“Sarah Booth!”
I scanned the other side of the road and saw her—but it couldn’t be. Kathleen Beesley was waving at me from the back of the line that crowded the road. That was impossible. I’d seen her on the other side of the road with a crossbow. Now she held only an umbrella.
“Kathleen!” I yelled her name but she didn’t look at me. Tinkie and Millie looked over and saw her.
“Kathleen! Kathleen!” They began yelling at her.
She looked at us, turned, and faded into the darkness on the fringe of the crowd.
“She isn’t dead!” Tinkie said to me. “We were right.”
“There are two of her,” I said. “I saw her on the other side of the road with a crossbow. She’s the one who shot Clarissa and probably Tulla.”
“That’s not possible.” Tinkie was just blunt. “Not unless she has a twin.”
“I know.” It didn’t make any sense. Kathleen had disappeared, presumed dead. Now she was back in duplicate.
“Let’s go!” Tinkie grabbed my hand as she jumped off the float and into the street, pulling me with her. “Tell Coleman we’re on the trail of a ghost,” Tinkie said to Millie before she dragged me into the crowd of people.
34
If Kathleen was trying to hide from us, she did a terrible job of it. Ten minutes after we jumped her trail, we found her in a dark corner of a dive bar drinking tequila shooters. I wondered if she’d somehow hit her head and lost her memory, or perhaps suffered from a case of dissociative identity disorder, where an alternate personality had emerged. This tequila-chugging mama in tight leggings and a body-hugging sweater and boots was not the woman I’d met in Darla’s kitchen.
“We’ve been hunting everywhere for you,” Tinkie said to her. “You should have let us know you were alive.”
She threw back another shot of tequila and ignored Tinkie. That was the wrong thing to do after the week we’d had. My fingers curled in her abundant hair and I twisted until I had her attention. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried and Darla is sick with all the nightmares she’s been having thinking that you drowned.”
“Don’t mind me, I’m just the diversion,” she said.
“You’re going to jail,” I said. “You can’t jerk law officers around and have volunteers spend hours looking for you when all along you were safe.”
“I don’t think I’ve broken any laws. Not yet, anyway.”
“Not broken any laws? You shot Clarissa and Tulla with arrows.” I was furious.
“Did I?”
“You hid a boat in the marsh along the river, and when you knocked Clarissa off the Tenn-Tom Queen, you swam to the boat and let everyone think you’d drowned.”
“That’s not illegal, unless you can prove I deliberately hit Clarissa, and you can’t prove that.” Kathleen knocked back another shot.
“Why? Why did you do it?” Tinkie demanded.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Right,” Tinkie said. “Tell that to the law when they get here.” She dialed 911.
My phone rang, and I answered, expecting Coleman. “Ms. Delaney, it’s Deputy Ford. I have that information you wanted.”
“Aurora Bresland’s maiden name?”
“Yes, it was Lofton.”
“What?” I didn’t believe what I’d heard.
“Lofton. I hope that helps.”
“Are you with Coleman?”
“He’s assisting the EMTs. Clarissa Olson has a severe stomach wound, but the other one, Tarbutton, she’s going to be fine.”
“Is Officer Goode with you?”
“Yes, why?”
“May I speak with him?”
“Sure.”
A few seconds later Goode answered.
“The shooter is Darla Lofton. She’s wearing a red wig and is made up to resemble Kathleen Beesley. You have to find Darla and arrest her. And we have Kathleen Beesley here at Dirty Harry’s bar.”
“Are you sure about this?” Goode asked.
“Positive.”
“We’ll pick Lofton up.”
I turned my attention back to Kathleen. She shrugged. “Clarissa poisoned Darla’s mother and then had her father shot. So she could inherit everything.”
I’d figured that out. “You couldn’t have turned this over to the law?”
She shook her head. “Some scores you have to settle on your own. All of them. All the cheaters had to pay.”
“But you were in cahoots with Tulla Tarbutton. You hired that contractor to fill up Bricey’s car with cement. We have it on video.”
“Yes.” She didn’t deny it. “I used Tulla’s money to make Bricey pay. They all had to pay, and pay hard. It was quite the game to come up with revenge plots and make them pay for their own punishment.”
“And Bart Crenshaw? You could have broken his neck.”
“Bart was collateral damage. He wasn’t supposed to take a fall.”
“You sabotaged the step thinking Clarissa would tumble down the stairs.” It was so clear now that I had the pieces in place. “Why, Kathleen?”
“I love Darla. You don’t go through what we’ve been through without learning what’s important in life. We’ve been friends since the orphanage. More than friends. We’re sisters. We honor that bond of sisterhood above all else. I’d do anything for Darla.” She sat up. “Clarissa had it coming, and so did the rest of them. I don’t regret a single thing. Darla and I hunted them together, because it was justice.”
“Artemis,” I said. It was the clue I hadn’t fully understood. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, the protector of children and women, the deity that honored the scared bond of sisterhood. I finally understood.
