Bone to Be Wild

by Carolyn Haines

  I crushed out the cigarette in preparation to challenge the watcher. As I turned I bumped into a broad chest and let out a startled yelp.

  Scott had come out to check on me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” The watcher was gone, and the branches of a small shrub swayed in the wind. Could I have imagined the figure? “How about you?”

  “That bit about Wilton threw me for a loop. A year has passed and he can’t seem to let it go. That he’d go to the trouble of calling Parker French and have knowledge of the club here. It’s just a little unsettling.”

  “There’s a lot about Frasbaum you don’t know.” I filled him in on the sexual assault charges.

  Scott was suitably angered. “He hid all of it. You think he’s here?” He scanned the velvety night. “Waiting to hurt me or someone else?”

  “I don’t know, but it never hurts to be careful.” Scott’s nerves were stretched to the snapping point. I’d tell Coleman what I’d seen.

  “At least the opening is behind us,” he said.

  Scott should have been celebrating, but he was down. “It was a great night, Scott. The band is incredible. You’re sex on a stick. I think this place does have a special mojo.”

  “I knew it was the right place for us. Gut instinct. I’m so relieved. The opening was better than I ever anticipated. Parker French in the audience. The night went better than I’d dared to hope.” He pumped himself up.

  I couldn’t help teasing him a little. “I watched all the women getting hot and bothered for you.” Scott had every right to be on top of the world. His opening had been stellar. Despite Madame Tomeeka’s dream and the intrusion from Wilton, we’d concluded the night without bloodshed.

  He laughed and ducked his chin. For a man who could summon unending stage presence and make his guitar moan like a woman to his touch, Scott had a shy streak. “Can I give you a lift home?”

  Tinkie had picked me up and brought me to the club. She and Oscar were still inside talking with Tammy and Parker French. Cece and Jaytee had beat it out the door like their tail feathers were on fire—and I had no doubt when they got home a few sparks would fly. Almost everyone else had left, except Tatiana and the three waitresses, and they were putting the club in order.

  “That would be great. You sure you don’t need to stay?”

  “That’s why I earn the big bucks,” he said. “I’m the boss.”

  We headed toward Scott’s van when the back door of the club flew open and Tatiana ran out calling Scott’s name. Her panic was like a live electrical wire, twisting and sparking.

  “What is it?” Scott tried for calm, but his nerves had been stretched to the max, opening the club and expecting an attack at any time.

  “I was helping clean up the kitchen, and I heard the phone in your office. I shouldn’t have, I guess, but I answered it.” She was frantic. “It was a woman. She said blood would be spilled. She said you’d been warned, and now the price would be paid.”

  “Coleman!” I called him and the tone of my voice brought both lawmen over. Tatiana repeated what had happened. “There’s been another threat to Scott and the club.”

  We went back inside where it was warm and Tatiana went over what had happened several times while Coleman began the process of tracing the call, which proved to be futile. The caller had used a drop phone, just as in prior calls. The difference was this time the caller was female. Tatiana was positive about it. When I reluctantly reported the elusive watcher, Scott stood.

  “This is stupid, but I can’t risk another person’s life,” he said. “I have to consider closing the club, at least for a few weeks.”

  “And that will bankrupt you,” Oscar said quietly.

  Tinkie put her hands on her hips. “I don’t understand why a juke joint has become such a controversy. They’ve existed in the Delta since the slaves were freed. Sensible people really can’t believe there’s a connection between this music and the devil. Sure, this location has a reputation, but for heaven’s sake, it’s a legend, a story to bring tourists to town.”

  “Never underestimate the stupidity of people,” Coleman said wearily. “They’re sheep. It’s an old story. When someone preys on the fears of ignorant people, their reaction is predictable. That’s how lynch mobs are whipped into a frenzy and how gangs stay in power.”

  “Whoever is behind this is slick,” I said. “It’s almost as if they had eyes on us.”

  “Tatiana, can you think of anything distinctive about the caller’s voice?”

