Bones of a Feather: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery

by Carolyn Haines

  “It wouldn’t be that easy.” Living a life in exile sounded romantic, but it wasn’t.

  “If we can save Monica and retain the insurance money, I’ll return it. You have my word.” She conveyed cool, unflinching determination. She could have sold me high ground in the Florida Everglades. “Once burned, twice shy.” My aunt Loulane had a saying for every situation.

  “After tonight, we all go to the police.”

  “Agreed. On two conditions. Monica is back safe and sound. Once she’s safe, I’ll call the police, but not Chief Randall. That’s the second condition. I don’t trust him. He was lurking around outside the bank this morning. He’s been following me in town. I don’t have any evidence, but what if he’s involved? Call your sheriff friend in Sunflower County. Once Monica is released, I’m willing to face any punishment.”

  “Coleman has no jurisdiction in Adams County.” It was curious she’d ask for him.

  “I can surrender to any law officer. The Sunflower County sheriff will do as good as the local authorities. Just not Randall. What if he’s involved in the kidnapping? He could kill Monica and dispose of her body and never be found out.”

  Despite myself, I felt a pang of pity. “I doubt the kidnapper will kill Monica now. He’s kept her alive this long. He wants the ransom.” I observed Eleanor’s face carefully. “When you make the drop, be certain to see Monica before you leave the money.”

  “See her? I mean to have her beside me.”

  Once again I realized how little Eleanor knew of the type of person who would commit a kidnapping. For all her financial crimes, she was unprepared to cope with kidnappers. “You have to be smart, Eleanor. And tough. Or you and Monica both can be hurt. Or killed.”

  “I know, Sarah Booth. I’m terrified. My sister’s life hangs in the balance. I will do whatever needs to be done. I want to be prepared. I can be as tough as I need to be to save Monica. But I need your help. Will you coach me?”

  Sure, I was aggravated at the sisters, but I still had a heart. And I had the time. I just wasn’t certain I had the skill to truly help her. But I was going to try.

  20

  I splashed straight bourbon over ice cubes in a Waterford glass. Eleanor accepted the drink with a trembling hand. “This is so much more difficult than I imagined.” The regal wingback chair in the front parlor seemed to swallow her. Outside, the sun beat down on the front lawn, and the cloudless August sky promised a lazy summer day. Inside was a different story—emotions zagged around the room like lightning in a tornado.

  I was gratified to see Eleanor was finally taking the idea of dropping the ransom seriously. At last she’d come to accept the exchange of the money for her sister entailed danger—and a lot of it. Her pallor worried me. With each passing day, her health declined.

  “If everything goes well, this should work.” I didn’t want to soft-pedal the risk, but if she went into the ransom drop with no hope and only fear, it could easily be a disaster. “Remember, getting Monica away safely is the goal. If the money can be recovered after that, even better, but Monica’s safety, and yours, is the top priority.” A thought gave me pause. “Tinkie can talk to Oscar about getting some dye packs to put in with the cash.”

  “No!” Eleanor sat up so quickly the ice in her bourbon rattled. “What if the kidnapper opens the bag before Monica is free? It might provoke him to kill her.”

  I couldn’t argue that point. “Once we know the location of the drop, Tinkie and I can find a place to observe from. We won’t interfere, and we won’t be seen, but maybe we can get details that will allow the police to find the kidnappers, once Monica is safe.”

  “She will come through this, won’t she?” Eleanor asked.

  “That’s the goal.” I gave her a big, fake smile, then changed the subject. “We must reimburse the insurance company.” I had an idea, and I decided to float it by her. “Assuming this goes as planned and we get your sister and the money back, Monica could pretend she found the necklace with the kidnappers.”

  Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s a wonderful plan, Sarah Booth. We’ll return the money and not be charged with fraud. This whole scheme was ill conceived. It sounded simple, like no one would be hurt.” She sat forward. “Insurance companies. They screw everyone, so why not screw them back.” She smoothed her slacks. “I just want this to end.”

  “Tinkie has to agree,” I reminded her. “Remember, you put her husband on the line with the lie about the stolen necklace. Tinkie may not be willing to let it go so easily.”

