“Now, that’s where you’re a hundred percent wrong, Maddie.’’ Looping his thumbs into his waistband, Sal leaned against his Cadillac, the picture of confidence. “Why haven’t I heard you making accusations about the person who called me to say your poor mother was at death’s door, that she’d collapsed at the Himmarshee Jail?’’
My sister and I looked at each other. It was a good question.
We would have gotten the answer, too, if Marty hadn’t chosen exactly that moment to pull up in front of Maddie’s house. She was beeping her horn like Himmarshee High had just won the homecoming game. And there was Mama, grinning and waving from Marty’s front seat.
It’s kind of hard to pretend you don’t see Big Sal Provenza. But Mama was doing her best.
“Rosalee, I just want to talk to you,’’ Sal begged, placing his palms on the rolled up window on the passenger side of Marty’s car.
Mama climbed out of her seat, pushed around Sal with a withering glance, and then immediately turned a big smile on Maddie and me. “Girls, I’m so happy to see y’all. I thought I’d never get out of that place. Oh, my Lord, the food. And then a visit from that talky Pastor Bob Dixon. And those horrible cots. Mace, you saw those inmate smocks. Remind me never to wear orange again.’’
“Please, Rosalee.’’ Sal ran his hands through his hair, messing up his careful styling. “I can explain everything. I just can’t do it right now.’’
She didn’t say a word to Sal. The look she gave him said enough. Then she turned to us again, grinning as she squinted in the sun. She was like a swivel-headed doll with two expressions: ecstatic for us; furious for Sal.
“I can’t wait to have some real food, girls. Maddie, I hope you have something good in your fridge. You and Kenny aren’t still on that low-cholesterol kick, are you?’’
Sal tried again. “Rosie, honey …”
“Enough!’’ Mama cut him off. Then she glared at him for a full ten seconds.
Sal seemed to shrink in his Big-and-Tall-Man ensemble as the moments passed.
The tense silence was making Marty uncomfortable. She shot an apologetic glance at Sal, then stooped to pick a stem of juniper from the driveway border. Maddie, with her arm around Mama’s shoulders, bored a hole through Sal with her own version of laser vision. Watching the two of them staring at Sal, I could see now where Maddie had inherited The Glare.
Finally, Mama spoke: “I know you want to talk to me, Sally. I’m not ready to listen. That detective told me you lied to me about Jim Albert. I don’t know what all else you lied about. I don’t know whether I trust you anymore. I do know that right now, I’m as mad at you as a wasp with a ruin’t nest.’’
“But Rosalee …’’
Mama put up a hand. “Now, why don’t you climb back into that gaudy car of yours and give me some time to visit with my girls? I may cool down some, and we can talk later. Or maybe I won’t. You’ll just have to wait and see.’’
I had to credit Mama’s finesse. Though I did question how a woman who drives a turquoise convertible the size of a cruise ship could call someone else’s car gaudy.
She turned her back on him. “C’mon, girls, let’s go inside.’’
Maddie’s hands were at her hips, the better to stare down Sal. Mama looped one arm around Maddie’s elbow. Marty dropped the juniper and took Mama’s other arm. Then the three of them trooped off toward the house.
Sal and I looked at each other over the hood of his car.
“Well, you’re in some deep shit now,’’ I said.
“I can’t believe I’ve lost her, Mace. She’s my whole world.’’ Wold. Sal leaned his elbows on the roof of his car and dropped his head into his hands. “What am I going to do?’’
“You could start by telling her the truth.’’
He rocked his head from side to side, his crowning glory a complete fright now. “I can’t do that, Mace.’’ Misery filled his voice. “I can’t talk about the murder victim; can’t discuss how I knew Jimmy Albrizio. Don’t you think I would if I could? I’d do anything to get Rosie back.’’
Sal might be macho, but love was bringing him to emotional meltdown. As big as that man was, if he started crying I feared a flood.
“Well, what about me, then?’’ I changed the subject. “What about how I was run off the road into what could have been my grave? Can you talk about that?’’
He raised his head. “I had absolutely nothing to do with that, Mace.’’ His tone was honest, not evasive. His eyes met mine and held there, no darting about. Either he was telling the truth or he was an Olympic-caliber liar.
“It’s just that I’d have never been out there on that lonesome road if not for you, Sal.’’
“And I’m sorry about that. But I explained about the phone call.’’
“Not completely. You never said who called you with a story so terrifying that you ran out and left me swinging in the wind. You could have left me a message at the pro shop.’’
The junior Don Juan flashed into my mind. He had a message for me all right; but it wasn’t from Sal.
“I told you I wasn’t in my right mind when I left there, Mace. I was frantic.’’
“So, who called?’’
When Sal told me who’d scared him off our meeting, I just about fell down and cracked my one good knee.
___
Opening Maddie’s front door, I smelled cold fried chicken. Mama was laughing.
“What’s so funny?’’ I said, limping into the gleaming kitchen. The place was so clean, you could perform surgery on Maddie’s stainless-steel countertops.
“I was just telling your sisters what my neighbor Alice said about taking care of Teensy for the last two days. That dog can get into more trouble than …” The smile died on Mama’s lips. “C’mere and let me take a closer look at you, Mace.’’ She hunted in her purse for the glasses she was too vain to wear. “What happened to your forehead? Why are you hobbling?’’
Maddie shot me a panicked look. “Mace hurt herself at the park, Mama.’’
“That’s right,’’ Marty echoed quickly. “At work.’’
We weren’t going to reveal that someone—possibly Mama’s recently departed former true love—had forced me off the road into a canal.
“Actually, it was after work,’’ I improvised, slowly closing the distance to the table. Maddie pulled out a chair for me. “You remember that crazy New Jersey lady I told you about, Mama? The one who moved to the country, even though she’s scared of anything that slithers, creeps, or flies?’’