“Who?’’ D’Vora asked.

“Guess.’’

Not this routine again.

“The music director at Abundant Forgiveness,’’ Betty said.

“Nope.’’

“The cook at the Pork Pit,’’ said D’Vora.

“Guess again.’’

“Juan, from Juan’s Auto Repair and Taco Body Shop,’’ offered Elaine.

Mama shook her head.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mama. We don’t have all day. Who?’’

“The honorable Big Bill Graf. Our new mayor.’’

Mama looked satisfied when the woman at the shampoo sink gasped. She peeked out from under D’Vora’s towel. “But he’s married! Didn’t he run on a family values platform?’’

Betty waved off the question with her purple comb. “He sure wouldn’t be the first hypocrite to hold office.’’

Mama lowered her voice. “Now, I’m the very last one to countenance cheating, but have you met Mrs. Mayor? That woman always looks like she’s been sipping vinegar. What a sourpuss! Maybe the mayor wanted somebody cheerful and lively for a change.’’

“C’ndee is lively all right,’’ I said.

“She has some real fun events planned for Kenny’s birthday party,’’ Betty said. “Maddie and Kenny must be looking so forward to it. What a celebration they’re going to have.’’

D’Vora dropped a big bottle of shampoo. When all of us looked her way, she tossed the towel on a chair and pointed her chin at the customer, “She’s ready for you, Betty.’’

She hurried toward the door, averting her eyes from Mama and me. “Sorry, I’ve got to run an errand real quick.’’

She left the shampoo bottle where it fell. The bells jangled as the door swung shut.

“Weird,’’ Elaine said.

Mama and Betty exchanged knowing smiles. “Want to bet the errand has something to do with her checking up on her man?’’ Mama said.

“Nothing like hearing someone else’s husband is cheating to make you suspect your own,’’ Betty added.

I didn’t think it was Darryl troubling D’Vora. Why was she avoiding Mama and me? Did she know something about Kenny and Maddie she didn’t want to talk about?

I followed her out the front door to find out.

thirty-one

D’Vora sat across the street,on a bench under a magnolia tree in the courthouse square. She faced the building, where a handful of clerks and legal workers were arriving to start their day. I watched her for a while. She was fidgeting with the hem of her purple smock and chewing at her thumb like it was a Tootsie Roll.

I crossed the street and sidled up behind her. “Hey,’’ I said, and she nearly jumped off the bench.

“You scared me!’’

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’’ I pointed at the space next to her. “Mind if I sit for a bit?’’

She shrugged, and I was afraid she was going to bite clear through her thumbnail.

As I took a seat, D’Vora’s gaze lit everywhere but on me. “Listen …” I began.

She quickly called out to a couple of youngish women who looked like they could have graduated with her from Himmarshee High: “Hey, y’all. Already hot as hell’s hinges, isn’t it?’’

“Hot enough the trees are bribing the dogs,’’ one answered, as they entered the courthouse.

I tried again. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. There’s something I want to talk …”

D’Vora glommed on to another acquaintance, who was wearing a form-fitting dress in royal blue. “Hey, Amber,” she shouted. “You’re sure looking good. That’s definitely your color.’’

Amber beamed. “I’m coming in next week for blonde highlights. I didn’t lose all this weight to go through life with mousy brown hair.’’

“Give me a call, anytime. Better yet, let me give you a card.’’ D’Vora rocketed off the bench, but Amber motioned her to sit down.

“I know Hair Today’s number by heart.’’ She looked at her watch. “Gotta run! I’m just about late.’’

The stylist sat again, reluctantly it seemed. Her eyes darted here and there, but Himmarshee’s miniature morning rush hour appeared to have ended.

“Why do you keep running away from me?’’ I asked her.

“I’m not.’’ Now, she was worrying both thumb and index finger between her teeth.

“D’Vora, if you know something you think I should know, you need to tell me. I’ve always been straight up with you, haven’t I?’’

She nodded, twisting her hand at her mouth to gnaw on yet another fingernail.

“Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble?’’

She shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Are you afraid of getting someone else in trouble?’’

She nodded. Sure enough, a tear rolled down her cheek.

I put a hand on her knee. “Honey, it’s probably not as bad as you think. You’ll feel better once you get it off your chest. I can share some of the burden of knowing with you.’’

I saw her wavering. “D’Vora, you need to do the right thing.’’

That sealed it. She started blubbering, trying to get the words out: “Iiiii … ttttt … it’s …” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Slipped it back into her smock.

“It’s what?’’

“Not what. Who. It’s Kenny.’’

The thumb flew back to her mouth. She was biting so hard, I could hear her teeth nicking the nail. I gently took her hand, holding it still in mine.

“What about him?’’

“He’s cheating on Maddie.’’

I sighed with relief. Not that the news wasn’t bad. But I’d already dealt with the anger and disappointment of finding out about my brother-in-law’s philandering.

“I saw him out at the lake at sunset, in his truck. I knew it was his because it had that bumper sticker on the back, Proud Graduate of Bubba University.’’ She pulled a folded slip of paper from her smock, and placed it on my lap. “I also took down his license tag number, just so no one would think I was imagining things.’’

I put the paper in my pocket. “We know about it, D’Vora.’’

Shock played across her pretty face. “You do? Maddie, too?’’

“Unfortunately, yes. Even the best marriages get into trouble. I just hope Maddie and Kenny can get past this.’’

I stared off into the distance, wondering whether that would even be possible.

D’Vora took out her tissue and blew her nose again. As she composed herself, my gaze settled on the moss hanging like gray lace from the oak trees. I thought of the old Southern folktale that told of its origins. Supposedly, a Spanish woman was captured by Indians. They cut her long hair and tossed it high into the trees. In no time at all, the black hair turned gray. It spread from tree to tree, and that was the beginning of Spanish moss.

I was imagining the fear that dark-haired woman must have felt, when I realized D’Vora had stopped sniffling. She was speaking again.

“… and that’s why I’ve been wracking my brain, wondering if I should tell them.’’

“Tell who, D’Vora?’’

“The police, of course.’’

A shiver ran up my spine. Suddenly, my attention was riveted.

“Why would you tell the police Kenny’s cheating? If they got called out every time a man in Himmarshee cheated, that’d keep them pretty busy, wouldn’t it?’’

I searched D’Vora’s face. Her eyes were on the pavement. Her voice came out hushed.

“It’s not so much that he was cheating. It’s who he was cheating with.’’

The shiver in my spine turned into a fusillade of pinpricks.

D’Vora continued, the words flowing now like water. “I saw him, Mace. I saw Kenny parked in a public place, doing things with that librarian. With Camilla.”

A sob worked its way up from deep in her chest. “It was the night before you and your mama found the poor thing murdered, lying dead in piles of garbage out at the dump.’’

thirty-two

Bookshelves lined the walls of the living room at Camilla Law’s small, but tastefully furnished, home. A framed quotation by Jorge Luis Borges held a place of honor over a fireplace. In black letters bordered with gold, the words were illuminated by two small spotlights mounted in the ceiling: