Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery

by Carolyn Haines

  “Wiped by someone.”

  He took a deep breath. “The recordings from the night before the murder were perfect. Arley couldn’t find anything wrong with the cameras or recorder. We chalked it up to the rain.”

  “Would you testify to that?” Angela asked.

  “I will. I know you don’t believe me, Angela, but I like Wofford. I didn’t want him to be guilty. That’s the way the evidence laid out. I did my job, even when I didn’t like it. The evidence said Larry was the killer.”

  “Except the evidence was tampered with.” Angela’s face was pale. “He’s been in prison over a year.”

  “I realize that.” Randy held out a hand to her. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure his conviction is overturned. We’ll need more than Prevatt hinting Larry Wofford was set up and blank surveillance cameras, though.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that.

  “Arley’s testimony hurt Wofford, and I know Arley only told the truth as he saw it.” Randy pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. I didn’t doubt he had a whopper of a headache. “Sheriff Benson was positive Larry killed John Trotter. I let his attitude compromise my own. I shouldn’t have rushed to charge Larry. Maybe if I’d held off, the investigation would have been more thorough.”

  “Why did you rush to charge Larry?” Tinkie asked.

  “Sheriff Benson said it would be best for Angela if we could close the door on the investigation quickly. He said Wofford did it, and the best thing we could do for Angela was put him behind bars and hold the trial as soon as possible.”

  “The sheriff.” Awareness dawned. “And now that Tinkie and I are poking into the past, who should end up abducted, drugged, and left to die on a boat freed from its moorings in a hurricane?”

  “Me.” Randy’s voice was dead. “He used me, didn’t he?”

  “I think he intends to frame you for killing Angela and Angela for killing Lydia Renault Clampett,” I added. I turned to Tinkie. “I’ll bet Randy’s and Angela’s fingerprints and blood are at each scene.”

  “I wonder if Renault was in on the frame?” Tinkie asked.

  The wind caught the boat, and we all lost our footing. The lantern swung, creating crazy shadows. We regained our balance, and the conversation continued.

  I thought back to my encounter with Sheriff Benson. He’d been annoyed and helpful in just the right quantities. Antagonistic and gracious—hitting exactly the right notes. And he’d been very careful to control the situation. I’d been so focused on Randy Chavis as the bad guy I hadn’t considered Benson.

  “But why?” Randy asked. “What does the sheriff or any of the detectives have to gain by sending an innocent man to prison?”

  “The person who finds the treasure stands to gain a fortune. Wofford was collateral damage. A scapegoat to take the blame.”

  Tinkie picked up the explanation. “They were getting rid of Randy, the same way they eliminated John Trotter. Two birds with one stone. Randy is the weak link in the case against Wofford. Once he realized Larry was innocent, they knew he’d fight to free Larry. They had to kill Randy or set him up for murder. They would take care of two big problems. It’s just a miracle Angela came to her senses and got out of that apartment before they went back to question her and then kill her. It’s all about the timeline.”

  Another wave slammed into the boat. I had one more thing to reveal.

  “I found something at Renault’s place, something I think he stole from John Trotter.” I told them about the painting in the car. “It was always the treasure. The painting depicts the coastline of Dauphin Island.” I went to the bookcase and selected a slender tube pushed into the back. “If my guess is right, this will be a nautical map of Dauphin Island today.” I unrolled the paper in the tube, revealing a map with figures, depths, reefs, shallows, and debris, all clearly marked.

  “Anyone can order that map or even print it off the Internet,” Angela said.

  “The painting your father did is the coastline of Dauphin Island as it was during the time of Armand Couteau. He’s researched it. That’s why he painted on a translucent surface. It’s meant to be put over this!”

  “My father found the treasure,” Angela whispered. “He did it.”

  A large wave hit the boat hard, and Tinkie fell to her knees. I landed on top of her. “I’ve had enough. We can finish this on land.” Tinkie signaled everyone to follow her on deck. “Let’s get off the boat while we can.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Angela called.

