A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  I went to Darla’s office to catch up with Tinkie. “Hey, Tinkie,” I called out.

  “Hey, Sarah Booth,” she said back, laughing at me. “What?”

  “Coleman should have some updates about Kathleen, but he isn’t answering.” I paused. “I’m going to call Jerry Goode.”

  “We shouldn’t tip our hand and let him know we’re onto his affair with Clarissa.”

  Tinkie was right about that—if we were on the nose about the affair. Coleman had made me question that assumption. I dialed Goode’s number, and he answered on the third ring, sounding as if he were coming out of a deep sleep.

  “Hi, Officer Goode. I’m looking for Coleman Peters.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  Coleman had had plenty of time to get to the officer. “He went to talk to you.”

  “Never made it here.”

  “Are you messing with me?”

  “I am not.” Goode was suddenly wide-awake sounding. “Where was he going to look for me? I’ve been home, dead asleep.”

  If he’d been with Clarissa, he probably needed to sleep a lot to allow his blood supply to recharge, bloodsucking vampire that she was.

  “He may have been on his way to the river.” I didn’t know where else he might have gone.

  “Meet you there.” Goode hung up.

  “I need to go to the river to look for Coleman,” I told Tinkie.

  “I’m right behind you.” She slipped into her coat while I called for a ride. Dallas didn’t answer, so we chose another Uber, and by the time we walked outside, our ride was there. We were about to step into the car when my phone rang.

  Coleman was calling, but there was only the sound of heavy breathing. “Coleman? Coleman? Are you there?” The line went dead.

  Tinkie was watching me as she ordered the driver to the site on the river where the search had been organized.

  As the car took off, I dialed Officer Goode again. The phone rang and rang. No one answered and it never went to voicemail.

  “What’s going on?” Tinkie asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you drive faster?” Tinkie asked the driver as I tried again to call Coleman and Goode. Neither man answered.

  The driver’s response was to press the gas pedal and the car sped into the night.

  We arrived at the river to find that the search was basically shut down. The tent on the dock was still in place, but no one manned it. The tables and chairs where volunteers had organized grid searches were abandoned. And there was no sign of Coleman.

  Just to be sure, Tinkie and I split up and searched the area. She took the dock and I edged around the bank of the river. I didn’t go far enough to find alligators—there was no reason for Coleman to be wading around in marsh grass. Since we’d put flashlights in our purses, we also had the benefit of good light and I could keep track of where Tinkie was. After ten minutes, it was clear Coleman had never made it here.

  “Where could he be?”

  Our ride was still waiting for us, so we jumped in and headed back to the Bissonnette House. As we were pulling up, a man staggering along the edge of the road was highlighted by the car’s headlights. “Stop!” I yelled. I was halfway out of the car before it came to a complete stop.

  I recognized the man stumbling toward the B and B. It was Coleman. In the lights from the car, I saw that blood was trickling down the side of his face from a blow to the head.

  “Are you okay?” I grabbed his arm to steady him. Tinkie arrived to shore up his other side.

  “I think so,” Coleman said, wobbling a little.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone came out of the darkness and hit me while I was waiting for a ride. I tried to call you, but I was too fuzzy to say anything.”

  “Let’s go to the hospital,” Tinkie said. The Uber was still waiting. “Come on, just get in the front seat.” She was leading us both toward the waiting car.

  “No.” Coleman stopped, and he was rooted like an old oak. “I’m okay.”

  “What would it hurt to get it checked out?” Tinkie insisted. “Don’t be a hardhead.”

  “I’m really okay. I was caught by surprise.”

  I waved the Uber on because I knew Coleman well enough to know he wasn’t going to cooperate with Tinkie’s plan. With me on one side and Tinkie on the other, we made the forty-yard walk up the sidewalk to the front door. Before we went in, Coleman stopped us.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Why not?” Tinkie asked.

  “Whoever attacked me came out of the backyard.”

  “I thought I heard someone earlier,” I said, “but then I thought maybe I was just imagining things. I looked, but the hedge was so thick, I didn’t see anyone or anything suspicious.” Except for Jitty. And if someone saw that exchange, they’d believe I was completely nuts.

