to reach toward me, like the grasping fingers of malevolent giants. A shiver started at my neck and traced a trail all the way down my spine.

I held out my hand. The barest tremble betrayed an uncommon onset of nerves. “Look at me, Ollie. Spooked by a little foul weather.’’

I went to the wall again; found the gator still awaiting his supper. “I wonder if it’s starting to get to me, how everybody’s always asking me when I’m getting married? I’m not ready right now, but I’ll tell you a secret.’’

I thought I saw an interested look in Ollie’s eye. Maybe he was anticipating the secret. More likely, it was the thawed raw chickens I had in the bucket at my feet. I looked around to see if anyone lurked nearby, close enough to hear me revealing my deepest feelings to a one-eyed, three-legged alligator. He’d come out on the losing end in a fight with another male over territory.

“I really do love this man, Ollie. I’m happy.’’ I dangled the first chicken over the wall. The reptile’s jaws gaped wide. “I can hardly believe it myself. Nothing’s going to happen to screw up this relationship.’’

I tossed the plucked bird. Ollie’s mouth slammed shut with a resounding crack. I thought of the awesome force of a gator’s jaws, more than twice as powerful as the mightiest lion. The water churned, and I shuddered a bit. Silently, I uttered a prayer I’d said more than once before at Ollie’s pond. Thank you, God, for saving Mama and me from such a gruesome fate.

eight

The porch light shone at Maddie’s house. I raced through the rain to her front door. The potted geraniums she always hand-watered and plied with fertilizer to force cheerful red blooms were wilting on the front porch. That was as odd as the phone call I’d gotten from her on my way home from work.

“Could you stop by tonight?’’ Maddie had asked.

It ran through my mind I’d be looking at more pictures of hairstyles. Maybe I’d have to watch my sister try on that yellow dress while she asked if it made her butt look big. “I don’t know, Maddie. I’m awful tired, and it’s raining buckets.’’

As if to emphasize my point, the rain picked up, pounding the top of my Jeep. I turned the wipers up a notch and rubbed at the foggy window. It was almost dark, and I could barely see five feet in front of me. The rain fell in sheets. The wind gusts came close to blowing me over the highway’s center line.

“Please?’’ Her voice was pleading, and so soft I could barely hear her. Very un-Maddie-like. When I hesitated before answering, I heard a strangled sound come over the phone.

“Are you crying?’’

“N-n-n-nooo …’’ Maddie took a couple of hiccupping breaths. “Y-y-y-yesss.’’

My tough-as-nails older sister, capable of silencing an entire auditorium of middle-school students with just her scary principal glare, CRYING? I yanked my steering wheel to the left and made

a U-turn.

“I’m on my way, sister. Hold on.’’

Now, Maddie held open her front door. She handed me a bath towel to dry off the rain. I knew things were bad when she failed to mention like she always did that I should wipe the mud off my boots. Her red hair was matted. Her eyes were puffy and swollen.

“What’s wrong?’’ I asked.

“Follow me.’’ Maddie led the way down a hallway to her laundry room. The top on a bright pink hamper was open. She pointed. “Look in there.’’

I peeked in. I saw a couple of dish towels, a tablecloth with barbecue stains, and a man’s silky, long-sleeved shirt in a vivid orange-and-maroon print. “Do you have a houseguest visiting from Palm Beach?’’

“It’s Kenny’s.’’

I’m sure my face betrayed my shock. Kenny’s style, if you could call it that, was jeans, T-shirts, and NASCAR caps. I’d never seen him in a shirt without a logo promoting farm equipment, his insurance company, or a monster truck show.

Maddie plucked out the shirt, holding it gingerly between a thumb and forefinger. “Smell.’’

“I’d rather not.’’

She waved it under my nose, and raised her brows at me. When I didn’t answer, she made another pass with the shirt. That time, I got it. Despite the damp scent of rain on my uniform, mixed with the dusty grain smell of the animal chow I’d spilled on myself earlier, I detected the cloying, floral scent of a woman’s perfume.

My mind immediately went back to Mama, and Husband No. 2. She’d found a red shirt of his, reeking with My Sin. Mama didn’t say a word. She just doused the whole thing with bleach. Number Two found his fancy shirt neatly folded and put back in the drawer, the red fabric turned into ugly splotches of pink and white.

“There’s got to be an explanation,’’ I said.

Maddie balled up the shirt and tossed it back in the hamper. “There is: He’s cheating.’’

“I mean another explanation.’’

“Before Mama finally wised up to No. 2, how many times did we see her find some evidence, and then overlook it?’’

“Lots of times.’’

“Well, I’m not going to be that blind, Mace.’’ She glared at the shirt. “I should have known even before I smelled the perfume. The man has never in his life managed to hit the dirty clothes hamper.’’

“What are you going to do? Confront him?’’

“Not yet.’’ Maddie shook her head. “I want to get all the facts first, just like I do when the kids act up at school. Before I say a word, I always know exactly what’s been done, who did it, and what punishment they’ll get.’’

I couldn’t help but think that despite Maddie’s bluster, marital betrayal is a lot more complicated than shooting spitballs at Himmarshee Middle School.

_____

Maddie traced at a stray drop of herbal tea on her kitchen table. A steaming cup of chamomile sat untouched in front of her. I sipped at my lemonade. I would have preferred a beer, but my sister refused to have alcohol in her house. Mama’s Husband No. 2 had been a heavy drinker in addition to a con man and serial cheater. As the oldest of us three girls, Maddie was likely more aware of the emotional fallout from that poisonous combination of character flaws.

“What about the party?’’ I asked her.

“We’re going ahead with it. I don’t have a choice. The VFW hall is rented. The invites are out. C’ndee already bought most of the food for Saturday night. Kenny’s birthday cake is already paid for, too. I asked them to inscribe it ‘To the World’s Best Husband.’ ’’

Maddie, seemingly exhausted, went quiet. She stared at her stainless steel refrigerator. Normally as shiny as a silver dollar, it was marred with greasy fingerprints. If Maddie were herself, she’d have been after it with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of spray cleaner. Instead, her eyes got teary again. I felt the sting, too, from sympathy and disbelief.

“Maybe Kenny’s using drugs or something,’’ I said. “There’s got to be a reason.’’ She shook her head. “It’s sex, pure and simple. Not only is that shirt of his a peacock-looking thing, it’s a full size smaller than what he wore a couple months ago. I should have known something was up when he started getting in shape.’’

Maddie sniffled. “Bastard!’’ She plucked a napkin from a holder on the table and blotted roughly at her eyes. “Don’t mention a word of this to Mama.’’

“Lord, no!’’ I said.

“I want to show you something else.’’

I followed Maddie down the hallway to their bedroom. Pictures of her with Kenny and their daughter, Pam, hung along the walls. She jerked open the closet door and removed a hideous yellow-and-peach-colored golf outfit. The cap was a plaid tam-o’-shanter, complete with a yellow pom-pom.

“That looks like something from the Sal Provenza resort-wear collection,’’ I said.

“I know, except my idiot husband paid for it with our money.’’ Maddie dropped it on the bed in disgust.

“Will you investigate for me, Mace? Find out who he’s running around with?’’