Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery

by Carolyn Haines

  It was a mighty generous offer. “Thank you, Coleman. You’re right. Cece and Oscar are chomping at the bit to see us. We’ll call it a day before too much longer.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve had all morning,” Coleman said. “We’ll take care of this once the storm has blown through.”

  I didn’t know if he was referring to Margene or my personal tsunami of emotional distress. Whichever or both, he was right. Once I had a line on Angela and knew she was safe, it was time to leave. “Coleman, you’re a good friend.”

  “Someone has to keep an eye on you, Sarah Booth. It could be a full-time job.”

  Tinkie pulled onto the main road and took a right toward the cottage. Sweetie and Pluto needed food and a bathroom break. I took them for a beach run—accomplished quickly in a moment of calm—and then upstairs for chow.

  “When Graf comes home, keep him here,” I told Sweetie. “No excuses.” Tinkie was waiting in the Caddy. She pulled back on the road. I didn’t know what she was up to, but I trusted her instincts.

  * * *

  The clouds continued to gang up on the horizon, slowly moving toward us as we drove to Fort Gaines. My entire life I’d watched hurricane coverage—the weather-center employees clinging to signs and clutching their slickers and microphones. I understood the concept of rain coming in sheets and letting up, then blasting again. Soon, I would be living it. I knew what to expect in the future: one minute the deluge would blind us, and the next, the rain would stop for half an hour or more. As the storm drew closer, the feeder bands would become a solid onslaught of bad weather.

  There was no sign of Angela’s little compact at Fort Gaines—or any other vehicle. The fort looked dreary and abandoned. For one brief moment, I thought I saw a woman in a black dress on the wall, but if it wasn’t Jitty, it was surely my imagination. Like the rain, she was there one minute and gone the next.

  We left the fort and went by Angela’s house. It looked as empty as the fort. This was our last effort to find her.

  Tinkie turned into the driveway and stopped. “She could be in danger. Call the sheriff’s office. We should have done it an hour ago.”

  I nodded and pulled out my cell phone. A burst of wind hit so hard it made me flinch. Tinkie gave a nervous laugh. “The idea of driving over that bridge in this weather is a little intimidating.”

  I hadn’t given it a thought, but now that she said it, I felt a flutter of nerves. The wind was strong enough at ground level. On that high arch, it would be more forceful. “Maybe our timing will be good and we’ll get over the bridge in a lull. Once we make it to I-10 it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  The ringing of the phone startled me, and I jumped and dropped it. Tinkie laughed so hard I wanted to swat her. By the time I recovered it from the floorboard, Angela’s number showed up on the ID.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I asked with no small amount of irritation.

  “Can you pick me up?”

  Her voice was strange, but it could have been the storm making her sound like she was in a tin can.

  “Where are you, Angela?” Tinkie had turned around and was driving toward town.

  “I’m at the bridge. I’ve been walking back, but I’m not feeling so great.”

  I remembered the blood at her cottage. “Walking back from where?” It didn’t make sense that she’d left the island. “Should I call the sheriff?”

  “No!” Panic bloomed in her voice. “Don’t call the sheriff’s department. Just pick me up, please. I’ll keep walking until I see you.”

  “We’re in Tinkie’s Caddy, but stay off the bridge. The wind is too high.”

  “Okay. I’ll be sitting on the side of the road.”

  “We’re on the way.” I hung up. “Hurry, Tinkie. She sounds bad. I think she’s hurt.”

  “We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

  Gusts of wind rocked the heavy Cadillac, but we made it over the bridge with no problems. Angela was easy to spot, sitting at the edge of the marsh grass. Behind her was a canal. My first thought, of course, was alligators. It looked like a great habitat for the reptiles. Ones that could run sixty miles an hour on six-inch legs.

  There was no traffic in either direction, and Tinkie did a U-turn and stopped beside Angela. I rushed to her side.

  “Are you hurt?” She had her hand over one eye, and when she looked at me, she appeared dazed. I helped her into the passenger seat and jumped in the back as Tinkie sped up the bridge. “Angela, are you hurt?” I shook her shoulder gently.

