“That isn’t necessary. Karrie’s going to win. If not her, then Hedy.”
“But it would make me feel better to know you’re safe.”
“Okay. Now I have to get back to my preparations.”
We stood up to leave when her cell phone rang. She held up a finger as she checked the caller I.D. “It’s Mother,” she said.
She started to say something several times but stopped short. Her expression shifted from concern to worry to outright horror. “Sarah Booth Delaney and the Sunflower County Sheriff are here right now. I’ll tell them. They’ll help.” She reached out a hand to us.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Mrs. Richmond has been taken hostage by a woman in a blue SUV. Mother’s tailing them.”
Coleman took the phone from her hand. “Mrs. Payne, Sheriff Peters here. Where are you?”
He took the pen and paper I offered and made quick notes. “Stay with them. I’ll call you from my cell phone as soon as we’re on the way.”
He gave Amanda back her phone after he’d programmed her mother’s number into his.
“What should I do?” Amanda asked. “Is Mom in danger?”
“I think your mom is safe. Get ready for the cooking event,” I told her. I wasn’t clear on what was happening, but Coleman was ready to bolt from the room. “Finish the pageant. We’ll call when we know more,” I assured her.
When Amanda’s room door snicked shut behind us, I grasped Coleman’s arm. “Where is Tinkie?”
“Cottondale Plantation, a B&B on the Tallahatchie River just out of town.”
“Are we going there?”
Coleman tucked my hand through his arm as if he meant to escort me, while what he really intended was to frog-march me down the hall as fast as he could go. “Chief Jansen, his men, and I will handle this. You’ll stay in the hotel where you’re safe.”
“Coleman, that is not—”
“You’re not going. End of story.”
Red swam behind my eyes—and no doubt shot from them. “You can’t stop me. You have no jurisdiction here. Jansen is police chief of Greenwood, not the outlying county.”
Coleman sighed as he hustled me into the elevator. “After what happened at the Carlisle plantation, I won’t let you walk into danger.” When I started to interrupt him, he grasped my shoulders and gave me a light rattle. “Listen to me, Sarah Booth. My heart can’t take it.” His blue eyes snapped with frustration and hurt as he forced me to look into his gaze.
The elevator door opened to reveal Chief Jansen, his mustache twitching as he stared at the two of us, caught in such an emotional clinch.
“Some women just can’t keep their hands off a man in uniform.” He motioned for us to follow him. “Back in my younger days, the women were on me like flies on a . . . never mind.” His mustache almost hid his smile.
No matter what Coleman said, I would defend my partner. They’d have to handcuff me to a wall to keep me away. Tinkie was in danger. I had to be there.
The chief and several of his best officers were gathered in the hotel’s office. Coleman relayed Voncil Payne’s message. Jansen took charge instantly. “I’ll coordinate with the Leflore County Sheriff. We’ll have units all over Cottondale. They won’t get away from us.”
Coleman tried Voncil’s number. No answer. He dialed again, and the call went straight to voice mail. “This isn’t good,” he said.
“We’ll go in quietly,” Jansen said. “No grandstanding. A plainclothes officer can check in, scope it out. The B&B is spread out with cottages tucked among twenty acres of gardens. When we locate the women, we’ll move in with a team. We don’t want a hostage situation if we can avoid it.”
I sat quietly, hoping in the rush of strategic planning, Coleman would forget about me. I was not that lucky.
As the officers filed out, Coleman confronted me. “I’ll bring Tinkie back safely. I want your word that you won’t sneak out there.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Give me your word.”
This was not a moment to hedge or prevaricate. If I promised, I was honor bound to uphold it. “I can’t.”
Jansen and his men stood at the ready. All eyes were on Coleman and me. “Sarah Booth, Tinkie’s life hangs in the balance. This is a serial killer who has already murdered two women and almost killed a third. If you won’t give me your word, I’ll cuff you to something.”
He would, too. “This is wrong. Tinkie is my partner.”
“Your word.”
I could be killing my own partner with my unwillingness to yield. “You have it.”
