A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “Are you having fun?” Coleman asked as he pulled me back against his chest.

  “I am. This was a genius idea that Tinkie had.”

  “Yes, it was. I haven’t been this relaxed in a long, long time.”

  “And I don’t get any credit for that?” I teased him. “Seems to me I’ve worked some of those kinks out.”

  “And there are more that need your attention tonight,” he said.

  The rest of the gang joined us at the rail as we whooped and hollered and sang Christmas carols to the spectators on the banks of the river. The music was loud enough to drown out my voice, but I still had the pleasure of singing—a perfect combination.

  When I saw Clarissa standing alone near the wheelhouse, I signaled Tinkie to follow me. It was time to confront her about Johnny Bresland. We approached just as she stopped Kathleen for a fresh drink.

  “You’re going to ask me about Johnny Bresland, aren’t you?” She sipped the cosmopolitan she had taken from Kathleen’s tray without even a thank-you. “I wondered how long it would take you to get to that bone. Not long. I’m impressed that I’ve hired professionals.”

  Kathleen darted a disapproving look at her before she said, “Excuse me. I need to refill my tray.”

  “Stop back by when you replenish the tray,” Clarissa said. “I’ll be ready for another, I’m sure. And could you chill my glass a bit?”

  “Clarissa, maybe you could ask politely?” I really disliked the woman I worked for.

  “Don’t you worry about Kathleen. Waitress is the perfect occupation. Half the town knows she’s been mooning over another woman’s husband, and I intend to make sure the other half of the population hears the story. You shouldn’t come to play in Columbus with a pocketful of secrets.”

  “Do you have secrets, Kathleen?” I figured Clarissa was just getting in another dig.

  “Not me. Clarissa has plenty, though.” She turned to the woman. “You have your own secrets you’d rather keep hidden. Keep that in mind.” Kathleen walked off, back stiff, shoulders rigid. She was just too polite to throw a drink in Clarissa’s face, which is what should have been done.

  For a brief moment, Clarissa’s lips thinned, but the expression was gone almost before I could register it. She smiled. “Now ask your questions. I have gossip to spread. What do you want to know about Johnny? By the way, I didn’t kill Aurora or Johnny. But I did benefit from their deaths.” She shrugged and drained her cosmopolitan. “That’s how real estate works sometimes.”

  “You benefited more than a few commissions. You inherited.”

  “There was no one else.” She shrugged. “I was a good partner to Johnny. We both made a lot of money. After Aurora died, he was … not himself. He wrote a new will, left it all to me, and then went hunting. That’s it. End of story.”

  “You had an affair with him?”

  “At one point, yes. But that was over long before things went bad with Aurora.”

  “The deputy investigating Mr. Bresland’s death denied there was an affair with you. Did you pay him off?”

  “Goodness no. What happened between Johnny and me was ancient history. It had no bearing on anything. Johnny and I agreed never to admit to it, so that deputy never knew about it. Look, Johnny and I had a good time for a while, but he had such guilt about betraying his wife. It was intolerable. Sniveling is a turnoff, don’t you think?”

  “It would be for someone completely amoral,” Tinkie said. She gave her best party-girl smile.

  “That’s not an insult from where I sit,” Clarissa noted. “Morality is a seat belt for those terrified by their own animalistic nature. Those of us who embrace our complete right to seek pleasure—well, we don’t need a seat belt. We find it constricting.”

  Who in the heck were we working for? The best thing to do was finish the case as quickly as possible and put the barracuda who’d hired us far behind.

  I eased closer to her. “Why did you hire us, Clarissa?”

  She looked around for another waitress with fresh drinks, and when she didn’t see one, she sighed. All around us smiling people were singing and laughing and enjoying the Christmas spirit. Not Clarissa. She was like a big spider, waiting for a fly in her web. At last she looked at me. “I enjoy life. A lot. I take what I want and I don’t make apologies. Someone is trying to punish those of us who live life to the fullest. They haven’t targeted me—yet. But they will in time. I don’t want to take a tumble or have a snake put in my bed. So find out who is doing this and put a stop to it before someone is really hurt. That’s what I’m paying you for. There’s no ulterior motive. I just want my normal life to resume. You’ve been paid, make it happen.”

