“What would that be?” Anger simmered in the man’s eyes, and his voice was a dare.
“You are one handsome hunk of man!” Cece tilted a shoulder. “I’m Cece Dee Falcon, society editor of the Zinnia Dispatch. I’d really like to ... interview you.”
“Cece!” Tinkie and I spoke in unison.
“Oh, calm down.” She stepped around us so that she was beside Renata’s brother. “If I have a few moments with Colin Farrell, here, I think I can make him understand that you’re falsely accused, Sarah Booth.” She smiled up at him. “I’d sure like to give it the old college try.”
“You’re the person who wrote that awful review.”
Cece frowned. “That might have been my assistant.”
“Cece!” Tinkie and I spoke in unison again.
“Oh, hush.” She shook a finger at us. “And mind your own business.” She turned to Renata’s brother. “What’s your name, shu-ga?”
“Gabriel Trovaioli.” His anger hadn’t dissipated at all.
“Gabriel, I’d be glad to hear your side of the story, but I have to tell you, Sarah Booth wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not even an insect like Renata.”
I wanted to knock Cece upside the head. She wasn’t helping matters at all.
“My sister called me the afternoon she died.” He turned angry eyes on me. “She told me she was afraid Sarah Booth Delaney would kill her.”
“What?” I didn’t believe it. I hadn’t even been near Renata. “That’s ridiculous.”
“She said you were desperate to get on stage and that you and Graf had rekindled your love affair. She said you’d kill her and that Graf would try to cover for you.”
“That’s a pretty serious accusation.” Millie held a coffeepot in one hand and looked as if she might throw it. “If Cece would quit thinking with her crotch, she’d point out that slander is a serious charge.”
Thank goodness for Millie. She wasn’t immune to a handsome face, but she didn’t let a good-looking man addle her brain.
“I didn’t hurt Renata,” I said crisply.
“Like you’d admit to killing her.” He iced me with his gaze.
“Mr. Trovaioli, I didn’t like your sister. She was an arrogant woman with a mean streak a mile wide. But I didn’t kill her. I didn’t even wish her dead.”
He studied me. “You are good,” he finally said. “She said you’d been working on your acting, and you’re convincing enough.”
My appetite was completely gone. Everyone in the café had stopped all pretense of eating. Booter and her table full of DGs watched with unadulterated pleasure. “I’m not acting. I’m innocent. At least of hurting Renata in any way.”
“She warned me that you’d deny it. But I have proof.”
That was impossible. There wasn’t proof because I hadn’t done anything.
“What proof?” Tinkie rose and came to stand behind my shoulder.
“Ms. Delaney works fast. She’s already booked for a screen test in Hollywood next week, as soon as the play closes.”
I was as stunned as Millie, Tinkie, and Cece. They all turned to look at me with varying degrees of amazement.
“I haven’t scheduled any screen test, and even if I had, it isn’t evidence that I killed Renata.”
“You’re busted, Ms. Delaney. Paramount Studios. Director Federico Marquez has ordered the test.” He acted as if he held the smoking gun.
Graf hadn’t even bothered to wait for me to agree. He’d gone on and scheduled my screen test. On the one hand, it showed his faith in my ability. On the other hand, it made me look guilty as sin. Denial was the river I chose to swim. “I can’t help what arrangements Graf has made. I didn’t agree to any screen test.”
“Then you’re turning it down?” Gabriel asked.
It was like a tennis match. Heads swiveled from me to Gabriel and back to me. “I don’t know.” I spoke firmly. “Since I didn’t know about this screen test, I have to think about it.”
“Excuse me.” Cece picked up her purse that matched her purple suede heels. “I just have the scoop for my next story. Sarah Booth has screen test.”
“You can’t print that!” I made a grab for her elbow and missed.
“Of course I can, dahling.”
“Cece, I don’t know if I’m going to take the test or not.”
“Of course you will.” She smiled at me and winked at Gabriel. “But even if you don’t, it’s still a great story.”
She walked out of the café with everyone watching. The door closed and I turned to face Tinkie. “If she prints that, it’ll make me look guilty.”
