I noticed he didnt try to deny that hed called.

Oh, yeah. Well he did mention that thing about before. I was bluffing, trying to convince Sal I knew somethinganything.

He measured pancake mix into a glass bowl. Which thing? he asked, watching the bowl and not me. And what happened before? He poured in some milk.

You know, I said lamely.

He replaced the milk carton in the refrigerator and shut the door. Turning around, he leaned against the sink, folded his arms and plopped them where his belly met his chest. No, I dont know, Mace. And, its obvious, neither do you.

I studied my coffee.

Ive told you before. He patted his pompadour. Was it gel, or just naturally stiff? Certain things I cant say, no matter how much you might want me to.

Want you to what, Sally? Mama came into the kitchen, tying a silk scarf around her neck. It was the same shade of boysenberry as everything else, from her earrings to her heels.

Dont you think youre a little over-dressed for the livestock auction, Mama?

I wanted to see what I could find out from Jeb Ennis ranching buddies at the weekly auction. Id convinced Mama and Marty to join me. I didnt even ask Maddie. As Martinezs new best friend, she wouldnt approve of me ignoring his warning about investigating.

Mama checked her reflection in the glass window of the microwave. You can never be too well-dressed, Mace. She aimed a pointed look at my own scuffed boots, frayed jeans, and T-shirt. Besides, I have to go to work after our mission. The girls at Hair Today would fall off their chairs if I showed up in boots and jeans.

So, instead, shed go to the livestock market looking like Queen Elizabeth on a royal visit. Go figure.

Mama lifted the head off a dog-in-a-gingham-baseball-cap cookie jar. Teensy started cutting circles around her legs, nails scrabbling on the tile floor. The dog jumped onto a chair, leaped into midair, and snatched the bone-shaped biscuit from her outstretched hand.

Lookit Mamas little baby! Just like in the circus, she cooed. Still smiling at the dog, she lifted onto her tiptoes so Sal could stoop and give her a kiss. Better him than the dog, I guess.

Your boyfriend and I were just discussing how hes cooked up something secret with Detective Martinez.

Oh, honey, Sallys not my boyfriend.

Finally! Mama had come to her senses.

Hes my fiance, she squealed, shoving her left hand under my nose. The sun coming through the gingham kitchen curtains glinted off the diamond weighing down her ring finger.

___.

Marty, help me out here. Mama cant marry Sal. What do we really know about him?

The three of us were sitting in the air-conditioned interior of Martys Saturn in the parking lot at the livestock auction, planning our investigative strategy. Of course, the topic of Mamas betrothal had been well-covered first: How Sal had cooked her veal piccata (I almost swallowed the ring, girls. He hid it in a lemon slice!). How hed gotten on one knee (I had to help him up!). And how he hoped to make her forget Husbands Two, Three, and Four (He knows I could never forget your daddy!).

Now, my pleas to Marty were falling on uncharacteristically deaf ears.

Mace, Mamas a grown woman. Your suspicions aside, Sal has been nothing but loving to her. Im sorry to say it, but you need to butt out.

Mama shot me a triumphant look. Close your mouth, honey. No telling what might land in there with all this livestock around.

She was unswayable with Marty on her side. But I knew my argument would win once I got Maddie involved.

Navigating the rickety wooden stairway to the Himmarshee Livestock Market can be tricky, but Mama was managingdespite the purple footwear. Marty climbed ahead of her; I stayed close behind. That way, one of us could catch her if her heel hooked on a splintery plank.

The market, the largest in Florida, dated to the 1930s. And it looked it: a ramshackle wooden building, white with barn-red trim, perched on top of a sprawling maze of livestock pens. As we made our way up, calves bawled from below. The ammonia stink of urine filled the air. Whistles and shouts came from the alley rats, the workers who move cattle down the long, dark rows that branch off into holding pens.

Upstairs, cattle buyers were just beginning to make their way to seats that surround the sunken sales pit below. We opened the door to Miss Ruths Restaurant, a little nook in the corner above the ring. A sign overhead said, Cows May Come and Go, But the BULL in This Place Goes On Forever.

Ruth Harris favored patriotic colors. Flags decorated the napkin holders. The curtains were stars-and-stripes. A cowgirl hat in cherry red topped Ruths towering white beehive. She wore a red-and-white checked shirt, tucked snugly into a blue denim skirt. A white belt with a buckle the size of Texas cinched her still-trim waist. The only thing missing was a six-shooter on a holster around her hips.