  “She has every right to be furious. I would never have jeopardized her husband or his bank. I wouldn’t have. But I can understand you’d have difficulty believing anything I say.”

  “I do. Embezzlers tend to keep a distance from the truth.”

  She flushed. “I deserve that.”

  It’s hard to kick someone when she’s down, so I stopped. Monica and Eleanor were crooks, but they loved each other, and I had gone a far stretch to save Dahlia House from being repossessed by the bank. I’d betrayed a friend. I wasn’t in any position to cast stones.

  “What should we do now?” Eleanor picked up the bottle of bourbon and topped off her drink.

  “Wait.” There was nothing else to do. “Maybe when Tinkie gets back she’ll have new information.” Speaking of my partner, I was getting a little worried. She should have been back at Briarcliff by now. Almost as if I’d conjured her, the Caddy sped down the drive. Tinkie had news. I hoped it would be the good kind.

  She came in the front door, Chablis jumping at her side like a whirlwind. “You will never guess what I found out!” she exclaimed. It took her a moment to register the tension between Eleanor and me. “What’s wrong?”

  I explained about the necklace. Tinkie’s expression went from confusion to volcano-hot fury in under ten seconds. “We’ve been beating ourselves silly to help you and the whole necklace theft is a rip-off? My husband offered to front you the money!” She looked at me. “Thank god for you and your common sense, Sarah Booth.” She bent down and picked up Chablis. “I’m leaving. I’ve had enough of these … lowlife, conniving people.”

  I caught her by the hem of her blouse. “Wait a minute, Tink. Monica is still missing.”

  “And that’s my problem how?” She was madder than I’d ever seen her. No one liked being played for a gullible fool, but Tinkie had almost put her husband in a very bad place because she’d wanted to help the sisters. Help them perpetrate a fraud! That was unforgivable in her book, and I didn’t blame her.

  I held on to her shirt. “Let’s finish this. Eleanor has agreed to return the insurance money—if it’s recovered. If she loses the ransom to the kidnappers, she’ll confess to fraud and suffer the consequences.”

  Eleanor white-knuckled her drink. “Please don’t abandon Monica. I’m so sorry, Tinkie. I can’t change what we did. I can only beg your forgiveness. We’re bankrupt. Monica and I will lose everything. That’s why we did it. Not to be greedy, but to save Briarcliff. It’s the last property we have left, our heritage. Everything else, the European holdings, the boat, all has quietly been sold off.”

  “You were millionaires. What happened?” Tinkie’s anger gave way to curiosity.

  Eleanor’s half-smile was rueful. “We were scammed by an investment advisor. We managed to keep it hushed up. He’s awaiting trial now, but punishing him won’t help us recover what we lost. Nor does it excuse what we did with the necklace, but we thought we didn’t have a choice. We just lost our way.…” She let the sentence fade.

  So it was a case of “Do unto others as they’d done to you.” Not exactly the application of the golden rule I’d been taught. In my world, people got jobs to save what they loved. The Leverts, though, suffered from entitlement syndrome. Crime was the option that sprang into their heads instead of finding work.

  “Nice way to pay it forward,” Tinkie said bitterly. “I don’t want anything to do with people like you Leverts. Sarah Booth, are you coming?” S
he started upstairs to collect her things.

  “Wait a minute, Tinkie.” I had to stop her. “It’s wrong, but what’s done is done. Monica is our focus now. Once she’s safe, we’ll let the law handle the insurance mess.”

  Eleanor checked her watch. “It’s three o’clock. Please, just a few more hours. Sarah Booth has agreed to give me advice on making the drop. I need to be prepared and ready to get my sister back. Please, help me through this.”

  Tinkie groaned and blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.”

  Eleanor slid to her knees. “For my sister’s life, I’ll beg.”

  “Get up,” Tinkie motioned impatiently. “Just get up.”

  Eleanor resettled into her chair. The whole episode made me queasy. Desperation is ugly to watch. Eleanor on her knees brought back all of the dark emotions I’d felt while trying to save Dahlia House. I sympathized with Eleanor because I’d let my love of home cancel my integrity. I’d sacrificed everything I knew to be right to save a place I loved.

