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

She lifted the scissors again, and resumed cutting the teenager’s hair.
    I looked at Maddie. My sister was uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps weighing D’Vora words. “What?’’ I asked. “You cannot possibly doubt Kenny after all these years. He’s the perfect husband.’’
    The shop’s front door slammed shut, bells jangling cheerily. “Who’s the perfect husband?’’ Mama asked as she walked in.
    “Nobody!’’ D’Vora’s customary shyness was replaced with uncommon authority. “There’s absolutely nobody who’s perfect.’’
    As if her boldness surprised even her, the young stylist shifted her gaze back to the floor. Mama, meanwhile, launched into a story about the inappropriateness of the mourner’s basket the mayor’s wife delivered to the library.
    “We should have offered a complimentary shampoo, Betty. Now, that’s something that would be useful. Nobody needs a bassbug fish ing fly from Gotcha Bait & Tackle when they’ve just lost a loved one.’’
    As Mama went on, describing the rest of the contents, my eyes were on D’Vora. No one else seemed to notice her scissors had gone still. She still focused her eyes on the floor, the teenager in the chair seemingly forgotten. She sneaked a look at Maddie, who by now was leafing through the picture book.
    I was just about to ask D’Vora what was the matter, when Mama’s sharp tone snapped me back to attention. “Did you hear me, Mace?’’
    “Yes, you said the basket was extremely tacky and not at all right for the occasion. Who wants a coffee cup that says Himmarshee: Your Journey Ends Here when their sister has just been murdered? And, you added, the mayor’s wife needs to do something about those painted-on eyebrows. Plus, her skirt was far too tight for a woman of her age.’’
    “I’m not even talking about the mayor’s wife anymore, Mace. I just said Sal texted me.’’
    “Sal texts you all the time. You two are worse than a couple of silly teenagers.’’ I nodded to the young girl in D’Vora’s chair. “No offense.’’
    “None taken,’’ she said.
    D’Vora stood still, wringing her hands.
    “You and Maddie need to take a look at what he sent. It’s really cute.’’
    As Mama thrust the phone at us, I noticed D’Vora place her scissors on the counter and head for the front of the shop. Mama poked me in the wrist with the phone, trying to get me to take it. I glanced down, noting some LOLs, a heart symbol, and an OMG.
    “Like I said, teenagers.’’
    By the time I looked up, D’Vora had yanked open the front door , bells clanging. Then she walked out of the shop, leaving her abandoned customer in the chair, staring after her.
    Now what, I wondered, was that all about?
    seven

    I inhaled the smell of the swamp. Black muck, tannic water, and the woodsy scent of cypress trees. A gator lolled on the bank of Himmarshee Creek, his body half-hidden in fire flag and duck potato plants. A squirrel sat high on a branch in a laurel oak tree, scolding me as I traversed the path below. With a wild flapping of black-tipped wings, two wood storks rose from a still pool of dark water beside the boardwalk that led to the office of Himmarshee Park.
    It felt like home.
    Through the office’s large glass windows, I saw my boss, Rhonda, on the telephone. It was a familiar sight. As park supervisor, she handled most of the managerial tasks. That suited me fine. I wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s boss. And I’d wither up and die if I had to spend as much time in the office as Rhonda did, even with the nice view from our big windows.
    Inside, I caught her eye and waved as I dropped my purse onto my desk, next to the dried-out shell of a gopher tortoise. Rhonda made the yak-yak sign at the phone, and mimed a big yawn. My boss was a stunner, even with her mouth gaping open. A former New York model who returned home to take care of her ailing mother, she looked like she could step back onto the runway at any moment. She was the only