Bone to Be Wild

by Carolyn Haines

  Steam rose from the top of Tinkie’s head. “How dare you—”

  Coleman burst into laughter, along with everyone else, even me. “Sorry, Tinkie,” he said, “but I knew you’d see the humor once you got over being mad.”

  “I don’t find that humorous. Not really.” Tinkie was pensive, not angry. “Why would women participate in such a repressive belief system? What about those people who believed in Jebediah Farley? Their lives are ruined. Or at least upturned. Some of them will never be able to find their old lives. To believe in someone and something and then realize it’s all about power and money…”

  She’d summed it up far better than I could.

  “This is a tragedy,” Coleman said. “For a lot of people. Most of all for those who cared about Koby Shavers.”

  “And Bijou?” I asked. “Will she see jail time?”

  “It’s out of my hands,” Mason said.

  “Because she cooperated?” Tinkie asked.

  “She did. She allowed us to use her property, which gave us an edge. And she set up meetings with wealthy men. We’ll follow up on those and hopefully round up some of the big money people, but we really don’t have any solid evidence and I never infiltrated the top rungs. Farley is a bottom-feeder.”

  “Was the bid to buy Playin’ the Bones real?” I asked.

  Mason nodded to Oscar.

  “There was money in play, but I could never get a firm lead on where it was coming from,” Oscar said.

  “Who owned the black pickup truck?” That was a final puzzle piece.

  “It belonged to Farley. He bought it in Memphis and never registered it in Mississippi. He kept it in a shed on the church grounds.”

  “And who was making the threatening phone calls to the band members?” I asked.

  “Fred Doleman made most of them. The female caller—we haven’t cleared that up. We will before it’s over.”

  Mason had answered most of my questions. “Will you let us know if you take down the big money people?”

  “It won’t be me,” Mason said. “I’ve been recalled to D.C., where I’ll get a new assignment. We think the Midnight Templars will be dissolved here. At least for a while. But they have cells all over the country. There are always people who want to believe they’re superior to others, and a new leader will show up to enslave them. It’s the way of the world.”

  “Not comforting,” Tinkie said.

  Oscar put his arm around her. “And you and Sarah Booth will be here to stop it from taking root.”

  21

  Sitting in the two A.M. cold, smoking a cigarette on the front porch at Dahlia House, I tried to recognize the constellations in a black sky spangled with stardust. My father had taught them to me long ago: Orion’s Belt, the Seven Sisters, the Archer, Taurus, Scorpio. Each had a legend, a story he told, often while we were sitting in the spot I now occupied.

  Sweetie Pie snoozed beside me, and Pluto sat at my feet, his little kitty brain conjuring his next revenge plot. He was mostly over being miffed, but not completely. A word to the wise—a miffed cat is not your friend.

  Headlights turned down the drive, and for one moment my heart lifted before I reality checked myself. Graf was not coming home.

  The florist van pulled up at the front door and a young male in jeans and a coat hopped out and retrieved an enormous vase of red roses—at least three dozen.

  “Miss Delaney?” he asked, hidden behind the flowers.

  “Yes, bring them in.” I jumped up and opened the door. He placed them on the side table near the mirror. The bouquet was incredible. I’d never seen roses so big and fragrant.

  “Who sent them?” I asked.

  “There should be a card. I didn’t take the order. I’m simply the delivery guy.”

  I tipped him and he left. No florist shop in Zinnia made deliveries this late at night, so they hadn’t been sent locally. By the time I thought about checking the tag on the van, it had pulled down the drive. I couldn’t read the license plate but I did see the name of the florist. Bountiful Bouquets. I’d never heard of them. Whatever, they did lovely work.

  I went back inside and opened the card, which was typed on plain white stock. “Congratulations. Until next time.”

  A chill traced down my spine. I read the card again. The only way to interpret it was as a challenge. I considered throwing the flowers away, but they were so beautiful, and I wanted to show Coleman in the morning. I would not call anyone tonight. It was too late and everyone was exhausted. Tomorrow would be soon enough. A vase of flowers didn’t seem like an imminent threat, even if the card was weird.

