A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  When Tinkie had us herded into the limo, we sailed off to the Bissonnette House and another round of holiday libations as we waited for dinner.

  Darla and Kathleen both were there and grilled us on the near electrocution of Tulla Tarbutton.

  “Tulla is one of the nuevo socialites who’s been trying for years to start a Mardi Gras organization here in Columbus. As if we don’t have enough of our own heritage to celebrate,” Kathleen said as she lit the candles on the long dining room table that accommodated all of us with ease. “We have events all year long. Mardi Gras belongs to Mobile and New Orleans, and that’s where it should stay,” Kathleen said.

  “Columbus has an event every night this week,” I agreed. “There’s plenty going on.”

  “It was Darla who brought back the flotilla this year, and I’m glad to see you’ve booked yourself onto the Tenn-Tom Queen. That’s the best boat and you’ll have a blast.” Kathleen was obviously Darla’s number one cheerleader. “The flotilla is going to be fabulous.”

  The Tenn-Tom Queen sounded fine to me. Tinkie had made all the arrangements and I gave her a thumbs-up. She’d really put her heart into this trip, the last Christmas before she and Oscar had a child. It was incredibly heartwarming to see my partner aglow with her plans and the love she shared with her husband.

  Cece sidled up to me and whispered in my ear. “I got a little scoop on Tulla Tarbutton, the electrocution victim at the Green Parrot. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you alone.”

  I signaled her out on the patio while everyone was busy sipping their drinks and sampling the wonderful hors d’oeuvres that Darla had whipped up. “What’s up?”

  “I overheard one of the women at the Green Parrot talking about Tulla. She said she was a homewrecker.”

  “Someone at the bar called her a ho. I couldn’t tell who it was, but it was a woman.”

  “I think Jaytee was correct. The shock was deliberate. I don’t think they were trying to kill her. Probably meant to send a message.”

  “How could they control who was holding the microphone when the shock occurred?”

  Cece shook her head. “I’m not saying this was cause and effect. It’s just a tidbit of gossip.”

  “Who is Tulla having an affair with?”

  “They didn’t say and I could hardly ask, since I was eavesdropping.”

  She was right about that. “Good thing we’re not working.” I said it with a grin.

  “I know, I know. It’s just that the shock could have killed someone. And I heard the very best tidbit.”

  I could tell by her animated face that this was going to be juicy. “Hit me with it.”

  “There was a man in town cheating on his girlfriend and she poured Red Devil Lye in his shoes. She told everyone she was going to eat him up from the feet to the top of his head. Because he was cheating on her.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. It was a helluva slow death threat. “Do they even make Red Devil Lye anymore?”

  Cece shrugged. “Haven’t checked. I haven’t tried to dissolve anyone lately.”

  I had a crazy memory of one of my mother’s antique bargain hunts. She’d found a clever little table covered in horrid green paint. She’d taken a bucket of water mixed with Red Devil Lye and a broom and brushed it all over the table. Incredibly enough, the lye mixture ate the paint off and left a beautiful tigerwood oak table that she refinished. But I’d never thought of using Red Devil Lye to dissolve a cheating man.

  Cece shivered a little, which caused me to shiver, too. The night was brisk, and we hurried back inside. Harold and Millie were conspiring in a corner, and I wondered what mischief they were up to. I enjoyed a little tormenting of my friends, but Harold could match me prank for prank when he put his mind to it.

  Coleman was standing in front of a roaring fire talking to Kathleen. I refilled my glass before I joined them.

  “Kathleen was giving me the lowdown on Tulla,” Coleman said.

  “She’s popular in many of the social circles.” Kathleen nodded as she talked. “She’s invited to the best parties, but there’s been talk about some infighting among the women. Tulla likes to … flirt.” She sighed. “Maybe a little more than flirting. She has a bit of a reputation. People get upset.”

  Infidelity was a dangerous game, particularly in a small town. Everyone eventually found out, and if the community decided to shun people, they were cut off from all social activities.

