice was husky.
“You mentioned time … ” I let the word trail off as I took the ring from my pocket. As he watched, I slipped it back onto my finger.
“What about time?’’ He whispered, his lips brushing my ear.
“It’s the right time.’’ I ached to be with him; to finally be one with him. “Reverend Delilah is here tonight. What do you say we choose a date and ask her if she’ll marry us?’’
His eyes searched mine. He must have found what he was looking for, because he pulled my face to his for a kiss that made my feet feel like they were floating high above my head.
“What are we waiting for?’’ he said.
He put his arm around my waist. Together, we walked toward the minister who would unite us forever as husband and wife.
the end
about the author
Like the characters in her Mace Bauer Mysteries, Deborah Sharp’s roots were set in Florida long before Disney or South Beach came to define the state. She does some writing at a getaway in the wild region north of Okeechobee, and some at the Fort Lauderdale home she shares with her husband, Kerry Sanders. A former USA Today reporter and native Floridian, she knows every back road and burg, including some not found on any state maps. The little town of Himmarshee may be fictional, but the rodeo-and-ranches slice of Florida that inspires it is both authentic and endangered.
Author photo by Charles Trainor, Jr..
Table of Contents
Book design by Donna Burch
Table of Contents
Book design by Donna Burch