  “Why not tell the others?” Tinkie persisted. “They may need to be on the alert.”

  “I don’t want Darla worried that I was injured on her property,” Coleman said. “She has enough on her with Kathleen’s disappearance. I’m really not hurt.” He rubbed the side of his head. “I was just stunned.”

  “And knocked unconscious.” I didn’t buy his self-diagnosis at all, but I wasn’t going to argue with Coleman in front of Tinkie. “What are you going to tell Darla about the mumming?” I checked my watch. It was time to put on the costumes if we were going to participate.

  “Nothing. I’m ready to play Robin Hood.” He used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe at the blood on his face.

  Tinkie rolled her eyes at me as she opened the front door of the inn. “If you two ever had a baby together, it would have a skull as hard as a granite slab.”

  “Hurry, hurry,” Darla said as she pulled us into the house. “Get into your costumes. It’s time to perform.”

  Coleman grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs. “Get into your costume,” he said. “It’s important if we want to resolve this matter.”

  “I’d feel better if you got into a hospital gown and had your head checked out.”

  “Dream on.” Coleman pulled me into our bedroom and closed the door. It was time to suit up for the evening’s festivities. I supposed we could all ignore that a serial attacker was on the loose, a woman was still missing from a boating incident, and Coleman had been attacked outside the B and B.

  25

  By the time we started toward Rook’s Nest, we’d already hit a bunch of homes with our Robin Hood act. We’d perfected our drama and gathered over five thousand dollars in donations for the Columbus animal shelter. Darla had not been kidding. People in Columbus had money and were willing to donate it to a good cause. With each successful performance, we grew bolder and bolder in our presentation. And the feather in our cap—the “Robin Hood Blues” duet with Cece and Jaytee—brought the house down as far as raking in donations. Rook’s Nest was our last stop, and Darla had insisted we go there. She said Clarissa had a small gathering of friends over and they were expecting to see us. Clarissa had promised a substantial donation and Darla pleaded with us to go there on behalf of the shelter animals. Though I was loath to go to Clarissa’s, the needs of the shelter animals won out over my reluctance.

  “We have just one more night in Columbus after tonight,” Tinkie said to me as we clanked along the sidewalk toward Clarissa’s house. The Sheriff of Nottingham, with his armor and sword, was rather noisy. Coleman, Cece, and Jaytee were in front of us, and Tinkie let out a wolf whistle. “Nice legs, Robin! And Friar Tuck, those fat pads are very becoming.”

  Despite her protestations that she wasn’t an actress, Cece had perfected the waddle. And Coleman did have great-looking legs. They were shown to advantage in the green leggings and tunic. Even better, he seemed to have completely recovered from being hit in the head.

  “I wouldn’t kid too much. Coleman and Cece will get even, you know.” I thought it wise to warn my teasing cohorts.

  “I’m counting
on it,” Tinkie said. “Coleman’s been too quiet, and Cece is plotting something. She’s not going to leave Columbus without some kind of final flare-up!”

  She was right about that. “It’s been an … activity-filled trip, Tinkie. Thank you. What a great idea. Maybe if we can figure out how to avoid mayhem, we can make it an annual tradition to travel to a Mississippi town to celebrate the holidays.”

  “I’m going to ignore the snark and just say that can be arranged.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Has Coleman said anything about who attacked him?”

  It was a curious thing that Coleman had avoided all conversation about how he’d been set upon outside the B and B. He’d hushed me whenever I tried to bring it up, saying Darla had enough woe and worry without knowing her guest had been whacked upside the head by a derelict lurking about the property. I knew there was more to his reluctance than he let on. I just didn’t know why he was so reticent to tell us what had happened.

  “Coleman hasn’t said a peep. He says Darla is too stressed. That I should just let it go. He knows more than he’s letting on.”

  “Maybe his brain is rattled.”

  I pushed Tinkie on the arm. “That’s not very nice.”

