“We’re not the wimps you Yanks imagine us to be.’’ She smiled. “Our dad was quite active in the British Association for Shooting and Conservation. Of course, Camilla always won our competitions.’’
She paged through several photos, and then stopped. Flanked by a well-dressed man and woman, the twins leaned against a Mercedes. One of the sisters scowled at the camera, arms folded. “Camilla was cross with our parents. They’d punished her for sneaking out at night.’’
She closed the album. “That’s the last picture of the four of us. Our mum and dad were killed within the month in a crash on the M1 motorway.’’
My heart went out to her; first her parents, now her sister. “I’m sorry,’’ I said, knowing the words were inadequate.
She returned the album to its shelf. Her fingers lingered on the spine, but when she turned, her eyes were clear. Her shoulders were squared. “Yes, well. One must carry on.’’
So that was the stiff upper lip the English had made famous.
“I do wish we’d remained close.’’ Prudence’s gaze traveled around the house, lighting on a sickly looking plant in the corner; the walls of books; the framed quotation. “She never even invited me to visit. This is the first time I’ve seen her home.’’
She picked up a cushion in a vivid silk print, and cradled it to her chest. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time.’’
I thought of how close I was to my sisters. I thought about Maddie, and how I’d do just about anything to see her happy again. How hard it must be for a grieving sister to “carry on.’’
The bourbon sat uneasily in my nearly empty stomach. I needed food to soak up the alcohol. “I’ve imposed on you long enough.’’ I hauled myself off the couch. “You want to grab lunch somewhere?’’
She shook her head. “I’m waiting for a call from Camilla’s bank.’’ She indicated an array of folders on the dining room table. “I’m trying to make sense of her assets. She always was the one with a head for figures.’’
A thought surfaced: As Camilla’s closest relation, Prudence would likely inherit this home with all its expensive furnishings. I remembered the diamond bracelet we’d seen on Camilla’s wrist. How much money was in the bank, I wondered?
Even with the bourbon under my belt, I couldn’t bring myself to ask Prudence that question when her sister’s body was barely cold. Instead, I said I had to get going.
“Can I offer you some other beverage before you leave?’’
“I wouldn’t turn down a Coca-Cola to go. It’ll give me a jolt just as the bourbon is trying to make me sleepy.’’ I leaned against the kitchen entryway while she rummaged in the fridge.
“That’s another thing I never developed a taste for,’’ Prudence said. “Frightfully sweet.’’
“You would have learned to love it if you were born in the South,’’
I said. “Down here, babies are weaned on Coke.’’
“Success!’’ She pulled out one of the classic contour bottles, and then reached around to the wall side of the fridge, where a bottle opener was affixed by a magnet.
Prying off the cap, she handed me the cold bottle. “Your Coke, madam.’’
I thanked her and made my exit, drinking as I went.
Out front in my Jeep, I drained the last syrupy swig. Glancing toward the window of the house, I caught Prudence watching me. Before she stepped out of sight, I saw she’d traded her teacup for a long-stemmed wine glass. She seemed to be acquiring quite a taste for the alcohol she said she never touched.
thirty-three
Mama and I sat on a leather loveseat at City Hall, waiting to see Big Bill Graf. The phone rang on the desk of his fifty-something receptionist, a holdover from the previous mayor. Turning in her swivel chair, she angled her body away from us and answered the call.
“Bill Graf’s office,’’ she said in a practiced purr. “A Mayor Should Care.’’
“He should, but he doesn’t—at least not about scaring kids or ruining the environment,’’ I whispered to Mama.
“You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Mace. Be nice!’’ She leaned close to hiss in my ear, and then pinched my side before she sat back.
“Ouch!’’ I wheezed from the pain.
The receptionist scribbled a message on a phone pad. She hung up and swung back to give us the evil eye. “Do I have to separate you two? You sound like hissing cockroaches.’’
“Is the mayor going to be much longer? We had an appointment for one o’clock. It’s already twenty after.’’
Mama feinted with her left, and then came in with her right for another pinch, but I’d slid to the far corner of the mini-couch to escape her attack. “What I meant to say is I know the mayor’s busy with important city doings. I just wondered if we should reschedule.’’
Mama nodded approval at my smiling suck-up.
Just then, the door to the mayor’s office opened. He ushered out a young woman with long blonde curls and five-inch heels. Her dress clung to the curve of her butt and bustline like dark pink plastic wrap. He made a show of giving her a business-like handshake as he bid her goodbye.
“Thanks for coming in, Bambi.’’ His fingers caressed the small of her back as he propelled her toward the door. “We’ll let you know about the administrative assistant job. We’re still interviewing.’’
“Bambi?’’ I mouthed to Mama.
“Assistant?’’ She mouthed back.
“Maybe an assistant stripper,’’ I whispered.
The receptionist hid a grin behind her hand. “Miss Mace Bauer and Mrs. Sal Provenza to see you, Mayor Graf.’’ She began tidying papers on her desk.
The mayor turned to us, arms outstretched, grin in place. I really hoped he didn’t intend to dispense a hug. Mama rose and grabbed both his hands for a friendly shake. I hung back until I was certain he wasn’t going to end-run in for an embrace.
Claiming it was “such a treat’’ to see us again, he gestured us into his office. The walls looked like a taxidermy exhibit. Hunting trophies included a huge buck, with antlers as wide as the window; a wild boar with lethal-looking tusks; and a couple of leaping largemouth bass. An upright grizzly dominated a corner of the room, mouth open in a soundless roar.
Mama stood on tiptoes, peering up at the bear.
“Does your husband hunt, Mrs. Provenza?’’
“Only for take-out pizza and ice cream, Mr. Mayor. And please, call me Rosalee.’’
I had nothing against hunting. My personal preference, though, was to see animals alive and out in nature, where God put them. Before the mayor could meander down hunter’s memory lane, relating how he bagged each stuffed critter, I got to the point of our visit.
“You might remember I saw you and your developer pals the other day, hatching plans to ruin Himmarshee Park. I’ve been upset ever since.’’
The paper-shuffling in the outer office went silent.
“What Mace means is she wants to find out how all of us can work together to bring progress to the county while still preserving its natural beauty.’’ Mama fluttered her eyelashes.
He cocked his head at her. “Speaking of beauty, has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?’’
I muttered, “Only a million times.’’
Ignoring me, Mama rewarded the mayor with a dazzling smile and a double lash flutter.
“I’m told you were in that movie they filmed here,’’ he said. “I hear you were luminous. A real star.’’
“Make that a shooting star,’’ I said. “The part was so brief, Mama will be there and gone before you even notice she’s on the screen.’’
“Well,’’ the mayor said, “you know what they say in Hollywood: There are no small parts—”
“—only small actors!’’ Mama finished the line. “That’s just what I always told Mace!’’
The two of them chuckled together like lifelong pals. Mama was such a pushover for flattery. She was about two compliments away from being ready to drive the bulldozer to develop the park.
“When does the movie come out?’’ he asked.
“They ran into a little trouble while they were filming. It pushed back the release date,’’ Mama said.