A Catered Mother's Day by Isis Crawford

She didn’t even want to think about them, but once she’d summoned them up she couldn’t get them out of her mind, which was why she picked up her pace as much as she could, not that that was saying a lot.
    It had been a long day and she was exhausted. In addition, even though Libby’s eyes had become accustomed to the dark, she still had to feel her way along as tree trunks and rocks jumped out at her and vines and twigs tried to ensnare her feet. She paused every tenth step or so to untangle one of her flip-flops from a small branch or low-lying bush or take out a small rock or pebble that had gotten lodged in there, because the last thing she needed was to get injured the way Bernie had.
    Ten minutes later, even though it felt like at least an hour to Libby, she could see the outline of the motel haloed in the dim light of the streetlights through the trees. When she squinted, she could see that the Subaru was still sitting next to their van in the parking lot. She had beaten Ellen after all. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or not.
    â€œI’m right behind you,” Bernie said when Libby phoned to tell her the news.
    â€œHow far behind me?” Libby asked, but it was too late. Bernie had already hung up.
    It took Libby another couple of minutes before she reached the edge of the woods. If she had been looking up she might have seen the three men silently crouched behind Mathilda, or the two police cars parked a little way off in the distance, or Ellen standing next to the squad cars. But Libby wasn’t looking up. She was looking at the ground because she was afraid she was going to trip and fall. Out of the corner of her eye, off to the left, she saw a flicker of light. When she turned her head and focused on it she saw what had made the flicker—a small, round metallic object at the base of a pine tree, about ten feet away.
    As she got closer, she realized that what she’d spotted was a watch lying facedown on the ground. Maybe it belonged to the dead guy , she thought. Maybe their luck was about to change. Maybe the watch had an inscription on the back. She was reaching down to get it when she heard someone yell, “There she is.”
    Libby froze and looked up. Then someone was shining a light in her eyes. It was so bright it blinded her and she put up her hands to shield her eyes from it.
    â€œGot her,” Ellen’s husband yelled as he dug his fingers into Libby’s shoulders.
    Then Libby heard Ellen yelling, “Leave her alone, Bruce. I told you she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
    Libby didn’t say anything. She was too dazed.

Chapter 8
    B ernie called her dad at eleven thirty that evening. Sean, in turn, called Marvin and told him they had a situation and he needed him pronto. Then he hung up before Marvin could ask him what was going on. It took Marvin twenty minutes to throw some clothes on and get down to the Simmons’s place. When he arrived, he could see Sean sitting on the bench in front of the shop, impatiently jiggling his leg up and down. He was wearing a slightly wrinkled short-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of frayed khakis and looked as if he’d dressed in a hurry.
    â€œWhat happened?” Marvin called out to Sean as Sean levered himself up with the aid of his cane and started walking toward the Kia. “Are Libby and Bernie all right?”
    â€œThey’re fine,” Sean snapped. “Just dandy.”
    Oh , oh . What have they gotten themselves into now? Marvin thought.
    Sean pointed his cane at Marvin’s passenger. “What’s she doing here?”
    â€œShe wanted to go for a ride.”
    â€œHilda is a pig. Pigs don’t ride in cars. They don’t have ‘wants.’ ”
    Marvin took his hands off the wheel and crossed them over his chest. “That’s what my dad keeps saying.”
    â€œFor once he and I are in agreement.”
    Marvin sighed. “I