  “I was too scared to pay close attention. I’m sorry.” She slumped in her chair. “I’ve been thinking, though, and she said, ‘We will spill their blood.’ It was strange, the way the words were put together.”

  Coleman rolled his shoulders. “Everyone should go home. We’ll tackle this in the morning. The security team will stay here until the cleanup is complete. Let’s hope that reward money Yancy Bellow put up brings a few grubs out from under rocks.”

  Scott started to say something but I touched his arm. “Don’t make any decisions until tomorrow,” I said.

  13

  As it turned out, Scott gave me a ride home, but Tinkie, Oscar, and Coleman also came along. DeWayne stayed at the club until the doors were locked. At Coleman’s request, Tatiana had written down the words of the threat, as exactly as she could remember them.

  “It’s almost as if this person is taking pleasure in torturing us,” Tinkie said. “She or they or whoever wants us to suffer. They call to tell us they intend to hurt someone so we can fret and go nuts trying to figure it out.”

  Tinkie’s words silenced everyone sitting around the kitchen table. I’d poured fresh coffee and served the apple pie Millie had dropped by earlier. She’d let most of her staff off to attend the club opening, which meant she’d had to stay at the café. Always thinking of others, she provided pie for the after-opening gathering.

  “Tatiana said the woman sounded ordinary, but muffled, like she meant to disguise her voice,” Tinkie said. “What she remembered was the strange phrasing. ‘We will spill their blood. You were warned and now the price will be paid.’”

  “‘We will spill their blood,’” Scott repeated the words. “Sounds like movie dialogue.”

  “It’s poetic, in its way,” Tinkie said.

  “Money isn’t the motivation here. It’s strictly the club. Someone wants Scott to fail,” Oscar added.

  “Because they hate me or because they hate the blues?” Scott asked.

  “I wish I could say for certain.” Oscar rubbed his eyes wearily. “The only thing I know is that this isn’t an empty threat. Koby Shavers is dead. Everyone associated with the club has to use extreme caution, and that includes you, Tinkie, and you, Sarah Booth.”

  “Agreed,” Tinkie and I said in unison.

  “At this point, we have to move forward assuming everyone associated with the club is in danger,” Coleman said. “Before we do anything else, call everyone in the band and all the serving staff at the club including Curtis Hebert and warn them to be alert.” He was frustrated and angry, high spots of color on his cheekbones.

  “I should simply close down. Give it a few weeks,” Scott said. “It isn’t worth risking my friends.”

  The cost to Scott would be high. “Surely we can figure this out.”

  “We will, Sarah Booth,” Coleman said. “But right now, I agree with Scott. I think he should take out an ad in the local paper and say the club is on hiatus. Folks had a great time tonight. They’ll remember and return when the club reopens.”

  “How will Scott pay the bills without income?” I asked.

  “I can provide a personal loan,” Oscar offered. “You have to meet payroll and pay the liquor distributors. If your credit is bad there, you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Thank you.” Scott looked around the room. “If I ever doubted how much I would love living here in Zinnia, you’ve put all my concerns to rest. The offer of the loan is very generous. I’ll consider it, along with other
options.”

  He meant taking a partner, the thing he didn’t want to do. Scott was a proud man and he wouldn’t take on a debt he wasn’t absolutely positive he could repay. Especially not from someone he viewed as a friend.

  Coleman stood up, effectively shutting the meeting down. “Scott, talk to your employees. Tatiana was shaken up. She may know more than she realizes. Try to jog her memory, she may be more comfortable talking to you. Sarah Booth, you and Tinkie put together a list of all the people who were there tonight. Cece will have photographs, and that’s a great place to start. I had the security team write down every license plate. I have a sense that whoever is behind this has a plant inside the club. These threatening calls are timed in a way that leads me to believe they know everything happening in the club.”

  “If there is a spy on the inside, we need to ferret him or her out,” Tinkie said grimly.

  Coleman signaled me to walk out with him. I slid into my jacket and stepped into the cold night. Sweetie Pie had come out with me, and Pluto sat in the window, watching.

  “You checked the background on the band members?” he asked.