  To give Eleanor a moment to collect herself, I asked Tinkie what she’d learned from Hightower.

  “Barclay isn’t the horseman.”

  “You’re positive?” I asked.

  “I am, and I have proof.” She brought forth several photographs from her briefcase-sized designer purse. “Millicent and Hightower were busy little shutterbugs.”

  The pix were shot at night with a telephoto infra-red lens. Though grainy and slightly blurred, the image of the horse and rider were easily distinguishable.

  Tinkie used the tip of her Summer Blush fingernail to point. “See, the rider has long legs, like Barclay, but not such a long torso. In fact, this is a rather short-waisted person.” Her face softened for just a moment. “I measured Barclay to be sure.” She almost drooled. “His torso is proportionate to the length of his strong, muscular legs.” She paused, lost in thought, but then snapped out of it. “This person has a shorter torso ratio.”

  “The broad shoulders indicate it’s a man, though,” I said, studying the grainy and blurred image.

  “If it isn’t Barclay or Jerome, who is it?” The look Tinkie shot Eleanor would freeze water in hell. “Care to tell us?”

  “I don’t know.” Eleanor tilted back her head and inhaled. “I don’t. I would tell you if I could. Jerome lied to me about the horse being on the property. The animal has nothing to do with the necklace, as far as I know. Probably someone pulling a practical joke.”

  “What else did Hightower say?” I asked Tinkie.

  “Once he started talking, it was hard to stop him. We thought Millicent was working for him, but it was the other way around. She came up with the idea of the photos. She said the sisters were up to something and she meant to find out what. She told Hightower the whole grave-robbing thing was a hoax—she never believed other necklaces existed. She’d figured out Barthelme recycled the same ruby necklace for each bride. The rumors of the buried jewels added to a legend, nothing more.”

  So far, Millicent had been dead on, dead being the significant word.

  Tinkie continued. “Once Millicent and John Hightower agreed to work together, he promised her a portion of the book earnings. I think the two of them hoped the sisters would pay big money to halt the book’s publication.”

  “Blackmail can be quite lucrative,” I said.

  “Hightower is a fool!” Eleanor snapped. “He has some faux history and a vendetta so old no one even knows the truth. No one cares about the history of his family’s past. I wouldn’t give him a penny, not that I have a penny to give anyone. That’s the irony. Everyone thought we could be bled for cash, but Monica and I are so anemic we’re on life support.” She laughed, a brittle, ugly sound. “We should have told the truth and let the parasites shrivel and fall off us.”

  There was one very important point to cover. I asked Tinkie, “Hightower didn’t mention the photos of the necklace and the fraud?”

  “He doesn’t know about them. I’m sure he would’ve said something if he did. And he has no clue Millicent is … was injured. He thinks she’s miffed at him for abandoning her here and simply won’t return his calls.”

  “Millicent wasn’t going to cut him in on the necklace payoff.” There was no honor among blackmailers.

  Eleanor got up and put several ice cubes in her glass. She refilled it with bourbon. Before she could settle back into the chair, the phone rang, a loud, shrill bell that cried disaster. We all three froze.

  “Answer it,” I finally said, breaking the trance. “It could be the kidnapper.”

  Eleanor scurried to the portable as Tinkie switched on the recording equipment.

  “Hello?” Eleanor’s voice trembled.

  “Do you have the money?” a male voice asked. In the background I detected an echo. Like an empty warehouse or building, just as Eleanor had described it.

  “I do. I just want my sister.”

  “If you want her returned alive, you’ll do everything I tell you.” The voice was cold, completely without emotion.

  “I will.” Eleanor didn’t hesitate.

  “Then shut up and listen. At six o’clock, walk to the edge of the bluff at Briarcliff. Bring those two snooping friends of yours along.”

  Eleanor looked at us with horror. “They aren’t involved in this. They came to help with the insurance claim. That’s all. They’re going home today.”

  “If you want your sister to die, keep talking.”

