Crossed Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  Then I saw the blood on his pants leg. The denim had erupted with splinters of bone, and blood was jetting out in bright crimson gushes. Coleman walked calmly into the room, ignoring Spider as he fell. Coleman pointed his gun at Ray-Ban. “Hand it over,” he said.

  Ray-Ban hesitated, but the look in Coleman's eyes convinced him to yield his gun. As deputies Gordon Walters and Dewayne Dattilo rushed into the room, Coleman took Ray-Ban's gun and picked up the gun Spider had dropped. Finally, Coleman squatted beside Spider, who was moaning on the floor, clutching frantically at his bleeding thigh.

  “Damn, I hit an artery. Sarah Booth, call an ambulance,” Coleman said.

  “Coleman!” I'd never been gladder to see anyone.

  “Give me your belt,” Coleman said to Scott, who sat up and pulled his off. In a few seconds Coleman had fashioned a tourniquet and slowed the bleeding.

  He stood and motioned Dewayne to hold the tourniquet. “Gordon, if anybody moves, shoot them. That means anybody, but especially her.” He pointed at Nandy, who was now whimpering.

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me up and out to the front porch.

  “Are you okay?” His hands moved down my arms, then along my back as if he wouldn't believe my words.

  “I'm fine. You got here just in time.”

  “Playing that record on the radio was stupid, Sarah Booth. This whole plan was foolish and dangerous. You knew the people who wanted the recordings had killed once.”

  His hands tightened on my arms and he pulled me into a hug. I didn't care that he chastised me. The only thing that mattered was that he held me.

  “By the way, leaving your cell phone in the records was a good piece of work.” He pulled the small phone out of his pocket and returned it.

  His whispered praise made me smile.

  “How did you know I would be in the office?” he asked.

  “It was a risk, but where else would you be?”

  He squeezed me tight and let me go. “When did you figure out it was Spider and Ray-Ban?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that my trap had been set for Bridge. But I remembered DG rule eighty-eight. Never admit to anything less than perfection.

  “Did you hear their confession?” I countered.

  “Heard it and recorded it. The quality of sound won't be the best, but it's good backup, especially since we have you and Bridge and Scott to testify.”

  Coleman walked me back into the room, his arm around my shoulders. I didn't feel it necessary at that time to tell him I'd recorded the whole thing, too—just in case.

  Coleman stopped in the doorway, his arm possessively slipping around my waist. “Where did Nandy come from?” he asked.

  “Hell,” I answered.

  We were both laughing when I looked at Scott. His jaw was swollen, but it wasn't pain from his injury that showed on his face. He truly cared for me. I saw it in the way his gaze slipped from my face to Coleman's arm around me. Right before we'd been bombed, Scott had been telling me that he was falling in love with me. And right before that, he'd admitted that everyone he loved got hurt. I knew then that the entire scene when he'd returned my car had been staged in an effort to keep me safe. He'd decided to run me off by treating me mean, rather than see me get hurt. It took my breath away.

  Nandy, who had revived, saw her opportunity and knelt down beside Scott. “I told you she was fucking the sheriff,” she said with great satisfaction.

  The hush in the room seemed to suck all of the oxygen out. It was Bridge who moved first, getting to his feet and picking up the old black record from the coffee table. “So who actually owns the records, and are there more of them?”

  “Emanuel Keys owns them. There are twenty-two, counting the one you're holding.”

  Bridge nodded slowly. “My offer still stands.”

  “As soon as I get back to the courthouse, I'll cut Emanuel loose—until we can prove he was involved in Trina Jacks' abduction,” Coleman said. “Whatever deal you work out is between the two of you.”

  There was the sound of an ambulance headed down Bilbo Lane, and in a moment the flashing lights could be seen in the driveway.

  At Coleman's direction, Gordon started leading Ray-Ban toward the door. I stepped in front of him. “By the way, that ugly dog you hit was mine.” I lifted my knee with as much force as I had. The result was very satisfactory. Ray-Ban was still doubled over when Gordon put him in the patrol car.

