okay?’’ Maddie clucked her tongue. “A total tool.’’
“Shh,’’ I said, nodding toward a semi-private alcove at the back of the room. “Our illustrious mayor happens to be right over there , holding court.’’
A towering man, hence the nickname, Big Bill Graf had a barrel chest and a bright red face. He seemed to come from nowhere, pumping money unheard of in Himmarshee into radio advertising and yard signs. He’d won the mayoral race just a few months before.
We all quieted down, to see if we could listen in. Big Bill’s booming voice carried across the crowded restaurant.
“Like I told the Himmarshee Times … ” His voice swelled with im portance, as if he were recounting a personal conversation with the Washington Post . “Sexual deviance isn’t on our civic agenda. And I told that reporter his article better not infer that it is.’’
“I think he means ‘imply,’’’ said Maddie, the school principal.
Marty shushed her.
“We must look at how that young woman’s behavior implicated her murder,’’ the mayor continued.
“Does he mean ‘was implicated in her murder?’’’ Marty whispered.
I shrugged. “Maybe he means ‘precipitated her murder.’’’
“Why do people try to use big words when small ones will do just as well?’’ Mama asked.
“Especially when they use them wrong.’’ Maddie dipped a clean teaspoon into Mama’s coffee for a taste. “Too much cream.’’
“Why don’t you just order a cup?’’ Marty asked.
“My stomach’s upset,’’ Maddie answered.
“Well don’t send your germs my way,’’ Marty said.
I still watched His Honor, even though a loud table in between us had drowned out his words. Several rapt hangers-on crowded around his table, devouring every sentence. A poodle-permed woman who looked familiar gazed at him with adoring eyes.
“Who’s the big gal with the golf course tan and the red poodle pouf?’’ I asked. “She could use an emergency visit to Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow.’’
“My goodness, Mace, you’ve got to get out of the woods and start paying attention to civic news. That’s Mrs. Mayor, Beatrice Graf,’’ Mama whispered behind her hand. “She’s already become a Newcomers’ Club muckety-muck. I know it’s not very Christian of me, but I think she’s as big a blowhard as her husband.’’
“Then she’s a pretty big blowhard,’’ I said. “He’s got a lot of nerve lecturing on how and why that girl came to be tossed in the dump. It’s pure character assassination. Nobody knows anything for sure yet.’’
Just then, Beatrice Graf dropped a hand on her husband’s shoulder. He stopped talking so fast, it was like she’d hit a switch. She smiled at his audience, the ingratiating smile of a political wife. Suddenly, the chatterboxes at the loud table in between us grew quiet as Charlene stopped to take their order. The cultured voice of the mayor’s wife carried across the room.
“I think at the end of the day, we’ll find that young woman was engaged in something sinful, and every one of you knows what the Bible says: the wages of sin is death .’’
Our table was hushed as each of us digested Mrs. Mayor’s words.
“My stars and garters,’’ Mama finally said. “That was certainly harsh.’’
four
The cowbells clanged. Henry Bauer, Esq., paused at the door to Gladys’ Diner. Eyes searching the Saturday morning crowd, he acknowledged Mayor Graf with a tight smile and dutiful wave. Then he made a beeline to our table, probably because he smelled our second plate of biscuits.
“Mornin’, cousin.’’ Maddie gave Henry a cloying smile. “Keep your thieving paws off our food.’’
Henry, belly straining the waistband of his weekend-casual khakis, returned her greeting. “No smart food thief would choose a table where you’re sitting, Maddie. All the food is usually gone.’’
Mama looked up from her smart phone for a moment to pass him the platter of biscuits. “Ignore
“Shh,’’ I said, nodding toward a semi-private alcove at the back of the room. “Our illustrious mayor happens to be right over there , holding court.’’
A towering man, hence the nickname, Big Bill Graf had a barrel chest and a bright red face. He seemed to come from nowhere, pumping money unheard of in Himmarshee into radio advertising and yard signs. He’d won the mayoral race just a few months before.
We all quieted down, to see if we could listen in. Big Bill’s booming voice carried across the crowded restaurant.
“Like I told the Himmarshee Times … ” His voice swelled with im portance, as if he were recounting a personal conversation with the Washington Post . “Sexual deviance isn’t on our civic agenda. And I told that reporter his article better not infer that it is.’’
“I think he means ‘imply,’’’ said Maddie, the school principal.
Marty shushed her.
“We must look at how that young woman’s behavior implicated her murder,’’ the mayor continued.
“Does he mean ‘was implicated in her murder?’’’ Marty whispered.
I shrugged. “Maybe he means ‘precipitated her murder.’’’
“Why do people try to use big words when small ones will do just as well?’’ Mama asked.
“Especially when they use them wrong.’’ Maddie dipped a clean teaspoon into Mama’s coffee for a taste. “Too much cream.’’
“Why don’t you just order a cup?’’ Marty asked.
“My stomach’s upset,’’ Maddie answered.
“Well don’t send your germs my way,’’ Marty said.
I still watched His Honor, even though a loud table in between us had drowned out his words. Several rapt hangers-on crowded around his table, devouring every sentence. A poodle-permed woman who looked familiar gazed at him with adoring eyes.
“Who’s the big gal with the golf course tan and the red poodle pouf?’’ I asked. “She could use an emergency visit to Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow.’’
“My goodness, Mace, you’ve got to get out of the woods and start paying attention to civic news. That’s Mrs. Mayor, Beatrice Graf,’’ Mama whispered behind her hand. “She’s already become a Newcomers’ Club muckety-muck. I know it’s not very Christian of me, but I think she’s as big a blowhard as her husband.’’
“Then she’s a pretty big blowhard,’’ I said. “He’s got a lot of nerve lecturing on how and why that girl came to be tossed in the dump. It’s pure character assassination. Nobody knows anything for sure yet.’’
Just then, Beatrice Graf dropped a hand on her husband’s shoulder. He stopped talking so fast, it was like she’d hit a switch. She smiled at his audience, the ingratiating smile of a political wife. Suddenly, the chatterboxes at the loud table in between us grew quiet as Charlene stopped to take their order. The cultured voice of the mayor’s wife carried across the room.
“I think at the end of the day, we’ll find that young woman was engaged in something sinful, and every one of you knows what the Bible says: the wages of sin is death .’’
Our table was hushed as each of us digested Mrs. Mayor’s words.
“My stars and garters,’’ Mama finally said. “That was certainly harsh.’’
four
The cowbells clanged. Henry Bauer, Esq., paused at the door to Gladys’ Diner. Eyes searching the Saturday morning crowd, he acknowledged Mayor Graf with a tight smile and dutiful wave. Then he made a beeline to our table, probably because he smelled our second plate of biscuits.
“Mornin’, cousin.’’ Maddie gave Henry a cloying smile. “Keep your thieving paws off our food.’’
Henry, belly straining the waistband of his weekend-casual khakis, returned her greeting. “No smart food thief would choose a table where you’re sitting, Maddie. All the food is usually gone.’’
Mama looked up from her smart phone for a moment to pass him the platter of biscuits. “Ignore
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