He looked past my sister to watch me as, wincing, I lifted first one, then the other of my aching legs over the border of Chinese juniper that lined Maddie’s driveway. Sal must be a good actor, because a look of complete surprise flickered across his face as he absorbed my sorry state. Moving quickly for such a big man, he jumped from his car. The heavy driver’s door pushed Maddie out of the way.

Sal offered his arm for support. “If your sister wasn’t so busy attacking me, she might have realized you could use some help.’’ He leaned me against the wide expanse of his Cadillac’s hood. “What’d Maddie mean, I tried to kill you? What in the hell happened, Mace?’’

“Someone ran me off the road last night, out near the golf course. Remember the golf course, Sal?’’ I slipped into using his given name. If someone has conspired to murder you, it seems a tad formal to call him Mister.

I continued, “That’s where you called me to come all the way out there to meet you, and then conveniently disappeared before I got there.’’

“What are you suggesting? I set you up?’’ Sal looked at me like the creature from the Alien movie was burrowing out of my body. “I had a good reason for rushing out of there.’’

“Yeah? What?’’

“I got a call on my cell phone yesterday that your mother had suffered a heart attack at the jail.’’

Maddie gasped and grabbed my hand. My own heart started racing. Then I remembered, we’d already heard from Henry this morning that Mama was fine, on her way to freedom.

“Our mother’s heart is okay, Sal,’’ I said.

“But I didn’t know that then. I ran out of the pro shop so fast my shoes were smoking. I tried to call you again at the park office, but you must have already left work. I didn’t have your cell number. Besides, I figured if I was getting news of Rosalee taking ill, then you and your sisters must have heard about it, too. I knew I’d see you at the jail, or maybe at the hospital.’’

He twisted a heavy gold bracelet around his wrist, gaze fixed on the engraving that said Sal. “I didn’t even want to think about my worst fear: that the next time I’d see you girls would be at Rosie’s funeral.’’

He pulled out an oversized white handkerchief with deep red the initials SFP. He blew his nose, loud. “Sorry,’’ he said, blowing again. “Thinking about losing her still upsets me.’’

His hands were shaking. I almost felt sorry for him.

“Heart attack or not, you’ve already lost our mother.’’ Maddie’s voice was as cruel as a Christmas Eve burglar. “Mama believes, as do we, that you killed Jim Albert. We think you put his body in her big trunk, and then let her take the blame.’’ Maddie crossed her arms over her chest, purse tucked in tight, and waited for his response.

Sal carefully folded and refolded his handkerchief. He looked at the ground, and then raised his face to Maddie. There was no sadness now; just a tic in his jaw and cold anger.

“You better watch yourself.’’ His voice was a growl. “You could get into a lot of trouble making accusations you don’t have fact one to support. Mace, tell her she’s out of line, would’ya?’’

“She’ll do no such thing,’’ Maddie jumped in. “Mace and Marty both agree with me. And so does our mother, for that matter.’’

When Sal looked at me, I saw hurt, not anger in his eyes. “Is that true, Mace? Does Rosalee think I’m a murderer? Do you?’’

I paused, considering what to say. The truth was I didn’t know what to think.

“It seems suspicious, Sal. We find out you have ties to Jim Albert, ties of the criminal kind. You’re dating my mother, who just happens to have a spacious trunk in the back of her old Bonne-ville. She’s playing bingo at the Seminole reservation. The car is parked way out in the hinterlands.’’

He ran a finger around his collar, sweating in the full sun on Maddie’s driveway. “Anyone could have had access to that car, Mace.’’

He addressed the car, but avoided the topic of his ties to the murder victim.

“Everyone in town knows your mother and her turquoise convertible,’’ he continued.

“Yeah, but how many other people have an extra set of keys to the car?’’

From the flush on Sal’s face, I could see my comment hit home.

“She gave you a set, didn’t she?’’ I asked.

“You know she did. Rosalee’s always losing her keys. I have a set for safekeeping.’’

“Humph!’’ said Maddie.

“You both know I’m not the only one. A few extra sets are floating around town.’’

“True,’’ I conceded. “But how many of those other folks with Mama’s keys have also drawn the suspicions of the detective investigating Jim Albert’s murder? Just you.’’

Oddly, Sal smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure you know everything Detective Martinez has up his sleeve,’’ he said. “Policemen play things close to the vest. They don’t share everything they know, especially not with civilians.’’

“That’s neither here nor there, Mr. Provenza.’’ Maddie put her hands on her hips. “On top of everything Mace just said, you also seem to be the most likely suspect in her near-fatal crash last night.’’

“Now, that’s where you’re a hundred percent wrong, Maddie.’’ Looping his thumbs into his waistband, Sal leaned against his Cadillac, the picture of confidence. “Why haven’t I heard you making accusations about the person who called me to say your poor mother was at death’s door, that she’d collapsed at the Himmarshee Jail?’’

My sister and I looked at each other. It was a good question.

We would have gotten the answer, too, if Marty hadn’t chosen exactly that moment to pull up in front of Maddie’s house. She was beeping her horn like Himmarshee High had just won the homecoming game. And there was Mama, grinning and waving from Marty’s front seat.

It’s kind of hard to pretend you don’t see Big Sal Provenza. But Mama was doing her best.

“Rosalee, I just want to talk to you,’’ Sal begged, placing his palms on the rolled up window on the passenger side of Marty’s car.

Mama climbed out of her seat, pushed around Sal with a withering glance, and then immediately turned a big smile on Maddie and me. “Girls, I’m so happy to see y’all. I thought I’d never get out of that place. Oh, my Lord, the food. And then a visit from that talky Pastor Bob Dixon. And those horrible cots. Mace, you saw those inmate smocks. Remind me never to wear orange again.’’

“Please, Rosalee.’’ Sal ran his hands through his hair, messing up his careful styling. “I can explain everything. I just can’t do it right now.’’