  “I'll take Scott to the hospital,” I offered. I needed a moment to talk to him. There was no denying what he'd seen with his own eyes, but surely there was a way to soften it.

  “I'll take him!” Nandy was reaching for his arm.

  “I'll ride with Bridge,” Scott said. “I want to talk to him about Playin' the Bones.”

  “I'd still like to buy the club,” Bridge said as he and Scott walked out of the room.

  Nandy glared at me. “See what you've done. You didn't even want him and you hurt him. Why is it that everything you touch suffers, Sarah Booth?”

  Even though I knew spewing poison was her nature, the knowledge didn't keep her words from hurting me.

  I turned away, focusing on the ambulance attendants who were loading Spider on a stretcher. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he'd managed to hang on to his meanness.

  “I'll be out in a few years, and you'd better watch out,” he said to me, his voice a low whisper. But not so low that Coleman didn't hear.

  Coleman leaned down. “You tortured and killed an old man who only wanted peace and music. You burned a historical building that served a community as a grocery store. Now you're trying to scare a woman with threats of revenge. You won't be much of a threat with one leg,” he said. “The bone is shattered. Amputation is your only chance.”

  Spider looked sick as the paramedics wheeled him away. I felt a little nauseous. “Is he really crippled?”

  “Who knows,” Coleman said. “I just thought he needed something to think about, other than you.”

  We walked out of the house together and watched as Nandy hurried to her car. I had no doubt she'd follow Bridge and Scott to the hospital. She wasn't the kind of woman who gave up easily.

  Coleman and I stood on the porch alone. There were a million things I wanted to say to him. I looked up and put my hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble of a long day. We stood like that, letting our eyes do the talking. His head bent down to kiss me.

  “Coleman.” The voice came out of the dark, but I recognized Connie. “It's time to come home.”

  We were frozen together, Coleman's lips just above mine. I felt him ease back from me. Whatever pain I might have caused Scott, I felt it tenfold.

  “I've booked us a cruise,” Connie said. She was talking very carefully. “I want to try to save this marriage. I know how you feel about Sarah Booth, and I know that it's partly my fault. I didn't love you when I should have. But maybe I can make you feel what you used to feel about me. I want to try.” She was crying. “Please. Coleman, I'm pregnant.”

  I stepped away from Coleman and walked down the steps. I got in my car and backed up, my headlights catching Connie and then Coleman. He was still standing on the porch. He hadn't moved an inch, but the light around him glowed in a shimmering halo. Or at least it looked that way to me, because I was crying.

  35

  I swirled the ice cubes in the glass of straight Jack and watched as Tinkie's headlights swung down the driveway. Coleman had returned my cell phone, and I'd called her as I drove home. She was in a high state of miff. As she made the curve by the house, gravel slung and peppered the porch.

  “Hold the bullets,” I said, striving for a light note.

  “Sarah Booth, I'm very angry with you.” She got out of the car and marched toward me on five-inch leopard-print heels. She was in such a state that she allowed Chablis to jump to the ground and walk by herself. “I'm your partner and you didn't even give me a chance to help catch those two.”

  I patted the step beside me. “I
could have used your help.” That was true. Tinkie had her own way of handling things. If she'd been there, perhaps no one would have gotten hurt.

  My admission mollified her somewhat, and she took a seat beside me. She leaned over and sniffed my glass. “That's not a very ladylike drink.”

  “I'm not a very ladylike lady.” The bourbon was warm as it slipped down my throat. It was a very comforting sensation.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Physically, I couldn't be better.”

  “And how's your heart?”

  “Well, let's just say that it's taken something of a beating tonight, but it was not alone in the fray.” I told her the whole thing, including Connie's unexpected appearance and her more than unexpected pregnancy.

  “I'm sorry, Sarah Booth.” Tinkie put her tiny hand on my back and rubbed it gently. “You're the only girl I know who could lose three beaus in one night without using a gun, automobile, or poison. That may be a Sunflower County record. Maybe even Mississippi.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” I took a long swallow of my drink.

