I thought of Henry, and the guessing games I hated. The more I wanted to know, the harder my cousin would withhold. I switched tactics.

Whether you discuss it or not, I dont see what any of this has to do with Mama. I faked nonchalance. Even if Sal is involved, why would you assume my mother is, too?

Im not going to share the nature of my information with you, Ms. Bauer. He slipped the folder under his arm and touched the knot of his tie, as officious as a bureaucrat cutting off an unemployment check.

Had I really been thinking this smug jerk was attractive? It had been way too long between boyfriends.

Lets just say that when your dear mother isnt teaching Sunday school, shes consorting with some pretty rough characters, he said. The question is, What did she know about the relationship between the victim and Salvatore Provenza, and what did she do about it?

I remembered what Donnie Bailey had said at the jail. Hardly a woman behind bars doesnt claim some man put her there. I got a mental picture of Mama sobbing in a cell, trying to convince a skeptical guard shed been double-crossed by the man she loved.

If Martinez had his way, that sad scene wouldnt play out in jail. Itd play out in prisonafter hed managed to convict my mama of murder.

The bells on the glass door jangled, announcing my entrance at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow.

Not that Betty Taylor, shop owner and news conduit, needed that cue. She probably knew the moment I made up my mind to visit, turning left from the police department instead of right.

Inside the beauty parlor, the harsh smell of permanent solution stung my nose. Hair conditioners, as fragrant as ripe fruit, softened the stronger odor. Flickering in the corner was a carnation-infused candle. That was Mamas influence. In addition to her work with clients color charts, shes also an aromatherapist. Ill admit, the shop smelled girly, but oddly comforting, even to a tomboy like me.

Betty stood behind a chair, a pink foam roller in one hand and a strand of a customers wet hair in the other. Smiling at me in the mirror, she called out to her beautician trainee.

DVora, cmon out from the supply closet, girl. You wont believe whos here!

Betty did a quick twist of her customers hair with one hand, pulling another roller from her pocket with the other. All without breaking eye contact with my reflection in the mirror.

Mace, toss the towels off of that chair and have a seat. Another hair twist and roll. What in the world is going on with our poor Rosalee?

I suppose it had been wishful thinking to imagine word hadnt reached my mothers co-workers. Gossip spreads at the shop like dark roots on a bottle blonde. It was just as well. I hadnt relished the idea of breaking the news that Mamas in the slammer.

DVora peeked out at me from behind the supply closet. Mace, Im so sorry about your mama. I just dont know what to say.

DVora had managed to give her purple uniform some sex appeal. It was a size too small, and the top three buttons were undone. Shed appliqued pink butterflies along the neckline, drawing even more attention to the suntanned valley between her breasts.

Thats okay, DVora, I said. Were getting the whole misunderstanding straightened out. Thats what I came by to tell yall.

Her troubled frown faded. See, Betty? Didnt I say that? When I put that peroxide mixture on Rosalees hair, I didnt understand how strong it was. And then the phone rang. I didnt know leaving it on for just a tiny bit longer than the directions say would cause such a mess. It was just a misunderstanding, like Mace said.

Betty left her customer in the chair, click-clacked across the lilac-and-white floor, and snapped her fingers in front of DVoras face. Snap. Snap. Snap. Get with it, girl. That burned-up do you gave Rosalee is yesterdays news. I told you she got tossed in the hoosegow. Try to focus, DVora.

DVora looked like a puppy spanked for peeing on the carpet. I only wanted Mace to know Im sorry about her mamas hair. Of course, Im sorry she murdered that man, too. Knowing Rosalee, she must have had a very good reason.

Betty shrugged an apology at me in the mirror. Youll have to excuse DVora, Mace. She tapped the foam roller in her hand against the young womans forehead. She was behind the door when God gave out brains.

I moved the towels and took a seat. Thats all right. I just wanted to come and tell yall that Mamas a hundred-percent innocent. And were gonna prove it, too. Shell be back here with her aromatherapy and seasonal color swatches before you know it.

Im sure of it, Mace, Betty said reassuringly.

DVora didnt look as convinced, but she kept her mouth shut this time.

Honey, why dont you sit right there and relax? Betty asked me. You look like a pair of pantyhose been put through the spin cycle.

And the day wasnt but half over. I leaned back, shut my eyes and took some deep breaths. Usually, I dont buy the aroma mumbo-jumbo, but the crisp scent was beginning to work its magic. Mama claims the scent of carnation oil reduces stress. I could use a little of that.

Thanks, Betty. But just for a little while. I need to find someone else who could have committed the murder. Im going to show this jerk of a detective from Miami that his case against Mama is a bunch of manure.

