Free Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) by Deborah Sharp Page A

in her accusation than I wanted to admit. What was my problem, anyway? With my thumb, I spun the engagement ring on my finger. I still wasn’t used to the heft of it on my hand, or the way the diamond on top poked into my pinky when the ring slipped off-center.
    “How ’bout that rodeo cowboy?’’ I vaguely heard one of the women say. “Didn’t he leave Mace way back when for the homecoming queen?”
    “He gambled something awful, I heard. Good-looking guy, though,’’ another one of Mama’s friends added.
    “Honey, the bad ones always are.’’ Phyllis chuckled.
    I was half-listening, half-watching the music minister as he took a seat next to the soprano and handed her a coffee. I’d learned long ago it wasn’t worth interjecting when Mama and her church pals got going on a topic, even if this one happened to center on me.
    “Wasn’t there a little something she had going with Lawton Bramble’s boy, too?’’ someone asked.
    “That was the awful year we did the horseback ride on the Florida Cracker Trail. Even Carlos had to understand Mace wasn’t in her right mind when she started messing around with Trey Bramble. That’s what happens when somebody’s trying to kill you.’’
    “Rosalee, you mean trying to kill you, right?’’ one of the women said.
    “Well, both of us, the way it turned out.’’
    “Awful sad about what happened to Lawton, though.’’ All the women nodded at the redhead who spoke. “Just proves you can be as rich as Croesus in cattle and still wind up dead, face first in a vat of cow-hunter chili.’’
    Their momentary silence was broken when Phyllis gasped, her eyes as wide as collection plates: “Speaking of murder, what if one of Mace’s exes had something to do with that poor girl at the dump?’’
    “Don’t be ridiculous!’’ Mama slapped Phyllis’s arm. “None of my daughter’s loser boyfriends ever committed anything more than petty crimes. Plus, now she’s engaged to a police detective, one of the good guys.’’
    A newcomer to the conversation turned my hand to peer at my ring. I feared a stress fracture at the wrist from the repetitive motion .
    “Murder is a nasty business, y’all.’’ Mama clucked her tongue. “Now, about Mace’s love life … ”
    Someone interrupted her, drawing talk back to the deadly fate of the unlucky Camilla. A gruesome homicide with sexual overtones would always trump rocky romance. Mama realized she’d lost her audience.
    She hooked an elbow through mine and pulled me aside. “Honey, I just want to make sure you’re not going to jack around that man of yours again. He won’t take it another time.’’
    I sighed. “Carlos is the one, Mama. I’m certain.’’ I held up my hand. “I’ve got the ring to prove it. It’s settled.’’
    The engagement ring really was lovely. Not so the skin around my wrist, which was starting to redden from all the church ladies tugging at my hand.
    Mama looked dubious. She eyed the assembled crowd, stopping when she located a knot of church folk gathered by the coffeepot. “Maybe you should have a backup in case things go wrong. A Plan B Man.’’
    My eyes followed hers, which were focused on the choir’s geeky baritone. I snorted. “That man is fifty years old if he’s a day. And he still lives with his mama. Plus, he rides a three-wheeled bicycle to work, bagging groceries at the supermarket.’’
    I waved my ring under her nose. “I am a happily engaged woman, Mama. I don’t need a Plan B.’’
    She batted away my hand. “There are plenty of rings on fingers out there. Plenty of bad marriages, too. That ring doesn’t mean a thing if you—or your husband—end up with a broken heart.’’
    I thought about Mama’s aptitude for understanding romance. Did she sense something about me I myself didn’t know? Maybe having witnessed her series of marital train wrecks spoiled me for commitment. I saw Maddie’s tear-streaked face in my mind. I couldn’t help thinking