Marty, studying a cartoon Italian chef on the pizza box, said nothing.
“It is strange how he won’t reveal anything about his life in New York before he retired to Himmarshee,’’ I said. “But all of a sudden Mama seems convinced he’s on the up-and-up. Do you think he told her something to put her mind at ease; something she hasn’t told us?’’
“Ha!’’ Maddie slapped the table, causing the pizza box—and Marty—to jump. “That’s a good one, Mace,’’ she said. “Asking Mama to keep a secret is like asking a sieve to hold water.’’
Our little sister remained silent, eyes cast down to the napkin she was shredding.
“Well, Martinez seems to have shifted from thinking Sal is Public Enemy Number One,’’ I said. “Sal may be okay, if we can trust Martinez. And I’m not saying for sure that I do.’’
Marty lifted her face. “Of course you can trust Carlos, Mace,’’ she said. “He’s a policeman. They protect and serve. It’s an oath.’’
Maddie snorted. “Get real, Marty. Haven’t you ever heard of police corruption? The man is from Miami, after all. Maybe he and Sal were both involved with Jim Albert in something fishy. And they murdered him to take all the profits.’’
We sat quietly for a few moments, digesting our pizza and our theories.
Marty finally cleared her throat, an apologetic sound. “There is one person we haven’t mentioned, Mace.’’ Her voice was a whisper, as if by speaking negatively she might unsettle the universe. I knew right away which conversational planet she was circling.
“Jeb Ennis,’’ I said. “You can talk about him, Marty.’’
“That devil again.’’ Maddie looked like she wanted to curse Jeb and spit on the floor. “I’d be the first one to march him straight to jail. But even I have to say the pastor seems to have a better motive for the murder than Jeb Ennis does.’’
Marty’s shredded napkins were a snow bank in her lap. “He owed Jim Albert an awful lot of money, Maddie.’’
“Yes, but we don’t know about Bob Dixon, do we? He must have been financially desperate to take that hurricane money—to allegedly take it,’’ she said, with a nod at Marty. “Maybe he also borrowed from Jim Albert.’’
“Or, maybe the minister killed him so he could steal his money,’’ I said.
“Either way,’’ Maddie said, “a man as vain as Bob Dixon had to be humiliated that his dowdy old wife took up with someone else for a roll in the hay.’’
“A roll on a dirty plaid couch,’’ I said. “Delilah said it reeked of cigarettes.’’
“Whatever.’’ Maddie waved her hand. “The point is men do crazy things when women are involved. That leads me to the reason I don’t believe Jeb did it.’’
Marty’s eyes went round. “What do you mean?’’
“No matter what else I think about Jeb, I do believe he loved Mace.’’
“Loved her and regretted breaking her heart,’’ Marty said.
“So? What do Jeb’s old feelings for me have to do with anything?’’ I asked.
“The person who killed Jim Albert ran you off the road when you started asking too many questions,’’ Maddie said. “That wreck could have been a lot more serious, Mace. You could have been killed.’’
Marty gasped and grabbed at her throat, just the way Mama does.
“Yes, Maddie, but I wasn’t. I’m okay.’’ I reached over and patted my baby sister’s hand.
“Thank the Lord for that.’’ Maddie inclined her head to the poster Jesus. “Jeb Ennis wouldn’t do anything to hurt the woman he loved; maybe even still loves. He wouldn’t endanger you that way, Mace.’’
Maddie sounded so sure. I almost opened my mouth to tell her how I’d felt that afternoon in the park by Ollie’s pond: Stalked. Endangered. Not to mention confused, as I watched Jeb peel out with the windows rolled tight in a truck that was supposed to be stifling.
But in the end, I didn’t say a word to my sisters. I never told them how frightened I’d been that day.
The light from the headlamps on Pam’s VW bounced upward, illuminating hawk moths and the low-hanging branches of trees. At the end of the unpaved drive, Emma Jean’s house was dark. Deserted-looking. As I turned left to park the car, the headlights flashed across the front porch. The cat’s dishes and the rubber container of food were still there, just where I’d left them.
I killed the engine and turned off the lights. A waning moon barely broke through a thick layer of clouds in the sky. I heard night sounds: A dog barked a couple of streets away. Something small skittered through the dry leaves under the hedge lining the driveway. An owl hooted. The call sounded haunting. Lonely. I turned the car lights back on.
Talking with my sisters about all the people we knew who could have killed Jim Albert had left me feeling nervous.
“Here, Wila. Here kitty, kitty.’’
As I called, I lifted an animal carrier out of the car and set it on the rocky driveway. I grabbed a towel I’d put in the back seat. I’d been thinking about Emma Jean’s cat. I didn’t want to leave the pampered creature for too long on her own. I’d feel awful if Emma Jean did come home, only to find something had happened to her pet.
“C’mon, Wila. I’ve got food.’’
I tried not to sound too eager. I’m more accustomed to dogs than to cats. But a cat-crazy college roommate once told me that cats are just like men: Show too much interest and they turn tail and run; ignore them and they fall all over themselves for you. I arranged myself into a position of nonchalance on the bottom step of the porch. Plastering a bored expression on my face, I pretended to examine my fingernails.
“Okay, no big deal,’’ I announced to the night and to any Siamese that might be listening. “Come if you want. Stay away if you don’t. I’ll just sit here for a while and enjoy the music of the mosquitoes.’’
I started to hum.
Within moments, the cat padded out from behind a glider with a periwinkle-blue-and-white striped cushion. She seemed to remember me from before, but who can be sure? I stroked her a few times, murmuring nonsense words to her. I had the feeling Wila wasn’t going to like what was coming. But it was for her own good. Somebody had to take care of the poor critter.
I wrapped the towel around her, cocoon-like, except for her head. I lifted her into my arms, the towel protecting me from her claws. As quickly as I could, I stooped down, got her into the carrier, and shut the wire door.