Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery

by Carolyn Haines

  “Or even someone who saw or heard a motorboat. Good idea.”

  While I brewed coffee, she took down names and phone numbers as Arley searched his records. “He gave me three names. It’s a long shot,” she said. “A lot of boats were docked, but no on lived on them. The night Trotter was killed, it was also raining. The people who were around were likely snugged into the apartments they were renting, but I’ll ask if they heard or saw anything that night. I don’t feel good about trusting the sheriff’s department to do a thorough job.”

  My cell phone rang, and for a second I hoped it was Graf, but Cece’s number popped up.

  “Hello, dah-link!” she said. “Are you ready for the latest gossip from the City that Care Forgot?”

  “Slap me upside the head with it.” I wasn’t in a gossiping mood, but my friends were rallying to keep my spirits up, and I intended to meet them halfway.

  “You remember Samantha Hebert, don’t you?”

  “The striking filmmaker from Seclusiville Plantation?” I remembered her vividly. She could walk in a room and stop conversation. She was only in her twenties, but she’d directed an independent film that swept the Sundance competition. Graf had labeled her film brilliant.

  “That’s her. She has a lot of grit and gumption.”

  Cece would get to the story at her own speed, but I prodded her with a question. “Wasn’t she engaged to that stockbroker from Virginia? Handsome but stodgy.”

  “Tim Kelso.”

  “Yes. I recall. The young set thought he was the best-looking man they’d ever seen.”

  “Fresh face on the scene. Always creates a stir.”

  “Where’s this going, Cece?” I checked my watch. I was primed for action, not conversation.

  “She broke off the engagement this afternoon in the hotel lobby. It was something of a scene.”

  “Why?” She’d hooked me despite my best attempts not to be sucked in.

  “Do you want the long story or short version?”

  What I really wanted was to choke the details out of her. “Nutshell.”

  “He went behind her back and mucked up the distribution deal she was working on for her film.”

  “Why?” No reasonable explanation came to my mind.

  “He was afraid she’d go to Hollywood and leave him behind. He was fine with her being a big fish in a little pond in Mississippi. He feared if she went to Los Angeles, he would lose her.”

  “And so now he has.” I wasn’t sorry for him, but the situation was sad. Maybe he didn’t care about her in the right way, but he did care.

  “The scene in the hotel lobby was exquisite. She pulled out all the stops. She brought in the Louisiana State University cheering squad. They spelled out B-A-S-T-A-R-D and then shook their pom-poms. I personally felt she went a little over the top with the Elvis impersonator singing ‘Jailhouse Rock,’ but it’s her breakup scene. Let’s just say folks will be talking about this for a long time to come.”

  “What did he do?”

  “She caught him completely unprepared. It was a beautiful thing in a terrible way. I suspect he’ll move and start over.”

  “Men have to learn they can’t suffocate a woman into a secondary existence. Samantha would never have left him behind, no matter how successful she became.”

  “I agree, but there’s no healing this wound. She tore into him publicly. The entire lobby of the hotel ground to a halt. Humiliating for him to the extreme.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t there.” I had my own kettle of fish to tend. I didn’t need to watch another person’s romantic conflagration.

  “So when are you girls leaving the beach?”

  Here was the real reason for Cece’s call. She was worried and wanted us on the road. “Probably tomorrow morning. The storm is all but stalled. We still have some time to work on the case.”

  “And Graf?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Cece. He’s asked for space. I’m doing my best.”

  “I think I’d like to be involved with someone, but then I witness Samantha’s breakup and hear the pain in your voice. Maybe being single isn’t so bad.”

  “Maybe it isn’t. I’ll give you a call when we get on the road.”

  * * *

  Tink and I played several hands of poker while we waited for Graf. We’d turned the television off by mutual consent. The storm inched toward us. Watching was worse than a dental appointment. Night fell, and still no sign of my fiancé. I’d talked myself into the whole “giving space,” but the approach of the storm and Graf’s continued absence was unraveling my resolve. And my temper.