They were gone within seconds.
Fifteen long minutes passed where I devoted myself to fretting. Betty brought me a steaming cup of fresh coffee. “The sheriff sure cut you off at the knees,” she said, “but he’s concerned for your safety.”
I couldn’t muster an argument, but I also couldn’t sit on my hands and wait. I realized there was a course of action I could pursue. I could search for Hedy. In the rush of concern for Tinkie, everyone had forgotten two pageant competitors were missing.
The top two candidates. And the Wellington heir.
My promise not to go to the B&B to search for Tinkie didn’t include hunting for Hedy or Karrie.
I jumped to my feet. I wasn’t going to wait at the Alluvian like I’d been gut shot.
“Well, you just came back to life. Where are you off to?” Betty asked.
“I’m going to find Hedy and Karrie.” I pushed through the Alluvian’s revolving door and into the midday heat of downtown Greenwood. When I checked my watch, it showed one o’clock. An hour to go until the contestants began cooking.
I went to the school and peered through the front windows. When someone in the back walked by, I waved frantically. Evangeline Phelps came with a key.
“Did you find Mrs. Richmond?” she asked.
“No. Do you know where Karrie Kompton went when she left?”
Evangeline grasped my shoulders. “What in the world is going on? The police asked me the same question. Karrie was only here for a few minutes. She never left my sight.”
Right now the pageant outcome wasn’t my top priority. “Do you have any idea where Karrie went? Did she say anything?”
Her mouth made a small O. “No, not again. Has something happened to her?”
“Please, work with me. There’s not much time.”
“She got a call. I don’t know who it was, but she left in a hurry.”
“Do you remember anything she said?”
She rubbed her temples as if she might massage the information out. “She said something about how much she hated the smell of horses. She jabbered on in that smug tone of hers, and I was busy, so I didn’t pay a lot of attention.”
“Any idea who she was talking to?”
“She was excited. That’s all I know.”
“Thanks.” Before I pushed into the street, I stopped. “Mrs. Phelps, have you seen Hedy?”
“No. Is she—” She couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s just out of pocket.”
“This pageant was supposed to give a young woman an opportunity to build a career while exposing nine others to internationally famous chefs, photographers, actresses, and media attention. It was meant to bring tourism to Greenwood, but it’s been a nightmare.”
She was about to snap and I didn’t have time to console her. “This is no one’s fault but the killer,” I said. “You did a good thing. Someone else forced the pageant into tragedy. And we’ll catch that someone and see that justice is served.”
It wasn’t much of a speech in the grand scheme of Lincoln or Kennedy, but it would have to suffice.
The Alluvian’s lobby was quiet, and I ducked into the office. If Coleman returned with Tinkie, I wanted to be there. Betty looked up from a stack of pages and signaled me over.
“Find anything?”
“No.” I collapsed into a chair and Betty returned to her work.
I was m
issing something. I had to think clearly and piece the clues together. Both Hedy and Karrie left after receiving phone calls. Tinkie left after talking with Voncil. All three women had disappeared around the same time from within fifty yards of each other.
It stood to reason that somehow, their disappearances were linked. And somehow Marcus was involved. Was he missing or part of the whole Anna scheme?
The sound of rustling made me glance over at Betty. She held a small box of pastries. “Care for a fresh peach tart?”
The plain white box stopped me. Janet Menton had died from poisoned pastries in a similar box. “Where’d you get those?”
“From the cooking school. They had a class yesterday and Mrs. Payne picked them up for me. She’s so thoughtful, and a fine baker.”
I slowly brought out my phone and called Amanda’s room. When she answered, I spoke calmly. “You said your father died of a heart attack?”
“Yes, why? What’s wrong, Sarah Booth? You sound strange.”
“Was an autopsy performed?”
“No. There was no need. He had a heart attack.” Her voice started to rise. “What’s this about?”
“Just one more question. Does your mother garden?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
Voncil was the killer. Tinkie had been trying to tell me with the photo in the camera. “I need you to answer the question. Does Voncil grow flowers?”
