A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “We can leave a note for the men.” I was tempted to rush upstairs to tell Coleman in person, but I knew the power of his seductive skills. I might not make it out of the bedroom for several hours.

  We settled on a generic note saying merely that we were down at the river where the search party had set up. Tinkie decided to call an Uber instead of rousting Rex out of bed. He’d been up as late as we had.

  In only a few minutes the driver was there and we headed to the search site. The driver was a woman our age and a chatty one at that.

  “Terrible about Ms. Beesley,” she said. “Such a nice woman.”

  “Yes, we’re hoping she’ll be found safe,” Tinkie said. As the Queen Bee Daddy’s Girl of the Delta, Tinkie felt it necessary to almost always employ good manners.

  “I heard the boat hit something.”

  The driver was pumping us, but I didn’t mind. “Maybe. The police were examining it to determine what actually happened.”

  “I heard some of the society dames were opposed to bringing back the flotilla.”

  Tinkie and I sat forward. “That’s a shame,” Tinkie said. “Who would oppose a flotilla? It was so beautiful last night on the river, and the people at each dock seemed to have a great time. The voices echoing off the water singing all the old carols and then the fireworks. It was just wonderful fun. Until the accident.”

  “A handful of grande dames have run the whole Christmas celebration until recently. Now a few people are bucking the dragons and coming up with new and interesting ideas. The return of the flotilla met a lot of resistance because those biddies had killed it back in the 1990s. They didn’t care whether it was a good idea or a bad one. It wasn’t their idea. Kathleen was telling me about it in the beauty parlor just last week.”

  “Did she name names?” I asked with as much subtly as I could muster.

  “Clarissa Olson, for one. She’s opposed to anything that doesn’t up the value of her many properties, and as far as I know, she doesn’t own anything on the river. Ironic that Clarissa went in the river with Kathleen.”

  The driver was right about that. “Do you know Clarissa Olson?” I asked.

  “Nope, and I don’t want to. Nothing stands in the way of her getting what she wants, or at least that’s the word on the street. I steer clear of bulldozers when I see one coming.”

  We were approaching the rescue site and soon our talkative driver would be gone. “Did you hear about Bart Crenshaw’s tumble down the stairs at Clarissa’s house?” I asked.

  She chuckled. “I did. I won a three-hundred-dollar pot that Clarissa would get even with Bart before Christmas was over. It was all over town that he dumped her.”

  “I was at the house and Clarissa was nowhere close to the stairs when he took a header down them.” I had to be honest.

  “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved. When we made our bets, I was smart enough to make the distinction that Clarissa would be nearby or implicated if Bart was hurt. That’s the premise I won the bet on.” She laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t do something to the stairs to guarantee he’d tumble. I would have won more if he’d broken his neck.”

  Tinkie and I exchanged horrified looks. Betting on someone’s death was unseemly. Amusing but unseemly.

  “What about the other accidents around town?” Tinkie asked. “Is Clarissa involved?”

  The driver shrugged. “Who knows. Tulla Tarbutton and Bricey Presley aren’t even in the same category of cougar that Clarissa is. I find it hard to believe she’d waste her time in revenge on them. But you never know.”

  She pulled up to the parking lot. “That’ll be five dollars.”

  Tinkie gave her a twenty. “Keep the change. Could we have your number in case we need another ride?”

  “Sure.”

  Tinkie programmed it into her phone. Dallas Sweeney, our driver, was a valuable asset to have.

  We watched her pull away. “That girl knows more about what’s going on in Columbus than anyone else,” Tinkie said. “We’ll call her again.”

  “Roger that,” I said as we were hailed from the dock area by Jerry Goode.

  17

  “Ladies, I have some questions,” Goode called out.

  “And so do we,” Tinkie sang back to him, earning a smile.

  We met in the middle of the dock, and Jerry graciously gave us an update right off the bat. “Tell Sheriff Peters that Clarissa and Bart Crenshaw are both out of the hospital.”

  “Any sign of Kathleen?” Tinkie asked. She tried not to sound hopeful, but I could read it in her expression.

