Read Online Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) by Deborah Sharp - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Deborah Sharp
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vibrant colors from Color Me Gorgeous’s winter palette. ’’
“My complexion is fine.’’ I started to run a hand through my hair. When my fingers snagged in snarls, I realized she was right. “Speaking of color, you’ve got Apricot Ice smeared all over your incisors. I guess your eyes aren’t what they used to be.’’
She whipped out her mirrored compact; rubbed a finger over her teeth. “My eyes are fine, sweetheart. They’re sure good enough to see you got up on the wrong side of the bed today.’’
Sal draped a massive, bear-sized paw over each of our shoulders. I squirmed to get away, but he just drew Mama and me closer. “What’s the problem with my two favorite girls? I want youse two to stop all this fighting. How’s about a kiss to make up?’’
“Jeez, Sal, you smell like a humidor.’’ I waved a hand in front of my nose. “Didn’t you tell Mama you were giving up cigars?’’
His smile faltered, and his grip loosened on my shoulder. He flashed a guilty look at Mama, who was now regarding him through narrowed eyes. Good. Once they got going at each other, I was off the hook. As the minister approached to bid us hello, I had a momen tary stab of conscience over stirring up trouble. I think I was breaking that commandment to honor thy father and mother. Or, in my case, thy mother and fourth stepfather. And there we were, right outside God’s house—even if it was a storefront in a strip mall next to the Pork Pit barbecue joint.
“Good morning, Mace.’’ The minister took my hand. “What a pleasure to see you after such a long time.’’
“It hasn’t been all that long, Reverend Idella.’’
Sal smirked. Mama poked me in the side.
“It’s Delilah, dear.’’ She gave my fingers a gentle squeeze before she moved on to greet the next, likely more faithful, member of her flock.
Now, the hymns had been sung. Next to me, the pinching kid was punching his little brother. The Rev. Delilah was preaching her sermon. She’d chosen to focus on the murdered librarian, since that was all anybody in town was talking about.
“I’ve heard, like all of you have, about how that poor girl was dressed. Don’t gossip about her; don’t be quick to judge. Remember what Jesus said: ‘ He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone … ’ ’’
She counseled the congregation not to fear the evil on the loose in Himmarshee that would drive a person to murder: “ ‘ Don’t let your heart be troubled ,’ ’’ she said, quoting from the Book of John. “ You believe in God … ’’
But even if God is watching over us, that’s no reason to be stupid, Delilah warned. “If you see something that doesn’t seem right, something that makes you suspicious, let the police know. We need to pull together as a community and make sure the person who committed this sin is not free to kill again.’’
Amen to that.
When the service ended, the worshippers gathered for food and fellowship in a second storefront the church had taken over next door. The little chapel was growing. After that trouble with Delilah’s ex-husband, who had been the previous minister, she was proving to be a popular attraction. At first, crowds came to the church solely because of the scandal, not to mention the murder. But memories fade. Now the congregation was one-hundred percent behind Delilah, and the female perspective she brought to the pulpit.
The tables nearly sagged with plates of goodies. There was a country ham, with flaky biscuits for mini sandwiches. Cold side dishes, prepared with copious amounts of mayonnaise, included coleslaw, macaroni, and potato salad. Pies and layer cakes competed for space with homemade candy, like pecan divinity and chocolate-marshmallow fudge. The members of Abundant Forgiveness definitely took their abundance seriously. Nobody had a hope of counting calories here.
Loading up my plate, I saw D’Vora, from the beauty parlor, alone against the wall. She’d
“My complexion is fine.’’ I started to run a hand through my hair. When my fingers snagged in snarls, I realized she was right. “Speaking of color, you’ve got Apricot Ice smeared all over your incisors. I guess your eyes aren’t what they used to be.’’
She whipped out her mirrored compact; rubbed a finger over her teeth. “My eyes are fine, sweetheart. They’re sure good enough to see you got up on the wrong side of the bed today.’’
Sal draped a massive, bear-sized paw over each of our shoulders. I squirmed to get away, but he just drew Mama and me closer. “What’s the problem with my two favorite girls? I want youse two to stop all this fighting. How’s about a kiss to make up?’’
“Jeez, Sal, you smell like a humidor.’’ I waved a hand in front of my nose. “Didn’t you tell Mama you were giving up cigars?’’
His smile faltered, and his grip loosened on my shoulder. He flashed a guilty look at Mama, who was now regarding him through narrowed eyes. Good. Once they got going at each other, I was off the hook. As the minister approached to bid us hello, I had a momen tary stab of conscience over stirring up trouble. I think I was breaking that commandment to honor thy father and mother. Or, in my case, thy mother and fourth stepfather. And there we were, right outside God’s house—even if it was a storefront in a strip mall next to the Pork Pit barbecue joint.
“Good morning, Mace.’’ The minister took my hand. “What a pleasure to see you after such a long time.’’
“It hasn’t been all that long, Reverend Idella.’’
Sal smirked. Mama poked me in the side.
“It’s Delilah, dear.’’ She gave my fingers a gentle squeeze before she moved on to greet the next, likely more faithful, member of her flock.
Now, the hymns had been sung. Next to me, the pinching kid was punching his little brother. The Rev. Delilah was preaching her sermon. She’d chosen to focus on the murdered librarian, since that was all anybody in town was talking about.
“I’ve heard, like all of you have, about how that poor girl was dressed. Don’t gossip about her; don’t be quick to judge. Remember what Jesus said: ‘ He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone … ’ ’’
She counseled the congregation not to fear the evil on the loose in Himmarshee that would drive a person to murder: “ ‘ Don’t let your heart be troubled ,’ ’’ she said, quoting from the Book of John. “ You believe in God … ’’
But even if God is watching over us, that’s no reason to be stupid, Delilah warned. “If you see something that doesn’t seem right, something that makes you suspicious, let the police know. We need to pull together as a community and make sure the person who committed this sin is not free to kill again.’’
Amen to that.
When the service ended, the worshippers gathered for food and fellowship in a second storefront the church had taken over next door. The little chapel was growing. After that trouble with Delilah’s ex-husband, who had been the previous minister, she was proving to be a popular attraction. At first, crowds came to the church solely because of the scandal, not to mention the murder. But memories fade. Now the congregation was one-hundred percent behind Delilah, and the female perspective she brought to the pulpit.
The tables nearly sagged with plates of goodies. There was a country ham, with flaky biscuits for mini sandwiches. Cold side dishes, prepared with copious amounts of mayonnaise, included coleslaw, macaroni, and potato salad. Pies and layer cakes competed for space with homemade candy, like pecan divinity and chocolate-marshmallow fudge. The members of Abundant Forgiveness definitely took their abundance seriously. Nobody had a hope of counting calories here.
Loading up my plate, I saw D’Vora, from the beauty parlor, alone against the wall. She’d
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