Greedy Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “That’s true.” How well I knew all the things I’d dreamed of—except for my family—were within my grasp.

  “You’ve earned it. Success, love, a good man.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jitty was always my champion , in a punitive kind of way. But she was never serious, complimentary, and contemporary.

  “Big dreams come with big risks. Lord, Sarah Booth, be careful.”

  If I walked to the kitchen window, I could see the family cemetery where the people I’d loved most in my life were buried. Since Aunt Loulane’s death, I’d been alone. I’d chosen to be alone. But that was changing now. With Graf, I had a shot at a family. I had no intention of getting myself injured.

  “Something bad is happening in Sunflower County,” I conceded, “but I’m not directly involved. Sure, I’m trying to figure it out, but so is Coleman, Dewayne, the CDC, and Cece.”

  She didn’t have to say anything else. Cece was, after all, the reason for her visit this night.

  I rose slowly, aware again of a draining weariness. “I’m calling Coleman and going to bed. Morning will be here in a few hours.”

  “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” She faded on a jangle of her silver bracelets.

  Coleman was still at the B&B when he answered his phone. “The good news is that the blood on the carpet in Janks’s room doesn’t belong to Cece.”

  I sank onto the bed, afraid to believe it. “You got a DNA sample that fast?”

  “Simpler test. Wrong blood type. Cece is B negative. This is A positive.”

  “How did—”

  “Doc did some blood work on Cece before she had her sex-change operation. He knew her type.”

  “Can you match the blood to Jimmy?”

  “It’s much easier to exclude someone by type than match them. Even if Janks is A positive, we can’t say this is his blood. Doc doesn’t have any records on Janks, but he’s got someone checking databases. So far, nothing. There is some news, though.”

  “What?” I slipped out of my shoes and jeans.

  “One of Gertrude’s residents overheard a heated conversation coming from Janks’s room around eleven o’clock this evening. Two male voices. There was the sound of something breaking, then a door slammed. The guest, a salesman from Slidell, Louisiana, didn’t see anything, but we did find a broken glass in the bathroom trash. The blood on the glass is also A positive.”

  “Do you think Janks has been hurt?” Janks was our best lead to find Cece.

  “I wish I knew where they went to dinner.”

  Why hadn’t I asked? Normally I was all over Cece’s business.

  “You don’t think she might have said something to Tinkie?” Coleman asked.

  “Nope.” Inspiration struck. “But maybe Millie. I’ll call you right back.”

  I dialed knowing I’d wake her. I’d hoped to spare her worry about Cece, but this was an emergency.

  “Hello.” Millie’s voice was softened by sleep.

  “Sorry to call at this hour, but it’s important. Did Cece mention her dinner plans in Memphis?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong?” Millie was fully alert and concern permeated her tone.

  “Cece’s missing. Has been since last evening when she went to Memphis with Jimmy Janks.”

  “I told her not to get in a vehicle with him.” Millie was throwing things around. I heard something heavy strike a wall or the floor.

  “She was trying to help Oscar,” I said.

  “I know that, but carrying on with a liar and cheat isn’t helpful. Now she’s missing and—” She stopped her outburst. “Sorry, I just get aggravated. I had a long talk with Cece before her date. I tried to make her see sense. She wouldn’t listen. She was all hot to trot to investigate what that land developer was up to.”

  I hadn’t even tried to talk her out of her plan. “She felt she could handle Janks.”

  “I’m thinking back over what she told me.” Something else in Millie’s house slammed into a wall.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Moving books. There’s a National Enquirer here I need to find.”

  Millie loved celebrity gossip and had a yen for strange stories of alien babies and mobsters revealed to be living in Florida years after they were believed dead. “I hope it pertains to Cece.”

  “Of course it does. Memphis has all kinds of places to celebrity-watch. I gave her some tips. Now if I can put my hands on that magazine, I’ll tell you where she and that Janks fellow went to eat.”

  Millie’s mind worked in a fashion I couldn’t begin to fathom. She had an uncanny ability to link daily events to tabloid trivia.