I try to watch my mouth around Betty, who worships with Mama at the Abundant Hope and Charity Chapel. She doesnt cotton to cussing.

Weve heard all about that detective, Mace. Betty spoke from around a purple comb shed stuck between her lips. My friend Nadines boy Robby manages the Dairy Queen. He told her that detective is as rude as can be. Nadines boy made the mistake of asking him how long theyd have the parking lot roped off while they looked at the body in Rosalees trunk. He didnt mean nothing by it. Its just wasnt good for business. Who wants to come in for a banana split if a bodys drawing flies in the parking lot?

DVora interrupted, I heard that detectives easy on the eyes, but hes downright mean. Nadine told Betty he just about snapped poor Robbys head off at the Queen.

I knew the feeling. I think Martinez was still picking pieces of my own head out of his incisors.

Absolutely snapped it off, Betty agreed. Just plain rude is what that is. But what do you expect? After all, he is from Miamuh. She gave the word its old-Florida pronunciation. You know how people are down there, girls. That place is worse than New York City.

I didnt believe Betty had ever been north of Tallahassee, but that was neither here nor there.

Speaking of New York, Betty, what do you know about the man in Mamas trunk?

She quit rolling her customers hair and pulled the comb from her mouth, giving me her complete attention. DVora closed the supply closet and eased into a chair.

We havent heard word one yet, Betty said. Theres only been a few clients in this morning, and so far nobody whos known nothing. No offense, Wanda, Betty nodded at the woman in her chair.

None taken, Wanda said agreeably.

Now all three women looked at me expectantly.

It was Jim Albert, I said. Though Ive since found out that wasnt his real name.

Betty staggered theatrically, reaching out to steady herself on Wandas shoulder. You dont mean it, Mace, she said. I was just talking last week to Emma Jean Valentine about their wedding. She planned a burgundy and silver theme, and a three-tier cake with butter-cream icing. She wanted me to do her hair.

I sprang the rest of the story on them, about how he was really Jimmy the Weasel, and connected to New York mobsters.

As I spoke, Betty got animated, nodding and interjecting You dont say! But DVora got real quiet. She returned to the supply closet, where she began shifting shampoo bottles.

Dont that beat all, DVora? Betty called out, shaking her head.

Sure does. DVoras tone was subdued, her head still stuck in the shampoos.

Now it was my turn to exchange a look with Betty in the mirror.

Girl, what is up with you? Cmon out of there, Betty said.

DVora closed the door slowly. She held a pair of scissors. A folded purple drape hung from her arm. Ive just been thinking about your poor mama, stuck in prison, she said. I think itll perk her spirits if we do something about your hair, Mace. She always says how youre so pretty, but you wont do a thing to improve what God gave you.

I was curious about DVoras attitude shift when I mentioned Jim Albert. I could use a haircut; and maybe shed talk. What the hell? Id skip lunch.

Stepping behind my chair, she eyed my bed-flattened do. Whatd you cut it with, Mace? Gardening shears? She lifted a thick hank of hair, letting it fall around my face. See this jet black? Its gorgeous, like something from the silent movies. With that and your baby blues, you could be a knockout. Its a shame you go around looking like one of the critters youve dragged out from under somebodys porch.

DVora, Ive told you about insulting the customers! Betty warned.

Mace isnt a customer, Betty. Shes Rosalees kin. And Im starting to believe shes right about her Mama being innocent.

I jumped on that. Do you know something to help me prove that, DVora?

Her frown came back. I cant say just yet, Mace. I want to get it right.

Betty caught my eye and made a slow-down motion.

Ill think on it while I work on your hair. No more questions til then, DVora said.

I sat, and she leaned me back until my head rested on the basin. The shampoo smelled like green apples.

What I meant about your mama She finally spoke again as she dried, rubbing so hard I feared scars on my scalp. Im just not sure what to say, Mace. I was taught not to speak ill of the dead. And part of it was told me in strict confidence by a customer. Thats like a patient and a doctor, isnt it, Betty?

The two of them looked over at Wanda, whod been moved to a dryer. She sat under a whir of hot air, devouring a National Enquirer.

These are special circumstances. I lowered my voice. Mama needs your help.

She gave a little nod. Well, first of all, you knew Jim Albert owned the Booze n Breeze, right?

Um-hmm, I urged her along, even though I hadnt known. I wanted her to get to the part about how someone else might have killed him.

He had a secret business, too. Loaning money. He didnt ask questions, and there was no paperwork, like at a bank. Im embarrassed to say my husband, Leland, went to him once. He needed to borrow three hundred dollars. Leland was a week late paying it back.

