Read Online Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) by Deborah Sharp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Sharp
Ads: Link
foregone any food at all, watching the crowd as she sipped a soft drink from a plastic bottle. I grabbed the chair next to hers.
“Fancy meeting you here,’’ I said.
She nodded hello, giving me a forced smile. So, even D’Vora was mad at me?
“Was it something I said?’’
“Sorry, Mace.’’ She balanced the plastic bottle on the seat be tween her knees. “I’m not myself this morning.’’
“Late night?’’
She shook her head.
“Trouble with Darryl?’’
“No more than usual.’’
Sal wandered up. “Why do gorgeous girls always gather together? Youse two are like pretty bluebirds in a garden.’’
I think I must have preened a little, but D’Vora just stared at her soda bottle.
“She’s not herself this morning,’’ I explained to Sal.
“Probably the murder.’’ He took a cigar from his top pocket, caressed it like a precious jewel, and put it back. “That’s got everybody on edge. It’s a hell of a thing. People are trying to make sense of it, and having trouble doing it. What do you suppose happened to her, Mace?’’
“Beats me. It’s too strange to even contemplate.’’
When Sal began talking about the murder, D’Vora had shifted her focus to the nutritional information on the soft drink’s paper label. She picked at the paper until the glue gave, and then peeled off the label in tiny strips. She was as intent on the task as a heart surgeon performing a bypass.
My eyes met Sal’s over D’Vora’s head, and I nodded slightly toward her. He shrugged a little, perhaps a sign he’d also noticed that the normally gossipy beautician was strangely uninterested.
The big man took a seat on D’Vora’s other side, lowering his body gingerly into one of the flimsy folding chairs. His voice, usually a Bronx blare, was surprisingly soft and gentle. “Sweetheart, is there something you want to talk about?”
He lifted her chin. Was Sal looking for evidence on her face that Darryl might have hit her? We all knew he liked his beer, hated work, and was as immature as a junior high school boy, but I’d never heard the slightest hint he was abusive.
She smiled at Sal, and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, y’all. I’m just not feeling great this morning.’’
Uh-oh. Morning sickness? A bawling infant was the last thing D’Vora and the chronically unemployed Darryl needed in that crowded trailer with those three Rottweiler dogs.
“D’Vora, you’re not … ” I put my hands over my own belly.
“Lord, no! I’m already taking care of one baby who refuses to grow up.’’
“You’re sure you’re okay?’’ Sal aimed his interrogator eyes at her. She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the label she was shredding.
“I hope you’re feeling better in time for Kenny’s big party. It’s gonna be a blast,’’ he said. “Are you taking Darryl?’’
The plastic bottle tumbled off D’Vora’s lap, bouncing on the tiled floor. The last few swallows of the drink spayed out all over my dressiest flip-flops. My toes would be soda-sticky the rest of the morning.
“Sorry, Mace,’’ she mumbled. She bent to retrieve the dropped bottle, and her church program slid from the chair to the floor. She was trying to pick up that, when her shoulder purse fell off her arm. Sal scooped up the bottle, and I handed her the program and her purse.
“What in the world is wrong with you, D’Vora?’’ I asked.
“I told you I’m fine!’’ Her tone was sharp. “Quit hounding me. If I had anything to say to you, don’t you think I would have said it?’’
Clutching her church program and purse to her chest, she stormed out the door.
twelve
“Mace, honey, close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.’’
I was staring slack-jawed out the church-front window. I’d called to D’Vora as she left, but she ignored me, which was becoming a pattern. She was already at the curb, hoisting herself into the passenger seat of Darryl’s big truck. Gunning the engine, he
“Fancy meeting you here,’’ I said.
She nodded hello, giving me a forced smile. So, even D’Vora was mad at me?
“Was it something I said?’’
“Sorry, Mace.’’ She balanced the plastic bottle on the seat be tween her knees. “I’m not myself this morning.’’
“Late night?’’
She shook her head.
“Trouble with Darryl?’’
“No more than usual.’’
Sal wandered up. “Why do gorgeous girls always gather together? Youse two are like pretty bluebirds in a garden.’’
I think I must have preened a little, but D’Vora just stared at her soda bottle.
“She’s not herself this morning,’’ I explained to Sal.
“Probably the murder.’’ He took a cigar from his top pocket, caressed it like a precious jewel, and put it back. “That’s got everybody on edge. It’s a hell of a thing. People are trying to make sense of it, and having trouble doing it. What do you suppose happened to her, Mace?’’
“Beats me. It’s too strange to even contemplate.’’
When Sal began talking about the murder, D’Vora had shifted her focus to the nutritional information on the soft drink’s paper label. She picked at the paper until the glue gave, and then peeled off the label in tiny strips. She was as intent on the task as a heart surgeon performing a bypass.
My eyes met Sal’s over D’Vora’s head, and I nodded slightly toward her. He shrugged a little, perhaps a sign he’d also noticed that the normally gossipy beautician was strangely uninterested.
The big man took a seat on D’Vora’s other side, lowering his body gingerly into one of the flimsy folding chairs. His voice, usually a Bronx blare, was surprisingly soft and gentle. “Sweetheart, is there something you want to talk about?”
He lifted her chin. Was Sal looking for evidence on her face that Darryl might have hit her? We all knew he liked his beer, hated work, and was as immature as a junior high school boy, but I’d never heard the slightest hint he was abusive.
She smiled at Sal, and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, y’all. I’m just not feeling great this morning.’’
Uh-oh. Morning sickness? A bawling infant was the last thing D’Vora and the chronically unemployed Darryl needed in that crowded trailer with those three Rottweiler dogs.
“D’Vora, you’re not … ” I put my hands over my own belly.
“Lord, no! I’m already taking care of one baby who refuses to grow up.’’
“You’re sure you’re okay?’’ Sal aimed his interrogator eyes at her. She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the label she was shredding.
“I hope you’re feeling better in time for Kenny’s big party. It’s gonna be a blast,’’ he said. “Are you taking Darryl?’’
The plastic bottle tumbled off D’Vora’s lap, bouncing on the tiled floor. The last few swallows of the drink spayed out all over my dressiest flip-flops. My toes would be soda-sticky the rest of the morning.
“Sorry, Mace,’’ she mumbled. She bent to retrieve the dropped bottle, and her church program slid from the chair to the floor. She was trying to pick up that, when her shoulder purse fell off her arm. Sal scooped up the bottle, and I handed her the program and her purse.
“What in the world is wrong with you, D’Vora?’’ I asked.
“I told you I’m fine!’’ Her tone was sharp. “Quit hounding me. If I had anything to say to you, don’t you think I would have said it?’’
Clutching her church program and purse to her chest, she stormed out the door.
twelve
“Mace, honey, close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.’’
I was staring slack-jawed out the church-front window. I’d called to D’Vora as she left, but she ignored me, which was becoming a pattern. She was already at the curb, hoisting herself into the passenger seat of Darryl’s big truck. Gunning the engine, he
Similar Books