  And we had deposited her check. There was no way around that fact. So much for the efficiency of modern banking and our cynical decision to make sure the check cleared. Now we were obligated to dance with the devil.

  “Who do you think is behind the karaoke shocking and Bart’s fall?” Tinkie asked Clarissa. “It would help if we had a direction, and since you’re all up in this, who’s been talking?”

  “I gave you all the tips I had. It isn’t me. I’m not responsible. So who is?”

  “Is there anyone who lost a spouse or fiancé to cheating recently?” Tinkie asked.

  Clarissa considered. “Sunny Crenshaw is at the top of that list. She hasn’t lost Bart, but he views her as an old shoe. You know, something to wear when the yard is full of mud. That must cut her to the quick, though I have no illusions that she truly loves him. He pursued her hot and heavy, with all the charm and romance any woman could want. She brought the money to that marriage. She set him up in business. He gave her the royal treatment until the marriage license was signed, and then he was tired of her.”

  “We do need to talk to Sunny,” I said. “Thanks.” We’d been remiss in not getting to Sunny Crenshaw before now, but I’d hoped to have more facts when I did talk to her. Her husband might be a serial cheater, but she remained married to him.

  “She isn’t on Darla’s boat, but Darla will know which boat she’s on. Darla has the passenger list.”

  “Where can we disembark?”

  “Downriver there’s a marina.”

  I looked downriver and saw the glittering lights of the boat parade. The river was broad and slow-moving in this stretch. The night was calm, with no wind. The multicolored lights reflected on the water, creating a fairy-tale illusion. A burst of brilliant fireworks flared from the bank, and spangles of color illuminated the night. Any minute now Tinker Bell might appear.

  Coleman came up behind me, and his arms captured me for a kiss. With the fireworks and the lights and the gentle motion of the boat, I closed my eyes to drink in the experience. Coleman held me safely against him. Just then there was a cry from the wheelhouse and the boat lurched hard to the left. Coleman grabbed the railing and held me safely upright as passengers tumbled in all directions. Women and men stumbled around the deck, grasping for anything to hold on to as the boat rolled slightly. Those who couldn’t find something to grab hit the deck and slipped toward the side. Bodies slid toward the rail.

  A cry arose from the bow. “Man overboard!”

  “Tinkie! Cece! Millie!” I called out, immediately concerned that they’d accidentally gone over the side. To my relief, my friends answered. Jaytee, Harold, and Oscar were also safe. We helped other passengers to their feet as a flustered Darla held a clipboard with the names of all her passengers, trying to take an inventory.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. The skipper thinks we hit a log or something in the water. At least that’s his best guess right now, without having a chance to really examine anything. The motor is gone. He thinks the propellers are broken.”

  “Did someone really go overboard?”

  Darla was clearly upset. “I’m trying to check off the passengers against my boarding list now. If someone fell in the river, they could freeze.” She hailed a man I’d seen working in the wheelhouse.
“Get all the lights you can. Radio the other boats. We have to start searching.”

  “Shouldn’t you check the list?” I suggested gently. “Maybe no one went over.”

  “You could be right. I just think of someone in that cold water. Even a strong swimmer might not last long.”

  Coleman approached Darla. “What can we do to help?”

  “Check belowdecks. No one should be down there, but people are curious, and a lot of people have been drinking heavily, which is another concern if they went in the river. Since the motors are locked up, I’ve put in a call for someone to come tow us.” She looked up from the list. “Have you seen Kathleen?”

  Tinkie had also joined us. “No. Nor Clarissa.”

  “Oh, dear.” Darla put a hand on Coleman’s arm. “There’s a high-beam light in the wheelhouse. Can you get it and scan the water?”

  “Sure thing.” Coleman was gone in an instant.