  “I meant from being struck. Coleman isn’t making a lot of sense in his conduct, protecting someone who attacked him.” She grinned wickedly. “On the other hand, he sure fills out those tights and he’s doing great as Robin Hood.”

  “And you’re the perfect Maid Marian.” Tinkie’s costume was beautiful, and it suited her. Even the long chestnut wig.

  “You’re pretty convincing as Mortianna. The way you’re shuffling around, dragging a foot and acting like some kind of wicked witch, predicting all kinds of dire things. You scared those children at the last house. Maybe you should take off the wig and get rid of those awful contact lenses.”

  “Nah, I love to scare children. Just wait until yours is born. I’m going to teach that baby to love scary movies and stories.”

  “You’re probably going to be a terrible influence. I’ve already accepted that.” She gave me a quick hug. “And it’s perfectly fine. Just watch the Mortianna act. If you come out of those bushes and scare someone like you did at the last house, they may shoot you.”

  “Me?” I pretended outrage. “When Friar Tuck burst out of the shrubs just as the sheriff grabbed Maid Marian, I almost wet my pants.”

  Tinkie was laughing. “Cece’s comic timing is great, isn’t it?”

  In front of us, Oscar stumbled in his armor, and Tinkie doubled-timed it to get to him. He had a hard time seeing through the visor, and if the sidewalk was uneven, he was prone to trip. “Let me help my husband,” she called over her shoulder.

  I dropped back to talk to Harold. “How is Darla doing?” He’d spent more time talking to her than any of the rest of us.

  “She’s having a very hard time. She was going to come mumming with us, but at the last minute she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’s holding it together because we’re still her guests, but she canceled all the reservations she’d made for the rest of this year. After we leave Sunday, she’ll be alone. She said she just needs to grieve, but it worries me. I’m afraid she’ll slip into a serious depression.”

  “She’s given up on Kathleen?”

  He nodded. “She has. She won’t say that, but she feels there’s no way she could still be alive.”

  “Is that a good thing? I mean, is accepting reality better than clinging to false hope?”

  Harold sighed softly. “It’s never a good thing to believe a friend is dead.” He lowered his voice. “I believe Kathleen is gone. If she didn’t drown, the hypothermia got her. It’s possible she hit her head going over. And she had on so many clothes. She was really bundled up.”

  “It was cold on the water, and she knew it, so she was dressed appropriately. Her jacket was thick. And she had on gloves, boots, and even a thick cotton hat.” I remembered what Officer Goode had said about how if her clothes became waterlogged they would take her straight to the bottom. Unless she could shed those clothes.

  “Without a body, there’s no way to tell what really happened. Clarissa was absolutely no help, Coleman said. I just feel Darla needs to get angry before she accepts this. Stages of grief and all. If she simply gives up all hope, it could be very hard for her.”

  “Did Darla ever find out what happened to the boat?”

  “She had it looked at. The propeller was terribly damaged, but the mechanic didn’t offer any definitive answers about what happened. As I understand it, it could have been an accident or it could have been sabotage. I believe the insurance company is looking into the circumstances. Right now Darla doesn’t care about the boat. It’s her friend that she’s focused on.”

  It was hard. One moment Kathleen had been on the boat, partying and drinking. The next she was over the side and gone, swept along in the dark currents of the river.

  Tinkie rejoined me and Harold. “Look, we’re at Rook’s Nest. Let’s put on the show, get it over with, and then go back to Darla’s. I’m so tired my collarbones ache.”

  “Tinkie, if you’re too tired, we can stop right now. As you are wont to remind us, you are pregnant.” I gave her a hug. My partner was a real trouper, so I had to look out for her.

  Tinkie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m perfectly fine. The show must go on.”

  Under Tinkie’s direction, we found our places for the first scene. I hid in the bushes while Millie rang the doorbell and then rushed across the porch to get into place. Clarissa opened the door to what appeared to be an empty yard. She stepped out onto the porch, followed by a cluster of houseguests. “Oh, mummers! We’re here to watch you perform,” she called out.