  A soft voice spoke behind me. “Company’s comin’. Don’t dress for bed yet.”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know that Jitty was with me. “Sing me a song,” I requested. Now that I’d discovered Jitty could mimic all the blues greats, I had plans to keep her busy.

  “What would you like to hear?” she asked.

  Amazingly, she let me pick the song. Jitty never gave me choices. She was all about ultimatums.

  “I’d like to hear ‘Voodoo Woman,’ the Koko Taylor version.”

  “A perfect selection.” Jitty morphed into the full-cheeked diva with the mischievous eyes and big smile. She sang away, a heavenly musical accompaniment coming from somewhere. I’d learned not to ask too many questions.

  Jitty got down on my favorite part that listed all of the charms from a rabbit foot, a toad, and a crawfish to rattlesnake dust and spider bone and “if that don’t do it baby, you’d better leave it all alone.” Yes, Jitty was a voodoo woman.

  Nobody was around to watch and I got up and danced, first with Jitty and then Sweetie Pie, who cut loose with a howl that made Jitty squeal with laughter. Jitty finished the song and we tumbled out the door and collapsed onto the front steps, panting and chuckling.

  “Your dog knows good blues when she hears them,” Jitty said.

  “It’s in her blood. She’s a Delta hound. It’s in my blood too.”

  “Girl, you cut loose and juke. Time is short and youth is gone in the whisper of a sigh. Don’t set up in this house grievin’ what’s past.”

  “I promise you, Jitty, I’ll get back in action. I do need to think. Maybe this is a chance for me to define what I truly want. A bicoastal marriage was never my dream. I think about Hamilton Garrett V. I could have married him and helped him with the wonderful causes he takes on. I just couldn’t live in Paris or Europe. In my heart, I knew it.”

  Her smile was a little sad.

  “I want to live here in Dahlia House,” I continued. “I would have forced the bicoastal thing to work with Graf. It would have been hard, but I would have done it. Now, though, maybe I don’t want that life.”

  “Most people find happiness like a blind hog after an acorn. You put some thought into it. That’s the right thing. I won’t nag at you to marry, Sarah Booth.”

  “Why, Jitty, thank you. You’re so understanding.”

  “Like I said, company’s comin’ any minute now. And just to be clear, you don’t have to marry the man, but your eggs are dryin’ up fast. So grab some viable sperm, fertilize that moldy egg, and let’s get this show on the road. I need an heir to haunt. Marriage can come at your leisure.”

  “Dammit!” I stood up to confront her, but she had vanished. And another pair of headlights came down the driveway. What now? A poison bonbon delivery from Bijou?

  The brown cruiser alerted me it was either Coleman or DeWayne, and my bets were on the high sheriff himself. I hoped he was over being mad at me for spying at Bijou’s without telling anyone.

  “Coleman,” I said, “what brings you here?”

  “I’d like to say pleasure, but…” He came up the steps. Pluto really liked Coleman and rushed to rub against his legs. He picked up the cat and held him. “You might have more sense than Sarah Booth and Tinkie put together,” he whispered to the cat plenty loud for me to hear.

  “I know you must be exhausted.” I felt lightheaded I w
as so tired. We’d all left the bar with the agreement to meet up at eleven to filter through each detail. I checked my watch. It was three A.M. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “I should, but I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  Coleman wasn’t reactionary. He was talking to me at three in the morning because he was worried.

  “Come in,” I said. “Would you like some warm milk, coffee, or a drink?”

  “Coffee, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a lot of reports to finish.”

  He followed me to the kitchen and I put on a pot. While it brewed, I sat at the table and signaled him to do the same. Instead of talking, he contemplated the top of my kitchen table.

  When the coffee was ready, I poured two cups of black coffee and set one in front of him. He spun his coffee cup, finally leveling a look at me. “Mason and I had a long talk with Bijou, who insists she didn’t know anything about the Midnight Templars and their objectives. She also insists you were behind inviting the Foundation Rock Church people to her property.”

