2 On the Nickel by Maggie Toussaint Page B

Beemer as he opened the door from inside.
    “I’m headed out for lunch.” Charlie’s
grin stretched from ear to ear. “You interested?”
    Lunch with my ex-husband would
give him hope he could win me back. A ride was one thing. Sharing food took our
level of intimacy to a whole other level. “No, thanks, I’ve got to get home.”
    “No problem there. I love your
cooking.” Charlie masterfully steered through a series of lefts as we reversed
direction. Already I regretted the impulse that led me to accept this ride. I
had to be very firm about the boundaries I set for Charlie, or he would insert
himself in the picture.
    “You’re not invited to lunch,
Charlie.”
    “Don’t be cruel, Cleo. I’ve
apologized for my mistake. I’m a new man. Promise. A man who wants you back.
What’s the harm in a lunch?”
    He had my complete attention.
Purple cows could have fallen from the sky, and I wouldn’t have noticed. “It’s
not about harm. It’s about trust. I don’t trust you anymore. Why can’t you
accept that and move on?”
    “You want to talk to me about trust? How come every time I turn around, Britt Radcliffe has his hands on you? He’s a
married man, Cleo.”
    My blood raced at the insult. I
couldn’t believe how quickly Charlie could get me riled up. This was exactly
why I stayed away from him. “I am not interested in Britt Radcliffe. He’s not
interested in me. I don’t know where you get these bizarre ideas, Charlie.”
    Charlie slowed the car. “Then
what did I just see?”
    “You saw me being ushered out of
a crime scene by a police officer.”
    My driveway was full since both
my car and Mama’s were there. Charlie parked on the street next to the curb. “Crime scene? Are you in trouble with the law?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Britt took
exception to my helping fold the Sunday bulletins.”
    Charlie rubbed his chin. “I don’t
buy that. Not for a minute. Erica’s death wasn’t an accident?”
    I chose my words with care. “Britt
thinks there was more to it.”
    A frown flickered across
Charlie’s face. “I thought he got all the sinister folks rounded up a few
months ago.”
    “Apparently not.” I opened the
car door. “Thanks for the lift. I appreciate the favor.”
    “I know how you can make it up to
me.” His eyebrows rose suggestively. “Lunch?”
    “No lunch.”
    “I’m not giving up, Cleo. You
need me.”
    I slammed the car door. “Goodbye,
Charlie.”
    I mounted the porch stairs
searching through my purse for my keys.
    Mama opened the door before I
could get my key in the lock. She grabbed my arm and pulled me in the house. After working the bulletin mashing machine all morning, I wasn’t surprised at
her grip strength.
    Static electricity crackled in
the air. “Are you satisfied?” Mama snapped.
    I was satisfied I wasn’t eating
lunch with Charlie. I was satisfied Mama wasn’t going to jail right this
minute. I was satisfied Francine and Muriel didn’t beat me at the folding game. I bent down to pet Madonna, who had waddled forward to greet me. “What do you mean, Mama?”
    “Muriel called. She said you
grilled her and Francine about Erica. I should have known you would spy on me. Only, why did you have to damage my car and make me hide in the house for two days? Why not
just ask me?”
    Talking to Charlie about lunch
reminded me of how empty my stomach was. I started toward the kitchen. “I did
ask you about Tuesday night, and you didn’t tell me a darn thing. Furthermore,
I did not damage your car. You did.”
    Mama circled around and blocked
my way. “I told you I didn’t run down Erica Hodges. Why don’t you believe me?”
    “Because the evidence points to
you, Mama.” I ticked off the facts on my fingers. “You and Erica had a public
blowout on Monday. She turns up dead at church after being at another church meeting with you. You won’t account for your time Tuesday night. And finally, your car looks
like it hit someone. Britt said Erica’s