  “I’m going to look for Graf.” I grabbed a Windbreaker. The air was cooler, and the pending storm had also brought in an element of chill. Or maybe it was purely emotional.

  Tinkie put her hands on my shoulders and pressed me into a chair at the kitchen counter. “Don’t, Sarah Booth.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t go sniffing after him.”

  Tinkie was always the one to urge love and romance and never say quit. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  She slowly shook her head. “Not about Graf. But I do know that if you follow him and find him with that woman, the end result will be you ending it forever. You have too much pride to see that and not take action. You and Samantha Hebert aren’t women to sit around and take misconduct.” I’d relayed Cece’s gossip to her.

  Tinkie knew me inside and out. “I can’t just wait here, hoping he drags back in after he’s done with her. It makes me feel like an old shoe.”

  Her tinkling laughter was the one ray of hope in the cottage. “You are certainly not an old shoe. Look, when he comes back, let’s ask him about leaving. We don’t want to pack and push him into a corner. We’ll take this one step at a time. I just checked the weather online, and the storm is crawling toward Mobile Bay. It hasn’t veered course, it hasn’t strengthened, and it hasn’t picked up speed.”

  Sitting at home in Zinnia, I’d watched more than a few hurricanes roar toward the Gulf Coast. I’d been mesmerized by the potential for destruction, and often for the horrible aftermath. But it wasn’t personal. Not like it was now. My admiration for those hearty enough to live with this impending doom rose to new heights.

  “Tomorrow the roads will be jammed with people smarter than we’ve been. We should have left yesterday.”

  Tinkie patted my back. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda. That’s a fool’s game. You weren’t ready to go, and neither was I. We can leave in the morning, in the daylight, and make New Orleans. The interstate may be crowded, but I know a few back roads. We’ll be fine. We can be in New Orleans before lunch. We’ll have time for a nap and a little beauty parlor pampering before touring the French Quarter. We just need a good night’s rest so we can look magnificent for the ball. Settle back. Let’s see what we can find on the Internet about Jameson Barr’s hit man. That Zeke person.”

  “Good idea. I think you should call Roundtree again. Keep his feet to the fire about all the money he can make from your development plan.”

  “I agree.” She put her Bluetooth earpiece in. “Stand back and watch me work this guy. Greedy men are like taffy. A little pull here, a tug there, and soon they’re way overextended.”

  At the last minute, she pulled out the earpiece. “Speakerphone might be more in order.”

  She must have known my mind had wandered to Graf and where he was and, more important, what he was doing. My thoughts refocused on the job at hand.

  “Well, Mrs. Richmond, it’s good to hear from you.” Roundtree was smooth as an oiled hinge.

  “You had me checked out, didn’t you? Talk to Oscar at the bank? I hope you didn’t let on about our little deal. If he gets wind of it, he’ll shut me down.”

  “I was very discreet, but let’s just say your credentials were verified.”

  I’d wondered at the time if it was wise for Tinkie to use her real name and background. She was not only right, but brilliant.

  “I’
m going to enjoy doing business with you, Richard. Or should I call you Rick? I like a man who uses precautions.” Her laughter chimed lightly. “So this storm is headed right up our posteriors. This will be a good test. Maybe see how bad erosion is on the beach side.”

  “We can possibly bulwark or create barriers to the storm surge. It’s been done other places.”

  “But wouldn’t that interfere with the waves and surf?” Tinkie knew a lot more than she let on.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Roundtree soothed her doubts.

  “You said there were environmentalists opposed to development. How much influence do they have?”

  “Dr. Norris with the turtle research is the most outspoken, but they don’t have the money to be a real bother. Then there’s Tom Brennan. I believe I mentioned him. Now he might be a thorn. He’s smart, and he isn’t afraid to speak out and rally support. We’d need to slide this past him. Get to the stage where it’s gone too far to stop. So with that in mind, I presume you will refrain from talking about our partnership.”

  “And who would I talk to but you?” Tinkie cooed.

  I made gagging motions and rolled my eyes. She completely ignored me. Her mama had trained her well.

