Dont keep me in suspense, Henry.

Since we were kids, my cousin had made me grovel for information. I Spy. Twenty Questions. Youre Getting Warm. Ive hated guessing games ever since.

He must have taken one look at me today and refrained out of pity.

What Ive discovered about the man in your mamas trunk changes the whole character of his murder. He tapped a file folder on his desk. This is good news, Mace. I think we can help her out. Henry reached across the desk and gave my hand a supportive squeeze.

Sometimes, I wish I was born in South Dakota, where people are direct. Its too damned cold up there to sit around squeezing a persons hand. Plus, theyre usually wearing electric mittens.

What was it you learned, Henry? I pulled my hand away and put it in my lap.

Well, first of all, Jim Albert wasnt his real name. Henry picked up a paper clip and tossed it from palm to palm. Thats an alias.

What do you mean?

An alias is a name other than your given name that youre known by.

I know what an alias is, Henry. Ive been to college. I meant, whyd he have one?

The man in your mamas trunk was running away from some very bad people. As he said, bad people, Henry rolled his neck and adjusted an imaginary tie. He shot imaginary shirt cuffs from beneath an imaginary suit. In fact, he was in a short-sleeved Madras shirt with no tie or jacket.

What in Gods name are you doing, Henry? Have you taken up yoga?

He was connected, Mace. His mouth twisted to a tough-guy smirk.

Connected to what? Did I mention I hate charades as much as I do guessing games?

Youre the most literal-minded person I know, Mace, Henry said, exasperated. You dont even seem to try.

He peeked around the plastic palms to make sure none of his clients was listening. They all seemed engrossed in a Judge Judy rerun on the waiting room TV. As he leaned in close, I smelled pancakes on his breath.

You know, connected. Like Tony Soprano? he whispered. The Godfather movies? Jim Albert, real name Jimmy the Weasel Albrizio, was a known member of the criminal underworld in New York. He was down here hiding out.

So Emma Jeans boyfriend was a mobster. I wondered if shed known that detail when shed agreed to become his wife. I pictured the getting-to-know you phase of their courtship: Emma Jean: Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jim.

Jimmy the Weasel: Well, Im from New York originally. I did free-lance work for The Family up there.

Emma Jean: How nice that youre close to your family Howd you find this out? I asked Henry.

He got that superior look he always got when he knew something I didnt. Im a good lawyer; a respected member of the legal community, Mace. He twirled his paper clip. You may not be aware of it, but Ive become a pretty big fish in this little pond we call Himmarshee. Getting information is easy if you know the right people.

Which doesnt answer my question. Who told you about Albrizio?

The waitress at Gladys Restaurant.

That explained Henrys pancake breath.

Her cousin is married to one of the police techs who handle crime scenes. As soon as they ran the fingerprints on your mamas corpse, they knew this murder was bigger than usual.

I winced. Please dont call that poor man in the trunk Mamas corpse, Henry. We both know she had nothing to do with it. Its just a question of convincing the police shes innocent.

Ive been busy with that angle, too, Mace. The chief owes me a favor. I represented his nephew in that vandalism mess over the Confederate flag and Martin Luther King Day. I dont know what that moron was thinking, except that he wasnt thinking.

So, the police chief I didnt want my aching butt parked on Henrys hard metal chair all morning.

Well, he was pretty pissed off when he found out that new detective arrested your mama. Martinez, right? Whats he like?

An arrogant jerk.

Well, Miami. What do you expect? So, Chief Johnson tells me your mama taught him Sunday school when he was a kid. Said she caught him swiping a cupcake off of some other boys tray, and read him the riot act. Said it didnt matter whether the thing you steal is big or little, wrong is wrong. God always knows, your mama told him.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I remembered similar lessons shed drilled into my head over the years.

Anyway, the chief said hell look into her case personally. Henry tapped the file. That Martinez was within his rights to arrest her. But the state attorneys office has to decide whether to file formal charges. They havent done that yet. And they can only hold her so long until they decide one way or the other to prosecute.

What can I do, Henry?