Thats the cutest outfit youve got on, Ruth. Mama hugged the cafes well-preserved namesake like a long-lost cousin. Youve sure got a theme going here.

We did greetings all around.

You look awful pretty too, Rosalee. That shade is sure becoming to your coloring. It must be nice to dress up again after being in prison.

Oh, honey, that was nothing but a misunderstanding. Mama waved her ring hand airily.

Ruth hadnt noticed the diamond. I figured her cataracts must be bad, as big as that stone was. Mama picked up a cow-shaped creamer from the table, turning it this way and that. She pretended to be admiring it, but really she was just trying to catch the light with her ring.

Grabbing the dappled cow from Mama, I glared at her to quit showing off. Miss Ruth, we dropped by because weve been looking into who really might have killed Jim Albert, I said.

Of course, Marty chimed in, we knew all along Mama wasnt the guilty party.

Ruth nodded, still looking sideways at Mama. She didnt seem convinced. Or maybe she was thinking that a woman whod murdered a man and stuffed his body in her trunk wouldnt think twice about stealing the cow creamer shed picked up and was playing with again.

Did the man who got killed ever come in here?

No, he sure didnt, Mace. Although What? Marty and I both said at once.

Well, I get my hair done at Hair Today. Rosalee, you know that.

Mama nodded, her chin cupped in her left hand with her ring finger splayed across her cheek.

That sweet girl DVora and me were talking about how Jim Albert loaned people money. Some of the ranchers up here have been having a hard go of it. Ive heard certain people were in the habit of visiting him before he got killed.

Who, Miss Ruth? We need names, I said.

She pursed her lips. The cafes owner for thirty years, her customers were her family.

Please, Marty said. Its important.

Still no answer.

You know Jeb Ennis? I asked.

She shook her head unconvincingly and moved across the restaurant to wipe down an already-spotless table. I need to get back to work, she said over her shoulder.

Every seat in the place was empty.

If yall can find Old Jake, you might ask him. Head lowered, she continued swabbing the table. Hes been here longer than I have. He used to work downstairs in the pens. Now, he mostly hangs around. He knows everything about everybody. And he dont have a problem telling what he knows.

Mama touched Ruths wrist, her fingers stretched all the way up her arm. Thanks so much, doll.

Youre welcome. Ruth tried to pull away. Mama held tight. Ruth finally looked down. My, oh my. Her eyes widened. Would you look at that ring!

Oh, this? Mama lifted the ring to the light. Well, honey, my boyfriend just proposed. Im gettin married.

Again? Ruth said.

I grabbed Mamas elbow and steered her out the door.

Congratulations, Ruth called after us as we started down the stairs.

We found Old Jake under the building, sitting on an upside-down milk crate in the shade of the pens. He looked up as we approached, his grin spreading across his white stubble beard. A few teeth were missing. Those remaining were stained brown from a chaw of tobacco, and thousands more before it, bulging in his jaw.

Well, lookit you, Maam, He took off his hat and beamed. Youre as purty in that purple as a speckled pup in a red wagon.

Mama fluttered her lashes. Its boysenberry. And thank you kindly, suh.

Had we wandered onto the set of an old cowboy movie?

You must be Jake, Marty said.

Old Jake, thats what they call me. He ran a hand over his head. It was mostly bald, with brown age spots and a fringe of gray. Im so old now, some days Im not sure I even remember my name.

Why, you dont look a day over Mama hesitated, trying to find a number that would flatter without sounding ridiculous. Seventy, she finished.

Jake, whod probably passed that landmark fifteen years before, smiled so broadly we got a peek of his spit-softened chaw.

Do you mind if we ask you a few questions? I said.

Depends.

He put his hat back on and spit. A brown stream hit the ground, sending up a puff of dust. Mama took a careful step sideways in her boysenberry heels.

Do them questions have anything to do with unpaid taxes or immoral women?

Marty blushed.

No, I said, laughing. Nothing like that. You remember hearing about the owner of the Booze n Breeze, the man who was murdered?

Jake knew all about it, even down to the fact that the body was discovered in the trunk of some ladys convertible. We didnt mention the purty gal in front of him was that same notorious lady. He also knew about Alberts loans to strapped ranchers.