  I motioned Eleanor to silence. It was clear whoever had Monica watched everything that went on at Briarcliff. I went to the window and looked out. There was no way anyone could see inside the house. Briarcliff rode the highest bluff in Adams County. The sole vantage point was miles away across the river.

  “Good,” the kidnapper said. “I repeat. Be on that bluff at six o’clock this evening. Have your cell phone in your hand. I’ll call with further instructions. Just have the money ready to move.”

  “Okay, I’ll—” Eleanor staggered and held out the phone. The line was dead.

  She raised the phone to her ear, unable to accept the call was over. “I didn’t get to speak to Monica. What if she’s dead? What if he’s already killed her?”

  My own heart squeezed at her plight. Patting her lightly on the shoulder, I took the phone and turned off the recorder. “We’ll demand to speak with Monica at six. At least now we know when the next call will come. We can begin to make plans.”

  “What plans?” Eleanor was frantic. “What can we do?”

  “Leave it to Tinkie and me. We’ll put the money in the trunk of your car and gather up equipment.” Binoculars, cameras, rope, duct tape. I hated it that the kidnapper had included us in the instructions. He knew we were with Eleanor, and he’d figure a way to keep us busy while Eleanor made the drop. The good news was he didn’t consider us as enough of a threat to fear Eleanor was working with the authorities on the abduction.

  Eleanor twisted her watch, revealing raw, irritated skin that looked as if she’d repeated the same action over and over again. “I can’t miss a call. I have to stay here. What if he calls the house phone instead of my cell phone?”

  Even Tinkie relented and lost some of her frosty attitude. “He won’t call back until six, Eleanor. You have nearly three hours to ki—to use up.”

  Eleanor was about to jump out of her skin. “Go.” I propelled her toward the kitchen. “Eat something. Rest. Everything depends on you. You have to be ready.”

  “What will you two do?”

  “Prepare for tonight.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll handle it.” I put her in front of the refrigerator and opened the door. “Food first. You’ll need to wear some comfortable slacks and walking shoes. There’s no telling what this guy is going to demand. Whatever it is, we have to be ready.”

  “Okay.”

  She was zombielike as she finally left. Taking a deep breath I turned to Tinkie. The pink tinge on her cheeks was not from flirting with a handso
me man. She was highly agitato, as my hero Kinky Friedman would say.

  “We should leave now,” she said. “We’ve been lied to enough. We didn’t agree to involve ourselves in a kidnapping, and the case we agreed to take is a fraud.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’re going to stay, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “Eleanor is about to implode. The sisters should be punished for what they’ve done. And they will. Tinkie, if we walk away and Monica dies, I won’t be able to live with myself. What happens if we don’t show up on the bluff at six? Will the kidnapper allow Eleanor to explain that we quit? Bottom line—we’re in this like it or not.”

  “I don’t ever want to hear you say I’m pigheaded.” She tried to hide her worry behind a smile. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Sarah Booth. You’ve always said when a client starts lying, it’s time to pull the plug. Eleanor and Monica have lied to us the entire time.”

  I couldn’t argue against her logic, but I could make a plea to her heart. “I’d do the same to save Dahlia House. And you would for Hilltop.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true. You got a job to save your home. Insurance fraud wasn’t the first option that jumped into your brain.” She lifted the coffeepot and began to rinse it out. Once it was brewing, she said, “Let’s have a cup and think through what we need to do.”

  So we were still in the fight. “You have coffee and get our gear ready. I’m going to talk to Kissie,” I said.

  “Forget the coffee. I’ll come with you.”

  We made sure the dogs had done their business before we left them to guard the house. Then we headed to the apartment of the singer-maid who seemed to turn up around every corner of this case.

  * * *

  Tinkie was charmed by the house where Kissie lived. We circled around to her apartment, Tinkie admiring the architectural wonders of the old gingerbread trim and cool porches. The door, standing ajar with the window air conditioner churning as hard as it could, set me on red alert. I motioned Tinkie behind me. We’d both suffered our share of hard knocks and injuries while working on cases, but my head was harder than hers. I signaled I’d enter and for her to remain outside and call help if necessary.