  Jerry shook his head. “She simply disappeared. She should have washed up right around here on the shore where you gals were looking yesterday. The current pulls everything from the river to the right and deposits it along the west bank there where you were looking.”

  “Why would she sink so fast?” I asked. “Clarissa was able to stay afloat for a few minutes at least.” It hadn’t taken Coleman long to leap in and grab her.

  “Maybe the clothes she was wearing. Some things absorb water more quickly. The weight then would drag her down.”

  “She had on a poly-filled vest and a cotton sweater.” I recalled because I liked the snowman on her red sweater and her hat. They had been happy garments. “Blue jeans and what looked like hiking boots.”

  “That could have sunk her,” Jerry said with a frown. “They’re going to drag the river to see if they can find the body.”

  “Has her next of kin been notified?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t have anyone. Kathleen came to Columbus awhile back. She’s made friends, but there was no next of kin listed on her medical forms. Just Darla Lofton, who had her medical power of attorney.”

  So Darla was both Kathleen’s friend and adopted family. No wonder Kathleen was there all the time.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Tinkie stared out at the river where the sun had just begun to sparkle on the water. “This is just wrong.”

  “Believe me, I’m hoping she turns up,” Goode said. “Maybe she was bumped in the head and floated in to land somewhere and can’t remember who she is.”

  Jerry Goode was weaving a complicated fairy tale, but it was one with potentially a happy ending, so I didn’t say a word.

  “Do you really think that’s possible?” Tinkie was grasping at straws.

  “Maybe,” Goode said. “Let’s focus on that. Better to expect a good outcome than a sad one.”

  I glanced at him. I would never have taken him for a Pollyanna type, but he seemed genuinely saddened by Kathleen’s fate. “Jerry, has anyone ascertained what went wrong with the boat or how the accident happened?”

  “We had a diver inspect the bottom of the boat and the propeller was badly bent. Looks like the boat hit a partially sunken log.”

  “So it was an accident.” I sighed. That was a load off my mind. “And what about how both Kathleen and Clarissa went over the rail?”

  Jerry shook his head. “Mixed bag. Some say Clarissa stumbled and took Kathleen, and some say Kathleen was knocked off-balance when the boat lurched and bumped into Clarissa.”

  “And what does Clarissa say?” I asked.

  “That Kathleen is a clumsy ox and knocked her over the railing.”

  “I doubt Clarissa would ever accept responsibility for anything,” Tinkie said baldly. “She’s not keen on Kathleen anyway.”

  Jerry scoffed. “The woman has a serious issue with what she considers to be her elite class status. There’s her and then the rest of us who were born to serve her. A couple of nurses in the hospital were ready to put her in a straitjacket for a psych eval.”

  “Why?” I had to ask. My gossip bone was itching.

  “She wanted them to go to town and buy her a latte at Starbucks. She said the hospital coffee was giving her a migraine.”

  Hospital coffee was pretty gruesome, but to ask a nurse to play servant was a little too ballsy. “So she’s at home?”

  “She i
s, and singing the praises of Sheriff Peters.” He grinned. “That snake will bite, Sarah Booth. Keep an eye on it.”

  “Oh, just let that vixen make a play for Coleman. I will snatch her bald-headed,” Tinkie said. “I’ll beat her butt with an ugly stick. I’ll smack her in the mouth so hard her teeth will march out her ass like little white soldiers. I’ll—”

  I clapped a hand over her mouth. Tinkie never said such things. I had no idea she even knew such things. “He gets it, Tinkie.”

  Goode was laughing so hard he started coughing. “You look like a refined lady, but you sure talk like you know your way around a barroom brawl.”

  “I do both.” Tinkie was back in matron form. “I just won’t put up with anyone messing with my friends.”

  He tipped his hat at her. “Everyone should be that lucky to have such a loyal friend. Now are you here to help search or to gather information?”

  “A little of both, if you need us,” I said. “But what exactly did Clarissa say about Coleman?”