  “I did. I told you Zeb and Mike both had tough beginnings, but they seemed to have left that behind. Jaytee was clean as a whistle.”

  “Did you check Tatiana?”

  I hadn’t. “She wasn’t in town when Koby was killed.”

  “Check her.”

  “Okay. Do you suspect something?”

  He sighed. “I don’t. But I don’t really have a lot to go on here. Think about it. The killer is calling and warning Scott about impending death. What’s the point? Why do that? It isn’t logical.”

  I couldn’t argue.

  “I’ll check Tatiana’s background tomorrow and let you know.” I had a possibility I didn’t want to bring up, but I had to. “Do you think it was Gertrude calling tonight? To create worry and unhappiness. Her hatred of me is irrational. She really believes my mother told people about her pregnancy, which is ridiculous. My mother never opened her mouth, and even if she had, why should Gertrude hate me so much?”

  “Sins of the mother,” he shrugged. “Gertrude knows you and Scott were once involved. She might be behind all of this, Sarah Booth. I’ve asked surrounding counties to send a few deputies over to help me out. If I get the manpower, I’ll put an officer on her.”

  “I wouldn’t have suspected Gertrude would know about burner phones and such.” The depth of hatred required to kill an innocent man just to hurt me was staggering, but she’d almost crippled a man who’d done her no harm—because she wanted to hurt me.

  “We greatly underestimated Gertrude in the past. We won’t let that happen a second time. And she’s irrational where you’re concerned, Sarah Booth. I’ll have a word with her.”

  “Thank you.” The old bat should be behind bars, but I had no power to change the situation until her trial came up.

  “I’ll make sure she knows I’m watching her close—” Coleman’s cell phone interrupted his reply. His face tightened. “Scott is here,” he said into the phone. “I’ll let him know.”

  Something awful had happened. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Come back inside. Mike Hawkins has been shot.”

  His tone propelled me in the door with him. He went straight to the kitchen. “Scott, come with me. Someone in a black truck drove by Mike Hawkins’s house and gunned him down in his front yard. He’s still alive and being transported to the hospital. I’ll take you there.”

  “How bad is he?” Scott bolted to his feet.

  “Bad. You need to hurry to the hospital.”

  The rest of us stood, unmoving, stunned by the news. Oscar recovered first and whipped out his phone. In a moment he had Cece on the line. “You and Jaytee watch your step,” Oscar said, filling her in. “Stay inside. Don’t go out. Coleman will be in touch with any information. Scott is headed to the hospital. No, Cece. Stay inside your house.”

  Oscar’s dire tone galvanized me to action. “We’ll call the rest of the band members and staff. Come on, Tinkie.”

  Coleman and Scott rushed out after promising to call the minute they had news. As he left, Coleman called the security men to go to Mike’s house and secure the scene until he could get there. Oscar offered to help us, but when we assured him we could handle calling the others, he went home to check on Chablis. Basking in the success of the club opening was over.

  When Tinkie and I were finally alone, I slumped into a chair. “Oh, Sarah Booth,” she said, comforting me. “This is terrible.”

  I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. As if the sky sympathized, it opened up with a crack of lightning and a boom of thunder. I felt like the bones had been sucked out of my body. Sweetie put her head in my lap and Pluto jumped on the kitchen table and headbutted me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t believe this has happened again.” I accidentally swept a coffee cup off the table. The cup crashed to the floor. “Dammit to hell and back.” I picked up another cup and threw it at the wall. It broke too. “I want to beat the snot out of the person responsible for this.”

  “If cursing would help, I’d cut loose.” Tinkie wiped at the coffee that had spattered on my blouse. “We can dress you up but we can’t take you anywhere.”

  At last I chuckled.

  “There it is,” she said. “Nothing wrong with anger, but follow with a laugh. You don’t want your emotional gauge to get stuck in the hot zone.”

  My lack of emotional control embarrassed me, but Tinkie took it right in stride. “I’m okay now.” I picked up the broken cup. “This is just unfair. I’m worried for Scott. He’ll close the club now and lose everything. It’s better than risking the band, but it’s just not right.”