  “You’re as smart as you are pretty,” Roundtree said. “Why don’t we seal our little bargain with a drink this evening? I’m moving my yacht inland. We could sail upriver. Drink some champagne.”

  “I’m still married, Commissioner Roundtree.” Tinkie played it coy.

  “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “I believe there’s a private investigator following me. Let’s just say I can’t risk photos taken with a man as attractive as you are. It might give Oscar grounds in the divorce, and God knows I’m not giving him a penny I don’t have to.”

  Roundtree laughed. “If I had any illusions about marrying you, Mrs. Richmond, they are shattered. You’re too smart. But I’ll look forward to a more intimate relationship once you’re divorced.”

  “Let me call my lawyer and get that ball rolling,” Tinkie said.

  Her enthusiasm elicited more gagging motions from me.

  “You do that, darlin’. After the storm blows through, we’ll take a survey of the island. There’s a piece of property that will make you salivate.”

  “I can’t wait.” Tinkie clicked off the phone and rounded on me. “I should beat you up,” she said, holding back laughter. “You almost threw me off my game.”

  “Tinkie, you’re the best I’ve ever seen.”

  “Men are simple, Sarah Booth. Unless you really love them. Love complicates everything.”

  “Do you think maybe Phyllis Norris or Tom Brennan might have been involved in hurting John Trotter? I mean, if he found the treasure, it would mean development. There’s no way around that.”

  “Norris was dating him, and she seems really fond of Angela. Let’s pull up Brennan and also the hit man.”

  For the next hour, we surfed the Web. Tom Brennan was a firebrand and activist. He practiced civil disobedience by staging nonviolent sit-ins. Dr. Norris was an outspoken advocate for keeping Dauphin Island pristine, but her tactics revolved around giving papers at academic conferences, testifying before Congress, and taking the news media on tours of the island paradise.

  “Neither of them seems dangerous or likely to kill.” I simply couldn’t find anything that led me to believe either environmentalist would be a killer.

  “So we’re left with Chavis, Barr, Renault, Prevatt, and Roundtree as our primary suspects.” Tinkie tapped her fingernail on the table. “Frankly, I don’t think Roundtree is our man. He’s greedy, and it isn’t that he wouldn’t kill someone. I think he fears getting caught too much to actually do it.”

  She could be right, but I still wasn’t ready to rule him out. Greed was always a good motive for murder in my book, though revenge was better. “I wonder if Coleman might be able to check out Zeke Chavis in the Atmore prison.”

  Interest sparked in Tinkie’s eyes. “Damn good idea. They’ll talk to a lawman where they won’t give us the time of day.”

  “Will you call him, Tinkie?”

  She considered my question. “Yes. I will. I love you, Sarah Booth, and I don’t want to see you do anything you’ll regret in a week or two.”

  “I don’t want to be that woman.”

  “Then I won’t let you.” She dialed the Sunflower County Sheriff’s Office, and, in no time at all, Coleman had agreed to find out what he could about Zeke Chavis and his conviction for murder.

  “He’ll call us back when he has something,” Tinkie said, clicking her phone off. “He did check on Randy. He said the deputy came back clean. The deputies Coleman interviewed seemed to think Randy was a good guy who deserved a promotion to detective. They said he’d been implicated in some events in the sheriff’s office as a scapegoat.”

  “Coleman’s a good friend to ask around for us.”

  “Indeed.” She took her time, but at last she held my gaze. “Look, I have to say this. Coleman is our friend. We both know he carries a torch for you. Don’t use him, Sarah Booth. Don’t rush into his arms because you’re angry and hurt with Graf.”

  I held my temper because she spoke out of love. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then be sure you don’t. If you end up with Coleman, it has to be because you’re in love with him, not on the rebound or trying to strike back at Graf.” She put a finger on my lips. “It happens. Remember when we first met? My obsession with Hamilton Garret V? I felt neglected and hurt. Had it not been for you, I might have hopped in bed with Hamilton and ruined my marriage. Friends stop each other from rash action.”