“Yes, she has a green thumb. So what?”
“Thank you, Amanda.” I hung up. “Betty, please call Coleman and Jansen. Voncil Payne is the killer. Tinkie found out and must have confronted her. The B&B is a diversion. Tinkie isn’t there and neither is Anna Lock.”
“Where are they?” Betty asked as if I were Carnac the Magnificent.
“I don’t know.”
“What do I tell Chief Jansen?”
Inspiration struck. Babs might know something. The boldness of Voncil’s scheme almost took my breath away. She’d deliberately changed her appearance to resemble Anna Lock, and then she’d stood in the parking lot talking to Babs while Babs smoked the cigarettes she’d poisoned.
Betty had the chief on the phone and she tried to hand it to me. I backed away. “Tell them I believe Voncil has Karrie and Hedy as well as Tinkie. She’s taking out the competition to clear the path for Amanda. She’ll kill anyone she perceives as standing in her way.”
“You tell him,” Betty said.
But I was sprinting to the Caddy. The hospital was only minutes away, and I wanted to speak to Babs face-to-face.
The redhead was much improved. She was applying mascara when I burst into her room.
“You’ve come to tell me I’m wanted at the pageant,” she said, fluffling one of her sad tufts of hair. “I knew they couldn’t go on without me.”
“Do you remember talking to Voncil the night you were poisoned?” I asked.
“Sure. I was in the car listening to Big Mama Thornton. The song was almost over when Voncil came up and tapped on the window. Made me jump. She wanted to know if I’d go for a drink with her, but it was time for me to turn in.”
“That’s it?”
Babs shrugged a shoulder. “I smoked a cigarette while we talked. My last one. I’ve quit.”
“What did Voncil say?”
“That Amanda was going to win.” She touched the mascara wand to the tips of her lashes. “She was so smug about it. When I mentioned Hedy was the front-runner, in my opinion, she laughed. She said Hedy had a date with destiny and her aunt would put her behind bars.”
“You’re certain she said her aunt?”
“Positive. I remember because it sounded kind of crazy, but I’d been drinking and then I got sick.”
The only way Voncil could have known about Anna was from either Marcus, if he knew the whole story, or Anna herself. I had to go back to the Wellington estate. I had to find Anna, or at least a clue to where she’d gone.
Jansen and I had shut the Wellingtons’ front door, but it stood wide open once again. Marcus’s car was parked askew at the front steps. Uncertain of Marcus’s role, I stopped fifty yards down the driveway and got out of Tinkie’s car. This time I didn’t have a lawman with me, so I chose stealth as my partner.
I zigzagged through the thick trees and shrubs until I was at the house. Moving along the foundation, I found several windows to spy in. The house looked strangely empty. The temptation to call Coleman or Jansen was strong, but I resisted. I had nothing to report. Yet.
A side staircase led to a second-story door. The private entrance to Anna’s room. I took the stairs quickly and quietly and peered into Anna’s bedroom through a window.
My heart almost stopped. Marcus Wellington sprawled across the floor, a pool of blood beside his head. Inches away was a chartreuse stiletto that belonged to my partner.
“Shit.” I fumbled with the phone and punched in 911. That done, I tried the door—locked. “Shit, shit, shit.” Panic numbed my fumbling hands. Tinkie’s shoe centered the pool of Marcus’s blood. Where was she?
Creeping down the stairs, I angled to the front door. I was about to step through when the phone rang.
Coleman was upset and worried. “Where in the hell are you?”
“The Wellington estate. Marcus is injured, maybe dead. He’s on the floor of Anna’s room. I’ve called the EMTs, but I’m going in.”
“Stay out of that house!” Coleman didn’t order, he commanded. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes tops.”
I didn’t want to go in the house, but I had to. Tinkie might be injured. She might need my help. “Good-bye, Coleman.” I carefully closed the cell phone and turned the ringer to vibrate.
Looking down the empty entrance hall of the house, I heard a grandfather clock ticking. Time may have run out for me and my partner.
