Free Bubbles Ablaze by Sarah Strohmeyer Page A

wasn’t supposed to, Bubbles. That’s what he told me when I ran into him at the library before he disappeared. That’s why McMullen Coal fired him and that’s why he’s in hiding. You get Stinky and you’ll get the straight poop.”
    â€œWhat poop?” Mama asked.
    Vilnia shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t give me no poop particulars.”
    I tried to sort out the many stories Roxanne had prattled about this morning. She’d said her husband had quit his job because the maps at McMullen Coal hadn’t been updated, making it look like less coal was being taken out than it was. But why would that result in Bud Price’s murder?
    â€œAre you sure Stinky’s not crazy?” I asked.
    â€œNot crazy.” She tapped her temple with the toothpick. “Smart.” She chewed on her toothpick and winked at me.
    I didn’t know whether to believe her. Vilnia might be another conspiracy nut like Genevieve, only shorter and with more plastic jewelry.
    There was a faint shuffling and the door opened. Mr. Vilnia appeared. “I was thinking I might go out. You know. To the park. For a walk.”
    There was silence. Vilnia removed the toothpick. “And what, may I ask, have you done about the garbage? I told you this morning to take it out and still it’s there.”
    â€œOh, sorry.” Mr. Vilnia scurried across the kitchen and removed the white plastic bag, tying it quickly.
    â€œDon’t forget to put in another liner. How many times have I opened the door under the sink to throw away coffee grounds only to have them land in the bare garbage pail. Do you know what a pain that is to clean?”
    â€œYes, dear,” he said, shaking out a plastic bag.
    â€œAnd I suppose the bathroom faucet’s still dripping.”
    Mr. Vilnia dragged the garbage bag to the kitchen door. “It needs a new washer.”
    â€œI know that ,” Vilnia said, as Mr. Vilnia opened the door almost in relief. “That’s why it’s dripping.”
    As soon as he left, Vilnia jumped up and quickly opened the oven door. Mama, heeding some mysterious signal, also sprang to action, bringing down a white plate from the cupboard. Vilnia slipped on two oven mitts and brought out the apple crisp. She spooned out a section as Mama reached in the freezer and found some vanilla ice cream. The women worked silently.
    Mr. Vilnia returned with resolve on his mind. “Listen, Vilnia. I have a right to go out if I want to. I’m retired. I’ve worked all my life—”
    Vilnia handed him the plate of steaming cinnamon apple crisp with vanilla ice cream melting over it in rivulets.
    â€œWhat’s this?” he said, softening.
    She gave him a spoon and he dug in. After two delectable mouthfuls he said, “Maybe I will stay home. It looks like it’s going to rain and there’s that documentary on fungi I’ve been wanting to see.”
    â€œSounds good, tiger.” The phone on the kitchen wall rang and no one budged.
    â€œPhone’s ringing, dear,” Vilnia announced.
    Mr. Vilnia snatched it off the wall and handed it to his wife without answering.
    â€œI’ll take it in the other room.” She left through the swinging door. Mr. Vilnia followed dutifully.
    After they were gone, Mama rested against the counter and fanned herself with an oven mitt. “Whew!”
    â€œWhat the heck was that all about?”
    â€œA rare treat. You have just witnessed the casting of the Nag ’N Feed spell, a local specialty.”
    â€œNag ’N Feed?”
    â€œIt’s how the women in this town keep their men folk in line. They nag them constantly about the garbage, watching too much sports on TV, you know the drill. Then, just when their husbands are about to blow their tops, they bring out the food and the men cave. The chores get done and the women remain in control. Flawless system.”
    â€œAnd the men put up