A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “I’m telling you the truth. The car’s owner, Bricey Presley, was sitting in that very chair where you’re sitting. She showed me the title to the car and she hired me to destroy it. She even told me the mix. She insisted on crack resistant.” He shrugged. “It didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but these rich women come up with crazy things all the time.”

  “Wait, Bricey isn’t rich,” I said. “She’s well kept, but she isn’t rich.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “This woman was rich. Expensive clothes. Expensive jewelry. She had the title to the car. I saw it. Ms. Presley said she wanted the cement in the car, the full load of it dumped all at once. She wanted the car demolished. She said it was payback. And she also told me where she’d leave it parked, with the top down. She parked away from the other cars so I had easy access with the truck and chute. It was just as she said. I delivered the load exactly at the time she wanted it there, did my job, and left.”

  “You didn’t find it strange she wanted to destroy her beautiful car?” Tinkie asked in that mesmerizing voice she used to lure men into thinking they were safe. Tinkie was partial to Caddies and I knew the brutal destruction of the car struck a nerve with her, but she was playing it smooth with Colton.

  “I thought it was damn strange,” he said. “But hell, it was her car. What if she wanted to destroy a car or a perfectly good swimming pool? People with money do things I wouldn’t do.” He rubbed his lower face with one hand. “They just don’t want something anymore, so they call me to fill it in with dirt or cement or bury it. No skin off my teeth as long as their check clears.”

  “Did she say she didn’t want the car anymore?” I asked.

  He frowned. “Not in those exact words. But why else would she demolish it? Look, women do crazy things all the time. I guess you may not have noticed that while you were busy doing crazy things. The female gender isn’t all that fond of rational thought.”

  I had to turn away to hide my grin. It was clear that Colton Horn had tangled a few times with women who were on the left side of sane. Those were the exciting ones, the wild ones with no limits. The ones who turned dangerous when the fun was over. Alex Forrest, as Jitty would point out.

  “It’s going to be fine, Mr. Horn. I’m sure you got all of that in writing,” Tinkie said, as sweet as syrup. “Like, you have a signed contract to destroy the car? If we could just see that contract, we could move you out of the suspect list and go about our business.”

  Colton palmed his forehead. “No, you can’t see it. I mean, I didn’t get Ms. Presley to sign the contract. She said it was her car, she had the title, it was a simple onetime delivery. I just did as I was hired to do.” He watched both of us. “And that is going to be a big problem, isn’t it?”

  Tinkie shook her head. “Not with me, sugar, but it may be with Bricey. I think she may be one of those crazy women you know so much about. I don’t know what really happened, but looks to me like this plan sounded all crazy and just a little exciting when she thought it up. Then she got you to go along, but it was still just a fantasy in her mind. Bricey overlooked the fact she hadn’t bothered to insure the car, so…”

  “This is terrible. She hired me. That’s the truth. Why would she change her mind and deny that?”

  “I can only guess at the woman’s motive,” Tinkie said. “It looks like she had this idea of a grand, dramatic gesture that would put her in the limelight. In reality, the game wasn’t as much fun as she thought it was going to be. I mean, dumping a load of cement right on top of a convertible may have been a momentary thrill, but when you realize you’re going to have to walk home after work, the excitement is gone.”

  He moaned. “I was so stupid.”

  “Maybe it’s not that bad,” Tinkie said, and signaled me closer. “My partner and I aren’t interested in the car. We just want to be sure that this was the woman who hired you.”

  She pulled up some photos on her phone that Cece had shared with her. “Is this her?”

  He looked at the phone and the color drained from his face. “No, I’ve never seen that woman before in my life.”

  Tinkie and I both sat forward. She searched the phone for another photo of Bricey. “How about this one?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not the woman who hired me.” He swallowed. “Is that the woman who truly owns the car?”

  “That’s Bricey Presley,” Tinkie said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am. I’ve been had.” Colton stood up. “I’m going to find the woman who set me up. I acted in good faith, and unless I find the woman who paid me to do that, I’m going to be held accountable for a lot of destruction.”

  He was basically right, since he didn’t have a signed contract. “Hold on,” I said. “Tinkie, show him more photos. Maybe he can pick her out of the crowd.” Tinkie had photos from all of the Christmas festivities. She’d taken pictures of almost everyone in town.

  “Great idea.” Tinkie handed him the phone. “Just keep swiping until you recognize someone.”

  He went through several photos he studied carefully. “I do a lot of work around the region, but I mostly deal with men. I’ve built some foundations for women in the area, brought in fill dirt for projects, mixed the concrete for some driveways.” He went through more of the party photos. “I mostly date women from out of town, and these women aren’t my social set. None of these women are her.” He inhaled and blew it out. “I’m not familiar with a lot of the leading ladies of Columbus.”

  “And you’re lucky there in some instances,” I said under my breath.

  He’d recovered his equilibrium and gave me a wry grin. “I’ll say. I do my best to stay out of the way of people with a wire loose and enough money to make really bad decisions. I messed up this time. The woman who hired me just walked in the door. She was a looker and she had an imp on her shoulder, all filled with this idea of making mischief. She seemed so confident, so sure of what she was doing. She sucked me right in. I never considered she was using me to commit a crime.”