DVora looked down, blotting at a shampoo splotch on her smock. Jim Albert sent a man out to the house to break all the windows in our truck. He told us the next time it wouldnt just be the truck. Leland came up with the cash, and we never saw him again.

She raised her eyes to me. That Jim Albert was a man to be feared, Mace. What if someone else couldnt pay what they owed? That would be a reason for murder, wouldnt it?

It sure would, DVora. I felt like kissing her.

And theres more; about Emma Jean and the wedding. Her eyes darted around the shop, as if she expected Emma Jean to jump out from behind a chair. She came in a few days ago while Betty was out to lunch. She sat right in that chair and told me she was having second thoughts about going through with it.

I jumped at that. Did she say why? What else did she say?

DVora turned her head toward Wanda. Still drying.

She leaned in close, cupping a hand around her mouth as she broke Emma Jeans confidence. Shed found out Jim was cheating, DVora whispered. She was so mad, she said she didnt know whether she wanted to marry him or murder him.

Maddie was pacing outside her Volvo by the dumpster at the Booze n Breeze when I arrived.

It was the first time in history my teetotaler sister and the drive-thru liquor store had been forced into such close proximity. When I called Maddie to tell her I found out some things that could help cut Mama loose from jail, she insisted upon meeting me at the Booze n Breeze. It was her maiden trip to Jim Alberts store, a den of sin in my sisters mind.

The stores about two miles east of the courthouse square in downtown Himmarshee. Thats far enough not to offend the good citizens who gather in the square for lunch, eating out of paper bags on benches under oaks strung with Spanish moss. But its also close enough so those same citizens can swing by for a nip on their way home from work.

In her black pantsuit, serious pumps, and reading glasses on a silver chain, Maddie looked every inch the school principal. Frown-ing, she glanced at her watch as she saw me drive up.

I parked on the weedy shoulder along Highway 98, and waited as a truck loaded with Brangus and Charolais cattle roared past. Then a battered pickup, its gate held shut with a length of rusty chain, clattered by. Six Latino farm workers in the back clamped their hands over their baseball caps, guarding them from the wind.

When I crossed the road and met Maddie by the dumpster, she stared at me so long I started to get nervous.

What? I asked her. Do I still have sleep crud in my eyes? I know theres nothing stuck in my teeth, because I havent had a bite to eat all day.

Whatd you do to your hair, Mace?

I put up a hand self-consciously, and felt nothing but smooth where there had been snarls that morning. Maddie grabbed my chin and turned my head this way and that.

It looks good, she finally said. It really does. She sounded shocked.

DVora cut it, I mumbled.

My sister at a beauty parlor? Maddie took a step back. So that explains this awful foreboding Ive had ever since Mama was arrested. The world really is coming to an end.

Very funny, Maddie. I snapped at her, but secretly I was pleased. A compliment from Maddie is rarer than a three-legged cat.

I told her all about Jim Albert, including his mob ties and the fact that Emma Jean had been furious after shed found out he was running around with another woman.

Jimmy the Weasel, huh? That cheating lowlife was an insult to the weasel, Maddie said.

Lets go on in, I told her, and see what else we can learn about him.

There was no wall in front, since the whole idea of the Booze n Breeze is to let shoppers motor past and get a good look at the libations. The businesss motto is, you never have to leave the drivers seat to tank up.

The clerk looked at us in alarm as we stepped into the store from the drive-thru lane. Shed probably never seen a customer before from the waist down.

I smiled, harmless-like.

Maddie ratcheted up her customary frown. Linda-Ann, tell me thats not you underneath those stupid dreadlocks! And selling liquor, too?

So much for building rapport.

Im nine years out of middle school, Ms. Wilson, the clerk said to my sister. Im old enough to work here, you know.

I could have told Linda-Ann not to sound so apologetic. The only defense against Maddie is a strong offense.

I happen to like your hair, Linda-Ann. I aimed a pointed look at my sister. Its a perfect style for you, especially with those cargo pants and that peace-sign T-shirt. So few young people these days show any individuality at all when it comes to fashion.

I was afraid Id poured it on too thick, but Linda-Ann beamed beneath her blonde dreadlocks. Thanks, she said, smiling at me. I like your hair, too.

I thought you were going to college, Linda-Ann. Maddie was judgmental.

College isnt for everyone. I was understanding.

It was becoming clear who was the good cop and who was the bad in our interrogation tag team.

We waited while a car pulled in. The driver wanted a six-pack of Old Milwaukee and five Slim Jims. Dinner. It took Linda-Ann two tries to count out the change from his twenty.

Bad cop: Didnt you pay any attention at all in Mrs. Duttons math class?