  “Do you know anyone who would deliberately shock Tulla?” I asked. “Luckily she wasn’t hurt, but it could have been serious.”

  “The shock was deliberate?” Kathleen looked startled.

  I shook my head. “Maybe. It’s a theory.”

  “Someone would have to be very angry to electrocute another person.” Kathleen’s eyes were wide. “I heard that there were some hard feelings, but sending volts of electricity through someone is pretty extreme.”

  I had to agree. “Was Tulla seeing anyone?”

  Kathleen shrugged. “I honestly don’t keep up with the activities of Tulla’s social circle. I hear things occasionally, but I’m a newcomer to town.” She rolled her eyes. “You have to have lived here before the Civil War to be considered a real resident.”

  “So Tulla and her friends are considered … outsiders?”

  Kathleen laughed. “They’re making inroads because they have money. Maybe my grandchildren will be invited to the high society events. If we had lots of money, we could get there sooner.” She walked over and linked her arm through Darla’s. “But better than consorting with that crowd, you could have a really good friend who’s way more fun than boring high society.”

  “We like our life working here in the Bissonette House,” Darla said. “We live a pretty quiet life. Tulla and that group have stirred up hard feelings, and that never has a happy ending, so we stay clear.”

  A little warning bell in the back of my brain went off, but I was not working. I was not on a case. And I was not going to get dragged into a domestic during my holiday. Every law officer on the planet knew that a domestic was the most dangerous call to get. I smiled brightly. “The town is lovely. The decorations are perfection, and I hear there’s a tree lighting tomorrow night at the Riverwalk. We’re going to attend, and I hope to find some time to at least do a little walking along the river.”

  “A perfect plan. Now let me check on the food.” Darla excused herself and Kathleen followed.

  Coleman put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze. “We all need to burn off some calories. Let’s plan a walk tomorrow along the river. Just the two of us.”

  I leaned into him and whispered, “Let’s plan some activities tonight.”

  “Eat fast,” he said. “Santa may come for a visit.”

  When we all sat down to eat, the meal was delicious. Darla had a light touch with the food and the pasta with butternut squash sauce was incredible. Filling but not too heavy. The salad was crisp and tangy. We finished with lemon squares—one of my favorite desserts—but I gave mine to Harold.

  “Darla is going to give us a tour of the moon garden,” Harold said. “Are you two coming?”

  He knew better, and he was just deviling us. “I’m exhausted. I’m practically asleep on my feet.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

  The group headed out, and Coleman and I were finally alone. It didn’t take me any time to walk into his arms for the kiss I’d been waiting for all day. I’d met my share of really good kissers, but Coleman was at the top of the league. He was never rushed, always tantalizing, and he hinted at the pleasures to come. With Coleman, the kiss was an end unto itself, not a means to something else. He was a master at building desire.

  When I thought my pants would catch fire, he swooped me up in a Rhett Butler moment and carried me up the stairs to our bedroom. Somehow he’d made arrangements with someone—Darla or Kathleen, most likely—to light candles all over the room. They burned on the mantel and on the dresser, beside the
bed, on the windowsills, and in the bathroom. A fire burned cheerily in the fireplace, and when Coleman put me on the bed and unbuttoned my blouse, the chill bumps weren’t from the cold.

  “Are you glad we came on vacation?” I asked.

  “Yep.” His finger grazed lightly down my skin from my neck to my navel. “Are you?”

  “Very.” I pulled him to me for another kiss. When we broke apart, I stared up into his eyes. I’d known him forever and loved him for that long. It had just taken both of us awhile to find our way to each other. “I love you.”

  “I love you back.” He smiled. “We’re lucky, Sarah Booth. We are. We’re lucky in the way we love each other, but we’re lucky in our friends, in our circumstances, in this special moment of our life.”

  There were times both of us might have been killed in our work, but we’d managed to escape death, though we both had a few scars to show for our experiences. “We are lucky. And smart to see how lucky we are.”

