A Garland of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “So where does that leave us?” Tinkie asked.

  “Tracking down Jerry Goode.”

  “Coleman isn’t going to like this.”

  That was an understatement. “We need to return before Darla makes breakfast. Let’s just make it quick.” I called Dallas. She sounded like she’d been up for hours. And she knew where Jerry Goode lived. “Remind me next case we work to hire an Uber driver who knows everything,” I told Tinkie as we walked to the curb to wait for our ride.

  30

  Dallas did know where Goode lived, but she wasn’t magic. She couldn’t make him be at home when we knocked on his door.

  “His car isn’t here,” Tinkie said.

  “You know his car?”

  “When he was leaving Clarissa’s, if that was him, he was driving a silver sportscar. There’s no vehicle here at all.”

  “Good, let’s break in.”

  Tinkie grabbed my arm. “Bullying Tulla is one thing. Goode is a member of law enforcement. He could really put us in jail.”

  “Only if he catches us.” The first pink glow of dawn was moving up the horizon. Soon it would be daylight. It was now or never if we intended to break into the small brick house. Soon the neighbors would be up and poking around.

  “What are we even looking for?” Tinkie asked.

  “Goode has investigated every single incident. If he’s part of the cheaters club or somehow beholden to one of them, maybe he’s protecting someone.”

  “And we’re going to find that out how?” Tinkie asked. “It’s not like he’s going to leave a written confession on the kitchen table.”

  “If we don’t look now, we may never have another chance.” I walked back to Dallas, who was waiting at the curb, and asked her to drive around the block and park. “Leave the motor running,” I said. “We shouldn’t be long.”

  “If I see him coming back, I’ll drive by and blow the horn three times.”

  “Good plan.” I waved her off and rejoined Tinkie.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Tinkie said. “Let’s just give the money back. Really, Sarah Booth. It’s almost Christmas. We could end up in jail, or worse. I don’t like our client enough to ruin the holidays.”

  Her words gave me pause. She was right—I knew that. But we were so close. “Let’s do this. If we don’t find anything, we’ll talk about dropping the case.”

  “If we do this, we might as well hang on until we flush out the culprit,” she said, almost under her breath. “You’re going to deal with Oscar if we get caught.”

  Saying no wasn’t an option. I checked the door—unlocked. “See, it’s not even breaking. It’s just entering.” I tried to put the best face on it.

  “Shut up and let’s get inside.” Tinkie all but shoved me in the door and closed it.

  Goode’s house was eerily neat—almost as if no one actually lived there. There was a sense of emptiness about the place. Except for the sound of something moving around in the back of the house.

  “We should announce ourselves,” Tinkie said.

  “Like what: ‘Private investigators, please don’t shoot?’” I tried to curb my sarcasm.

  “We could say we’re the police.”

  “Follow me.” Tinkie and I both had guns, but they were back in Zinnia, locked safely away. We didn’t travel with firepower—except for Tinkie’s brand-new Taser.

  I crept down the hallway toward the sound of shuffling.

  “What is that?” Tinkie whispered.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a dog.”

  “Don’t open the door!” She tried to step in front of me, but I blocked her.

  “Stay back. Oscar will kill me if you get hurt. The good thing about Coleman is that he’ll only blame me if I get hurt.”

  “Because he knows how hardheaded you are.”

  I gave her an eye roll and put my hand on the doorknob to a back room. The sound was definitely coming from inside. I couldn’t tell if it was a dog trying to escape or something more sinister.

  Tinkie put a hand on my shoulder. “What if it’s something we shouldn’t let out?”

  “What if it’s someone in trouble and we’re too cowardly to look?”

  “Go ahead.” She released my shoulder.

  I turned the knob slowly, praying that I wouldn’t feel resistance on the other side. The door opened easily and I peeked through the crack. The room was dark. Nothing. I pushed the crack wider, searching carefully before I stepped into the room. Before I could do anything, something hit the door with great force—so much force that the wooden door flew back toward me and smacked me in the forehead. The pain was instant.