  “Here it is!” Millie’s voice was relieved. “There was a special segment on the ghost of Elvis visiting places he once loved to dine at. Cece was intrigued, because she thought about doing a story for the society pages. You know, kill two birds with one stone kind of thing.”

  “Millie, you are a genius.”

  Pages rustled and paper crinkled. At last, Millie gave a small cry of success. “Johnny Dino’s Supper Club, where the blues play hot and the drinks are cool. Supposed to be some bookie action there.”

  “That sounds exactly like Cece. You’ve helped more than you know. Thanks, Millie.”

  “Call me the minute you find her.”

  “I will.”

  “And Sarah Booth, find her unharmed, okay? I can’t take much more of this.”

  Information gave me the number to Johnny Dino’s Supper Club. In less than a minute I had Johnny himself on the phone. Lucky for me, the place was closing and Johnny listened as I gave him a brief description of Cece and Jimmy.

  “They were here. Had a nice dinner, looked like to me. Then all hell broke out.”

  “They had a fight. Like a fist fight?”

  “Naw, nothin’ like that.” He hesitated. “Look, I don’t eavesdrop on the conversations of my guests—”

  “But?” I knew there was a but.

  “But the woman was some kind of newspaper reporter.” He lowered his voice. “That kind of talk ain’t so good in a place like mine. Anyway, what ever she was ask-in’ pissed the guy off. He was angry, but not physical.”

  “Can you tell me exactly what she said?” My ribs ached from the pressure of my thudding heart.

  “Somethin’ about an investigation. Some land deal gone sour. That she’d find the sister. I remember that. ‘The sister’ were the exact words, ’cause I wondered if it might be a nun she was lookin’ for.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “The guy just laughed and told her to dig as much as she wanted. He paid the tab and they left. They seemed okay when they walked out. That’s the last I saw of them. Now I gotta go. Bernie’s waiting to lock the door.”

  He hung up before I could ask another question. In truth, if I was going to get more out of him, I would have to make a trip to Memphis. Or Coleman would.

  I was so tired, I was nauseated, but I made one last call to Coleman and told him what I’d learned.

  “I’ll ask the Memphis PD to stop by Dino’s club. Their presence might help him remember more details. But at least we know Cece was with Janks and seemed fine.”

  “Are you and Dewayne still at Gertrude’s?” Coleman and his deputy were as tired as I was. My stomach roiled and I thought of toast or crackers, but it was too much effort to walk back downstairs.

  “We’re putting up some crime-scene tape.”

  “Gertrude’s going to charge the county the going rate for that room,” I warned him.

  Coleman laughed. “Maybe not. She’s cooperative if you talk to her the right way.”

  “Sure,” I said, “I don’t speak Beelzebub.”

  “You’re slurring your words, and I know you haven’t been drinking,” he said. “Hop in bed. That’s an order. I promise, if anything breaks, I’ll call you.”

  16

  The low moan of a hound dog brought me out of a long, complicated dream of Bette Davis and J
oan Crawford duking it out over a baby carriage occupied by Mia Farrow’s child. I awoke to a world blanketed in heavy fog. From my bedroom window, Reveler and Miss Scrapiron were ghost horses as they cantered across the pasture.

  Bleary eyed, I trotted downstairs to brew a pot of coffee, letting the aroma draw me to wakefulness. The dogs rocketed through the doggy door, barking in the fine spring morning. With a cup of java in hand, I finally went into the office I’d created for Delaney Detective Agency. I’d managed to avoid the place since I came home from L.A. Without Tinkie, the room was like a funeral parlor.

  Turning on a computer, I did a quick Google search of Dr. Jon Unger. His list of research credits was impressive and his connections with the U.S. government, veiled in vagaries, told me he was a highly sought after fellow. A German-born scientist who’d permanently immigrated to America in the nineties, he’d been a guest lecturer and researcher at Mississippi State for nearly two decades. Bonnie Louise had brought one of the best minds in the world to the problem here in Sunflower County. Peyton was right about that.

  I was on my third cup of coffee when the phone rang.