  I figured she was retrieving the spyglass, but I saw no reason to point that out to Randy Chavis. While he might not be the bad guy I’d assumed, he was still a deputy and Angela had broken the law. We could sort through the legalities of her actions once the storm passed.

  When we reached topside, the wind was relentless. I was worried sick about Sweetie and Pluto. They weren’t on the dock, and I hoped they’d taken shelter back in the Cadillac. Which would be soaked. Funny, but I didn’t recall leaving a window open wide enough for Sweetie to get out. Or even Pluto, for that matter. For a fat kitty, he could slink through some mighty small openings, but I’d left only a crack in the window.

  A very bad feeling hit me.

  Someone else was on the dock. Someone who had let my animals out of a safe car in a hurricane. Someone who was watching us, and likely waiting for us to get back to the dock.

  I searched the rain and windswept pier and the surrounding parking lot. Tinkie’s red Caddy was a blur in the savage weather. I couldn’t see anyone or anything else. Still, my heart raced, telling me that my gut knew what my eyes couldn’t see.

  Someone was there.

  Angela joined us, and I shifted close to her. “Do you have the spyglass?”

  She nodded.

  “Someone is waiting for us, and I think they mean us harm.”

  Angela lifted the glass to her eye and swept the parking lot. “There’s a dark car parked near the roadway. Black sedan.”

  “Who does it belong to?” Like the car that had tried to run me and Tink down, and also the one drifting through Angela’s neighborhood when shots were fired. We knew it wasn’t Randy Chavis, since he was with us.

  “I don’t know.” She scanned the horizon much as a sailor would. “I don’t see any movement.”

  Tinkie and Randy joined us, and to his credit, he didn’t say a word about the stolen spyglass. “What’s up?” he asked. He took a look through the telescope. “That’s Sheriff Benson’s car.”

  I motioned them down the steps again. We were safer out of the wind and rain and also out of sight. “Someone let Sweetie and Pluto out of Tinkie’s car. I’m afraid they’re waiting for us to get on the dock.” I’d finally put it together. “They want the spyglass. That’s what they’ve been after the whole time. It’s the key to the treasure.”

  “What good will it do them? They could’ve had it anytime. It’s been in the museum for two years,” Randy said.

  “But they didn’t have the other parts. The way John’s painting fits into the location of the treasure, the map on the wall at Fort Gaines. The rising sun intersects with the shadow of a wall. There lies the crossing of destiny and fortune.” Tinkie repeated the words written by Armand Couteau.

  “What does that mean?” Randy asked.

  “We need to be at the old fort at sunrise with the telescope.” I wasn’t certain what that would yield, but I had no doubt the words of the prisoner Armand Couteau had been left for LuAnn. He knew she would understand. He’d wanted her to claim the treasure, except she was as much a prisoner as he was.

  “Do you think we’ll find the treasure?” Tinkie asked. “Is there really a treasure?”

  “I think someone is afraid we’ll find it. Angela, who else knew you’d taken the telescope?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone, but the assumption by all involved was that I stole it.”

  “The correct assumption.” Randy was slightly peeved. “Dammit, Angela. I can’t just ignore this. I neve
r took you for a lawbreaker.”

  “And I never took you for a toadie.” Angela was hot.

  “Stop it, you two. We’ll worry about the telescope when the storm is over and we’re safe. So who else knew about the theft?”

  “Prevatt,” Angela said.

  “He’s a skunk,” Tinkie said. “He’s probably in this up to his eyebrows.

  I didn’t disagree, but while he was a skunk, he wasn’t a brainy skunk. There was a partner—one who was diabolical enough to plot a devious crime.

  “Who else?”

  “Snill, Phyllis—”

  “And the sheriff,” Randy interrupted. “He knew, and he sent me to check it out. Mobile isn’t even my beat.”

  That was the final straw. Benson had set Randy up by saddling him with a murder investigation when he wasn’t a detective, and he’d sent the patrolman to investigate robberies outside his beat. “Benson is involved. Which means we may be confronting law enforcement officials any minute. And there’s no way to tell how they’ll react to whatever Benson told them.”