  “Damn!” Tinkie ran to the kitchen and grabbed wet paper towels. She held them to my forehead and wrapped my hand around them before she shoved the door, hard. There was a muffled moan. “What the hell?”

  Before I could stop her, she forced her way into the room and flipped on the light switch. “Holy Christmas,” she said. “It’s Goode. He’s been hog-tied on the floor.”

  Even though I was in pain, I knew I wasn’t seriously hurt. My head was as hard as it was reputed to be. I pushed into the room. Behold! The lawman was on the floor on his stomach, his feet tied together and pulled up to his butt and then tied to his hands. He was also gagged with duct tape.

  “I’ll get a knife,” Tinkie said. “Looks like the drawstring from the curtains.” She looked around, and sure enough, the curtains were torn down and thrown on the floor. But how in the heck had anyone gotten the better of Goode? He was about six-three and looked to be very fit.

  “Crime of opportunity,” I said.

  “Murrahahahah!” Goode said, thrashing about on the floor.

  “Okay.” Tinkie leaned over and snatched the duct tape from his mouth. I could almost hear the hair follicles ripping out of his skin.

  “Owwww!” Goode yelled. “Cut me loose this minute.”

  Tinkie shrugged. She’d had enough of being ordered about. “I’m good with leaving him tied. How about you?”

  That set up another howl, and I took the knife from Tinkie and sliced the cord that bound him. At first he couldn’t use his arms or legs—he’d apparently been tied in that position for a good while. At last he sat up. “How did you know I was here?”

  “We heard what sounded like a struggle.” We had to have a reason for breaking and entering or we’d be in legal trouble. We were the rescue squad—the good guys—but we’d still broken the law.

  “How did you hear me?” He looked at both of us.

  “Tinkie has bat hearing. She heard something and I walked around the house to look.”

  Goode struggled to his feet and searched his pockets. “Cell phone?”

  I handed him mine and he called the police. He gave me back the phone. “Units are on the way. You should put ice on your forehead. You’ve got a knot.”

  “Who did this to you?” Tinkie asked.

  Goode thought a minute before he answered. “I’m not certain. When I was leaving the B and B, I saw someone on the property. I didn’t get a clear look, but whoever it was knew I saw them. They took off and I pursued on foot, but I lost them. There are too many places to hide on those big properties. Anyway, I stopped by the PD to file a report and then went home. Someone was waiting on me.”

  “You were struck from behind?” I asked.

  “I came in the front door, put the keys on the little table in the entrance, and headed to the kitchen. I heard something in the back, so I went to check. I opened the door. I remember … someone on a chair. Behind the door. They struck me on the head.” His hand went up to rub at a bump on his head.

  His story made complete sense. He’d been struck on the back and side of his head, so likely he’d fallen forward. He’d landed in the perfect position to be hog-tied. “You think your attacker was on a chair?”

  He nodded. “That has to be right.”

  There’d been no chair in the back bedroom when we’d arrived, but that didn’t mean the attacker hadn�
�t moved it. “Did you see who struck you?”

  “No, but it was a short person.”

  “Because of the chair?”

  “A tall man wouldn’t need a chair. He’d have the reach.”

  “Was it the same person you saw at the Bissonnette House?” I asked.

  He nodded slowly. “I think it must have been. They might have thought I could identify them. So they ambushed me and put me out of commission.”

  “Maybe Tulla got mad at you,” I said.

  “Tulla Tarbutton?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “She said you were part of their swingers group.” That was actually a lie, but I wanted to hear his response. “We saw you leaving Clarissa’s place yesterday morning.”

  “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? I wouldn’t touch that Medusa with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Tulla said you got into the kinky stuff.” Another lie, but I was getting to him.

  “She’s crazier than you two. I have a steady girl. And for that matter, an alibi.”

  “We’re listening.”