  “Innocent!” I held up a hand. “I swear it. I did not invite them.”

  “But you know who did?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know anything.”

  “You’re a terrible liar and I already know it was Harold.”

  I checked his expression. He wasn’t fishing, he knew. “Big deal.”

  “You two skated on this, but next time you might not be so lucky. And just so you know, I’m going to recommend that Wanda Tatum, or Tatiana, be detained in a psychiatric facility. Of all of the people involved in this, I think she’s as much a victim as anyone.”

  Coleman wasn’t a softie, but he believed psychological trauma had to be weighed. “Thank you.” Still, this was hardly information that warranted a wee-hour visit after days without sleep. “Are you okay?” I had a terrible thought that somehow Coleman was in trouble. His behavior said as much.

  “I’m good. Has Scott decided what to do about the club?” Coleman asked.

  “When we were leaving Playin’ the Bones, he said he’d open up next week. He’s not backing down. Jebediah Farley is behind bars, the church’s attempts to destroy the club are over. He can realize his dream and bring a lot to the area. The immediate danger is past.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Coleman stood and came to me. He held my shoulders. “Gertrude has jumped bail and disappeared.”

  “But…” Words eluded me. “How?”

  “Two farmworkers at Bijou’s found Frisco Evans. He’d been badly beaten, tied up, and left in the woods near Hemlock Manor. I just left the hospital. Frisco said it was Gertrude. She wanted to take the Mercedes roadster for a test drive. When she turned down that long wooded drive into Bijou’s, she hit Frisco in the head with a blackjack. When he was unconscious, she pushed him out of the car, dragged him back in the woods, tied him up, and left him.”

  “He was there while I was being held prisoner?”

  “Yes.”

  Fear rose like a giant wave, ready to crash over me. Gertrude had been there too. Had she known I was helpless, she might have killed me. “She has to be in Sunflower County. She has a car just like mine. Just like my mother’s. She won’t stop until she really hurts me.” My voice rose, and I couldn’t stop it.

  “We’ll find her, Sarah Booth.”

  “No, you won’t.” Gertrude had taken on the powers of some mythological creature. She was immortal, unstoppable. She might be mentally unbalanced, but she was very, very smart. “She has plenty of money. Loads of it. Check with Oscar in the morning. I’ll bet she took the balance of Yancy’s payment for the B&B in cash.”

  “Which brings up another issue.” Coleman had decided to hold nothing back. “The relationship between Yancy Bellow and Gertrude worried me from the start. Something isn’t right there, Sarah Booth.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Oscar gave me the details. Yancy paid Gertrude two hundred thousand more than the B&B was appraised at. And Harold was able to trace the offer to buy Playin’ the Bones. It came from the same bank in the Cayman Islands that Yancy drew the check to buy The Gardens.”

  “Yancy was behind the offer to buy Playin’ the Bones and all that property and build a blues emporium? But he put up a reward, and he offered to be Scott’s partner. You think all that time he was really trying to run Scott out of business?”

  “So far, I can’t prove it, but I believe that’s true. There’s nothing illegal about anything he did. At least that I can prove. I just have to question his connection to the Foundation Rock Church and the attempt to ruin Scott’s club. Farley and the church had been quiet. Suddenly they’re putting out flyers and shooting people? Over a club? It doesn’t make sense. And the overpayment to Gertrude.” He swallowed. “That sets off all kind of alarms. He made her escape possible.”

  “She won’t rest until she exacts her revenge against me. She wants to hurt me for something that never happened.”

  “If she’s smart, she’ll get as far from Sunflower County as possible.”

  “It’s not about being smart. She’s obsessed.” I needed to move, to run, to put my body in motion, but there wasn’t anywhere I could go to escape the hard truth Coleman had brought to me.

  “I called Lee McBride. She’s on the way with a trailer to pick up your horses. She was more than glad to help you. Tinkie and Oscar are waiting at Hilltop for you and the pets. You’ll be safe there. Both you and Tinkie.”