  “I don’t know what happened. I was in my cottage packing some photos and things. I heard what I thought was the wind at the back door. All of a sudden, it burst open and Randy Chavis barreled into the kitchen. He started to say something, and that’s the last I remember. I think I was struck on the head. Or maybe I was injected with a drug. I can’t say. I just remember being very dizzy and falling into blackness.”

  I didn’t see any obvious wounds or blood on her. Where had the blood in her cottage come from? “Are you bleeding?”

  “I don’t know.” She felt her head and face. She pulled her hair back and revealed a gash in her skull. “I don’t know how this happened.”

  Once we were at the beach cottage, I’d examine her more closely. “Was anyone else hurt at your cottage?”

  She put a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything.”

  “How did you get off the island?”

  “I don’t know that either. I woke up in this rancid little cottage on Heron Bay. It took a little while to figure out where I was, and when I did, I started walking toward the island.”

  “Was there a sailboat docked there?”

  “Yeah, a rundown one. And a motorboat. A big house that was locked tight. I tried to get in to use the phone, but it was like Fort Knox.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  She shook her head. “But someone lives there. I saw men’s and women’s clothing. The place was a pigsty.”

  “I think you were held at Remy Renault’s.”

  “Why?” She still was a bit dazed. “Why would he do this?”

  I didn’t have an answer, but I’d get one. As soon as I could.

  “Why didn’t you call us on your cell?” Tinkie asked.

  “My phone was dead. I thought the storm might have taken a tower out, but then the service would come back on. I’d try to call, and the phone would be dead. I couldn’t make sense of any of it.”

  She wasn’t the only one suffering erratic-phone syndrome. “Well, you didn’t drive in that condition, I hope, but your car is missing. And your house has been ransacked. I figured it was Chavis looking for that spyglass.”

  “The house was fine before I was taken.” Angela tapped her forehead as if trying to clear cobwebs. “I have to remember.”

  “Angela, where is the telescope?” Tinkie asked. “Was that what they were after?”

  “Maybe.” She leaned back. “They’ll never find it, though. It’s well hidden.”

  It was possible Remy had taken Angela and stashed her at his house thinking he would go back and question her when she returned to consciousness. Only she’d regained her senses and gotten away. Or else someone had taken Angela there to frame Remy. They’d never anticipated that Angela would wake up. Either way, very sloppy work.

  “Angela, if they knocked you on the head and took you, what makes you think they wouldn’t hurt you enough to convince you to talk?” Tinkie had been held prisoner more than once and knew what she was talking about.

  “I wouldn’t tell them squat.”

  “Until they hurt you badly enough. Then you’d squeal like a pig.” Tinkie was angry, and I didn’t blame her. “We need to collect the damn telescope and leave Dauphin Island. That storm won’t wait, and I for one don’t intend to drown.”

  Silence filled the car as Tinkie pulled into the cottage, where Graf’s SUV remained just as we’d left it.

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said. “Y
ou’re right. I’ll follow you off the island. It might be smart for me to book a room in New Orleans, just to be away from here.”

  “What about your boat?” I asked.

  “I’ll tie her off as best I can. It’s too late to do anything else for her.”

  “Where’s your car?” Tinkie asked.

  “Behind my house. There’s a place that’s hidden from view. I was afraid the house was being watched, and I was right. Could you take me to retrieve it? I need to grab a few photos and things, and then we can meet at the marina and leave the island together.”

  I didn’t say it aloud, but I knew I’d rest easier if I was certain Angela was off the island. Leaving together sounded like a plan. “You’re welcome to ride with us, Angela.”

  “It will be smarter to take my car. If the worst happens, I don’t want to leave it behind. I’ll just snatch a few personal items and be ready to evacuate.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “The fuzziness is fading.” She reached to her neck and rubbed. “I remember something stinging my neck.”

  “Like an insect?” Tinkie asked.

  “More like an injection.” She grimaced. “Maybe it’s just an overactive imagination. All I know is that one minute I was standing in my house confronting Chavis, and the next thing I knew, I was in that horrid apartment trying to remember what happened to me. But I’m fine now. And we can debate what happened in between once we’re inland.”