26
All around me the Wellington house creaked and whispered. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it sounded as if someone walked overhead. The hesitant, uneven steps of a drunk or someone injured.
I wished mightily for a gun. Concern for Tinkie and even a little for Marcus pushed me up the stairs. The probability of danger from any direction kept my feet moving slowly.
As I neared the second-floor landing, I thought of Graf. He’d be home tonight. My mind grasped that image, Graf so handsome on the front porch of Dahlia House, Sweetie Pie at his side, smiling as he welcomed me home. That would be my reality in a few short hours, as soon as Tinkie was safe.
Jansen, his men, and Coleman were on the way but I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t follow my gut impulse, which was to run out into the sunshine. Someone was shuffling around, and it might be Tinkie, wounded and needing my care.
On the landing I picked up a solid pewter candelabra from a table. A potential weapon. Not as good as a gun, but what the hell.
Irregular footsteps sounded directly behind me.
Whirling, I raised the candelabra and found myself face-to-face with Tinkie. She wore one shoe, and one foot was bare.
Her blue eyes were impossibly wide, the black of her pupils consuming the iris. Her face contained no expression. She came toward me.
“Tinkie?”
She never even blinked.
“Tinkie?” I reached out to her, but she brushed past me toward the second flight of stairs.
“Tinkie!” I grabbed for her, catching the beaded top she wore.
She pulled away, but I knew she wasn’t lucid. She was able to walk, but she was in some kind of dream-state. “Tinkie!”
She jerked hard. The stretchy material of her top gave. To my horror, she shrugged free of the sweater. For one split second, she tottered at the top of the stairs before she fell.
“Tinkie!”
She never uttered a sound as her body whumped and slammed against the oak treads.
It seemed I reacted in slow motion. I wheeled, clattering back down the stairs. From the corner of my eye I saw Hedy slumped against the wall in the upstairs hallway. Another foot protruded from a bedroom across
the hall. Karrie? I couldn’t tell. Tinkie was my priority.
“Tink—!” My voice broke. My lungs squeezed with fear that she was dead.
I was almost to the stairs when someone grabbed me. I wrenched and confronted a petite woman with black hair cut to frame her face. Not Voncil—Anna. Before I could react, she held up a palm and blew something into my face.
Almost instantly my body began to numb. I tried unsuccessfully to blink away the sensation that I’d lost control of everything. I struggled to lift my hand, but it refused to obey.
Anna reached up. In hazy slow motion she drew the black wig from her head revealing the glitzed do of . . . Voncil Payne.
She pushed me toward the stairs. I caught the rail and looked down at Tinkie in a crumpled heap. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I just wanted to sleep.
Regaining consciousness, I found myself in the passenger seat of Voncil’s SUV. While my brain seemed to be waking, my muscle control was nonexistent.
Cotton fields flashed by the window in the afternoon sun, and I tried to calculate how long I’d been completely out of it by the slant of sunlight and the length of the shadows when we passed trees. I’d say at least five o’clock. What had happened in the three hours that had elapsed? I had no recollection of anything.
Coleman had surely found Tinkie, Hedy, Marcus, and Karrie by now and gotten them help. Surely. While I had the urge to cry, my body was incapable of the follow-through. Good thing, too. I didn’t want to draw Voncil’s attention. Somehow I had to energize my unresponsive arms and legs and prepare to kick some butt.
“Sarah Booth?” Voncil said.
I pretended to be deaf.
“You can’t fool me.”
Obviously she was right. She’d caught me off-guard and delivered a coup de grâce of epic proportions with whatever crap she blew in my face. My partner was terribly injured, and I was a captive.
I tried to speak. My vocal cords were as paralyzed as the rest of me.
“Don’t worry, Sarah Booth, it’s the scopolamine. Another happy benefit of plants in the deadly nightshade family. Belladonna, atropine, scopolamine—so useful in subduing, or killing, those who get in my way. Although digitalis is also useful. Took out my husband like a charm.”
Bone Appétit Page 27