  Jerry gave me a look that clearly intimated he was debating whether to tell me the truth or not. He shrugged one shoulder and started talking. “She said he was exactly the kind of man she’d been looking for and that she could make sure the Columbus city council offered him the position of police chief if he wanted to move here.”

  Tinkie saw the figurative steam coming out of my ears; her blue eyes went wide with alarm before she spoke. “Well, Clarissa Olson can keep wishing for that until the cows come home. Coleman is true blue to Sarah Booth, and besides, he’s an elected official in Sunflower County.”

  Goode chuckled. “I’m sure she’s aware that she’s playing with dynamite. That’s part of the appeal for someone like her. She’s bored. It takes more and more danger to keep her interest up. Best thing you can do is just avoid her. Keep Sheriff Peters out of her crosshairs.”

  “We’re working for her,” I reminded him sourly.

  “Quit. No law says you have to keep doing her dirty work.”

  “We aren’t doing dirty work,” Tinkie said, a little indignant. “Our work is just as honorable as yours. We’re both looking for justice.”

  “Not if you’re working for Clarissa. Justice isn’t even on her agenda. Getting what she wants is the only thing she cares about. No matter what she told you she wants, what she wants is pleasure for herself. Just keep that under your hat.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said to Goode, and I really meant it. At least Tinkie and I were forewarned. “Maybe we will quit.” But until we did pull the plug on the case—which would require some discussion—we were still on the clock. “Jerry, do you think it’s possible Kathleen’s … disappearance is related to the things that have been going on in Columbus? The shocking karaoke, the tumble down the stairs, the cemented Caddy.”

  “Kathleen wasn’t part of the swinger clique,” Goode said. “She was a nice lady. She was shy and found it difficult to make friends here. Darla Lofton was really the only person who stepped up to befriend her. Those other women…”—he shook his head—“they were awful to her. The answer to your question is no. I don’t think Kathleen’s disappearance is connected to the other things … unless she was collateral damage. What we don’t know is if someone pushed Kathleen into Clarissa, like using Kathleen as a cue ball.”

  Now that was an interesting theory, and one I hadn’t even considered. “Any reason you’d think of that?” I asked.

  “Those women always use someone else to do their dirty work. Like Colton. He’s just a guy making a living hauling dirt and delivering cement. He’s got no grudges against anyone, minds his own affairs, doesn’t gossip. Yet now he’s caught up in something that may cost him his business. That’s how those women operate. They’re like crows pecking at each other’s eyeballs but it’s always the passerby who gets the blame.”

  “Did you talk to Colton about the woman who hired him?”

  He scoffed. “Colton has his head in the clouds most of the time. He didn’t pay attention. He said she was wearing a wig and that’s about all he can remember. He honestly thought it was Bricey.”

  “If we can find who hired him, we’ll be a lot closer to figuring out who’s behind these dangerous pranks.”

  “But no closer to finding Kathleen Beesley. Now I have to make sure the searchers are working a grid and being careful.” He tipped his hat and headed back to the dock area, where a tent had been set up. Tinkie and I headed that way, taking in the dozens of volunteers who’d come to assist. Several police officers sat at a table with a map and they assigned an area to each volunteer and sent them to search.

  “They aren’t going to ever find her, are they?” Tinkie asked.

  “I don’t know. The river looks languid, but I suspect there are treacherous currents. If she’s caught in one along the bottom, it could be days before it releases … the body.”

  “Poor Kathleen. Jerry Goode seemed to know her better than anyone else but Darla.”

  “You know, we really don’t know much about her.” Kathleen talked about herself less than almost anyone I’d met. I knew far more about Bricey or Clarissa than I did about Kathleen or Darla.

  “Are we going to search this morning?”

  “Can you bear to forgo shopping?” I teased her.

  “I’m kind of done with shopping for right now.”

  I glanced at my partner. She looked a little down, which wasn’t like her. The tragedy wore heavily on her. Tinkie was a society girl, but at the heart of it all, she was tender and kind. “I’m sorry this happened. Sorry for Kathleen and Darla, and sorry for you, Tinkie.”