  “Get over here quick.” Millie spoke in an urgent whisper.

  Before I could respond, the line went dead.

  When I got to Millie’s Café, Jimmy Janks and Luther Carlisle were sitting at a table near one of the front windows, sipping coffee and chatting as if the world were in perfect order. I nosed my car into a narrow parking space between two pecan trees. I could still see the men, but I was partially hidden.

  I called Coleman’s cell phone. “Janks is at Millie’s. He’s eating breakfast with Luther. Like nothing is wrong.” I could clearly see Janks shoveling eggs and biscuits into his mouth. Cece was right. He ate like the fork was a new invention.

  “Don’t confront him.” Coleman sounded a lot like Dirty Harry. “If he leaves, tail him.”

  “Where are you?” I didn’t object to tailing Janks, but I had no arrest powers.

  “I can’t get there, Sarah Booth. Can you follow him?”

  “Sure. But shouldn’t you arrest him?”

  “Just don’t let him out of your sight. And don’t attempt to detain him. For any reason.”

  Pondering Coleman’s strange behavior, I put my phone away and slunk down in the seat. Janks was so interested in his food, he didn’t spare a glance out the window. The thick ground fog also worked in my favor. The café was lighted and gave me a good visual, but the fog shrouded my car.

  Millie refreshed their coffee. Something she said made Janks stop eating. He looked up at her, a frown passing over his face. As Millie withdrew, a tall, lean man entered the café, zoning in on the table with Janks and Luther.

  Whoever the stranger was, he was angry. Though I couldn’t hear what he was saying, it was clear by the way he pointed his finger and his expression that he was hot under the collar.

  When he left the restaurant, I got a good look at him—I’d never seen him before. As he left in a dark blue pickup, I was tempted to follow, but Janks was my primary focus. So far, he was the last one seen with Cece, which meant he was the man I wanted to grill.

  Where in the hell was Coleman? If he were here, he could corner Janks while I tailed the stranger.

  When I dialed his cell phone again, there was a busy signal. Still seated at a table, Janks and Luther were now in a heated debate.

  Janks whipped out his wallet, threw money on the table, and stood.

  Luther reached out and tried to mollify him, but Janks shook him off and started toward the front door.

  Damn it to hell, where was Coleman? Our only link to Cece was about to leave.

  The restaurant door opened and I pressed myself across the console, thanking my stars for the shelter of the pecan limbs. I heard his SUV door slam and the engine rev. Gravel crunched beneath his tires, and I sat up. My only option was to follow him, as discreetly as possible. The antique roadster wasn’t the best surveillance vehicle because it was fairly conspicuous, but beggars can’t be choosers, as my Aunt Loulane would say. It was my only ride.

  Tailing Janks at a safe distance, I called Millie. “Who was that man and what happened?”

  Plates clattered in the background. “His name was Joe Downs and he works for Mississippi Agri-Team. Sarah Booth, he accused Luther or Janks or both of them of doing something to Lester Ballard, the man who worked the Carlisle land. Mr. Ballard has been missing for two days. He returned from a trip and heard about the troubles here, so he came to see what the ruckus on the plantation was about.”

  Luther had mentioned Lester Ballard, Peyton had made a note about him, and Coleman had been trying to reach him for several days, but he was out of the country. Now another MAT employee was in town, hunting for Ballard.

  “Did you overhear anything else?”

  “I thought Downs was going to hit Luther, and Lord, he almost smacked Janks. He said Lester Ballard had been upset about some new cotton seeds and felt he’d been duped by Luther or Janks or both of them.”

  “Did Janks say anything about Cece?”

  “Not a word. I didn’t ask. I was afraid to meddle.”

  “Good thinking. I’m tailing Janks.”

  “Sarah Booth, be careful. I should have poured a pan of hot grease in Janks’s lap and made him say where Cece is.”

  In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t such a bad plan. Once I caught up with Janks, I didn’t intend to be much nicer. He would tell me where he’d left my friend, or I’d take necessary action despite Coleman’s warnings.

