Throw in the Trowel by Kate Collins

glanced up to find his mother frowning at him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, and me trying to warn him with my eyes.
    Clearly puzzled, he said, “What’s going on?”
    â€œIt’s nothing,” I said. “Just a little discussion we were having. What’s up?”
    â€œNothing?”
Francesca exclaimed. “I wouldn’t call problems in the bedroom
nothing.
”
    At Marco’s astonished expression, Grace went into action. “Francesca, while Abby and Marco sort this matter out privately, would you be a dear and give me your opinion about a new grind of coffee? I’m not sure how it will go over with the public.”
    Francesca pointed her finger at Marco. “Listen to your wife. We will talk later.” Then she turned to follow Grace into the parlor.
    â€œWhat was that about?” Marco asked me.
    â€œYour mother overheard us discussing the mattress problem and thought it was about something else.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œSex.”
    Marco rolled his eyes. “Glad I missed that discussion, but I thought we resolved the mattress problem.”
    Lottie’s advice popped into my head:
You’ve gotta be straight with your man.
    â€œMarco, look at the bags under my eyes and tell me we don’t have
a problem. I’m not getting a good night’s sleep, and turning the mattress didn’t help. We’re going to have to buy a new one. Soon.”
    He tilted up my chin and gazed into my eyes. “I’m sorry, babe. You didn’t say anything this morning, so I thought you slept okay.”
    â€œAnd I thought you’d notice how tired I looked.”
    â€œNo, I thought you looked beautiful.” He put his arms around me and drew me close. “Haven’t you figured out by now that most guys are clueless?”
    â€œBut you’ve never been like most guys, Marco.”
    â€œAnd now you know I am. You have to tell me these things, Abby. If you don’t, you’re doomed to eat oatmeal and sleep on a bad mattress. I’ve never been good at mind reading.”
    â€œThen I guess it’s my fault for assuming.”
    â€œLet’s just say it was a learning experience for both of us and let it go at that. How about we go mattress shopping after we grab dinner at the bar this evening?”
    I gave him a fierce squeeze. He had totally redeemed himself. “Sounds like a plan, Salvare. So why are you here? Not that I mind.”
    As though he’d just remembered he had a purpose, he handed me the newspaper tucked under his arm. “I wanted you to see this.”
    I took the paper from him. “As long as we’re sharing things, Marco, I have to say, I miss reading the morning paper at breakfast.”
    â€œI’ll get it changed.”
    How easy was that? I unfolded the paper to see a banner headline across the top in large, bold letters: UNIDENTIFIED BONES BARED IN BAR BASEMENT . A photograph of Down the Hatch accompanied the article below it, written by none other than Connor MacKay.
    In a startling discovery, local Down the Hatch bar owner Marco Salvare unearthed a human skeleton while having work done in his basement. “We tore up the floor to fix a plumbing problem and found the bones,” Salvare said.
    I glanced at Marco. “You didn’t say that.”
    â€œI know. Read on.”
    According to former Down the Hatch owner Rusty Miller, who now owns Blazing Saddles Saddlery, the floor was intact for all thirty years that he operated the bar. “The bones must have been down there for a long time, predating me,” Miller said. Miller sold the bar to Salvare early last year.
    Salvare, a well-known private investigator who has assisted the local PD on solving a number of murder investigations, declined to comment on whether he and his wife, florist Abby Knight, owner of Bloomers Flower Shop, would get involved. When asked to comment, Salvare would only say, “It’s in