  He kissed my lips and then trailed down my body. “And now it’s time to stop talking, unless you want to tell me again how lucky you are.”

  “Shut up and show me how you love me.”

  He pulled the comforter over both of us as we laughed like teenagers.

  4

  Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  I dove under the pillow until Coleman’s fingers found my ribs and gently began to tickle me. “Stop it!”

  “She’s your partner. You open the door.”

  “Oh-h-h-h.” I climbed out of bed and threw on a robe before I opened the door to Tinkie. She held a tray with a pot of coffee and three cups. Obviously, she had plans to “stay awhile,” as the old saying went.

  “Tinkie, Coleman isn’t even up.”

  “Well, he should be.” She sidestepped around me. “I did leave you until the last.”

  “You’ve been to every other room and annoyed everyone else out of their sleep?”

  “Yep, and no apologies. It’s time to get up and get going.”

  I thought back through the itinerary I’d seen and I couldn’t remember anything that was pressing this morning. “What do we have to do?”

  “Shopping!”

  I sighed. “No shopping. I shopped yesterday. I’ve had a bait of shopping.”

  “The girls are going shopping and the guys have some kind of secret mission.”

  My ears perked up at “secret mission”—especially since it was the holiday season. That could easily mean they were shopping. I approved of the men shopping. I’d personally had enough.

  “What kind of secret mission?”

  “They won’t say.”

  I arched my left eyebrow at Tinkie. “They won’t say? As if they had a choice. You can break Oscar any time you choose. Why didn’t you worm the info out of him?”

  “I tried.”

  If Oscar was impervious to Tinkie’s Daddy’s Girl manipulations—tactics that had kept feminine women in control for decades—then it had to be some serious “secret mission.”

  “I can’t believe Oscar has eluded your control.”

  “Not permanently. Just for right now. Did you ask Coleman?”

  “I didn’t know about it. But I will.” I pointed at the coffeepot. “Let me take him a cup.”

  Tinkie waved me on as she went to the French doors and stepped out on the balcony. It was a cold December morning, and the air was crystal clear. Below the balcony, the Tombigbee River flowed by. The bluff down to the river was very steep, though. I could see several boats at the dock, and all were wearing tinsel garlands and other holiday decorations. The flotilla was going to be fun.

  I took the coffee into the bedroom and closed the door. “Coleman, it’s pointless to try to evade Tinkie. You might as well get up.”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s the secret mission you guys are working on?” I handed him the coffee.

  “Nope.”

  I sighed. “Coleman, don’t mess me around. Just tell me.”

  “Nope.” He had that smug look on his face that said make me. It was a definite challenge, and if Tinkie hadn’t been sitting right outside the bedroom door listening to every squeak of the bedsprings, I would have.

  “To be continued,” I said.

  “I look forward to it.” He grinned really big, far too pleased with himself.

  “You will pay.”

  “A high toll, I hope.” He laughed and jumped out of bed. “There’s no rest for the wicked here. Remind me never to go on vacation with Tinkie again.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe I’ll send Tinkie in here to extract that information from you.”

  A flash of worry flitted in his eyes, but then he laughed again. “You wouldn’t. You want to settle this by yourself. You don’t need help, do you?”

  Oh, he was a wicked taunter. “Right now I have to shower. Tinkie is whipping the herd into movement. If you’d been nicer, I would have invited you to shower with me.” I put that on the carpet at his feet.

  “You’re a hard woman, Sarah Booth.”

  “Thank you.” I turned on my heel and went back to the sitting area, where Tinkie was sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t been listening at the door. “Do you think Coleman will tell you?”

  “Before the evening comes.”

  “I’m going back to get dressed. See you in the lobby in forty minutes.”

  “Yes, Field Marshal Tinkie.”

  “Tease me all you like. I get things done.”

  That wasn’t an exaggeration.

