Maddie taped crepe paper to the wall at the VFW lodge. The garland was as straight as the center line on a flat stretch of Florida highway. Marty followed behind—unsticking the tape, draping the paper, and tying it into festive bows.
“Hmph.’’ Maddie looked over her shoulder. “You’ve got it looking like a fancy birthday cake, Marty.’’
“That’s kind of the point, Maddie.’’ I was supervising. “It is a party, after all. It’s supposed to look pretty.’’
“I’d hardly call a pot-luck prayer breakfast a party. What are they going to do? Put top hats on the biscuits?’’
Marty made a final paper loop-de-loop. “For once in your life, could you not criticize everything, Maddie?’’ She tied a purple bow onto a gold streamer, keeping her eyes on her hands. “This is a big deal for Mama, even if it’s not exactly your style.’’
I was afraid Maddie was going to toss the heavy tape dispenser at Marty’s head. Ever since that promotion, our little sister had become more emboldened about speaking her mind.
“Hmph,’’ Maddie huffed, as if she had plenty to say. But when she looked at Marty, tongue peeking sweetly from the corner of her mouth in concentration, Maddie put down her would-be weapon.
“Explain to me again why we’re here while Mama’s off cavorting with her obnoxious boyfriend?’’ Maddie said.
“Fiancé,’’ I corrected. “They’re going to be married, whether you like it or not.’’
With all the excitement over going to jail and getting engaged, Mama had almost forgotten about her church’s annual Save a Sinner breakfast. That’s not the official name. It’s shorthand for my sisters and me. The members of Abundant Hope invite as many non-members as they can, plying them with a lavish, Southern-style breakfast. All the church ladies and a few of the men bring their specialties. The hope is guests will be so caught up with food and fellowship, they’ll commit themselves to the Lord between the homemade biscuits and the egg-and-sausage casseroles.
Mama remembered at the last minute she was supposed to be in charge of decorations. Meanwhile, Sal had made dinner reservations at the new country club. He wanted her to meet his golfing buddies and their wives. Since it was another opportunity to show off her engagement ring, Mama hadn’t hesitated. Which is how my sisters and I wound up spending our Friday night at the Veterans of Foreign Wars lodge, picking up the decorating ball that Mama had dropped.
I stood back to admire our handiwork.
A Welcome banner hung across the stage. Jesus held out a beckoning hand on a color poster, with John 3:16 inscribed in big type across the bottom. The churchgoers know the Bible verse by heart. But, for the less faithful, there was a cheat sheet beside the poster:
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
White plastic cloths covered all the tables; a vase of silk irises and marigolds decorated each one. Purple and gold are the school colors for Himmarshee High. Supplies in those shades are always left over, so they get used for just about every party in town, except funerals.
“Well, sisters, it looks as good as it’s gonna look.’’ I said. “Let’s eat.’’
I opened the box of pizza we’d ordered. We all took a seat at the one table we hadn’t decorated. In the morning, it would be crowded with platters of grits and red-eye gravy; biscuits and fruit butter; country ham and sweet potato pancakes.
Maddie helped herself to a pizza slice from the pepperoni-and-sausage side. “What I don’t understand is how they think they can still throw this big church shindig. Everyone knows the pastor vamoosed after knocking off his wife’s lover and stealing from those poor hurricane victims.’’
“Allegedly, Maddie.’’ Marty lifted out a piece from the cheese-only side. “Allegedly. No one has talked to the man, so we don’t know Pastor Bob’s side of the story.’’ She took a tiny bite. “Haven’t you ever heard of the concept ‘innocent until proven guilty?’ ’’
What were they putting in the water at the Himmarshee Library? Our mild-mannered sister was becoming a spitfire. I spoke before Maddie could come back with something mean.
“Well, he sure looks guilty. Delilah couldn’t find his gun when Mama and I were at the house this afternoon. But she found the paperwork on it. It’s a revolver, a Smith & Wesson.”
Maddie slid the box to her side of the table. “What’d Detective Martinez say?’’ She rolled up her second slice like a burrito and chomped off the end.
“You know how he is,’’ I said. “Played it close to the vest, as usual. But he perked right up when I told him Pastor Bob owned a .38.’’
“Is that the kind of gun that killed Jim Albert?’’ Marty asked.
“Martinez wouldn’t say. I tried calling Henry, but he left his law office early. He’s taking the kids to Disney, and you know what that means.’’
“A thousand rides on Space Mountain and no pesky cell phone,’’ Maddie said.
“Anyway, Martinez was awfully interested in the Dixons’ marital problems and the missing money. He planned to talk to Delilah today. Mama and I offered to be there, but she turned us down. I think it gave her something else to focus on besides worrying how everyone will react to her tomorrow at the prayer breakfast.’’
“Poor Delilah.’’ Marty nibbled on a sliver of crust. She stared at us, blue eyes immense and serious in her small face. “Have y’all considered how many questions are still unanswered? For example, what happened to Emma Jean?’’
Maddie chose her third slice from Marty’s meatless side. “Maybe she found out Pastor Bob killed her boyfriend. He had to kill her, too, before she told the police.’’
I remembered how out-of-control Emma Jean had been at Abundant Hope; how distraught she’d sounded when she called me on the phone.
“Remember what Mama told us about Emma Jean’s little boy going missing all those years ago?’’ I said. “Maybe she couldn’t take losing another loved one. Maybe she walked into Taylor Creek and just kept walking until she drowned.’’
“Maybe a moccasin bit her.’’ Marty shuddered.
“Then why haven’t they found a body?’’ Maddie asked.
“She could be caught up under a fallen log,’’ I said. “A gator could’ve dragged her off. You know how the swamps are, Maddie. A lot can stay hidden in there.’’
“You’re the swamp rat, Mace. I stay out of that mess.’’ She took a compact from her purse and swiped at a tomato sauce smear on her chin. “Anyway, there’s another person whose behavior has seemed mighty suspicious. Sal Provenza. Mama’s Yankee fiancé.’’ She snapped shut her compact like an exclamation point.