  She was indeed expecting us. I came out of the bushes with my slanting crab walk, frazzled white hair, and completely white eyeballs, compliments of costume contacts. I heard the sharp intake of breath from Clarissa and her friends. I was a bit more than they’d expected, and I was convincing!

  I scuttled up to the porch where I could look up at Clarissa and mimed cracking an egg. I pretended to roll the egg around in the bowl and cast the shells down. “Look, milady, the twin yolk of the pigeon egg predicts foul trouble will befall all who hamper the green men of the forest. See the blood in the yolk! Beware the arrows that fly!”

  “You are one scary piece of work,” she said. “I don’t know who you are, but you are ugly. In fact, you’re so ugly, I’ll bet your mother had to tie a pork chop around your neck to make the dogs play with you.”

  For a moment her venom knocked me out of character. She was really a very mean person. But I recovered. Waving a hand over my pretend bowl of cracked egg, I gave a high-pitched cackle. “I see the future for you, my lovely. I hope that STD is something antibiotics can cure. Some are antibiotic resistant.”

  “How dare you!”

  I saw Tinkie as Maid Marian laughing in the wings, but it was Harold who stepped out to confront me. “Oh far-seeing Mortianna, the Sheriff of Nottingham needs your counsel.” He grabbed my arm and began to move me away from the porch.

  “Robin! Oh, Robin! Beware the traps being set for you. Great evil lurks within the walls of yon castle.” I was having a hard time holding back the laughter myself. Judging from Clarissa’s expression, she was sizzling with anger at my remark.

  Millie burst into laughter, and Jaytee turned away to hide his amusement.

  “I recognize the voice of my hired help,” Clarissa said, putting her hands on her hips. “Sarah Booth Delaney! You look like something that crawled out of a nightmare. And you aren’t nearly as clever as you think you are.”

  I was outed, and I didn’t really care. “My name is Mortianna, my pretty.” I sounded like a blend between a dying hyena and the Wicked Witch of the West. Coleman and Oscar were behind a shrub laughing. Cece, Tinkie, and Millie were ready to come to my defense, if needed. I escaped Harold’s grip and sidled closer to Clarissa. “Would you li
ke me to tell your fortune?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

  “Give me your hand.” I reached up to grasp her hand, aware of the perfectly manicured nails and the two very expensive rings. I really couldn’t see very well with the opaque contacts in, but I didn’t need to. I had no skills at reading palms; I was just going to wing it as I went along. I pinched the area at the base of her thumb. “Ah, a fat and juicy Mount of Venus. You are a girl who loves her pleasures. Beware that you don’t run to fat in your middle years, which aren’t that far away.”

  Behind Clarissa, a few twitters arose from her guests. Tulla and Bricey brayed with laughter, and for a split second hatred crossed Clarissa’s features.

  “She got you, Clarissa,” Tulla said. “You absolutely look marvelous for your age, but you are getting on up there. Better up the time you spend with your personal trainer.”

  Clarissa threw a withering look over her shoulder and tried to snatch her hand away, but I held on.

  “Your life line and your head line intersect,” I said in my falsetto cackle. “You’ve managed to blend what you love and what you do.” I was really racking my brain trying to remember anything Madame Tomeeka, Zinnia’s resident psychic and medium, had ever said about reading palms. “And here, that mark on the mount at the base of your forefinger—the Mount of Jupiter—a message is coming for you. An important message. There is news you don’t want to share. The resolution of a puzzle is on the way, and it is not what you anticipated.”

  “It had better be coming soon, since you’ve been paid handsomely to find those answers.” She finally freed her hand. “I thought you came to perform. Get on with it. It’s cold standing out here on the porch.”

  And with that, Harold whipped out a bugle and blew it—off-key. “The story of Robin Hood begins,” he said, motioning me forward.

  I spun around with a cackle. “The Prince of Thieves is a tale oft told about a man who robbed from the rich to give to the poor. Robin”—Coleman bowed—“will do battle with the Sheriff of Nottingham.” Oscar took a bow. “And win the hand of Maid Marian.” Tinkie curtsied. I introduced the rest of the players and set up the story.