“You already look guilty,” Tinkie said. “That’s why we have to get busy.” She handed Millie a twenty and blew her a kiss. “We’ll be back.”
She took my elbow and marched me past Gabriel, who settled at our empty table. As I walked past the front window, I saw Booter headed for him. If he had any doubts about my guilt, he wouldn’t by the time Booter finished with him.
Tinkie headed out of town and I was too depressed to ask her where we were going. Circumstantial evidence was piling up around me like kindling around Joan of Arc. The most solid evidence was the poison found in my car. I still hadn’t figured that one out. How did it get there? The only poison I’d ever hauled in the roadster involved killing fire ants. That was a far cry from cyanide.
“Why would Renata tell her brother that you were going to kill her?” Tinkie didn’t look at me as she asked the question. Her gaze was on the four-lane that headed north to Memphis.
“I have no idea.” I spoke stiffly.
“Did you threaten her, Sarah Booth?”
At first the question cut me deeply, but I held myself in check and thought through my answer. Tinkie knew I had a temper, and she knew that Renata worked on my control. It wasn’t such an unreasonable question to ask. I might have threatened Renata. “No.”
She glanced at me, and her right hand patted my shoulder. “I know you didn’t kill her, I’m just trying to get a handle on all of this. You’ve got to admit, it’s strange that her brother would show up and say she feared that you were going to hurt her.”
“How do we even know what he says is true. He might have heard that I was a suspect and decided to add fuel to the fire. Or maybe he killed her and is using me as a scapegoat!”
Tinkie sucked on her bottom lip. It gently popped free of her teeth in a manner that made men weak with desire. “I don’t think that sounds right. Why would he pick you?”
“Maybe Renata bad-mouthed me.” That was about a ninety-nine-percent probability.
“That’s good.” Tinkie smiled. “She realized you had more talent, so she decided to smear your name to everyone she knew.”
Even as Tinkie said it, I knew it was stretching a point. “Maybe. But what difference does it make why she did it?”
Tinkie took a deep breath. “Because Gabriel will go straight to Coleman, Sarah Booth. You don’t think he came all the way to Zinnia to have a scene in a café, do you? He’s here to see you put in jail.”
“Great.” That was exactly what I needed. One more person wanting my hide. I slumped in the seat. “Where are we going?”
“To the cosmetic store where you got that lipstick. If the poison wasn’t on the lipstick when you picked it up, then someone had to put it on it afterward. It’ll help us track down the killer when we decide before or after.”
Tinkie was brilliant. Thank God she was on the case or my future would be toast.
“Tell me the address and then you take a nap. You have to be ready for the stage tonight.”
“I didn’t tell Graf I would have a screen test.”
She lifted her chin a tad. “Sarah Booth, he’s offering you a chance at your dream.”
“If any of it’s real.”
“You and Graf had a special magic on the stage. If a camera can capture it, I think—”
“I don’t know if that’s my dream anymore, Tinkie. I have a life here, a business. A home with Sweetie Pie
and Reveler.”
“I know. Just don’t pass it up without thinking about all of it. You can make a lot of money in Hollywood. You wouldn’t have to stay out there forever.” The car zipped through the empty cotton fields, headed north faster than the speed limit.
“I haven’t said no, but I haven’t said yes. And just for the record, I wouldn’t agree to anything without discussing it with you, partner.”
“I know that, Sarah Booth. That’s why I knew Gabriel Trovaioli wasn’t speaking the truth.”
I closed my eyes and settled against the plush leather seat of her Cadillac. In less than an hour we’d be in Memphis, and I did need the rest. Between stage anxiety and being charged with murder, I wasn’t sleeping well.
The shop was tucked into a row of boutiques in an artsy part of downtown Memphis. When I’d gone to get the lipstick, I’d hardly noticed. I’d been so furious at Renata’s imperious demands that I’d been blind to the quaint beauty of the area. Traffic was thick, but Tinkie found a parking place only a block away. We walked to La Burnisco Salon, an umber stucco front with a black and white awning over the beveled glass door. Inside, glass counters like those found in a jewelry shop showed displays of cosmetics. The precious jewels of La Burnisco.