  She got up and went to her car. When she returned, she had a brown bag of fried pork rinds. “Margene's cousin made these,” she said, holding the bag out. “Her name's Rachelle and she's thinking of starting her own business. Rachelle's Rinds and Renderings. It has a certain ring to it.” She gave me a crooked smile. “Despite the name, the product is excellent. I'm going to talk to Oscar and see if he'll invest.”

  She rattled the bag until I took one.

  She held a rind between her fingers as if she were studying it. “After Tammy talked to the community Monday night, Margene decided she didn't have to quit. We owe Tammy a lot. She stood up for Scott.”

  I crunched the rind. It was crispy, light, and perfectly seasoned. “We do. On the other hand, she could have told me that Connie was going to get pregnant.”

  Tinkie put her arm around me. “I'm sorry about Coleman, Sarah Booth. Bridge isn't a man to play second fiddle, especially when you made it pretty clear you suspected him of murder. What about Scott, though?”

  I shook my head. “I screwed that up, too. I couldn't imagine that he would ever love me, but I think he really did. Tonight, he saw clearly that he wasn't my first choice.” I'd solved the case, in a manner of speaking, but the cost had been high.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “Look for my next case. No more sitting around and waiting for something to drop in my lap. Bridge was right about that. If I'm going to be successful, then I'm going to have to pursue my options.” I nudged her. “We're going to have to pursue our options.”

  “We don't have to worry about finding cases, Sarah Booth. Every time you turn around, you're in the middle of something. I was asking what you're going to do about the men.”

  I wanted to ask her what my options were, but I already knew. “I guess I'm just going to keep on dreaming, and one day the right man will walk through my door. Jit— A good friend told me once that I had to find a dream and stick with it. I guess I've just got to find that dream.”

  Tinkie sighed. “You try so hard to be tough, Sarah Booth, but you're really a romantic at heart.”

  “Desperate is the more accurate description.” I stood up. I was bone weary. “I think I'm going to bed. Maybe my dream will visit and I'll know what to hope for.”

  Tinkie advanced an extra step so she was closer to my height. From that vantage, she put her arms around me and gave me a hug. “At least this time you aren't wounded.”

  “Only internal injuries.” But I was smiling as I hugged her back. There's something to be said for a friend who can always find a silver lining.

  My room was filled with sunshine and my bedside clock showed nine A.M. when I finally realized the horrible ringing was coming from the telephone and not my head. Ringing wasn't necessary, my head was satisfied with severe pounding.

  “This better be good,” I said into the receiver, squinching my eyes against the pain of speaking.

  “Sarah Booth, how much did you drink? I knew I should never have left you alone.”

  Leave it to Tinkie to assume the burden of guilt. “You couldn't have stopped me,” I told her, and it was the truth. I was just that stupid. I'd consumed a considerable amount of my good friend Jack before I'd fallen unconscious into the bed.

  “Guess what?” She must have realized I wasn't in the mood for games because she immediately answered her own question. “Emanuel is selling Playin' the Bones to Bridge. They're up at the bank right now.”

  “That's great.” I was finding it very hard to believe. Emanuel wasn't the kind of man to do something sentimental and nice.

  “He's also selling Bridge the recordings.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at the sun streaming in the bedroom window. It was a white light, pure and summery. “Are you teasing me?”

  “He told Bridge he wanted the world to share the music. He said that while he was sitting in that jail cell he had some time to think. He said he heard that you'd played a record on WBLK and he listened to the way people were talking about his father and the music, and he realized Ivory was right.”

  This was almost more than I could grasp. “Emanuel had a conversion?”

  “You could say that.” Tinkie giggled. “I think the ten million dollars Bridge offered had a little something to do with it. He's going to split it with Ida Mae. You should see the two of them together, Sarah Booth. It just does my heart good. After all this hurt and pain, she finally has found her son.”