  “I hear you. Let’s get the band members on the phone. The sooner we do it, the safer they’ll be.”

  She took Davy Joiner, the bass player, and I called Zeb Kohl, the drummer with the gangster past. He sounded like he was asleep when he answered.

  “Zeb, I have some bad news. Mike was gunned down outside his house. I don’t know how bad it is, but he’s on the way to the hospital.”

  “Damn. Let me grab some clothes.”

  “Don’t.” I cut him off. “Stay where you are. Lock the doors. Be alert. It won’t do any good to be at the hospital right now. Stay inside.”

  “How about his wife and kid? Are they okay?”

  “I’m pretty sure they are. I believe Danni called the ambulance and the sheriff. When I get news I’ll call. I promise. Just stay put.”

  “This is my fault.” Zeb’s voice cracked. “I’m responsible.”

  “The person responsible is the person who pulled the trigger. But tell me what you’re talking about.” Calm settled over me. “Why are you to blame?”

  “I owe money to bad people. A lot of money.” He squeezed the words out.

  I’d done the background on Zeb, and I knew he’d once run with a gang, but all indications were he’d made a clean break. “You could have told us this sooner.” I couldn’t help the snap in my voice.

  “I didn’t want Scott to know. I got mixed up with bad people and I owe them money. All of this happened before I hooked up with the band. I thought I’d taken care of this, but about a week ago, I got a call.”

  I struggled with the impulse to say something cutting and mean. Koby Shaver was dead. Mike Hawkins wounded, and from the sounds of it critically. Now Zeb was finally speaking up. “Was it a threat?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded defeated. “I’m so sorry. I never thought they’d hurt anyone but me. And I assured them I’d have the money for them soon. Once the club opened, Scott said we’d all get big bonuses.”

  “If you’re dead you can’t pay the money back.”

  Tinkie had hung up and whipped around, shock on her face. “What’s going on?”

  I held up a hand to silence her. “Tell me what they said. Exactly.”

  “The guy who called said they knew where I was and if I didn’t bring th
em the money I owed, I’d find out what hell was all about.”

  “How much do you owe?”

  “Two hundred thousand.”

  “Holy shit, Zeb.” It was a staggering amount. “How did you get in so deep?”

  “I stole some dope. Not that much, but I stole it. It was back when I was shooting up and I had to have it. You know, dopeheads don’t think. They need the drug and they do what’s necessary to get it. So I stole from people I knew would kill me. And then I split town.”

  I waved Tinkie to pick up the other phone. I’d called on the landline, and there was an extension right beside her. “Zeb, I’m surprised they didn’t track you down and kill you long before now. Nobody steals two hundred thousand from a gang and expects to live.”

  “It was only about five thousand dollars’ worth of heroin.”

  “Then why do you owe—“

  “It’s the interest. They compound it. I could have gone back to work for the gang, come up with financial plans and ways to move money. I could have paid off the debt, but that’s when Scott gave me a chance. I quit using, cleaned myself up. I thought as soon as I saved enough, I’d repay them. I didn’t realize how the debt would grow. Then it was too much to ever pay back and we left for Europe.”

  “Folks don’t walk away from a gang. And you moved right back in their neighborhood. Memphis is two hours north at best.” He was in a mess. Tinkie shook her head, warning me not to speak so rashly. She’d quickly picked up on what Zeb was talking about.

  “I’ve avoided them for over a year. I thought … man, I guess I didn’t think clearly at all.”

  I had to remind myself I was dealing with a man who’d walked away from a million-dollar income as an outlaw to play the drums in a band. It was the rare musician who earned more than poverty wages.

  “Zeb, this is Tinkie Bellcase Richmond. You have to tell this to Sheriff Peters,” she said, but her tone was sympathetic.

  “I’ll tell Scott at the hospital. I’ll turn myself in to the sheriff and he can take me back to Memphis. I’ll do whatever I have to do to prevent anyone else getting hurt.”