  “I agree.” She had me dead to rights. Instead of her, I’d been the one who ended up in bed with Hamilton.

  “You would never hurt Coleman deliberately, but it’s up to you to control the situation.”

  “I want to point out I haven’t done a thing to deserve this lecture.”

  She rushed to me and hugged me. “Not a single thing. I just don’t want to see you hurt more or Coleman pulled into this in a way that harms his heart or his integrity.”

  I nodded. “We’re on the same page.” I kept my voice light, but deep in my heart, I felt a horrid ache. Tinkie expected me to rush to Coleman to assuage my pain. Which meant she expected to see me hurt.

  * * *

  I grilled some grouper marinated in a balsamic vinegar glaze and sweet potatoes with corn on the cob. It took almost no time, and when it was ready, Graf magically appeared.

  “Been out stargazing?” Tinkie asked innocently.

  “Trying to get a last workout in on the beach.” Graf was sweaty, and the night was chill.

  For four hours? “Bless your heart.” It was the best I could come up with, and every true Southerner knew exactly what that phrase meant. Rough translation: “Kiss my ass.”

  Graf was oblivious to my subtleties. He continued speaking. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think we should get up at daybreak and head to New Orleans. I think we have a ball to attend.”

  Tinkie and I exchanged surprised looks, but neither of us commented. What had occurred in his absence to send him back to my orbit? I wanted to ask, but I would gain nothing from a direct assault in front of Tinkie. Before the night was over, I’d have some answers, though.

  We settled around the table, and Graf ate his food with his former relish. Tinkie sipped wine, and the two of them engaged in friendly sparring about the best beach attire. The deep freeze around my heart began to thaw of its own accord. Maybe Graf had worked through whatever had been eating on him. It could have been a thorny script discussion with the writer. Still, he should have told me about Marion Silber.

  I reached across the table and took his hand. He squeezed mine in return and warmed me with a smile. It was a small thing, just a touch of intimacy from the man I loved. It was enough to kindle the fire of expectation. But not for long.

  My short-lived hope that the old Graf had suddenly r
eturned was dashed when we finished dinner and Graf retreated to the sofa, saying he felt more comfortable there. Tinkie wisely said nothing as she went to the guest room.

  “Graf.” I sat down across from him. “Did you get my text? And my voice mail?”

  He met my gaze. “I did. I’ve spent the whole afternoon trying to come to terms with some things.”

  “What things?” How I kept my voice steady was a miracle.

  “I need time.”

  “To decide what? That you’re leaving me? What happened? Is there someone else?”

  “There is no one else. You have to give me some time, Sarah Booth. I’m struggling.”

  “And I’m not? We came down here, and we were in love. Now you sleep on the sofa and disappear for hours at a time. You avoid intimacy. What conclusion should I draw except that your feelings for me have changed?”

  “They haven’t. I love you. Other things have changed.” He leaned and grasped my hand. “Give me some time. I promise I’ll explain everything and you’ll understand.”

  I could have confronted him about Marion Silber, but what was the point? I got up and went to the bedroom and closed the door.

  I slept fitfully, dreaming of waves that towered over me and the cottage on the beach. But I could swim underwater. As I watched my possessions float past, I angled for the sunlight on the surface of the beautiful aqua water. No longer churning with mud and silt, the water suffused me with beautiful blue light. And yet when I surfaced, I found myself in the dead of night surrounded by black water and no idea where land might be.

  I awoke sweating and miserable. Tinkie slept on, as did Sweetie, Pluto, and, in the den, Graf. I dressed and went outside, wondering if sunrise would show the storm had moved inexorably toward the mouth of Mobile Bay.

  The radio in the car would give me an update, so I found the keys and slid into the driver’s seat. Local stations had given up music for full-on storm reporting. Margene had slowed and lost some momentum, falling back to a Cat One. She packed constant winds of seventy-five miles an hour with more powerful gusts. Predictions for rainfall went as high as eight inches in a very short time.