Free Mama Cracks a Mask of Innocence by Nora Deloach Page A

was pulling out a chicken, getting it ready for its roasting. I helped Mama prepare dinner. Don’t get me wrong, Mama is the head chef and I’m perfectly satisfied just sitting and watching her. But you didn’t have to be a Philadelphia lawyer to see that she had a little more than enough to handle at the moment. Not only was she under the gun to getresults for her boss, she had a community center full of clothes to be distributed, and the care of a cousin who wasn’t used to being taken care of.
    I’d made the right call when I decided to help with dinner because when my mother had everything either on the stove, or ready to go into the oven, she sighed deeply. Then, without saying much more, she made herself a cup of peppermint tea and headed to a chair in the family room. The look on her face was clear—she needed downtime.
    I decided to give Mama some space: I’d go ask Agatha why she treated the handsome Ray Raisin like he carried the plague.

    The room where Mama had put Agatha is the one that Cliff usually stays in when he comes home with me. And it’s the room where Will’s basketball trophies and a wall lined with pictures of his team’s successes are kept. There are also the five certificates of achievement that Rodney stacked up during the many selling contests he entered.
    When I entered the room, Agatha, who was propped on a pillow and thumbing through a magazine, looked up as if she knew what was on my mind. “Don’t ask me anything about Ray Raisin,” she mumbled.
    “You make it difficult for me not to want to know,” I told her.
    “It isn’t anything that needs to be stirred.”
    “Ray Raisin is an angel, what could possibly be wrong with him?”
    Agatha’s eyelids fluttered, then she broke eye contact. “Angel!” She laughed. “I’ve seen more than one person with wings turn out to be an angel of darkness rather than an angel of light.”
    I sat on the edge of the bed. “Come on, Agatha, tell me the dirt!”
    Agatha was silent for a moment. Then she yawned, eased down against the pillows and gestured impatiently for me to leave the room. “I’m tired. Doctor says I need rest!”
    I took a deep breath and did the only thing I could do—I left the room. Instead of going back into the family room with Mama, however, I turned left to my bedroom. I wanted to speak with Cliff. When I called his office he was still in, and I got right through to him. I told him about Mama’s boss, Hattie Russell’s, offer to pay her to find who killed the teenager she had mentored.
    “Miss Candi is at it again,” Cliff said, “sleuthing out killers in little old Otis.”
    “We’re going to visit one of the dead girl’s teachers after dinner. Mama got a tip that she may have something to do with drugs on the high school campus.”
    “A murder and drugs—”
    “And accusations of a young girl being molested by her stepfather.”
    “Are you sure you’re in a small town? Sounds likethe city there, with all this crime. You and Miss Candi had better be careful.”
    “We will,” I promised.
    “Are you ready to come home?”
    “I’m ready to see you.”
    “You miss me?”
    “You know it.”
    “Well, say it—say, Cliff, baby, I
really
miss you!”
    I laughed. “Cliff baby,” I repeated obediently, “I
really
miss you!”
    “How much?”
    “I think you’d better stop while you’re ahead.”
    Now he laughed. “You know I love you,” he said slowly, like he was savoring his own words. It was words I’d heard before, but not with the same flavor.
    “I love you too, Cliff,” I told him.
    Then, as if he’d been snatched back from wherever he suspected our conversation was going, he said, “You and Miss Candi had better be careful. You remember the last time you went snooping. You both came very close to meeting your Maker in a ditch.”
    “Do me a favor,” I said, deciding that we’d permanently veered off the romantic trail of our conversation. “Go to my apartment, get my mail out