  When we pulled up to Angela’s house, she got out and ran to the door. She waved to us before we turned around and went back to the cottage. “I hope Graf is ready to depart,” Tinkie said.

  Something about the darkness of the rental cottage made me think otherwise. Graf wasn’t there.

  “Get Sweetie and Pluto. I know they’re sick of the car, but let’s hustle. We’ll put them in the Caddy. Leave the keys to the SUV for Graf, and we’re on the road. You can leave a note.” Tinkie was more outdone with Graf than I was.

  “Okay.” I didn’t have any argument left in me. Graf was making it painfully clear where his priorities lay. It wasn’t me, or the dog and cat. He’d abandoned Sweetie and Pluto, too. That added fuel to my fire.

  I looked around the cabin. I’d loaded everything into the SUV already. There was nothing to do but walk out. Yet I hesitated. Stepping through the door would be saying good-bye to my dreams, and my feet dragged. I had to call and cancel the marriage officiator, but I could do that while we were on the road. In all likelihood, she would realize a beach wedding was a fantasy in a hurricane. Still, I made sure her number was in my cell phone.

  I went to check the third-floor balcony one last time. Tinkie was busy downstairs throwing everything out of the refrigerator into a trash bag. We could dispose of it in New Orleans. When I opened the sliding glass door, the wind almost knocked me off my feet. I’d only thought it was powerful an hour before.

  The wild sound of a horse neighing was blown to me, and I rushed outside to see if I could spot the animal. The gusts could have blown a tree down on a fence, freeing livestock. If so, I would have to catch the animal and contact Snill. He would likely know to whom a wandering horse belonged. As the former postmaster, he knew everyone on the island.

  I scanned the high dunes around the cottage and thought I was hallucinating. Below me, two horses reared and pawed the wind. They were harnessed to a chariot.

  Somewhere between Tinkie in the kitchen and the third floor, I had lost my mind.

  “The Romans flogged me in the street and then raped my daughters.”

  I whirled to confront a tall woman with long tawny curls that hung below her waist. She wore a multicolored tunic and cloak held with a big broach. “Who the hell are you?” I knew it was Jitty, but I didn’t know who she was pretending to be.

  “Boudicca, queen of the Iceni. I bested legions of Roman soldiers and burned London to the ground.”

  “Obviously a warrior-queen. Thank goodness you’ve given up the widow routine. You were about to send me into a terminal depression.” This was history I hadn’t a clue about. “Why are you here?”

  “When my husband, King Prasutagus, died, he left the kingdom to be shared between Rome and me and our daughters. There was no male heir, and we had willingly joined the Roman Empire. Yet we were treated as a conquered nation. Not the smartest move. I am not a woman to accept a public flogging nor the abuse of my daughters. I fought back.”

  “Jitty, just tell me why you’re here as a warrior-queen. Please. I’m too tired to try to figure this out.”

  “Some say I died by my own hand rather than be taken as a slave. Others believe I died of illness or wounds sustained in battle.” She shrugged. “Does it matter? I never lived a day as a slave to any man or to Rome.”

  “I’m not a slave to Graf. I don’t want to go to war. I want to go home to Zinnia. I want to teach our children to ride and to plant the land and to dance the twist.” My voice held a spark of anger. “I don’t want to drive off and leave Graf, but I won’t stay and fight. Waging war won’t make him love me.”

  I gripped the balcony railing and gazed out at the tumultuous Gulf. The chariot and horses were gone. Jitty stood beside me.

  “Listen to me, missy. This ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings, and I don’t hear no music. Get yourself together and drag that man to New Orleans. Don’t look back. That’s not the word from the Great Beyond; that’s the word from me, Jitty the haint.”

  She lifted her hand, and I thought I felt the sensation of warmth on my cheek. “Fight for him, Sarah Booth. The only thing I can tell you for certain is that if you don’t fight with everything in you, regret will be your companion for the rest of your days.”