While Cece, Millie, Oscar, and Jaytee manned the float as the parade continued, Tinkie and I waited until Jerry Goode arrived to take Kathleen into custody. Darla had also been apprehended. Clarissa and Tulla were in the hospital, and initial reports were that they’d recover. Coleman was helping the Columbus PD with their paperwork and filling in the gaps. We’d resolved the case, and no one in Columbus was dead. It wasn’t the cleanest outcome we’d ever had, but it was plenty good enough for me and Tinkie. At least it was over.
* * *
The next morning Rex had the limo ready for us by ten o’clock. We’d gone back to the Bissonnette House for our final night. Without Darla there, the place was a shell of what it had been. Tinkie had managed to place the newlywed couple in another inn and we had the place to ourselves.
I was still wrapping my head around the relationship between Darla and Kathleen, the close bond that had formed between the women at the orphanage where Darla had lived for most of her childhood. She’d found out about the murder of her biological mother only in the last few years. Before Darla could find the courage to meet her mother, Aurora had been murdered. With all chance of knowing her birth parents taken from her, Darla had set about to seek revenge.
“Ready to go home?” Coleman asked as he hefted our bags into the trunk.
“I am. More than ready.” I looked back at the inn, wondering what would become of it. “It’s been a fabulous vacation. With a few drawbacks.”
“Our time together was fabulous.”
“It was.” I stood on tiptoe to give him a gentle kiss.
He and the men loaded our bags as I made one final phone call to check on Clarissa at the hospital. She’d made it through surgery and was expected to recover. Tulla had gone home with her arm in a sling. No one died, at least not in Columbus.
Coleman put his arm around my shoulders. “Sorry it ended this way. I really liked Darla and Kathleen.”
“As did I.” It had given me a lot to think about, how old wounds festered and infected the entire body. “I don’t blame Darla for wanting revenge. I don’t. If Clarissa truly killed Darla’s mother and her father, I can’t fault Darla for wanting to kill her.”
“Deputy Ford says he’s reopening Johnny Bresland’s shooting death. He believes Clarissa paid another hunter
to do it.”
“Do you think he can find the evidence?”
“I do.” Coleman rumpled my hair.
“And what about Aurora?”
“The deputy over in Lafayette County said they were reopening that case. It will mean disinterment, but if there was poison, they should be able to find it.”
“I can’t help but wonder why Darla didn’t speak up sooner,” I said.
“The cases in both deaths were closed quickly. I’m not faulting the investigators. There was no reason to believe it was other than suicide and accident,” he said. “An older woman whose husband is cheating on her in one case. Suicide isn’t that far-fetched. Then with Johnny Bresland, a hunting accident. It happens more than people know. It adds up.”
“Except for the inheritance. It was right there when we finally went looking. Clarissa was smart to kill the Breslands in two different jurisdictions.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Will Clarissa be charged?”
“Goode has assured me that if the evidence points to her guilt, she’ll be turned over to the proper authorities and prosecuted.”
“And Kathleen?” The last time I’d seen her, she was being led away in handcuffs.
“Same for her. And Tulla Tarbutton also. She was involved in duping an innocent man into committing a felony.”
The others came out of the house. Tinkie locked the front door of the Bissonnette House and put the key under the mat for one of Goode’s fellow officers to retrieve. She picked up the kitty carrier. Oscar hadn’t stood a chance trying to halt her adoption of Gumbo. Soon the Richmond household would be brimming with pets and a child.
“Our work here is done,” Tinkie said, putting the kitty carrier in the limo. “Next year, no matter where we travel or what’s going on, we are not taking a case.”
“Amen to that,” Coleman and Oscar said together. They were acting way too much like Tinkie and me.
Millie picked up her bag before Coleman could load it. “Len is going to take me home,” she said. She looked at the deputy and her smile held only happiness.
“We’ll want details when we get back to Zinnia,” Cece said in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear and for the Tippah County deputy, who took the bag from Millie’s hand, to blush to the roots of his hair.
“Then we’re off. We still have to get home in time to cook Christmas dinner,” Harold said. “The party is at my house.”
“But first a little Christmas Eve fun,” Coleman said as he patted my butt. “I can’t wait.”
35
Coleman was sound asleep when I got up Christmas morning. I lit a fire in the parlor and turned the stove on to heat. I wouldn’t attempt scratch biscuits, but I’d bought some heat-and-serve biscuits from a little bakery in Columbus.
As I prepared a special Christmas morning breakfast for my lover, my thoughts were on the treacheries of revenge. I’d won my bet with Coleman, and last night he’d gone a long way toward paying off his debt. In a way, though, the whole mess that Darla had set in motion was also about money. She felt cheated out of her due. Part of that rested with Aurora, though, not just Clarissa. And whatever sympathy I’d had for Darla, I lost when I thought of Kathleen. She was a decent person who’d become a criminal because of her love for Darla. It was all just so depressing.
I’d left my cell phone plugged in to the charger on the kitchen counter, and just as I reached for it, “Unfaithful” began to play. My phone was possessed by Rihanna. This was the Christmas that just kept on giving.
