Page 24 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

We went our separate ways, reluctantly so, but knowing that time was of the essence now.

Twenty minutes later I pushed open the door to my office to find Stella swanning about in a giddy, grinning daze. In fact, she wasn’t simply swanning, she was waltzing, her dance partner a bouquet of red roses.

“Either I’m dreaming or you are.” I shut the door behind me. “No matter which one of us it is, I seriously hope they wake up soon because we got work to do.”

“Work-schmerk! If I’m dreamin’ I don’t ever wanna wake up. Just look, Buck. I got me a secret admirer! Someone sent me flowers!” Stella continued dancing as she plucked the card out of the bouquet and read it aloud. “To my one and only. These flowers pale in comparison to your beauty. Meet me for a drink at Ginger’s Gin Mill. Six o’clock.”

“Ah, shit,” I cursed. “Mamma.”

“Toots, you can call me Granny for all I care. I don’t mind one iota, because I’m in love.” She batted her eyelids excitedly. “Who do you think it is? Of course, my first guess is Lois. Or Lucy. Or both of them. But then again it could be that handsome Errol Hemingway from the theater. Oh sure, he turns into a total putz the second he opens his mouth, but he’s still easy on the eye, don’t you think? Hell, maybe helikesbeing gagged, that’d be a win-win for both of us. Or perhaps it’s that sexy older damewe’re investigating, Crystal Hart, the one who’s dripping in diamonds. Have you seen the rocks on her fingers? God, I’d do anything to kiss her ring. Oh wait, she’s practically your mother-in-law, which would make me your mistress-in-law. Would that be weird, toots? I’m sure you’ll get over it. Maybe the four of us could get together for a—”

“Stella! The flowers ain’t for you. They’re for Mamma Marlow.”

Stella stopped dancing so abruptly she almost tripped over herself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they’re from Bugsy.”

“You mean, your father?”

“That’s right. He wants to call a truce with Mamma.”

“You mean, his ex-wife?”

“Correct, and let’s stop connecting the dots before—”

Stella gasped so dramatically I thought she was about to swallow her own tongue. “Holy moly mobsters! Mamma Marlow is your—”

“Don’t say it! Fuck! Don’t even think it!” I made a beeline straight for the bottle of gin and unwashed glass on my desk and poured until the booze splashed over the rim. “We are not discussing the remote possibility that—”

“Mamma Marlow is your actual mamma! Fuck me sideways with a peg leg! Buck, you’re the child of not one but—”

“Don’t say it! Don’t you think I’m already stressed enough that both my parents might be gangsters?”

“Might be? Buck, between the two of them, they’ve bumped off like a thousand lowlifes and louses. Hell, they’ve probably bumped offten thousand, when we think about all the bozos who ended up as fish food at the bottom of the river, or a buzzard’s breakfast out in the desert, or diced meat being churned outta the mincer atLuigi’s Linguine Kitchen.”

I threw up in my mouth a little. “That seriously doesn’t happen. Does it?”

“Who knows! All’s I’m sayin’ is, your madre’s a murderer!”

“There’s no proof yet she’s my mother.”

“Not until she coos ‘Come to Mamma!’… at which point you’ll hear my voice ringin’ in your skull sayin’ ‘I told you so.’ But hey, look on the bright side. If she don’t plug you for knowing too much, she might just make you one of her untouchables… like her other son, Marky.”

“Mamma has another son?”

“Of course she does, you chump. Don’t you remember the case of the nuns with guns? Sister Bananas tried to kill her own brother Stu Whitmore because he was doin’ the horizontal hokey pokey with Marky Marlow.”

The cogs upstairs were spinning so fast I thought steam was about to blow out of my ears. “You mean… I have a brother too?”

“At least one that we know of. You could have siblings all over town. Hell, who’s to say I ain’t your sister!”

That thought was enough to make me drain my entire glass of gin and pour another. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All I need to do now is take those flowers to Mamma as an olive branch from Bugsy. Ain’t nothin’ more to it than that.” I wasn’t one who needed hand-holding—except if it was Harry with his hand in mine—but at that moment I was feeling kinda vulnerable, and before I could help myself I said to Stella, “You wanna come?”

Stella’s eyes lit up. “Are you shittin’ me? Does Houdini keep a spare set of handcuff keys up his ass? Of course I wanna come. I wouldn’t miss this trainwreck of a family reunion for the world!”

Still holding the flowers, Stella rushed for the door.

I tipped my second gin down my gullet, and somewhat unwillingly I followed.

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