I brought Pam’s car shuddering to a stop, and turned off the key in the ignition. Martinez walked over to the VW to greet me. “We meet again so soon, Ms. Bauer.’’

“Oh, can the act, Detective. It’s been a long day. I’m as tuckered out as a plow horse after forty rows. Why were you just sharing a smoke with the man you implied might have murdered Jimmy the Weasel?’’

“I like a woman who cuts to the chase.’’ He smiled down into the driver’s seat.

“I’m thrilled,’’ I said. “And I like a man who isn’t a pathological liar. What the hell is going on?’’

He looked right then left, like there might be someone lurking in the vast rows of vacant parking spaces. He turned around and peered behind us. Then he took a step around the front of my car and scanned the road I’d just come from. Unless someone was hovering over our heads or hiding underneath one of our cars, there wasn’t a soul to overhear him.

“I can’t really talk about the investigation.’’ He pressed his lips together like a crooked cop on the witness stand who’d just invoked the Fifth Amendment.

“That’s it?’’ I asked. “You can’t talk about it? That’s all you’re going to say?’’

“I wish I could say more. I really do.’’

I started counting, but only made it to two.

“Maybe Chief Johnson will be more forthcoming when I share with him that I saw you chumming around with a murder suspect,’’ I snapped. “What do you think he’ll say about that?’’

His big brown eyes filled with disappointment. “Do whatever you have to do, Ms. Bauer. I will say this: the situation with Sal Provenza is a very delicate one. You going around spreading tales when you don’t understand what you’re talking about could compromise the investigation into Jimmy Albrizio’s murder. You’re not Agatha Christie, you know. The last thing the police need is some half-cocked civilian, meddling in crucial matters and trying to solve the Big Case.’’

My hands squeezed the steering wheel. My knuckles were white. This man had a way of getting on my last nerve. “I get your point, Detective. You don’t have to insult me while you’re at it.’’ I turned the key. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my dumb civilian self home and get some rest.’’

The car stalled. So much for a dramatic exit. I pumped the gas again. It finally started on the fourth try.

“Good night.’’ I raised my chin and stared straight ahead, trying to appear as dignified as possible for a woman who was driving the Little Engine That Couldn’t.

I glanced into the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the police lot. Martinez was leaning against his car, puffing away on that stupid cigar and watching me disappear.

___

As the VW rattled down the dirt drive that leads to my cottage, the outline of three masked bandits flashed in the headlights.

I cursed. “Stupid raccoons!’’

The creatures seemed to be struggling to get the tops off my garbage cans. A smart-ass detective from Miami might put me in my place. But, by God, I’d shown those raccoons. I’m not an experienced animal trapper for nothing. My garbage was trussed up tighter than Fort Knox. The lids on top of the cans were snapped down; bungee cords secured the tops to the handles.

I was feeling pretty good, until I got a little closer and saw the ’coons had busted the vault. They were picnicking on leftover chicken and cantaloupe. The biggest one looked as pleased as a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I flashed the brights and blew the horn. They just looked up and blinked. Most of my country neighbors would have simply shot the varmints. But I’m soft about animals. I parked the car, headed to my shed, and picked out a rake. Then I turned the hose on them, holding the rake ready in case they ran at me instead of into the woods. As they scampered away, I swear that biggest one aimed a look out of Terminator at me over his shoulder.

I’ll be back.

“Just try it, you little bastard,’’ I yelled.

Hump-backed, they loped toward the line of cypress trees and Sabal palms that mark the edge of my property. “I’m getting out the smelly stuff,’’ I shouted after them. “We’ll see how y’all like it when you come sniffing around for dinner and the stench of laundry bleach knocks you over instead!’’

So this is what I’d descended to: a crazy woman living alone in the woods, warring with raccoons. I grabbed my purse from the car, tossed a tarp over the seats in case of rain, and headed for my cypress-wood cottage.

From the front porch, I took a moment to appreciate what I love about living so far out. The stars lit the black sky. Cattle lowed in a distant pasture. The scent of orange blossoms from a grove hung in the air. There was also a whiff of manure, fortunately faint, from the Big Lake Dairy. It had drifted over Highway 98 and across the marshes of Taylor Slough, traveling west on a slight breeze.

Inside, the gator jaws gaped on my coffee table, waiting for my keys. The answering machine light blinked. I wanted to ignore it and hit the sack instead. But given all the recent crazy events, I figured I’d better not.

You have one message, an electronic voice intoned. First message.

“Mace, honey? It’s your mama.’’

Like I couldn’t tell. I started sorting mail as she carried on her conversation with my machine.

“You will never believe who called me up here after y’all left. None other than Pastor Bob Dixon, from church. Abundant Hope, that is.’’

Like there’s another Pastor Bob.

“I may have been wrong about him, Mace. He seemed awful sweet on the phone. He went on and on about how Delilah told him you’d come to church with me, and how nice that was. Said it sure would be wonderful if you’d come more often.’’

Nice try, Mama.

“Anyway, he said the real reason he called is he wants to talk to me about Emma Jean. I told him we were really more acquaintances than friends. But he told me that didn’t matter; she needs a friend right now. Pastor Bob said I should stop by the church sometime tomorrow to see him and Delilah. They’re hatching a plan to see if we can’t get poor Emma Jean some help.’’

I kicked off my boots, opened the refrigerator, and got a beer. If Mama had a point, I may as well get comfortable while I waited for her to find it.

“After she threw that fit at church, he said it’s obvious she’s hurting. I never would have believed it of Emma Jean, Mace. But with all that’s happened in her life, it seems like she’s gone plumb crazy. First, her little boy disappeared, like I told y’all. Then she finds out Jim was cheating. And now he gets killed.’’

Thirty seconds remaining.