  “Didn’t you wonder why she wanted to destroy her car?” Tinkie asked, motioning him back into his seat.

  “I’ve had clients who want to knock down beautiful houses or bulldoze incredible groves of trees. I don’t ask questions. I do the work. And this time I had the cash in hand.”

  He had a valid point. People often did a lot of things that didn’t make sense and seemed to be against their self-interest. “Keep flipping through the photos. Maybe you’ll get lucky and we can find the woman who hired you.”

  “Forgive me if I’m a bit wary of taking a second bite of that apple. Why would you want to help me?”

  “Because that woman may hold the answers to a bunch of other stuff that’s been going on around Columbus.”

  “What kind of stuff?” He was justifiably cautious.

  “Cheating, cheating, home wrecking, and cheating,” Tinkie said.

  “Got it.” He studied the phone screen. When he got to the end of the photos Tinkie had taken in Columbus, he handed the phone back. “I didn’t see her.”

  “Can you describe her?” I asked.

  “Average size. Brunette. She wore sunglasses.” He sighed. “That should have been a clue, I guess. She never took those sunglasses off.”

  “Any characteristic you remember?” Tinkie asked.

  He shook his head slowly and suddenly stopped. “She kept tucking her hair behind her ear. It was like an unconscious thing. And her hair was really glossy. Maybe too glossy. I think she was wearing a wig.”

  “You think?” I asked, impressed that the female car-killer had possibly gone to such lengths to hide her identity. The wig observation might prove helpful in finding her.

  “Maybe. She was fussing with that area right behind her ear.” He rubbed his eye. “Or maybe she had an itch or something else. I don’t know. I was in a hurry and she put cash on my desk.” He closed his eyes. “And the cash is yet another clue that something was off, right? I’ve bee
n really stupid.”

  I felt sorry enough for him not to rub salt in the wound. “It’s hard for honest people to perceive dishonesty sometimes. Cut yourself some slack.”

  “You might want to call your insurance agent,” Tinkie said. “See how you’re covered for this kind of damage.”

  He nodded. “I could lose my business because of this.”

  I had a sudden thought. “Have you ever been caught cheating on your girlfriend or spouse?”

  The instant he looked down, I had my answer.

  “It could be you were targeted, Mr. Horn.”

  He started to object. “No, my ex-girlfriend wouldn’t ruin me. She wouldn’t. She was upset with me when she found out, and she left me, but she isn’t vindictive like this. She knows I live with the reality that my cheating was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Stupider even than dumping cement in a car. She’s not the kind of woman to ruin my business. I told you, I don’t date crazy.”

  “Maybe she didn’t start out crazy, but maybe you made her that way,” I said.

  He sat back in his chair with a huff. “I don’t believe that.”

  Tinkie put her phone away and snapped her purse shut. “It could be that your ex has nothing to do with this, but that someone you know was aware of your infidelity and decided to take action against you.”

  He went white at that prospect.

  “Now we need to head to the Supporting Arms Care Center. Do you know anything about that place or a healthcare service that offers extra care to those who need it?”

  “Not a thing.”

  His answer seemed sincere. I doubted he knew that the real Bricey Presley owned that very business. “Thanks for your help.” We walked to the door.

  “If you find out anything, will you let me know?” he asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  12

  Supporting Arms was a redbrick manor house set in a grove of oak trees. The outward appearance was serene. The whole idea of a facility where old people waited to die really jangled my nerves, though. Tinkie and I walked abreast down a sidewalk flanked by lit-up candy canes. The front porch was decorated with poinsettias, and when we entered, the foyer had a huge live Christmas tree that filled the area with the clean scent of spruce.

  There was a dayroom to the left and the administrative offices were to the right. Tinkie and I headed to the right to speak with someone in charge. It was not going to be a pleasant exchange, but it had to happen.

  Mal Provent was the administrator, and once he heard why we were there, he was eager to see us out. “What happened with Mrs. Goode was a tragedy, but we’re not liable in any way. If Jerry Goode hired you to investigate us, then you can just get out now.”

  Tinkie shook her head. Irate bureaucrats were her specialty. “We’re here to help you, Mr. Provent.” She could lie with the best of them when necessary.

  “Help me? How?”

  “A lot of strange and … untoward things have been happening in Columbus. It’s possible Mrs. Goode’s death is somehow linked.”

  “Things outside the home here? Is there a connection to Mrs. Goode?” He was definitely interested. If he was a rat, he was sniffing the cheese.

  “That’s right, things outside the home. And there could be a link. We’re examining it. Look on us as your advocates.” She smiled and held him firmly in her blue gaze.

  That was stretching a point. I saved him from her mesmerizing stare. “We’re more interested in the sitter who was supposed to be attending Mrs. Goode. I understand that her grandson had contracted with an outside nursing service to provide daily visits and professional care. Does the care center have an arrangement with Bricey Presley for additional care, such as when a patient needs a private sitter?”