  Goode’s mouth was a thin line. “I’ll hold my piece, I think. But if you’re believing anything Clarissa or Tulla tells you, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

  “Why would Tulla lie?” Tinkie asked.

  “Because she’s breathing? Because her lips are moving? Because she’s completely amoral? To throw you off the trail? Shall I go on?”

  I had an unresolved question from an earlier incident. “Officer Goode, did you ever figure out what made those marks in the riverbank? You said it might be some kind of boat. Any idea whose?” I needed to know who else had been on the river.

  “I talked to some search-and-rescue guys, who said it was a small skiff, flat-bottomed, likely aluminum. They’d been on the river the day before and saw it pushed up on the bank.”

  “A fisherman’s boat.” I knew exactly the type of vessel he was talking about.

  “Correct.”

  “So someone left it there and then paddled off in it. Maybe even picked up Kathleen.”

  “It’s the theory I was working on, but everyone in town was looking for Kathleen. If a fisherman had taken her to any of the docks, we would know. She would have been rushed to the hospital.”

  He had a point. But it was still a clue that needed to be pursued further.

  We didn’t have any time for more questions because the police and paramedics arrived. Tinkie and I were pushed out of the house and told to wait. We were going to be questioned like we were part of the problem, not the solution. And in fact, we did have a little breaking-and-entering charge to avoid. We glanced at each other, and after a quick stop for a washcloth and some ice, we took off into the rising dawn. Dallas was waiting around the corner.

  “What happened to your head?” Dallas asked, and there was real worry on her face.

  “We ran into a little trouble.” I didn’t want to go into details. “Let’s hurry back to Darla’s place.”

  Dallas turned around in the seat to look at me. “Is Jerry okay?”

  Something about her tone told me everything I needed to know. “He’s okay, except for a bump on the head and being hog-tied for a while. Jerry said he was dating someone. It’s you. That’s why you know so much about everyone in town.”

  Dallas pinched her lips together. “I should have told you. But I really did want to help. That’s why I know he’s not involved in these dangerous games. He’s been with me almost every minute he’s not on duty and I’m not working. I keep that man plenty busy.”

  Tinkie sighed and sank into the seat. She was tired. “We should have asked Dallas more questions,” she said. She sighed again. “And Dallas, you should have been more forthcoming.”

  “I swear, I really wanted to help.”

  And she had been a big help. And maybe more.

  31

  Breakfast was ready when we returned and no one was any the wiser we’d been out on the case. I came up with a clever lie about my forehead, saying I’d run into a low-hanging branch. We ate the delicious food Darla prepared, and the men took off on their “secret mission.” I had a quick word with Coleman about my case. “There has to be more at stake than cheating.” This was the thing that niggled at me.

  “What’s your gut tell you?” he asked.

  “Money or revenge.”

  “Pick one. I’ll wager the other.”

  “What’s the wager?”

  “A whole day of total pampering.” He grinned and the very devil was in his eyes.

  “You’re on. The motivation is revenge.” I’d come to that conclusion about the case from the very first.

  “You were always a bloody gal,” he said. “Okay, I’m betting on the fact that money is at the root of this.” He kissed me in a way that was a promise. “Now I have to finish my mission. Tonight, after the parade, I’m all yours to do with as you will.”

  “Great. Just great.” I couldn’t really begrudge Coleman his fun. It was our last night in Columbus. It gave me pleasure to see them having so much fun. I was dying to know what they were up to, but at this point, I could wait until tonight for them to spring the surprise. I’d gone all week without spying on them, and even though Millie and Cece had tried, they weren’t successful at finding anything out.

  As Darla was picking up dishes from the table, she cleared her throat. “I won’t be here to fix lunch, but we’ll have a lovely celebration tonight after the parade.”

  “Darla, go have some fun,” Tinkie said. “We’ll find a nice place after the parade and just have some drinks and eat in town. We’ll have time in the morning before we leave to tell you goodbye and thank you for the wonderful week.”

  “Have you resolved your case, then?” she asked. “Do you know who’s after Clarissa?”

