As his number rang, I was steering Mama back across the dining room. C’ndee still sat at the table, busily separating circles of tulle into two piles.

“¡Hola, niña!” Carlos answered, and I could almost see the smile on his face. “Long time no talk.”

For a second, I was pleasantly surprised at how happy he sounded to hear from me. Then I remembered why I was calling, and made my tone appropriately grave. “You need to get over here, Carlos,” I said. “I just found a body on the floor of the kitchen at the Veterans of Foreign War hall.”

Mama’s eyes went wide. C’ndee stopped sorting fabric.

“Your phone must be breaking up. I thought you said …”

“A body,” I filled in. “You heard me right.”

Mama clutched at her throat with one hand and at my wrist with the other. “Is it Ronnie?” she said in a small voice.

I nodded yes, shushing her with a finger to my lips.

“It’s the caterer Mama hired to do her wedding,” I said into the phone. “She was supposed to meet him here this morning. When he got to be a half-hour late, I went looking for him. And Carlos? You better bring the crime scene investigator. A big kitchen knife looks to be missing from a hanging rack. And there’s an awful lot of blood.”

_____

Mama, C’ndee, and I sat, shell-shocked, at a round table for eight in the dining room. We were waiting for the police and ambulance to arrive, though I was absolutely certain Ronnie was beyond emergency medical assistance.

All of us were rattled. C’ndee hadn’t said a word since I came out of the kitchen. She kept glancing at the closed doors and twisting a gaudy charm bracelet on her left wrist.

“Who’d have wanted to kill Ronnie, Mace?” Mama finally asked. “Do you think it was a robbery?”

“I don’t know what to think at this point, Mama.”

“I want to see his body.”

“Mama, I can tell you for sure he’s dead. I checked for a pulse. There was none. He was already cold, and waxy-looking. And there was so much blood.”

“He was my neighbor,” she said to C’ndee. “We weren’t close, but Ronnie and Alice go to my church, Abundant Forgiveness. Well, Alice does anyway. Ronnie’s not so big on church services, but he never misses a prayer breakfast. The man sure does love to eat.” She paused, laughter dying on her lips. “Loved to eat,” she corrected herself.

Mama was rambling, like she does when she’s nervous. But I knew she’d return to wanting to see for herself that Ronnie was dead.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I said, “but you can’t go waltzing around in there. Carlos would have a fit. It’s bad enough I tracked through the blood on the floor. The place is a mess. And they don’t need any more random visitors in there to account for.”

“Well, then,” she said, “the least we can do is say a prayer for Ronnie.”

“I agree,” C’ndee said.

Coming from her, that surprised me. I wouldn’t have pegged C’ndee as the godly type. The three of us bowed our heads and joined hands at the table.

“Dear Lord, welcome Ronnie into heaven,” Mama prayed. “Let him dwell at your side in eternal peace until the day comes when all of your children will be reunited in your love.”

“Ahh-me …” I started to say, when I felt Mama squeeze my hand and continue.

“And, please Lord, remember I’m getting married this coming Saturday …”

I opened one eye and glared out of it at Mama. She snapped her eyelids shut.

“… please give us strength and guidance to complete all these details,” she went on, “such as deciding how we’re supposed to fill the stomachs of our one hundred and fifty guests.”

“Mama!” I hissed.

“In Jesus’ name, we pray …”

“Amen!” I added, before she could put in a plug for sunny weather and ask God to keep Uncle Teddy sober through the whole reception.

“Amen,” C’ndee echoed softly, as she crossed herself. She glanced again toward the kitchen. Her scarlet lipstick looked even redder now that her face was so pale. Maybe that tough Noo Joisey image was a façade. She seemed more shaken than we did at the idea of a man lying dead in the next room. Then again, Mama and I’d had some experience in the past year finding bodies.

When C’ndee spoke, her normally strident voice was a whisper. “Do you think Ronnie crossed the wrong people?”

Mama and I looked at her blankly.

“Back home, if someone pisses off the wrong people,” she wriggled her fingers in quote marks, “they wind up in concrete boots.”

Mama, exasperated, said, “Just say what you want to say, C’ndee. My stars and garters! I thought all you Yankees were supposed to be direct!”

“Sleeping with the fishes,” C’ndee clarified.

Ah-ha.

“That’s not how things work in Himmarshee,” I told her. “We’re just an itty-bitty town. The Mafia wouldn’t bother running things down here.”

C’ndee raised her palms in a shrug, a gesture right out of The Sopranos. “I’m just askin’. That’s all I’m sayin.’ ” She looked toward the kitchen again. “You know, I could really use some coffee.”

“Well, you can’t go in there to find some.”

“I know, Mace. I’m not stupid.” A flash of irritation surfaced. “I meant I’d be glad to run to that diner and pick up enough for everybody. I’ll bring some back for the cops, too.”

I started to protest her going, but then realized coffee might be what all of us could use. I couldn’t leave, since I’d found Ronnie’s body. Besides, if I left Mama alone with C’ndee at the VFW, Mama might kill her. And since Carlos was the Himmarshee Police Department’s only homicide detective, having to handle two murders in one morning might stretch him a bit thin.

“Fine,” I told C’ndee. “But hurry back. Detective Martinez might want to talk to you, too.”

She’d only been gone a few minutes when Carlos rushed through the door. Outside, I saw what looked like the entire department, including the police chief, arriving in three squad cars behind an ambulance.

My stomach fluttered at the sight of Carlos, just like always. It hardly seemed right to be thinking about how fine he looked, with poor Ronnie’s body growing colder in the next room. But I couldn’t help myself. The man was as gorgeous as a Spanish prince. Dark skin, black eyes, broad chest tapering to a waist without an ounce of fat. I knew how firm and muscular his body felt under that button-down dress shirt and blue-striped tie. I might have blushed, or licked the drool from my lips. Instead, I thought about Ronnie’s fate, and felt my features form into a more suitable expression.

All business, Carlos nodded brusquely at Mama and me. “Where is he?”

I pointed to the closed kitchen doors.

“Poor Ronnie,” Mama said. “This is just awful.”

“Yeah, you two have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t know when I left Miami that Himmarshee would end up taking its place as Florida’s murder capital.”

Before either of us could jump to the defense of our normally tranquil hometown, we heard a hubbub erupting in the parking lot outside.

“Let me through! Somebody said there’d been a knife fight. Who got hurt? Mama! Are you in there? Are you all right?”

The voice, accustomed to silencing an auditorium of Himmarshee middle-schoolers, belonged to my red-headed sister, Maddie.

“I’m fine, honey,” Mama yelled.

I went to the window and slid it open. “The fight was already over when Mama and I got here,” I said through the screen. “Ronnie Hodges is dead.”

Maddie’s hand flew to her throat, just as Mama’s had done earlier. Their gestures were the same, but their looks couldn’t be more different. Maddie towered over Mama, who barely reaches five feet in heels. And while Maddie may be the oldest sister, I never tire of reminding her that I’m still the tallest, at five-foot-ten.

Marty, the youngest, rushed across the rapidly filling parking lot. Her blond hair bounced in a braid from one slender shoulder to the other. Breathing hard, blue eyes filled with fear, she peered into the VFW window. “Are y’all okay? We were so worried, Mace! Maddie even jumped out of my car while it was still moving.” She jabbed an elbow at our big sister. “I just about ran you over!”