  * * *

  Tinkie had roused us all for our shopping ordeal, but she relented on allowing time for a hearty breakfast when Darla appeared with an egg, cheese, and asparagus casserole that smelled like five delicious pounds of extra weight. Homemade biscuits, scuppernong jelly, and vegetarian sausage completed the meal. We were a full and jolly crowd as we parted at the front porch, the men going their way and the women heading to town.

  “Be sure and go by the Wooden Spoon,” Darla called out to us as we loaded in the limo. “They’re having a big sale today. I’ll be there later to pick up some kitchen supplies.”

  Safely in the car, we watched the men cluster on the front porch to make plans. The limo driver would return for them and take them to their secret destination.

  Tinkie nodded at the limo driver. “If push comes to shove, we can force him into telling us where they went.”

  Rex was the driver, and he’d been nothing but professional. I had a moment of pity for Rex. He would never withstand the onslaught of Tinkie’s charms, should she choose to unleash them on him.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I was curious, but willing to put it on hold for the day. Whatever the men were up to, it was going to be fun for us girls. Or that was the theory I was going with. “Now what’s on the shopping hit list?”

  “Shoes!” They all three answered at once.

  I sighed. Resistance was futile.

  Cece and Millie were in great spirits, eager to hit some of the shops we’d missed the day before. It was beyond me how shopping could provide entertainment for two days, but I was the minority vote, and since Tinkie was in charge, my vote didn’t count anyway.

  Though the men were responding to texts, they refused to tell us where they were or what they were doing. I could tell it niggled at Tinkie. Millie and Cece were oblivious. The men would never tell us now that they knew we were dying of curiosity. They had gotten our goats with their boys’ club secretive behaviors, and they would not relent. Not until they were good and ready.

  We walked the sidewalks gazing at expertly decorated storefronts that could have won awards back in the day when awards were given for such things. When I was about ten years old, my mother had taken me to Memphis to see the window dressings at the big department stores. It wasn’t Fifth Avenue, but it was better for me, because it was within a close drive of home. I had fallen in love with the way the best window dressers could tell an entire story with a couple of mannequins, clothe
s, and a few props.

  At Catfish Alley, where a wonderful mural depicted the African American history of the town, we heard the stories of how local vendors would catch catfish in the river and fry them up in the parking lots near the alley, and how the delicious smell of the frying fish wafted down the alley, drawing merchants and shoppers for a plate lunch of fish, slaw, and hush puppies. I loved that the local merchants had such pride in the history of their town.

  We lunched at a little bistro on a corner, and I noticed that Tulla Tarbutton was at a table alone. She looked none the worse for wear after her shocking episode. When a gentleman arrived and she stood up to kiss him with passion, I realized she was completely healed from her experience. Cece saw it, too.

  “Who’s the guy?” she asked me.

  I shook my head. “I’m not yet programmed for facial recognition in Columbus.”

  She poked me gently in the ribs. “Wiseacre.”

  I started to say something else, but the door of the bistro blew open and a darkly beautiful woman walked in. She cast a glare at the man with such malice, I thought he would be turned into a toad on the spot. He stood up abruptly, almost upsetting his chair.

  “Sunny, what are you doing in town?” he asked.

  “I got a call,” she said, walking over to the table. “About you. And what you’re up to.” She drew back her hand and slapped the handsome man hard. Before anyone could react, she turned on her heel and left the restaurant.

  “Now that was a statement she made without saying a word,” Millie said. She’d captured the drama with her cell phone. “This would make Variety if either of those two were celebrities. Too bad they’re just local citizens.” Millie had jumped into her new career with both feet.

  “This town is chock-full of drama,” Tinkie said. “It’s beginning to wear on me.”

  The waitress came around with a dessert tray, saving me from having to answer my partner.

  “Have the chocolate doberge cake. It’s to die for,” Millie said. “And keep in mind every town has people who behave badly. Columbus is no exception.”

  “True,” Tinkie said, “but it’s tiresome.”