  “Where are you, Sarah Booth?”

  “It looks like we might be headed to the Carlisle place.” Talk about a racing pulse. The plantation was the location I most wanted to go to but was also afraid of.

  “Don’t you dare go on that property.” Millie sounded an awful lot like Tinkie and everyone else.

  “I’ll take every precaution.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Sarah Booth.”

  Janks turned north on a farm-to-market road that cut across Sunflower County. “He changed directions. I don’t have a clue where he’s going, but I’m on his trail. I’ll call back when I know something.”

  Janks sped through the eerie fog, and I could only wonder where the highway patrolmen were when my speedometer never fell below eighty.

  My stomach grumbled a big complaint. I hadn’t taken time for breakfast, unlike Janks, who’d managed to shovel at least two pounds of grits, eggs, and bacon into his maw. He’d fueled up for the week.

  Luckily I’d topped off my gas tank, but I wondered if Janks intended to drive straight out of Mississippi and into Alabama. We left the Delta behind and entered the hilly region that led to the Black Prairie and West Point.

  Home of Lana Entrekin Carlisle.

  Was this just another coincidence?

  I opened my cell phone, a little annoyed that Coleman hadn’t even checked on me. Over an hour had passed since Janks had high-tailed it out of the café and Coleman hadn’t bothered to call.

  “Sheriff Peters,” he answered the phone. The foghorn of a tugboat sounded in the background.

  “Where in the hell are you?” I asked.

  “On the river.”

  That would be the Mississippi, not exactly a boundary of Sunflower County. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know how to say this, Sarah Booth.”

  “What?” I kept Janks in my sights, but my driving was automatic.

  “A tugboat captain saw a body floating in the river. I got a call from the sheriff over at Friar’s Point. He let me know. We’ve got the rescue unit out searching. We’re hoping the body caught in some of the trees or roots along the bank. The fog has slowed the search, and it’ll take some time, I’m afraid.”

  “Who is it?” My heart ached.

  “In the fog, the captain didn’t get a good look.”

  “Is it Cece?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Janks was ahead of me and I had the most irrational desire to fl
oorboard the gas and ram the back of his SUV. “I’ll kill him,” I said.

  “The body in the river could be anyone, Sarah Booth. A fisherman, a vagrant, someone who fell off one of the tugs. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “If Janks has harmed Cece, I’ll kill him.”

  “Calm down and do your job. Stay on Janks’s tail. I could have him picked up, but if he has Cece stashed somewhere, the best thing you can do is follow him. Maybe he’ll lead you to her.”

  In his own way, Coleman had thrown me an emotional lifeline. “Did you talk to Millie?” Up in the distance, Janks hit a patch of sunlight. The fog, which had made the road so isolated, was lifting.

  “I did. And I ran a check on Joe Downs. He’s Lester Ballard’s supervisor. Downs told me that Ballard came to Sunflower County two days ago and hasn’t been heard from since.”

  “Criminy. He’s missing, too? Since the blood in Janks’s room wasn’t Cece’s, do you think . . . ?” Negotiating several stoplights on the outskirts of West Point required my attention.

  “I wouldn’t be searching for this body unless I thought it related to what’s happening around Zinnia.”

  “Coleman—” But he couldn’t assure me that my friend wasn’t dead and floating in the river.

  “As soon as I know something, I will call you.”

  “So what else did you learn from Downs?” I forced the question out.

  As the fog lifted, I dropped back, keeping Janks in my sights but not so close as to draw suspicion that I was following him.

  “Downs is angry and upset. He accused Luther and Janks of working together to destroy the agricultural value of the Carlisle land.”

  “Any word from Erin?” Perhaps she’d seen Cece and could tell us if she was safe.

  “I called her studio in Jackson and left word for her to call me. She wasn’t at work, but the receptionist said she’d return my call as soon as she arrived.”

  In the background I could hear Bonnie Louise saying something. While river rescue wasn’t likely a part of the CDC mission statement, I knew a body search would accept any and all volunteers. The Mississippi River didn’t like to give up her conquests.