Read Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) for Free Online Page A

thought of the awesome force of a gator’s jaws, more than twice as powerful as the mightiest lion. The water churned, and I shuddered a bit. Silently, I uttered a prayer I’d said more than once before at Ollie’s pond. Thank you, God, for saving Mama and me from such a gruesome fate .
    eight

    The porch light shone at Maddie’s house. I raced through the rain to her front door. The potted geraniums she always hand-watered and plied with fertilizer to force cheerful red blooms were wilting on the front porch. That was as odd as the phone call I’d gotten from her on my way home from work.
    “Could you stop by tonight?’’ Maddie had asked.
    It ran through my mind I’d be looking at more pictures of hairstyles. Maybe I’d have to watch my sister try on that yellow dress while she asked if it made her butt look big. “I don’t know, Maddie. I’m awful tired, and it’s raining buckets.’’
    As if to emphasize my point, the rain picked up, pounding the top of my Jeep. I turned the wipers up a notch and rubbed at the foggy window. It was almost dark, and I could barely see five feet in front of me. The rain fell in sheets. The wind gusts came close to blowing me over the highway’s center line.
    “Please?’’ Her voice was pleading, and so soft I could barely hear her. Very un-Maddie-like. When I hesitated before answering, I heard a strangled sound come over the phone.
    “Are you crying ?’’
    “N-n-n-nooo …’’ Maddie took a couple of hiccupping breaths. “Y-y-y-yesss.’’
    My tough-as-nails older sister, capable of silencing an entire auditorium of middle-school students with just her scary princi pal glare, CRYING? I yanked my steering wheel to the left and made
a U-turn.
    “I’m on my way, sister. Hold on.’’
    Now, Maddie held open her front door. She handed me a bath towel to dry off the rain. I knew things were bad when she failed to mention like she always did that I should wipe the mud off my boots. Her red hair was matted. Her eyes were puffy and swollen.
    “What’s wrong?’’ I asked.
    “Follow me.’’ Maddie led the way down a hallway to her laun dry room. The top on a bright pink hamper was open. She pointed. “Look in there.’’
    I peeked in. I saw a couple of dish towels, a tablecloth with barbecue stains, and a man’s silky, long-sleeved shirt in a vivid orange- and-maroon print. “Do you have a houseguest visiting from Palm Beach?’’
    “It’s Kenny’s.’’
    I’m sure my face betrayed my shock. Kenny’s style, if you could call it that, was jeans, T-shirts, and NASCAR caps. I’d never seen him in a shirt without a logo promoting farm equipment, his insurance company, or a monster truck show.
    Maddie plucked out the shirt, holding it gingerly between a thumb and forefinger. “Smell.’’
    “I’d rather not.’’
    She waved it under my nose, and raised her brows at me. When I didn’t answer, she made another pass with the shirt. That time, I got it. Despite the damp scent of rain on my uniform, mixed with the dusty grain smell of the animal chow I’d spilled on myself earlier, I detected the cloying, floral scent of a woman’s perfume.
    My mind immediately went back to Mama, and Husband No. 2. She’d found a red shirt of his, reeking with My Sin. Mama didn’t say a word. She just doused the whole thing with bleach. Number Two found his fancy shirt neatly folded and put back in the drawer, the red fabric turned into ugly splotches of pink and white.
    “There’s got to be an explanation,’’ I said.
    Maddie balled up the shirt and tossed it back in the hamper. “There is: He’s cheating.’’
    “I mean another explanation.’’
    “Before Mama finally wised up to No. 2, how many times did we see her find some evidence, and then overlook it?’’
    “Lots of times.’’
    “Well, I’m not going to be that blind, Mace.’’ She glared at the shirt. “I should have known even before I smelled the perfume. The man has never in his life