  “Not yet. Not all of it,” Tinkie said. She was more troubled by this than I was.

  “We have a lot of leads but no real suspect.” I wasn’t totally truthful. “Darla, if the basis for all of the mean things that have happened is revenge, do you know who might be seeking revenge against Clarissa. And for what?”

  Our hostess shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have a clue. I don’t run with that crowd, but I’d be willing to bet they’ve left a slew of people perfectly willing to tack their hides to the wall.”

  She was likely right about that—and the truth was no help in solving the case.

  We waved the men off, and Cece and Millie took off with Rex and the limo to tour Friendship Cemetery. Cece was going to do a feature on the cemetery for the newspaper, and Millie wanted to see it. Tinkie and I had a scant six hours to finish up with finding the culprit involved in shooting arrows at Clarissa.

  Tinkie and I had one excellent clue to run down, which came from the night of the mumming. We walked into town and headed straight for a store that sold hunting supplies, including crossbows. The one we’d found at Clarissa’s house—sans fingerprints—had cost someone a pretty penny. The owner of the hunting goods shop was the first positive lead we’d had.

  “Sure, I remember selling that exact bow,” he said when I showed him a photo. “Bart Crenshaw bought it. Said he was going to take up crossbow hunting.” His lips curled into something of a sneer. “I didn’t think the pretty boy had it in him.”

  “Did you sell him hunting arrows, too?” I asked.

  “Sure did.” He led us to an aisle where he showed us several different arrows. “He bought these. Fletched with these feathers.”

  Identical to the arrows lodged in Clarissa’s front door.

  “I told all of this to that policeman name Goode,” the owner said. “It seemed to mean something to him.”

  Goode had done the preliminary investigating. Coleman’s instincts were good. “Thanks.”

  We left the shop and Tinkie blew out her breath. “It all circles back to the swingers. Every single lead. But Bart Crenshaw was standing on that front porch when the arrows were fired. He couldn’t have done it. Nor his wife. Nor Tulla, Bric
ey, or Clarissa. How did the archer get Bart’s bow and arrows?”

  “He could have given them to someone. But who? All of the swinger participants we know were in plain sight when the archery session occurred.”

  “There’s someone we’re missing.” Tinkie had reached the same conclusion I’d come to earlier. “Someone in this group that so far hasn’t shown his or her face.”

  “How do we find this person?” I asked. That was the issue to resolve.

  “Clarissa.”

  We had to do it. We could dislike her, but it was time to quit dithering. Either solve the case or give her the money back. Since I’d ordered Coleman’s saddle and paid special delivery to have it at Zinnia for Christmas morning, I didn’t have the luxury of a choice.

  * * *

  The day was sunny and warm, and we’d done nothing but eat for an entire week, so Tinkie and I opted to walk to Clarissa’s. The old historic neighborhood where Rook’s Nest was located wasn’t that far from downtown. I could easily visualize a time when the downtown, also situated near the river, had been the center of a booming residential area that included the W.

  Clarissa was surprised to see us, and at first she tried to stall us at the door. When we got inside, we realized why. A carpenter was at work on the top step. “A repair?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yes, it seems the riser wasn’t firmly tacked into place. I guess when Bart tumbled, the step tilted and he lost his balance. He wasn’t pushed. He said that all along.”

  “If he had been injured, he or Sunny could have sued the pants off you,” Tinkie said. She knew a lot more about liability than I did.

  “But he wasn’t hurt. And he isn’t going to sue. And neither is Sunny.”

  The way she said the last made me wonder. Everyone had said Sunny was on the porch when Clarissa was nearly killed, but I didn’t remember seeing her. She could have been. Or she could not have been. If anyone had a reason for revenge, it was Sunny. She was almost too obvious, and also very evasive. We still hadn’t run her to ground and today was our last chance.

  “Do you think Sunny would want you dead?” I asked. Her husband had bought the crossbow. It was a perfect opportunity.