Yep. A stream just missed my boot. Some of these boys round here bit off more than they can chew. Ranchings a tough bidness. Only the strong survive.

Who was borrowing? I asked.

Jake opened his lips just enough to spit. Not a word escaped.

Clarke Simmons? I named one of Floridas best-known cattle men. Jakes thin shoulders shook with laughter. When he started wheezing, Marty patted his back until he quit.

Simmons has got more gold than Midas, he said with a final cough. That fellow from the drive-thru could have borrowed money from him.

Jeb Ennis and I go way back, I said. I know hes been having some cash-flow problems.

Jake narrowed his eyes at me. Yep.

Its a shame. Jeb sure did work hard to build that ranch, I said.

Now, that might be true. But Jebd do better to keep his mind on his bidness. You cant serve two masters.

I waited for the wizened old man to go on. He straightened the hat on his head.

He borrowed money from just about everbody here, even a few bucks from me. But he always had one excuse or tother about why he couldnt repay. Dont piss on my back and tell me its rainin, thats what I always say.

Marty leaned down so she could look under the hat brim, directly into Jakes rheumy green eyes. What do you mean? Was Jeb in trouble? Who were his masters?

The cattle, thats one. Theyll keep a man up nights, always needing something. You feed, you breed, you sell for what you can, and then you start all over again. Year in, year out. Raising cattle is gamble enough for most men. But not for Jeb.

Jake, honey, just tell us what you got to tell us, Mama said. Who was Jebs other master?

More like what was, Maam. He spit. Gambling got thold of Jeb Ennis. Hes lost near all that he owned. That boy never took to heart that old advice about not betting the ranch.

I dont believe my eyes, Mace. Mama gripped my arm so tight I was afraid the skin was going to pop like an overcooked sausage. Its that awful man.

I followed Mamas gaze through the front window of Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow, where Id brought her after the livestock market. Pastor Bob Dixon stood in the salon behind his wife, hands resting on Delilahs shoulders. Seated in a mauve chair, she was covered from the neck down with a drape in deep purple. She looked like a large grape with a stem of wet hair.

I wont blame you if you dont come in, Mace. Mama turned her back to the window, just in case the minister and his wife could read lips. You do not need to subject yourself to that man-wolf for another minute.

She clearly thought I was unpracticed at fending off unwanted advances from men.

Dont worry about it, Mama. Im an adult. Besides, I dont think hes going to attack with his wife sitting right there. She looks big enough to take him if he got her mad.

Mamas gaze returned with mine to the scene on the other side of the window. Pastor Bob smiled into the mirror at Delilah, the morning sun glinting off his teeth. It lit a silver cross on the lapel of his brown-checkered sport coat. His small hands looked as fragile as baby birds against his wifes sturdy shoulders. Seeing the two of them together, I realized Delilah wasnt just bigger; she was a good fifteen years older than her husband.

He is a puny one, Mama finally agreed. Even so, I can give DVora your money.

With everything Id had on my mind, I left the shop without tipping DVora for cutting my hair. Id wanted to get back to apologize ever since.

Im used to tusslin with gators and snakes, Mama. How bad could one pint-sized pastor be? I pushed open the door to a jingle of bells. Hang onto my arm a little looser, please. Well present a united front, I whispered as we stepped inside.

Good morning, Rosalee. The minister and Delilah spoke in unison.

Yall remember my middle girl, Mace. Mamas tone was cool. Not as icy as Maddies, but heading for winter. The two of them nodded politely. I gave them a tight smile back.

Betty, the shops owner, bustled out of the back, greeting us as she wiped her hands on a lilac-colored towel. Id never realized purple came in so many shades.

I smelled the usual mix of shampoos, conditioners and permanent solution. Another scent fought for dominancefruity, like overripe watermelon and bananas that have started to blacken. As we got closer, I realized it was Delilahs perfume. I backed away, putting my hand over my face as if I was scratching my nose.

Betty stopped at the counter in front of Delilahs chair and rustled through the drawer for a comb and a handful of hair rollers. She looked up at me in the mirror. Mace, youre not blowing out that haircut like DVora told you to, are you? Shes going to get on you when she gets back from the bank, which should be any minute now.