The elderly man who’d waited on me wasn’t behind the counter. A tall, elegant blonde eyed us from behind the counter. She dismissed me instantly and focused on Tinkie.
“May I help you?” she asked, and I wasn’t included in the question.
“Is the manager in?” Tinkie smiled.
“Yes.” The blonde’s perfect face gave nothing away.
“May I see him?”
“You’re looking at her.” She didn’t smile.
“Okay.” Tinkie’s tone was terse. “I want to see the elderly man who was in here three days ago and sold my friend a tube of lipstick.”
She didn’t flick so much as an eyebrow. “There’s no elderly man working here. Not today. Not ever. Old men wouldn’t sell many cosmetics.” What passed for a smile touched the corners of her mouth. I was convinced she’d Botoxed herself into permanent facial paralysis.
“Look, my friend picked up a tube of lipstick. A special order for Renata Trovaioli. A man sold it to her.”
“Not at this shop.”
Tinkie stepped as close to the counter as she could get. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running here, but I want to see the old man.”
At last the blonde looked at me. “Is she on medication?”
That was the final straw. Tinkie did a side step and maneuvered behind the counter before the blonde could blink. Tinkie rushed to the door at the back of the shop and flung it open. In a split second she disappeared from sight. I’d never seen Tinkie move so fast or so determinedly.
The blonde sauntered to a telephone, picked it up and dialed three numbers. I didn’t have to be psychic to know she’d called the police.
“I’d like to report a robbery in progress,” she said. “La Burnisco Salon, 122 Alva Street. Yes. This madwoman is ransacking my shop.” She hung up and looked at me. “I suggest you get your friend and get out of here before the cops arrive.”
“An old man sold me a tube of lipstick. Almond Mocha Retreat. For Renata Trovaioli. I picked it up right here. He was standing right there. You can’t—”
“My name is Carlotta La Burnisco and I’m the sole owner of this business. I create all of my own cosmetics, and though I have an A-list of clients, Renata Trovaioli is not one of them. I have no idea where you think you were, but it wasn’t this shop.” She pointed to the door where Tinkie had disappeared. “Get your friend and leave before you end up behind bars.”
“Tinkie! She called the cops.” I rushed back to find Tinkie examining a storage room. There was no one else in sight.
“Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed her arm and began to pull her to the front door.
“Are you sure you came to this shop?” Tinkie turned in all directions. “There’s no place an old man could hide.”
“I came here. I got the lipstick from an old guy who looked like he belonged in a Dickens novel. Muttonchop whiskers, curly white hair around a bald spot, rimless glasses perched on his nose.” I remembered him completely. In vivid detail.
“Are you sure, Sarah Booth?”
And with that question, I wasn’t any longer. I’d been so angry and hadn’t paid attention. Could I have gone to another shop, a place where Renata’s lipstick had been poisoned? Tinkie read my face, and hers showed concern.
“Let’s talk about this somewhere else.” This time she took my arm and led me out the door and onto the street. We were pulling away when the cops arrived, sirens blaring.
“My credit card will show the purchase.” I suddenly felt better. I’d charged the lipstick to my card knowing I’d be reimbursed.
“Thank goodness.” A little of the tension left her face. “How could you not remember the lipstick shop?”
“I do remember it. La Burnisco. 122 Alva Street. I remember the black and white awning, and the stucco front. The color was so rich. I remember that.” But as I spoke we passed several shops nearly the same color. Two of them also had striped awnings. It was part of the historical décor.
“Tinkie, I came to Memphis and got that lipstick for Renata. I didn’t open it.”
“I believe you, Sarah Booth. You don’t have to convince me. It’s Coleman and a jury I’m worried about.”
In my mind I saw twelve Sunflower Countians sitting in the jury box ready to judge me. It wasn’t a comforting prospect.