  Her words exhausted me, and I closed my eyes for five seconds. When I opened them, Jitty was gone.

  Footsteps thudded on the stairs, and I prayed that Graf had returned. It wasn’t him, though. It was my partner.

  “Sarah Booth, let’s go.” Tinkie signaled me from the doorway. “The weather is only getting worse. I left a note on the counter for Graf telling him we’re stopping by the marina on our way off the island and to New Orleans. He can come or not. At this point, if he wants to shack up with his honey and blow out to sea, it’s his choice.”

  “I know.” I took my cell phone charger and the few cosmetics I’d left in the bathroom. “My dress!” I pulled the carefully wrapped ball gown from the closet. I’d almost forgotten about it. I grabbed Graf’s tux, too. “I’m ready now.”

  With Sweetie and Pluto at my heels, we scurried down the stairs and into the car.

  22

  Arley McCain’s navy slicker immediately caught my eye when we pulled up at the marina. Angela, looking like a bedraggled, drowned rat, struggled beside him as the two of them hauled at thick ropes, trying valiantly to tie the Miss Adventure from three angles in the hopes of keeping her from crashing into the dock.

  “Pull the slack out and tighten the ropes,” Arley instructed.

  “I’m trying.” Angela’s jaw was clenched with the effort as she threw her slight weight against the lurching ship.

  Tinkie and I jumped out to help. I left the car door wide, allowing Sweetie and Pluto on the dock to watch. The clouds hovered low in the sky, making me think of the Delta when a thunderstorm covered the horizon. As a child, I used to think that God was angry with us when gray overwhelmed the horizon. I knew better now, but the building mass of gray still seemed filled with celestial wrath.

  “Lend a hand,” Tinkie said, shaking me out of my inertia.

  I assisted Angela while Tinkie grabbed the end of Arley’s rope that he’d wrapped around the docking post for leverage. The boat was like a bucking bronco, one that weighed several tons. Whenever we made a foot of progress, the sea would pitch the vessel against us and snatch back the ground we’d gained. The boat’s hull thrashed, only inches from the solid pilings.

  “This is never going to work,” I said.

  “If we don’t secure this boat, she’ll b
atter herself to death against the dock pilings.” Arley was grim in his prediction.

  “We need more muscle.” I was strong, but I wasn’t freaking Hercules.

  “Well, conjure it up, little missy,” he grunted.

  If only I had that power. I felt a tug on the rope behind me and turned to find Sweetie Pie holding the rope in her teeth. She threw all eighty pounds of her weight into the fight.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Arley said, a little in awe of my hound. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s almost as if the dog knew what you were saying.”

  “Almost as if,” I said, giving Sweetie a wink. When I glanced at Pluto, he was cleaning one back leg. It stuck high in the air as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Pluto, too, understood what we were doing, but he simply wasn’t going to trouble himself about helping. Typical cat.

  The wind calmed, and Arley and I managed to take up the slack on our line and tie it off. Then we rushed around the dock to help Angela and Tinkie.

  “Do you think it will hold her?” Angela asked Arley as she looked at her hands, where the rope had torn blisters and flesh.

  “Margene is down to a Cat One. It just depends on the tide, which side the wind comes from. I won’t lie to you; this ship should have gone inland or to the west. She’s a valuable boat, Angela. You could have sold her and made a nice profit. But no one will want her if she’s broken up or at the bottom of the marina.”

  I thought he was being a little hard on Angela, especially in light of the fact she’d been abducted and drugged, or at least whacked on the head. I started to say so, but Tinkie frowned and shook her head.

  “Let’s just hope she survives,” Angela said.

  We all stopped as a car pulled into the parking lot. Phyllis Norris jumped out and hurried over to us. “Angela, I’ve been worried sick! Where have you been? Why didn’t you return my calls? I was afraid something terrible had happened.”

  “Angela was detained, and not by her own choice.” I had to speak up.

  “I never wanted to push you, Angela, but if the boat survives the storm, you should sell her.” Arley wiped his palms on his jeans, and I realized his hands were shaking. “I’m too old to endure this stress.”