I backed away from the phone and it stopped. “Great.” I picked it up and examined it. Nothing unusual there. Not until the Eagles took it over. “Lyin’ Eyes” started up.
“Nope, nada, stop!” I turned it off. It came back on, still in the Eagles mode.
Suddenly the kitchen fell away from me and I was standing on a street in New York City. The wind was literally howling, and debris was everywhere, blowing in mini-cyclones. I saw a beautiful woman with an armload of packages struggling against the wind. Suddenly she stumbled and fell. When she stood up, her knee was bleeding.
I knew instantly what movie I’d fallen into, Unfaithful. And I knew who the actress, Diane Lane, really was. Jitty was welcoming me back home with her usual torment. The movie scene faded away and I was back in the kitchen with Jitty.
“You never know when temptation is going to strike,” Diane/Jitty said.
“It isn’t the sex that does the damage, it’s the lying,” I responded.
“No, cheating on someone who loves you does its own kind of damage.”
Jitty was right. “Cheating is a bad thing,” I agreed.
“And sometimes irresistible.”
“What has you in such a charitable mood?” Jitty was seldom forgiving of the foibles of humanity—living humanity at least. And she was pretty intolerant of the shenanigans of some of the residents in the Great Beyond. Jitty believed in doing your duty and shouldering your responsibilities.
“It’s Christmas,” Jitty said. As beautiful as Diane Lane was, when Jitty took over and Diane faded away, she was even more lovely. And she was wearing my favorite ugly Christmas sweater and some awful plaid sweatpants that I’d been hunting for two weeks.
“You’re filled with the Christmas spirit?” I asked.
“I’d rather be filled with some good vittles.” She waved a hand at my cell phone and Dean Martin began to croon “Winter Wonderland.”
“People make so much trouble for themselves,” I said as I took a dozen eggs from the refrigerator. If I hurried, I might be able to serve Coleman breakfast in bed. We had plenty of time before we had to be at Harold’s.
“You hit that nail on the head,” Jitty agreed.
I glanced at her to see if she was okay. She normally never agreed with me. It was a matter of principle with her. I cracked the eggs, whipped them with a dollop of milk, and put them in a hot skillet. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail I had breakfast done and on a tray for Coleman, complete with a red carnation and a candy cane.
“What will you do for lunch?” I asked Jitty. I had a sudden pang of sorrow for her.
“I got my own dinner to go to. Lots of people there, you know.”
“My parents?” I smiled at the thought of that Christmas dinner. Aunt Loulane, my great-great-grandma Alice, the various uncles, aunts, and crazy cousins who’d gone before me.
“Your mama said to tell you she loves you.”
I felt the tears behind my eyelids. “I know.”
“And your daddy says to make that Coleman give you a Taser.”
“I’m hoping there’s one under the tree.” It was just like my daddy to think about the practical aspects of safety.
“Go feed that man,” Jitty said as she began slowly to fade. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
That was a promise I intended to hold her to. Just as I picked up the tray, Sweetie Pie came through the doggie door, with Pluto on her heels. They followed me up to the bedroom, where they knew Coleman would share the bounty of his breakfast. And I would bask in the holiday glow of true love.
Acknowledgments
Books take a lot of work, from the original idea and writing to the editing, art, and distribution. Thanks to my wonderful team at St. Martin’s Press, my agent Marina Young, the booksellers who shelve my books, and the readers who have allowed me to write about Sarah Booth and the Zinnia gang for more than two decades. Another thanks to the residents of Columbus, a truly lovely Mississippi city.
ALSO BY CAROLYN HAINES
SARAH BOOTH DELANEY MYSTERIES
The Devil’s Bones
Game of Bones
A Gift of Bones
Sticks and Bones
Rock-a-Bye Bones
Bone to Be Wild
Booty Bones
Smarty Bones
Bonefire of the Vanities
Bones of a Feather
Bone Appetit
Greedy Bones
Wishbones
Bones to Pick
Hallowed Bones
Crossed Bones
Splintered Bones
Buried Bones
Them Bones
Charmed Bones
NOVELS
A Visitation of Angels
The Specter of Seduction
The House of Memory
The Book of Beloved
Familiar Trouble
Revenant
Fever Moon
Penumbra
Judas Burning
Touched
Summer of the Redeemers
Summer of Fear
The Darkling
The Seeker
NONFICTION
My Mother’s Witness: The Peggy Morgan Story
About the Author
Carolyn Haines is the USA Today bestselling author of the Sarah Booth Delaney mystery series and a number of other books in mystery and crime, including the Pluto’s Snitch paranormal-historical mystery series, and Trouble, the Black Cat Detective romantic suspense books. She is the recipient of the Harper Lee Award for Distinguished Writing, the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence, and the Mississippi Writers Guild Lifetime Achievement Award. She is a former journalist, bartender, photographer, farmhand, and college professor and lives on a farm where she works with rescue cats, dogs, and horses. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A Garland of Bones Page 25