“Where would I have come up with a tube of lipstick called Almond Mocha Retreat? The exact shade Renata asked for. I couldn’t have produced that in a couple of hours’ time. And you know Renata, had it not been the right shade and the right tube, she would have thrown a hissy fit.”
“That’s true. As I said, Sarah Booth, I believe you.”
“But you don’t think anyone else will.” I could see it in her expression. She drove without looking at me, and when I saw the glimmer of a tear in the corner of her eye, I realized she was worried about me. That, more than anything else, frightened me.
“What am I going to do?”
“We’re going to get to the bottom of this.” She hesitated. “Sarah Booth, what’s going on between you and Coleman?”
“I wish I knew.” Normally I’d try to hide the fact that I’d been dumped. I was too dejected to even try to disguise my dismay.
“He filed for divorce. I checked.”
Leave it to Tinkie to get the facts, but this wasn’t only about Renata’s murder. “There’s something wrong with Connie.”
Tinkie tapped her toe. “We’ve known that for months. But that doesn’t explain why Coleman is acting so bizarre. I know he doesn’t believe you killed Renata.”
I kept my voice steady and my eyes dry, but it took an act of will. “Connie has a brain tumor. They’re operating today and I was supposed to go with him for the surgery.”
“You didn’t refuse, did you?”
The question hung between us as we crossed the Tennessee-Mississippi line. It was a long time before I spoke. “He never even called me. Coleman may be jealous of Graf.”
“Does he know about your past with him?”
“He knows Graf and I were lovers. There’s no telling what else has been passed on to Coleman.”
“That could account for his peculiar conduct.”
“There’s no excuse for thinking the woman you love is a murderer.”
“We don’t know Coleman thinks that.” She took the highway that led to Dahlia House so I could prepare for the play.
“If he didn’t think it, wouldn’t he say he didn’t think it?” I was exasperated.
Tinkie glanced at me, a withering look. “What do you expect, Sarah Booth? He is a man, isn’t he?”
Chapter 8
As we pulled into the driveway of Dahlia House, I sat upright. A patrol car was parked at the front door, and I knew Coleman hadn�
�t come for a social call. Coleman was in Jackson. With his wife.
I considered asking Tinkie to turn around and leave, but I needed to get ready for the play. As we cruised to the front of the house, I saw Gordon Walters leaning against the patrol car.
When I got out, he walked over, a slight flush touching his cheeks.
“Ms. Tinkie, Sarah Booth, how are y’all doing?”
Gordon had never been one to sit out in the cold without good reason, which concerned me.
“What’s going on?” Tinkie asked.
“The sheriff asked me to come by and remind the two of you that Sarah Booth is the main suspect in a murder.”
“Like I’d forget that,” I snapped. “What’s wrong with Coleman? Has he completely lost it?”
Gordon looked like I’d asked him to reveal his most intimate secret. “I don’t know.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “I honestly don’t know, Sarah Booth, but I’m worried about him. He hasn’t eaten or slept. He acts like a bear with his leg in a trap, and he took off about an hour ago and didn’t say where he was going.”
“And you stood out here in the cold to tell me that?” I didn’t believe it for a minute.
“Sarah Booth!” Tinkie frowned at me.
“She’s right,” Gordon admitted, the flush once again touching his olive skin. “Coleman sent me to tell you that as a person charged in a murder case, you’re not supposed to leave the county. That means no more trips to Memphis.”
Two things struck me as audacious—the first was that Coleman had sent someone to remind me of my felonious state, and the second was that Coleman would attempt to order me about as if ... well, as if I were charged with murder. That more than likely meant that I had broken my bond by traipsing off to Memphis with Tinkie. The truth was, I hadn’t honestly considered myself a suspect so all the rules and regulations given in a spiel by the bail bondsman had gone in one ear and out the other. Tinkie put a cold hand on my wrist.
“Gordon, I simply didn’t think. I just don’t consider Sarah Booth a serious suspect.”
“I know.” Gordon almost dug his toe in the shell driveway as he hung his head. “Technically, I should arrest her for violation of bond, but I won’t do it. I know she didn’t hurt that actress.”
Ham Bones Page 7