  I went belowdecks to the small living quarters, hoping to find the two missing passengers, but the living space was empty, as was the head and galley. With the motors quieted, the only sound was the gentle creaking of the boat. Cece joined me. “Do you have any idea what happened?” she asked.

  “None. Darla thinks we hit something in the river. The boat’s motor isn’t running. It could have been something mechanical.”

  “That water is cold. We have to find whoever went over.”

  “I know,” I said. “There’s no one down here.”

  “Let’s go back above and see if we can help search the waters.”

  When we arrived back on the deck, I saw that the other boats in the flotilla were circling around us. All had high-beam searchlights, which were panning over the water. I noticed Tinkie was talking to a woman who was near hysterics. Cece and I joined her.

  “It was awful,” the woman said. “I saw that blond woman standing near the railing. It was like she saw something in the water and leaned over. Then the boat lurched, and someone—I think it was another woman— came out of nowhere, just hurtling along. It looked like she intended to push Clarissa Olson into the river, but maybe she just lost her balance. They both went over the rail.”

  “You should go into the cabin and sit down. I’m sure we’re going to find whoever it is,” Tinkie assured her. She pointed the woman in the direction of the cabin door, where at least she would be out of the night and somewhere warm.

  Millie joined us. “Clarissa Olson is missing.”

  “You’re serious?” I couldn’t help it. Clarissa was like a force of nature. She didn’t have accidents or clumsy moments. And she’d also been afraid someone was out to get her.

  “Darla has checked everywhere,” Millie said. “Clarissa isn’t on deck. Unless she was below.”

  “Not down there,” I said. “I wish I could do something more.”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Kathleen!” Darla’s cry was like a stab in my heart. It was filled with anguish and fear. “I can’t find Kathleen!”

  From the side of the boat a man called out. “There’s something in the water. Hey, over here. Bring a life preserver. Hurry! Hurry! She’s sinking!”

  Harold grabbed a life preserver off the wall and rushed over to the side, where he flung it out into the river. “Grab hold!” Harold said. “Hold on.” The men began to pull the rope, dragging someone toward the safety of the boat.

  When I went to the side and looked over, I saw Clarissa Olson clinging to the life preserver. She was drenched and obviously nearly freezing to death. “Help me,” she said, and her voice was weak.

  Before I could stop him, Coleman shucked off his coat and boots and went over the side. He caught her and held her as a small motorboat came over and began hauling both of them into it. Three minutes later, the boat was racing toward the nearest dock, where the red lights of an ambulance spun.

  “What about Kathleen?” Tinkie asked softly.

  Darla was leaning against the boat, crying hard. “Are we certain she went over the side? Couldn’t there be a mistake?”

  Tinkie shook her head. “She’s not on board now. We’ve looked everywhere.”

  “Let’s keep looking. I’m not willing to give up.”

  We joined the others at the railing, and as the high-beam lights swept across the water, we prayed that we’d find Kathleen bobbing in the river. But two hours later, we had to concede defeat. The boats on the river began to break up as professional search-and-rescue vessels headed downstream in case the current had caught her and transported her from our search area.

  Darla was distraught, and Tinkie went to comfort her. She was far better at that than I was. Cece and Millie hung back with me.

  “Do you think she’s still alive?” Millie asked.

  “I don’t know. If she’s a strong swimmer, she may have made it to shore. If she went to the other side…” Cece was holding out hope.

  “Let’s get off this tub and search along the shore,” I said. “I’m sure we can find some good flashlights. Maybe she did swim.”

  It was better than abject despair, and we waited mutely as the towboat hauled us slowly to the dock. Once we were on land, we split up to find flashlights. I didn’t know where we were, exactly, and doing a search of a riverbank in unfamiliar terrain in the dark was not going to be easy. But it was better than sitting around doing nothing.