  Emanuel was still in trouble with the law. “What about Trina Jacks?”

  “Emanuel wasn't with the three men who abducted her, but he accepted responsibility for instigating it. He's left the Dominoes and, for his mother's sake at least, he'll keep quiet.”

  Even though my face hurt, I grinned. “Sounds great.”

  “Ida Mae was up at the courthouse, and she gave the remainder of the fee to me.” She paused. “I've saved the best for last. Ida Mae's going to work with Bridge in the club.”

  “What about Scott?” Even saying his name hurt.

  “I don't know. He hasn't been around the courthouse or the bank.” There was evasion in her voice.

  “What are you doing for breakfast? I think I promised you French toast.” If she came here, face-to-face, she'd tell me the truth about Scott, and there was no one I'd rather hear it from.

  “No, thanks. I went to Millie's this morning with Oscar. I knew you wouldn't be in any shape to cook.”

  It was true. My stomach almost revolted at the idea of food, but I didn't want to be alone. My case was over and I had nothing to distract me from the fact that I had no one in my life.

  “Sarah Booth, are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I said, rolling out of bed and standing up. After the first wave of dizziness, I was okay.

  “I've got to go to Memphis with Oscar this morning, but I'll be back tonight. Would you like to have dinner with us? Margene's cooking shrimp and pasta.”

  “Sounds wonderful, what time?”

  “Seven. Try to rest up.”

  “I'll be there. Tinkie, did you see Coleman this morning?”

  She paused. “No. He's out of town.” There was a long silence. “He and Connie went on a cruise.”

  The idea of morning sickness and seasickness came to me with a dollop of malice, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. “I'll see you tonight,” I finally said before I hung up the phone.

  I wanted to roll up and crawl back in the bed. I was about to do that when there was a banging on my front door. It wasn't Tinkie—not her style, and she was at her house.

  “Damn.” I got up and started down the stairs in my underwear, when I thought better of it. I didn't feel like dressing and I didn't have to answer the door. I was hungover and I was grown-up. I could simply ignore the pounding and go back to bed. I was almost in the bed when I heard Scott's voice.

  “Sarah Booth!”

  I owed him t
he opportunity to tell me what a fool I was. “Scott, wait. Please.” I dragged on some jeans and a T-shirt.

  Still barefoot, I rushed downstairs, feeling the need to hold my head with each step. He was standing on the porch. When I opened the door, he turned around. His right eye was black and his jaw was mightily swollen.

  “Man,” I said, wincing. “How bad is it?”

  “Broken molar and a broken jaw. It's not so bad if I don't laugh.” His eyebrows arched as he looked at me. “Wow, you look like you're in pain.”

  “Self-inflicted.” He had no reason to feel sorry for me, but I wanted to cry just at the sight of him.

  He shrugged, the gesture reminding me that he had some of the sexiest moves I'd ever seen on a human. “I knew you'd get hurt if you hung out with me. Everyone does.”

  “Would you like to come in? I was about to make some coffee.”

  He shook his head. “I'm leaving.”

  It wasn't unexpected, yet I still felt a terrible pain. “Where are you going?”

  “I have a gig in Chicago, then Detroit. BAMA Records has offered me a real nice contract for two albums. Don't tell Nandy, please. She's still bird-dogging me.” His grin was rueful. “Anyway, Emanuel has released me from my contract with Playin' the Bones. He was really decent about it.”

  “Congratulations.” I tried to put some enthusiasm in it. “I always knew Zinnia was too small for you.”

  “There was a time I didn't think so.” He wasn't going to let me off the hook so easily.

  “You have a lot of talent. In more than music.”

  “Thanks.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “If Spider, Ray-Ban, and the sheriff hadn't gotten between us, we might have made something of this.”

  “We might have.” I was finding it hard to speak around the lump in the back of my throat.

  He kissed me gently on the top of the head, turned around and walked away. I saw he was driving Bridge's Jaguar. Well, it was a fine car for the man whose family had made an empire of selling Dodges.