  The idea of leaving Dahlia House empty and abandoned while I hid out from a woman who wanted to harm me was too much. “I’m staying right here. The animals can go—they’ll be safer. I won’t leave Dahlia House so a psycho can torch it.”

  “I won’t leave you here.”

  “Then you’ll be staying too.” The coffeepot hissed and gurgled and I bolted out of my chair. The muscles in my shoulders tightened to the point I thought my bones would snap. “How did Gertrude manage this?” I asked.

  “DeWayne and I both were focused on the blues club. With Alton James in town, it never crossed my mind Gertrude would flee. I assumed, with her fancy lawyer, she was going to stand and fight. When I talked to James, though, he admitted he hadn’t gotten his retainer yet.”

  “Gertrude skunked him, too.” Under different circumstances, it would be funny. The mighty Alton James taken for a ride by a middle-aged B&B owner turned murderer. “She never intended to pay him.”

  “James won’t take this lying down. His pride’s on the line. Gertrude can’t stay in the wind forever. If I were her, I’d head for Mexico. I’ve alerted the feds and law enforcement officials from Florida to Texas. If she tries to flee the country, they’ll catch her.”

  “She’s right here.” I knew it in my gut. “Gertrude will make a perfect weapon for the Midnight Templars. She’s exactly what they need. She can play the role of demure businesswoman and she’s capable of anything. You may have stomped out the local group, but Gertrude somehow managed to get to a higher level.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  “They’ll hide her. They have access to planes and airstrips all over the Delta.”

  He didn’t deny it. “Throw some clothes together and come with me, Sarah Booth.”

  My stubborn streak demanded that I stay, but I took pity on Coleman. He was running on fumes. “Only for tonight.”

  “Good enough for right now.” He wisely took his victory and avoided another skirmish.

  I hurried to my bedroom and threw a few necessities into a bag, pausing for a moment in front of the mirror to stare at the woman with the truly bad haircut who stared back at me. It had been a helluva week. I bounded down the stairs and met Coleman in the foyer. He paused in front of the flowers. “A new admirer?”

  “Not exactly.” I handed him the note.

  He tapped it against his hand. “This is a threat, Sarah Booth.”

  “Yes, I believe it is.”

  “Take this with you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out my gun. “
Mason returned it and your camera, and I believe you should keep it with you.”

  “Who do you think sent the flowers?” I asked.

  “Maybe Alton James, as a method of softening you up, when he thought he was still on the case. Or Bijou. She still has a score to settle with you.”

  “It’s neither of them.”

  “Maybe Gertrude. That’s a Memphis florist. I’ll check tomorrow and see if anyone recognized her. You be on your guard.” He reached over and ruffled the patches of my pitiful hair, fighting hard to put a note of normalcy into our conversation. “We’ll catch Gertrude and life will get back to normal. Beauty salon tomorrow?”

  “Tinkie is taking me to her stylist. It was easier to say yes than to argue. Coleman, I’ll drive myself to Tinkie’s. You have my word I’ll go straight there. I want my car with me.”

  He considered for a long moment, and the same thought ran through both our minds. I saw it clearly on his face. He could stay here with me at Dahlia House. It would be so easy to turn to him to make me feel safe. But I couldn’t choose my future out of fear. I refused to do so, nor would Coleman want to begin a relationship that way.

  “I’ll follow you to Hilltop to make sure you get there safely.” He pulled me close.

  We stood for a moment, each weighing the future. He opened the front door to reveal headlights coming down the drive. Lee was here to pick up my horses. “Let me give her a hand,” he said as he walked out the door.

  I almost called him back, but that wasn’t the right answer for me. Not right now. Not with Gertrude lurking in the night. Not with my heart still wounded and unsure. As I’d told Jitty, not until I knew myself better.

  About the Author

  CAROLYN HAINES is the author of the Sarah Booth Delaney mysteries. She is the recipient of both the Harper Lee Distinguished Writing Award and the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence. Born and raised in Mississippi, she now lives in Semmes, Alabama, on a farm with more dogs, cats, and horses than she can possibly keep track of. You can sign up for email updates here.