  “I just hate tragedy. I wish I could make all tragedy disappear.”

  “I wish you could, too.” I put an arm around her shoulders and gave a good squeeze.

  Just then a voice sounded behind us. “You two abandoned the rest of us, but we tracked you down.”

  I whirled around to find Coleman, Oscar, Jaytee, Cece, Harold, and Millie standing behind us. “We were kind and let you sleep,” I corrected. “Tinkie was all for dumping a bucket of ice cubes on you in the bed, but I wouldn’t let her.”

  “Like I would believe that,” Coleman said. “Tell me, girls, what’s on the agenda for this morning?”

  Before anyone could answer, a Lexus SUV pulled to a halt and Clarissa Olson, dressed in a wet suit and dragging scuba tanks out of the back of her car, came down the dock. The suit left little to the imagination, and I had to admit, she had a terrific body. She stopped at our group. “I have another set of tanks and a wet suit that would fit you perfectly,” she said to Coleman. “Care to join me in a dive? There’s a deep pit just off this dock where the body may be trapped. I thought I’d check it out.”

  “We have plans,” Tinkie said, stepping between the two of them.

  “Too bad.” Clarissa ignored Tinkie and spoke to Coleman. “No one else around here knows how to dive. You look the type who enjoys an underwater … adventure.”

  Oh, it was clear exactly what she was inviting Coleman to do. My hands curled into fists. I wasn’t normally a brawler, but this heifer needed a smack in the snout.

  “Not interested, Clarissa. Not interested in any kind of adventure with you. Look elsewhere for your entertainment.” Coleman turned on his heel and slipped my hand through his arm, and we all began to stroll away. My heart was doing a little fluttery dance of joy.

  “You get an A plus on the boyfriend score sheet,” Millie said, taking Coleman’s other arm. “Ah, the satisfaction of seeing someone put right in their place. Sarah Booth, you’d better give Coleman an extra special Christmas gift, if you catch my drift.”

  It felt good to laugh with my friends. The sun broke free of the clouds, and the whole day took on a different color. I couldn’t stop tragedy from happening, not even to those I loved so desperately, but I could enjoy each moment I was lucky enough to share with them. I sighed. Duty called, though.

  “We should go back and search,” I said reluctantly.

  “
I don’t think they need us,” Millie said. “Look.”

  There were at least fifty volunteers already walking grids and examining every square inch of ground. In my heart of hearts, though, I didn’t believe that Kathleen had come up on the bank. “Do you think they’ll find her body in the river?”

  “Only if they go farther downstream,” Harold said. “I regret this. I liked Kathleen. She had a sweet temperament.”

  Harold had taken a shine to both Kathleen and Darla, and I’d seen potential for a wonderful friendship, if not more. Another regrettable factor in this whole mess.

  “We have a little final work to do on our surprise,” Coleman said. All the men nodded.

  “Will the surprise be ready before we finish our holiday?” Cece asked. There was a glint in her eye.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Is it bigger than a bread box?” Millie asked.

  “Considerably,” Jaytee said, “but no more questions. You’ll get the surprise when it’s finished. But we have to go.”

  Rex pulled up with the limo and I realized this was a coordinated abandonment of us females. “Coleman, you’re stacking up a bill that’s going to come due.”

  “Promises, promises,” he said, waving cheerily as they loaded into the limo and took off.

  “What are they up to?” Tinkie asked.

  “Cece, why don’t you and Millie follow. I can call a great Uber driver. You can get loads of gossip for your Sunday column.”

  “Perfect,” they said.

  I called Dallas Sweeney, and within five minutes she was there. Unfortunately, the limo was long gone.

  “No worries,” Dallas said, “a limo is going to be really easy to track down. I have my sources.”

  Cece and Millie hopped in and they were gone. Tinkie and I looked at each other.

  “How are we going to find out who really hired Colton?” Tinkie asked.

  “Let’s check to see if anyone nearby has security cameras. You would think Colton would have some with all that expensive equipment around.”

  “We didn’t ask him,” Tinkie pointed out, biting her bottom lip. “We should have.”