Well, Martinez is going to try to get any information thatll make your mama look guilty. You need to find something that makes it look like shes not.

Like another suspect?

Thatd be nice, Henry said, as he straightened out the paper clip. Find someone else who could have done it, and Aunt Rosaleell be out of jail and back at home before you know it.

Henry paused. Hey, does your mama still make those lemon squares with the icing? I love those.

His mind was beginning to turn to his mid-morning snack. I started to gather my things when my cell phone rang. I fumbled in my purse past tissues, a mini-calendar, and a pack of chewing gum. No comb, of course.

When I answered, the caller was turned away from the mouthpiece, talking to someone else. Multi-tasking has meant the end of good manners.

I waited a couple of moments and then yelled HELLO again, hoping my screech would cause permanent hearing damage.

Yeah, hold on. The caller mumbled distractedly, and then went back to talking to the third person.

I punched the end button on my cell. It rang again.

I think we were disconnected.

We werent disconnected, I said. I hung up. Its rude to call someone and then act like theyre not there.

The caller launched into a bad imitation of a Southern matron. Well, lands sake, where are my manners? I do declah! He switched back to his normal voice, deep with the faintest trace of an accent. Im terribly sorry my behavior doesnt meet your very high standards. Perdoname, as we say. Forgive me.

That didnt sound sincere, in Spanish or English.

Hello, Detective Martinez. I made an effort to keep my voice pleasant. Neutral. He was baiting me. I didnt intend to bite.

Henry quickly scribbled a note and passed it across the desk: Dont talk to the police!!

I nodded and waved my hand to reassure my cousin. I knew what I was doing. I needed details the detective had.

I may seem a little short because Im kind of busy here, Ms. Bauer. Im investigating a murder, in case youd forgotten.

I wondered whether his accent would sound sexy minus the sarcasm.

My memorys pretty good, Detective. Are you ready to let my mother out of jail?

Henry grabbed the note again, added an underline and additional exclamation points, and shook the paper in my face. I turned away, cradling the phone next to my ear.

On the contrary, Ms. Bauer, Martinez said. Recent information has come to light.

Thats exactly what I wanted from him: information.

Im more convinced than ever your mother is where she belongs, he said. I need you to come by the police department. Id like to talk to you about your mothers case.

And there was that awful word again.

It was almost 10:30 by the time I pulled into the lot at the Himmarshee Police Department. I was getting a little too familiar with the placea low-slung concrete block building painted a depressing shade of gray. Beside it, a chain link fence topped by concertina wire enclosed an exercise yard. Across the yard was the jail, where Mama was.

From what Henry had said, the state attorneys office still had to review her case. She hadnt seen a judge yet. So far, the only one who was saying she was guilty was the man whod tossed her in jail: Detective Martinez.

Penny for your thoughts, Mace.

A uniformed officer tapped at my windshield. It was Donnie Bailey, who Id babysat once upon a time. Looking at him now, all muscles and mustache, made me feel old.

Where you at, Mace? That look on your face puts you about a thousand miles away.

I was just sitting here thinking of what to do next.

Listen, Im sorry about this mess with your mama, Donnie said. I was on duty last night when they brought her over to the jail. Im gonna see she gets treated good, Mace. Dont worry.

Thanks, Donnie. I felt the threat of tears gathering behind my eyes. That means a lot.

I shifted gears. Listen, is there any chance of me getting in there to see her? I dont want to get you in any trouble.

You wont get me into trouble, Mace. Donnies chest puffed out, like a wild turkey in full strut. Im the one in charge this shift. I run the jail, and I say who comes and goes. Your Mamas minister already made his rounds. Family visits arent til later, but were pretty light on inmates right now.

Donnie glanced at me quickly to see how Id taken to Mama being called an inmate. I didnt take to it too well.

Sorry, Mace. Anyway, I dont see a problem with you checking on your mama. With her advanced age and all, Im sure youre worried about her medical condition, right?

Donnie, Mamas healthier than I am.

