Free Mama Gets Hitched by Deborah Sharp Page B

and a lot of us wondered what happened to her.” She looked around, like she expected C’ndee to be lurking in the closet, listening in. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, “She really did a number on Darryl Dietz, the guy who owns the camp. He’s been mean as a striped snake and drunk ever since she left.” She paused. “Well, he’s always mean. But he’s been drunker than usual.”
    “So C’ndee—Jersey accent, flashy clothes, cherry red Mustang—was going out with this Darryl?” I asked.
    Luanne nodded, her newly trimmed hair a pretty frame for her worn face. “Darryl walked out on his wife and everything. The same wife he’s now trying to crawl back to since C’ndee disappeared.”
    D’Vora nodded. “Oh, I’ve been there, Luanne. After I found out my no-account husband was cheating, I smashed the headlights on his truck and tossed his sorry butt out of the trailer. He can beg all he wants. He ain’t coming back, and neither is that stupid Rottweiler of his. Both him and Bear are as dumb as dirt.”
    Betty pointed her scissors at us: “Can’t trust a cheater.”
    “Amen to that,” Mama said. “Or a liar.”
    Our spat was forgotten now, in the face of this fresh gossip.
    “Cheating with C’ndee wasn’t the worst of it with Darryl,” Luanne whispered. “He’s beat on his wife more times than I can count.”
    I didn’t know Darryl, but I could picture him, having visited more than my share of fish camps in my rowdier days. I thought about his wronged wife, and for some reason Alice Hodges’ face popped into my head. But, try as I might, I couldn’t conjure up an image of C’ndee running around with a guy with cheap beer on his breath and fish-gut stains on his shirt.
    “What happened?” I asked Luanne. “Why’d C’ndee break it off?”
    “We all heard she took up with somebody new. She left Darryl for another guy. He lives up here, in Himmarshee.”

Somebody at Darryl’s Fish camp was a fan of classic rock. Guns N’ Roses blasted loud enough to spook the cormorants off their perches on the boat docks. Maidencane grass vibrated on the canal banks. Cypress branches trembled, even though there was barely a breath of wind. “Welcome to the Jungle,” indeed.
    Luanne hadn’t known who C’ndee took up with after she dumped Darryl. And, of course, that’s what all of us wanted to know. A little voice niggled at my brain, telling me that information might be important.
    I left Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow, and decided to poke around at the camp to see what I could learn. Between that or looking at hair in a picture book, it was no contest. Anyway, I’d pretty much given in to Mama’s will on the wedding. I’d likely regret that when I saw what hairstyle she’d chosen from that book.
    My Jeep bounced over a rutted driveway into an open yard circled by a dozen or so ramshackle cabins. A rusted-out muscle car sat up on concrete blocks, hood popped. The stadium-volume rock came from a boom box on a lawn chair next to the car. A big guy in jean overalls and no shirt held a wrench and bobbed his head to the beat. By the looks of the ancient car and the size of him, he might have more luck just adding some tires and pushing the old heap wherever he wanted to go.
    I gave a short toot on my horn, just in case there were dogs. Of course they might be deaf, considering the Guns N’ Roses. Sure enough, a coonhound rose from one of the crooked wooden porches and loped, barking, toward the Jeep. Mr. Overalls lifted his head from the engine block and whistled to call the dog. I was surprised he was so young, mid-twenties maybe. Vintage hard rock must be enjoying a renaissance. Mercifully, he hit the volume button on the boom box just as Axl Rose entered full scream.
    I drove up to the decrepit car and spoke from my window. “Camaro, huh? What year?”
    He ran a hand over the fender, which seemed to be more grey body filler than actual metal. “Sixty-nine,” he said. “Found her in a