“Shhh!’’ She craned her neck to look toward the living room. “Don’t remind Sal. He’s none too happy his ring nearly got trashed.’’
The ceramic ducks on Mama’s display shelves shook as Sal’s heavy footsteps led the way to the kitchen. “There’s my gorgeous gal!’’ Gawgeous, he said. “Am I the luckiest husband in the world, or what?’’
Mama jumped up for a hug. Sal gave her a long, wet-sounding kiss. Trapped in the center of their tight embrace, Teensy squirmed to get free. Sal placed the dog on the floor and went in for a second smooch, this one even more passionate.
“Get a room, would you?’’ Maddie said.
Carlos squeezed around Sal to put a hand on my shoulder. When
I lifted my face for a more personal greeting, he pointed a finger toward my chin. “You’ve got something orangey-red all over there.’’
Mama’s smile was victorious as she handed me a damp napkin.
I wiped the remnants of dinner off my face while the two men got settled at the table. Teensy hopped onto Sal’s lap, and was soon snoring atop the spacious expanse of the big man’s stomach. Carlos asked, “How’d it go with the victim’s sister?’’
“Prudence,’’ I said. “And the dead girl’s name was Camilla.’’
“I’m working the case. I know their names.’’
“So why don’t you use them?’’
“Carlos don’t mean nothing by it, Mace. Sometimes cops depersonalize the people involved in crimes—both the victims and the perps. It makes the job easier. Right, partner?’’
Carlos’s only answer was a curt nod.
“Well,’’ I said, “we just spent a couple of hours with Prudence. It seems to me the death of her sister was quite personal.’’
Carlos glowered at me. “I think I know that better than most.’’
I felt a sharp jab on the top of my foot. Mama should have stomped even harder with that kitten heel. I deserved it, for pointing out that murder is personal to a man who lost his wife in a vicious homicide.
Maddie rescued me. “Prudence told us she and Camilla were estranged.’’
Carlos lifted an eyebrow. “How estranged?’’ I could almost hear the wheels and gears grinding in his detective’s brain.
We caught him up with what she’d said—how their twin bond was strained but not torn, and how she didn’t want to elaborate on exactly why. “Did anyone else notice that mean look on her face when she talked about how Camilla was dressed?’’ I asked.
I was met with blank stares from Mama and my sisters. “I did think it was strange she wanted to grill Mace about solving murders,’’ Marty said.
“Prudence had the tough task today of officially identifying her sister’s body,’’ Carlos said. “She took it pretty hard.’’
“Has the medical examiner determined how Camilla died?’’ I asked.
Carlos exchanged a look with Sal. “It’ll all be in the newspaper tomorrow.’’
“My cousin Henry already told us what he’d discovered from his sources at the courthouse,’’ I said. “She was strangled, right?’’
Another curt nod.
Sal gently petted the sleeping dog. “Strangulation often has sexual overtones.’’
Flashing back to the racy getup Camilla wore, I fought the urge to say, Gee Sal, ya think?
Mama stood up and began clearing the table. “I’m putting a moratorium tonight on any more talk about murder, or sex.’’
“Sex, too?’’ Sal grinned at her. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re sending me to sleep on the couch. We haven’t been married long enough for that.’’
Mama snapped a dish towel at him. “Stop it, you!’’
Teensy awoke with a bark.
“We have leftovers,’’ Mama said. “Are you two hungry?’’
Sal licked his lips. “Starving—’’
“—We already ate,’’ Carlos said at the same time.
All of us laughed, except Maddie. The look on her face was serious. “Everything in this world seems to come down to sex one way or the other, doesn’t it? Wanting it. Getting it. Doing the wrong thing because of it.’’
Sal cocked his head at my sister. Strait-laced Maddie voluntarily bringing up S-E-X? Carlos and Mama aimed puzzled frowns her way, too. I was the only one at the table with any idea why Maddie’s mind was on sex.
The quizzical stares didn’t seem to register with Maddie. Frowning, she took out her phone again. Her face darkened as she began typing out a message, thumbs striking the keypad like angry pistons.
sixteen
“Just me. I’m back.’’
Marty’s voice from the front porch kick-started Teensy’s engines again. The dog darted to the door. In addition to shattering eardrums with his piercing barks, he seemed intent on protecting the home and the helpless humans inside. To wit: One hardened police detective from the mean streets of Miami; a three-hundred-plus-pound tough guy from Da Bronx; a principal whose raised eyebrow could silence a cafeteria full of middle-schoolers; an outdoorswoman and sometime alligator trapper; and a four-foot-eleven-inch dynamo whose dainty feminine stature belied an iron will.
“Teensy! Quiet!’’ Sal’s shout was so loud it made waves of the sweet pink wine inside Mama’s vibrating glass. It stopped the barks
in mid-yap. Teensy let out one final protest whine.
“Good dog! Everybody’s safe.’’ Marty scooped up the Pomeranian and brought him to the kitchen. Her face glowed a bit from hiking a mile or so back from the hotel in the warm evening. “You are SUCH a brave boy.’’
Wagging his whole body, Teensy dog-kissed Marty’s face from chin to forehead.
“Gross,’’ I said.
“Don’t encourage him,’’ Maddie added.
“Don’t listen to your sisters, Marty.’’ Mama chucked Teensy under the chin. “Only truly mean and awful people don’t like dogs.’’
“Oh, I like dogs, Mama. I just don’t like that dog.’’ I pointed at the offending animal wiggling in Marty’s arms.
“He’s not so bad.’’ Carlos reached out a hand to pat Teensy. Letting out a yip, the dog bit him on the thumb.
¡Dios mío, that hurt!’’ He narrowed his eyes. “Little bastard.’’
When Sal and I laughed, both Mama and Carlos scowled at us.
“Why don’t we all move into the living room?’’ said Marty, making peace. “Teensy can stay here and defend the kitchen against any further intruders.’’
Grabbing a bottle of soda water, Maddie followed the men out of the kitchen. Mama twisted the spigot on the box of wine, adding a half-glass more for Marty and her. I took three beers from the ’fridge for Sal, Carlos, and me.
“Uh-oh, Mama’s having more wine,’’ Marty said. “Somebody keep an eye on her ring.’’
Meeting Marty’s jibe with a frown, Mama spooned up some premium dog food for Teensy. When he skittered over to his bowl, she slid a doggie gate across the kitchen entryway and made her exit. Loud enough for us to hear her in the living room, she said, “It’s a shame the only one of my babies who never criticizes me has to stay in the kitchen.’’
I grabbed a seat next to Carlos on Mama’s peach-colored sofa. When I offered him one of the beers, he winced as he grabbed the bottle.
“Let me look.’’ I lifted his right hand, and examined the thumb. “The skin’s barely broken.’’
“It still hurts.’’
“Give me a minute,’’ I said.
In the bathroom, I rustled up some cotton balls and alcohol. I stepped over the doggie gate to get ice and a clean dishtowel from the kitchen. Teensy, scarfing his supper, barely noticed.
When I returned bearing my Nancy Nurse supplies, Carlos looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time. There is not a man alive who doesn’t like being fussed over—no matter how muy macho he is, or how hardened from a career of chasing scary criminals. If I’d learned nothing else from Mama’s lessons about womanly wiles, I had at least learned that.
Plus, I liked to be in charge in a medical emergency, so it was win-win for me.