  15

  Some Columbus residents came down from their homes to the river with heavy-duty lights, blankets, thermoses of coffee, and sandwiches. The town pulled together to search for a missing woman. The residents silently handed out supplies to the searchers, or else brought small motorboats and joined in the search on the water. A breeze on the river whipped the marshy grasses into a low hum as we spread along the shore, looking for any sign of Kathleen. The black night and dark river seemed to have swallowed her whole.

  Darla had reluctantly left the search and gone to the hospital to check on Clarissa. The deputies were talking among themselves, but I was too far away to hear an update. I knew better than to ask because they didn’t know me and wouldn’t share information. Besides, I was worried about Coleman. He was plenty self-sufficient—I knew that with all my heart. He’d get dry clothes and either rejoin us here or return to the B and B. The best thing we could do was help with the search.

  Cece and I took an area that bordered on marsh. The footing was treacherous, and I couldn’t stop my brain from turning every floating log or pile of debris into a waiting alligator. “Too cold for snakes. Too cold for snakes.” I kept repeating that mantra to myself as I stepped onto soggy patches of ground and moved the beam of my light all around, hoping to see Kathleen on the shore, maybe freezing but alive. In the distance I could hear Tinkie and Oscar. Millie was searching with Harold, and Jaytee was helping Jerry Goode and some other deputies set up a bank of floodlights. His electrical expertise was sorely needed.

  “Kathleen!” I called for her, knowing it was likely futile, but there was always a chance. “Kathleen!” The cry moved down the bank of the river, echoing hollowly into nothing. On the other side, several searchlights came on as volunteers crossed the river and began to search the other side.

  “Do you think the boat hit a log?” Cece asked when we stopped for a moment to catch our breath. The mud was thick and heavy and sucked at our feet, making the going rough.

  “I don’t know what happened. It felt as if the propeller hit something. I’m not really a boat person, so I’m not sure. It could have been part of the motor freezing up.”

  “They’ll check it out and know more tomorrow,” Cece said. Something was obviously troubling her.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I think Clarissa deliberately pulled Kathleen over the rail. She was treating Kathleen badly all evening. Like she was a servant or something. I noticed it and so did Darla and several others. And Kathleen threatened to reveal some secrets.”

  “What secrets?”

  “I don’t know. Yet.”

  “And
you think Clarissa was the aggressor? But the eyewitness said—”

  “You know how unreliable eyewitnesses are. And Clarissa is well known in Columbus as a member of the elite class. Kathleen isn’t well known. She’s much quieter. You know people often see what their expectations train them to see. I’m just saying it’s possible that it happened the other way around. Or that they both lurched over the rail without touching each other. The boat took a pretty big jolt and a lot of people lost their feet.”

  “If Clarissa did this as a deliberate act … If Kathleen isn’t found, that’s murder.”

  “Yes, it is.” Cece was speaking quietly, but her accusation was powerful. “Think about it. Clarissa is your best suspect. She has the money to make all of this happen. And how smart to be the one to hire you to dig into this. Throws all the blame off her.”

  “Maybe.” She had a point, but Clarissa had nothing to do with Tulla’s shock, as far as I could tell. And we had no proof she was involved in the destruction of Bricey’s car. Or Bart Crenshaw’s tumble down the stairs. Or even Kathleen’s disappearance, for that matter. My friend really disliked my client, and I shared her sentiments. But we couldn’t let emotion get ahead of evidence and logic, no matter how pleasurable that might be.

  Some unusual marks in the weeds by the edge of the river caught my eye. “Look at this.” I eased closer, careful to avoid the pools of water and mud that were all about us. The swamp grass, normally very resilient, had been crushed down. There were ruts in the mud.

  “Looks like something heavy was dragged up on the shore,” Cece said. She shone her flashlight all around. “I can’t tell what. It could have been a log or a person.”

  From behind Cece came a harsh barking sound, followed by a terrifying hiss.

  “Or an alligator!” we said in unison as we turned toward the bank.

  Forgetting water and mud, we slogged toward firm land as fast as we could churn. My legs were virtual eggbeaters, whipping the muddy water to a froth.