He leveled a hard look at me, and I got a quick glimpse of how scary he might be on the opposite side of some bars. What I said, Mace, is that youre worried about her medical condition, right? Donnie spoke loud and slow, like I was a particularly thick kindergartner he was trying to teach the alphabet.

Yeah, thats exactly right, Donnie. A-B-C. Im just frantic to think about how all this mess might be affecting Mamas poor old heart.

Not three days earlier, shed run three blocks with her pet Pomeranian in her arms after the dog got a hold of a poisonous toad. She couldnt get to a hose, so shed jumped in a creek to douse out Teensys mouth. Then she ran all the way back with a shovel to kill the toad. Mamas weak heart, my elbow.

You know Id feel awful if that poor old woman died while in our custody. Donnie did all but wink. Yall might get your cousin Henry to sue us and shut down the jail. And where would I be? Neither jail nor job.

Donnie hitched up his belt and shook a ring full of keys at me. I climbed out of my Jeep and followed him, through a locked gate and onto the concrete slab that serves as the exercise yard. There wasnt much to it: three rusty weight-lifting benches and a half-deflated basketball.

At the jails back door, Donnie worked a series of deadbolts. Then he leaned into the heavy steel with his shoulder. The door inched open slowly, and he stepped aside to let me walk through.

A lingering smell of disinfectant, overlaid with spaghetti and meatballs, transported me back to Wednesdays in my grade school cafeteria.

Lunch smells decent, Donnie.

Smells and tastes are two different things, Mace. Lets just say we wont be winning any blue ribbon awards for cooking.

I felt a pang of sympathy. Mama loves good food.

From the movies, Id expected the clang of bars and the catcalls of inmates. But the only thing I heard was the jangle of Donnies keys and a faint squeak from his shoes.

Like I said, were quiet today. This heres the womens quarters. Men are on the other side of the building. Normally, youd have to use the visitors room, but I trust you, Mace. Hell, you changed my diapers.

As Donnie led the way, I couldnt help but notice how nicely hed filled out since those diaper-wearing days.

We kept walking until we entered an open area with cells lining the outer walls. An officer sat behind thick glass, watching a console with a bunch of lights and switches. The lock-up was quite modern for a little burg like Himmarshee. But thats Florida: No money for schools; plenty of money for jails.

Your mamas in the last spot on the left down there, Donnie pointed across the interior square. We have space, but we have to give her a cellmate. Its procedure.

Unless it was an axe murderer, Mama would prefer the company. She cant abide being alone, which is probably why shes had four husbands.

Whats the other woman like? I asked.

Younger gal. Not violent, or anything, Donnie said. Shes in for check fraud. Says it was her boyfriend to blame.

Was it?

Who knows? Donnie shrugged. Just like theres not a guilty man in jail, theres hardly a woman who doesnt claim shed never have done it if not for some guy. Id go crazy if I listened to every inmate who claims theyre innocent.

I tried not to take offense. Donnie was as much as grouping Mama in with that guilty crowd. I kept my mouth shut and crossed to her cell. A low-pitched chuckle sounded inside.

I swear, Ms. Deveraux, you are a stitch. The same woman laughed again. What happened after Teensy got stuck in the road tar? Did he turn all black?

I smiled. That was one of Mamas favorite stories, as her pet Pomeranian made a tar-free recovery. She loves happy endings.

Is there an innocent old woman in here? Plastering a reassuring grin onto my face, I peeked in her cell. A gorgeous, innocent woman?

Oh, my stars! Mama squealed. Its my middle girl, Mace!

She was dressed in a jail-issue smock and drawstring pants, as orange as the reflective vest on a highway worker. I pretended the ugly uniform just meant Mama had gone to work in the office of a doctor with bad taste in color.

Mace, honey, I want you to meet my roommate.

I slipped my hand through the bars to grip limp fingers. Mamas twenty-something cellmate kept her shoulders hunched and her eyes on the concrete floor. If I had to guess, Id say shed been knocked around some. Despite a pierced nose and a wide streak of purple in her hair, she looked like the kind of woman whod just as soon disappear.

Mama would try to fix that.