  “The sheriff fooled me. I’m sure he has others duped.” Randy was glum. “If they’re waiting for us to disembark, they’ll swarm us as soon as we’re on the dock. That’s our weakest point. We’ll all be huddled together. They don’t know if we’re armed or not.”

  “Which means they might shoot us.” Tinkie wasn’t kidding.

  “She’s right.” Randy rubbed his chin. “If the sheriff has made them believe we’re armed and dangerous…”

  He didn’t have to finish the sentence. And I had to get to the dock. What had they done to Sweetie and Pluto? I knew the consensus was going to be against me, but I had to take action. “I’m going to jump to the dock.”

  “No, Sarah Booth!” Tinkie had her stubborn face on. “You are doing no such thing. Let Randy go. He’s a sheriff’s deputy. He stands a better chance than any of us.”

  Randy started toward the door. “I’ll do it. She’s right.”

  “And if they shoot you dead, they’ll figure out how to frame us for it.” With the highest law official in the county involved, he could make almost anything happen and report it as he saw fit. We were in a definite pickle.

  The boat made a radical shift. We grabbed at whatever we could to keep from being pitched to the floor.

  “Shit,” Angela said. “We don’t have a choice. We have to get off this boat.”

  “Then we’ll all go.” Tinkie intended to stop me from trying it on my own.

  We crept up to the deck and stopped dead. In the short space of time we’d been belowdecks, we’d been swallowed by wind and rain.

  25

  The howl of the wind obliterated all other noises, and the rain lashed my face so harshly I had to throw up an arm to protect my eyes. The boat rose at least eight feet on a swell and then plunged to the bottom. My stomach flipped a dozen times. I stumbled across the deck and grabbed a rope circling the mast. We were all going to be pitched over the side of the boat.

  Before anyone could stop him, Chavis leaped over the boat railing. To my utter amazement, he made it to the dock, which was vaguely visible as a darker outline in the storm. Wind-driven rain blasted into our faces with the force of nails. We had to turn away.

  “Dammit it all to hell!” There was no way to see if he’d made it safely up the dock or been swept away by the waves crashing over the slick boards. Or predict what he would do once he made it to the marina. Randy Chavis was a wild card. He’d seemed to be on Angela’s side at the end, but there were no guarantees he’d shown his true colors.

  And no way to calculate how badly he could damage us.

  He could tell Benson we were all on board the boat without weapons. Sitting ducks for whatever plot the sheriff decided to unfold.

  And I still didn’t know if my dog and cat were safe. Worry for my pets made me anxious. I didn’t feel so self-satisfied and smug about failing to tell Graf what I was doing on Dauphin Island. He was the only person who might come looking for us, but I’d pretty much kiboshed that possibility.

  A tug on my sleeve made me duck below as I followed Tinkie. While I hated being imprisoned in the dark boat, she was right. Rain was coming down like the sky had no bottom.

  Angela slammed the hatch shut, and the noise of the storm lessened, though the swaying of the boat made me queasy. To top it off, my teeth were chattering so hard they sounded like castanets. I was soaked, freezing, and nauseated. My equilibrium was taking a beating as the boat lurched again. My stomach roiled, and I fought seasickness.

  “Just think, if we had some tequila, some cosmetics, and some light, maybe a little calm weather, and some gourmet snacks, we could play beautician. Sarah Booth desperately needs a makeover, and, Angela, I could update your drowned-rat look.”

  Tinkie’s silly comment snapped the tension and gave us all a chance to catch a second wind.

  “We need a gun.” Angela was far from defeated. “If they’re out there with the intention of killing us, I’d like to get a few shots off first.”

  “Do you have a gun?” I was a good shot, but Tinkie was Dead-Eye Pete.

  Angela shook her head. “Dad never believed in guns. I urged him to get one out here in the marina, but he never would. He said he drank too much, and he was afraid he’d shoot himself. Ironic, right?”

  “Yeah, ironic.” I felt like a rat in a tunnel with a big hungry cat waiting for me to poke my head out.

