I aimed a sharp kick at Mama’s shin. Too late. Prudence dropped our hands and lifted her face. She stared at me, those big eyes filled with questions.

“What does your mother mean? Can you find out what happened to Camilla? Can you find out who killed my sister?’’

In the silence that followed, I heard Maddie take another sip of soda water. Marty’s foot tapped nervously. The Elvis Presley clock on the wall made a brushing sound as the singer’s famous pelvis swung back and forth. Mama’s smile was as innocent as a baby’s.

Finally, Marty spoke. “Mace is an amateur detective.’’

“She’s solved several murders—with my help, of course.’’ Mama patted her hair.

“I’m not sure the cops would put it that way.’’ I was thinking of one particular cop. “They might say I’ve stuck my nose into some cases where it didn’t belong.’’

“She’s being modest.’’ Marty offered our guest the platter with the chicken and ribs. Prudence took a serving of each, dousing them with barbecue sauce. “Mace has a different way of looking at the world—’’

“You can say that again.’’ After interrupting, Maddie added nothing more.

I missed her jibes, the normal Maddie behavior. This Maddie? Quiet? Worried? Hurting? This wasn’t normal. I wanted normal back.

Our little sister also seemed to be waiting—in vain—for Maddie to toss a zinger. “Anyway,’’ Marty finally continued, “Mace notices things other people don’t. She usually arrives at a conclusion of who might have done the crimes before the police do.’’

“Crimes, plural?’’ Prudence tackled her chicken leg with knife and fork.

“My family is exaggerating. I’ve gotten lucky a couple of times.’’

“Four,’’ Mama said.

A bite of drumstick paused midway to Prudence’s mouth. “How common are killings in Himmarshee?’’

“The last few years have been unusually murderous,’’ I said.

“How fascinating. I’d love to talk to you some more about your methods. What kinds of things do you look for? What clues tell you someone might be capable of murder?’’

She hoisted her empty wine glass, eyebrows raised in a question. Marty refilled it. It appeared Prudence had stopped worrying about how sober she’d be if the police should call.

“Why don’t you tell us something about your sister?’’ Marty smoothly changed the subject from Himmarshee’s recent history of homicides. “Were you identical twins?’’

Prudence took a swallow of wine. Her eyes welled with tears. Marty looked stricken.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you pain.’’

“It isn’t your fault, Marty. I’m feeling a bit guilty. I’m angry at myself that a petty argument led us to become estranged.’’

“What was the fight about?’’

Now, that was the Maddie I knew: To the point. Short on sensitivity. Prudence frowned at Maddie’s blunt question.

“It was just something between sisters. Our bond as twins wasn’t broken; merely frayed.’’ She pressed her lips together, gaining composure. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about that. I’d rather remember how close we once were: like peas in a pod, everyone said. We even spoke our own secret language as children.’’

“That’s not uncommon with twins, I’ve heard,’’ Mama said.

“My sister was always so clever. Far smarter than I …’’

Prudence worked on the rib she’d taken, slicing off a bite of meat from the bone. Ribs were usually eaten with the hands, chicken drumsticks, too. But none of us pointed that out. She poured on more sauce; sawed off another piece. “My, that’s quite good!’’

“Anyway,’’ she finished that rib and continued, “that’s why I can’t understand …” Her words tapered off as she helped herself to a couple of spoonfuls of potato salad.

“What?’’ Mama prodded.

“Well, that outfit,” Prudence said. “That was not the outfit of a smart girl; a girl who was top of her class.”

I came to her sister’s defense. “Now, we don’t know how or why she was wearing those clothes—’’

“I do,’’ Prudence said. “I know a bit about these kinds of things. Leather wear and a fetish collar, complete with metal O ring; being submissive. It’s sick is what it is. I thought it was something Camilla had put behind her.’’

“Maybe that clothing wasn’t her choice,’’ Marty said.

“Sad to say, it probably was. She took risks, romantically speaking.’’ Her voice went cold. “Sexually speaking. I did not approve. For such a clever girl, Camilla could be quite stupid.’’

What seemed like raw hatred flickered in her eyes, but the look was gone so quickly I wasn’t even sure I saw it. A strained silence settled over the table. Prudence stared at her plate. When she finally looked up, her expression was pleasant. Neutral. She gestured at the meat platter.

“Do you suppose I could have another one of those ribs, and some more of that sweet red sauce?’’

Until then, I hadn’t noticed she’d blotted up every bit of her barbecue sauce with a piece of cornbread. Camilla Law’s grieving twin seemed to have an unusually hearty appetite.

fifteen

A high-pitched sound penetrated Mama’s front door—like a dentist’s drill crossed with a power saw.

“Mama, if you don’t make Teensy stop that hideous barking, I’m going to skin him alive and make a couch pillow out of his coat.’’

Maddie must have been feeling better. She was back to slinging zingers.

“He’s just happy to be home, honey. By the way, if you ever harm one hair on my dog’s head, I’ll—’’

“—Give her a medal?’’ I finished the sentence.

I heard the key turn in the door. The little dog skittered across the tiled entryway, bounded through the living room, and burst into the kitchen. He ignored everything but his mission: To reunite with his mistress. Teensy rounded a kitchen chair, performed an aerial launch over my outstretched legs, and leaped onto Mama’s lap.

“Just look at my precious little boy.’’ She held the Pomeranian aloft, waving a paw at Maddie and me. “How could you girls even joke about hurting him?’’

“I wasn’t joking,’’ Maddie said.

Dinner was done, but we still lingered at the kitchen table. Pleading exhaustion, Prudence had left as soon as she finished her dessert. Considering how much she’d drank, it was a good thing Marty offered to drive Prudence in her rental car to her motel. I was glad she was the sister keeping her company.

Sal’s Bronx boom echoed from the living room. “Could you believe that scrawny mope? Offering to arm wrestle me?’’

I heard Carlos’s more subdued tone. “It’s the typical barroom correlation between number of beers and lack of sound judgment.’’

Even the timbre of his voice gave me a little shiver of desire. Mama was right. If I was smart, I wouldn’t do anything to burn what we had together.

“We’re in here, Sally.’’ Turning in her chair, Mama quickly surveyed her reflection in the countertop toaster. She Apricot Iced. Then, she offered the lipstick to me. In vain, of course.

“Well, at least wipe the barbecue sauce off your face,’’ she hissed.

“Carlos likes barbecue sauce.’’

Maddie laughed, and the sound warmed my heart.

I handed Mama a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. “Quick, take the peel off this and drop it down your blouse.’’

She cocked her head in a question.

“I told Maddie how good that rotten banana looked on you when we were digging through the dump for your ring.’’

“Shhh!’’ She craned her neck to look toward the living room. “Don’t remind Sal. He’s none too happy his ring nearly got trashed.’’

The ceramic ducks on Mama’s display shelves shook as Sal’s heavy footsteps led the way to the kitchen. “There’s my gorgeous gal!’’ Gawgeous, he said. “Am I the luckiest husband in the world, or what?’’

Mama jumped up for a hug. Sal gave her a long, wet-sounding kiss. Trapped in the center of their tight embrace, Teensy squirmed to get free. Sal placed the dog on the floor and went in for a second smooch, this one even more passionate.