We said our goodbyes and rang off, and I returned to the living room. Tony sat upright, the defeated posture was gone.

“What was that all about?”

I hesitated for a moment. He’d find out one way or another. “Your aunt,” I said. “She’s down at the police department.”

I repeated what Carlos had told me to say, but Tony seemed to barely hear me. He’d already yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and started punching in numbers. The look on his face was frightening in its intensity.

“Yeah, Arthur. It’s me. We’ve got a little trouble in Himmarshee,” he said into the phone. “Who do you know in Florida who can get here quick?”

His speech was rapid-fire, the cultured cadence slipping into New Jerseyese.

“Goddammit, Arthur! That is not what I want to hear. What do you think I pay you for?”

He stood up and walked to my front door. “That’s unacceptable, Arthur. We’re talking about my family.”

He turned his back and walked outside. But not before I’d seen the hard set to his jaw and the ice in his eyes. I felt like I was watching The Godfather, at the moment when a young Michael Corleone makes his transition from nice college boy to cold-blooded killer.

“Mama’s social merry-go-round is making me motion sick.”

That was the closest Marty would come to a complaint. But as we gathered at the Speckled Perch to decorate for Mama’s party, Maddie ranted enough for the three of us.

“The whole thing is unseemly,” she huffed. “Drinking in the middle of the day. A bachelorette party, at her age! And this is marriage No. 5. Mama’s no blushing virgin.”

“Maddie!” Marty looked around to see who might have overheard, but the place was dark, quiet, and empty.

We’d arrived early as the appointed decorating committee. The Perch was normally a dinner and night spot, but the owner agreed to open for the lunch gathering as a favor to Mama. The party would begin at noon.

The manager, dark smudges under his eyes, clip-on tie askew, looked like he climbed off a cot in the back to come let us in. He’d disappeared after unlocking the door, but not before I noticed specks of toilet paper on the spots where he’d cut himself shaving. We waited in the dimly lit dining room, but he hadn’t returned.

“I don’t think that manager’s a morning person,” I said. “I’m going to find him, and see if I can get him to at least turn on some more lights.”

Rising from the table in the dark, I promptly banged my shin on a chair. Just as I let out a curse word, the lights in our half of the dining room came on.

“Timing is everything, Mace,” Maddie said.

We quickly got to work, hanging green garland with white paper roses, and a big sign that said Best Wishes! The latter was a bit bedraggled, since Maddie had kept it in her garage since Mama’s last wedding, four years ago. As we strung and taped and hung, we dissected the latest news about C’ndee.

“Carlos might have had her come down there, but she didn’t stay overnight,” Marty said.

“Who told you that?” I was a little miffed she had a better pipeline than I did.

“I stopped at Gladys’ for coffee, saw Donnie Bailey from the jail,” Marty said. “He said Carlos never arrested C’ndee.”

Finger poised at my button, Maddie went ahead and pushed. “Looks like that beau of yours is keeping secrets, Mace.”

“It’s a murder investigation, Maddie. Not pillow talk.” I ratcheted back my snippy tone. “Besides, Carlos already told me she came in voluntarily. He asked her in for a chat.”

Maddie pursed her lips. “And she ran right in, with no lawyer? That’s weird, considering her family’s connections.”

“If you can believe what you read in the papers,” Marty said.

I handed her the roll of tape. “Reporters can’t just make things up, Marty.”

Maddie stood back to scrutinize our handiwork. She unfastened Marty’s garland and re-taped it, more to her liking. Marty and I sniggered behind her back.

I thought about filling them in on Tony’s reaction. But I didn’t want to suffer Maddie’s lecture on how he came to be at my house last night when Carlos called with the news.

“Do you think C’ndee will show up to the party?” Marty replaced a bit of the drape Maddie had straightened.

“Of course,” Maddie said. “That woman has more brass than a lamp factory.”

The restaurant door swung open, sending in a shaft of sunlight and the chatter of women.

“Looks like the guests are starting to arrive. I’m going to duck into the Ladies before the party gets going,” I said.

I was inside a stall when I saw two sets of legs make their way to the bathroom mirror.

“I hope they serve those little fried mushrooms from the menu here. They’re yummy,” the first woman said.

“So is the bartender.” I recognized the sex and smokes sound of that second voice.

The first woman tittered. “It sure was nice of them to open up just for Rosalee’s party. I heard the owner is a former boyfriend of hers.”

“Frankly, who isn’t?” Dab Holt asked. “The woman has more exes than KFC has wings.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I hid in the stall until I heard them leave, and then rushed back to the table and shared the joke with my sisters.

“At least Mama’s never taken a knife to any of her exes,” Maddie said.

“Dab told me yesterday the wound wasn’t fatal,” I said. “She said she did some time, but her conviction got overturned on appeal. Her attorney claimed she was a battered woman.”

“Humph,” Maddie said. “I can’t imagine anyone pushing that gal around.”

Marty said, “That’s not fair, Maddie. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

We were gabbing about whose checkered romantic past was worse, Mama’s or Dab’s, when Mama breezed in, Alice on her heels. Alice turned right, and Mama joined us.

“Well, I’m glad to see you three looking so cheerful. I thought you’d be crabby about having to come to another one of my many, many affairs.”

We burst out laughing. Mama raised an eyebrow, leaned toward us, and sniffed. “You girls haven’t been getting into the liquor already, have you?”

“No, ma’am,” we answered as one.

_____

By half past twelve, the party was in full swing. True to his word, Mama’s ex had arranged for a fried-food extravaganza. There were mushrooms, onion rings, and jalapeno poppers. Another platter held catfish, shrimp, and hush puppies. Celery was the only green thing not battered and fried on the table, and it was drenched in blue cheese dressing to go with the hot wings.

My stomach would be tied in knots right through the wedding.

All of a sudden, light slanted in from the open door and a hush fell over the crowd. Alan Jackson sang “Who’s Cheating Who?” on the jukebox. C’ndee stood for a moment in the sunbeam as if basking under a stage light.

When she made a beeline toward the bathroom, my sisters and I rose from the table and followed. We crowded in behind her as she primped at the mirror, outlining that full mouth in fire-engine red.

“Ladies,” she said, with a pop of her lips.

“C’ndee,” we chorused. And then Marty retreated to the wall as Maddie and I stepped all over each other to ask our questions.

“What did Carlos question you about?” I began

Maddie elbowed me aside. “Are you going to jail?”

I nudged her back and stepped to the mirror. “Where’d you disappear to?”