  “Not an arrangement so much as an accommodation. As you’re undoubtedly aware, no care facility can provide full-time nursing to seriously ill patients, and Mrs. Goode was a very sick woman. We have a ratio of four patients per nurse, but if a patient is critically sick, it’s incumbent on the patient’s family to make arrangements for private nursing. To that end, we allow Ms. Presley to send nurses into Supporting Arms to supplement the care we normally give. Ms. Presley was responsible for hiring, vetting, and managing the nurses she sent in here.” He wanted to go on, but he stopped himself.

  “What happened with Mrs. Goode?” I knew he wouldn’t answer, but it was worth a try.

  “She was old and sick. That’s what happens to people in their eighties. Death is a natural result of old age.”

  “I’m afraid we need more specifics.” I pressed for details.

  “She was prone to throw blood clots. One hit her lungs and killed her.”

  “She was supposed to have a private nurse with her.” Tinkie said.

  “Her grandson had made arrangements with Ms. Presley’s care service. Yes, Mr. Goode had hired someone to be at his grandmother’s bedside.”

  “But no one was there,” Tinkie said gently.

  “That’s accurate. Since the arrangement for private nursing is between the patient, the patient’s family, and Ms. Presley’s service, Supporting Arms was not involved in any way.”

  Easy to say, but perhaps not so supportable in court. “Mr. Goode is upset.” I put that out there. “Is Jerry Goode suing the care center?”

  Provent’s cheeks had reddened. “No, the last I heard, he’s thinking about suing Ms. Presley.” He was clearly uncomfortable. “Now I have work to do.”

  “Do all of the old and sick patients hire special sitters?” Tinkie asked. “I would think that folks here pay, what? Maybe three grand a month for care?”

  “Please leave.” He was done even pretending to be helpful.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I said as we left. When we were outside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed a drink. A stiff one. Death waited for all of us, that was a fact. But it was hard to look it in the face.

  “Places like that upset me,” Tinkie said.

  “Me, too. Nothing looked wrong. Everything looked very clean and all. It’s just that we have a society where folks don’t have time to stay home to care for the elderly. Old people end up in a facility being cared for by strangers. It’s the best solution sometimes, I know that.” I had not been home to tend to Aunt Loulane when she fell ill. She hadn’t told me she was sick, and I was trying for a stage career in New York. She was dying before I even knew something was wrong. It still bothered me that I hadn’t been there for her until the very last. “Everyone works all the time to make ends meet.”

  Tinkie sighed. “You know my mother and I aren’t close.”

  That was an understatement. Tinkie’s parents traveled all the time. It was my understanding they were in Rome at the moment. Or maybe it was Paris, for the Christmas holidays. They were never in Mississippi, and that suited Tinkie and Oscar just fine.

  “Your mother has a very active life. She’s lucky to be able to travel so much,” I said, struggling to find something to say that didn’t sound mean. I didn’t really know Tinkie’s mother. I didn’t know the dynamics of that relationship. I knew Tink was much closer to her father, but that was about the sum of my knowledge. And I didn’t want to step on anyone’s feelings.

  “I’ve thought about this.” Tinkie wasn’t going to let it go. “I have the luxury of the option of in-home care for my folks, when that time comes.” Her forehead was drawn in thought. “But I know I should care for them myself.”

  “You have a big home and money for private nurses. They will not be neglected.” I agreed with her. “But that decision is a long time off, Tinkie. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

  “I guess with the baby coming and all, I just want to cocoon myself in with Oscar and my friends. I know that sounds selfish.”

  “Not in the least.” Whatever Tinkie decided when the time came, I had no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Bellcase would have the best of care, with Tinkie at their side as much as possible.

  “Where to next?” she asked.

>   I had my phone out and was getting ready to call for another Uber. “Jerry Goode. We need to talk to him.”

  It took only five minutes to get to the police station. Normally Tinkie and I would have walked, but she tired more easily than usual. We enjoyed the Christmas decorations as we drove through town. At the municipal complex, the driver let us out with a wish for happy holidays.

  Jerry Goode was on call and in the station. We’d lucked out, though he didn’t appear all that happy to see us.

  “We need to talk to you about Bricey Presley,” I said.

  “I’d help you if I could, but I can’t. My lawyer told me to keep my lip zipped.”

  “Good advice, but it isn’t about your granny. And I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”

  “Not nearly as sorry as Bricey Presley is going to be.”

  “You should know making threats isn’t smart.”

  He signaled us into an interview room. “Look, she took my money and failed to provide the service I was paying for. My grandmother died because she wasn’t being watched.”

  “I am sorry,” Tinkie said. “That’s unforgivable. But we’re here to talk about the Cadillac now pretending to be a giant cement block.”

  He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help himself. “Sometimes good things happen to bad people.”

  “You know anything about the woman who ordered that cement?”

  He shook his head. “Colton said Bricey ordered it herself. He thought she was nuts, but he did what he was paid to do. I hope you’re not trying to make trouble for him.”

  “No, I’m not, but there’s a big complication. It wasn’t Bricey who ordered the job.”

  Goode whistled softly. “Wow. Bad news for Colton. Do you know who put the order in?”

  “That’s what we need to find out.”

  “And you were wondering if the woman who showed up with cash to pay for a load of cement was somehow tied to me?”