  Tinkie stepped up to raise our flagging spirits. “Sarah Booth and I have been in much worse places. I concede, we’ve seldom looked this bad, but we’ve been in more danger. Tell me, though, do you think Randy will betray us?” It was the question on all of our minds.

  “I don’t know.” Angela pushed her damp hair from her face. “I misread Randy. I never even gave him the shadow of a doubt. I don’t know what he’ll do. I only wish I could get you two off the island and safely away. People have been hurt because of me. Now you two are in this mess and your dog and cat are wandering out in a hurricane.”

  “Don’t hog all the credit. Sarah Booth and I are capable of getting into trouble a lot deeper than this on our own.” Tinkie’s words held no sting. “How much longer can this storm last?”

  “Maybe two hours. It was moving at a really fast clip. When it gets calm, that’s the eye. Once that passes, it will rain and blow again. That’s the tail of the storm.”

  Angela spoke as if she’d weathered more than a few hurricanes. “So it won’t get any worse than this?” I asked.

  “If we’re lucky.”

  There was enough doubt in her voice to keep me from getting too hopeful. “Can Sweetie and Pluto survive this out in the open?”

  “They’ll find shelter. There are plenty of places around the marina for them to duck into cover, and this is going to be a really small storm.”

  That made me feel a little better. Maybe it was my imagination, but the storm did seem to be lessening. And I’d always heard that the back end wasn’t as fierce as the leading edge. Maybe the worst was behind us.

  “Do you think Renault is in collusion with the sheriff?” I told Angela about the motorboat Arley had heard the night her father was shot. “I think Renault may be the killer. I know he stole that painting. The question is, did he steal it after he killed your dad or before.”

  “He was always jealous of Dad. Jealous and lazy. He would sneak over here when Dad was gone to the store and poke around. Dad caught him a couple of times and warned him, but Remy would sneak back.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand. What did John’s death accomplish?” Tinkie asked. “No one has been able to recover the treasure.”

  I saw where Tinkie was coming from. “Maybe they weren’t after the treasure. Maybe they were determined to stop John from finding it.”

  “It was after the telescope went missing that my latest troubles started,” Angela said. “Maybe you’re onto something.”

  “Actually, it was after you talked to me about looking into
your dad’s murder.”

  The wind picked up again, and I thought I felt a small shift. But that wasn’t possible. We were tightly strung between heavy-duty pilings. We should ride out the storm in relative safety.

  “So is it the investigation into your father’s murder or the possibility of finding the treasure that’s at the root of these attacks against Angela, and how does that tie into framing Wofford for a murder he didn’t commit?” I asked.

  “We don’t have enough evidence to support any of the theories exclusively.” Tinkie was better at adding up the facts than anyone I knew.

  “How do we get more evidence?” I asked.

  “We could catch Benson and torture him until he talks.” Tinkie was only half-kidding. After the week we’d had, she was game for using the Taser a bit or possibly waxing sensitive body areas. Nothing that would permanently maim a body, yet something that would be certain to elicit a wagging tongue and a bit of screaming.

  “As soon as the storm is over, we can confront Prevatt and make him squeal.” Tinkie was looking forward to that possibility. The snippy little museum curator had gotten under her skin. “He knows more than he’s telling. He had the telescope all of those years and kept it locked away in a case. Not until—”

  I put it together. “Not until I found that map at the old fort. I sent a photo to Cece.”

  “Can the sheriff intercept phone messages?” Tinkie asked Angela.

  “They can tap your cell phone. Or get to your phone records. I suppose a text with an image attached would be easy to get.”

  “Shit.” Tinkie was grim. “That’s how they knew. The map. When you stole the telescope, they figured you knew how to find the treasure.” Tinkie paced the narrow hall.

  At last I was keeping up. “So the map at Fort Gaines does show how to locate the treasure.”

  “It’s part of how we’ll find it.”

  “The map, painting of Dad’s, and the spyglass of Armand Couteau. It’s just like I thought. Armand could see the beach from the window of his prison before he died.”

  “You believe the treasure is real?” Angela asked.