Game of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “That’s not very scientific or even practical,” I pointed out.

  “So sue me. I’m trusting my gut.” She poked me in the ribs, but not too hard. “I know what part of your anatomy you’ve been listening to lately.”

  I put the car in drive and headed west. Talking to Tinkie was only going to get me teased harder. I was smart enough to know when to just ignore her innuendoes.

  The sunshine was warm and the car purred like Pluto with a snack of fresh salmon. The Roadster was an antique, but I took good care of it. I’d have to find something new sooner or later, but not until I’d made some repairs on Dahlia House and settled up some other bills. I had an emotional attachment to the Roadster, too. It was a time machine with a dual purpose. Not only did it haul me down the road, it connected me to my mother in the past and to the future.

  When we came to Highway 1, which ran down the western edge of the state beside the big levee on the Mississippi, I looked at Tinkie. “Which direction? North or South? It’s your gut leading the way.”

  “South,” she said. “There’s a hamlet in that direction. And a marina on a tributary of the river.”

  “Fancy words for a gut to be using.”

  “Believe it not, Sarah Booth, while I was at Ole Miss I actually studied. I was proficient in business and geography, though I did major in sorority activities and dating. If I had it to do over again, I would have focused on those two academic fields. I liked studying. My problem was that I wanted to run the bank and I knew Daddy would never let a girl do it. That made it easier for me to blow off any academic pursuit.”

  “I’ve never doubted your brains or your ability to apply them.” That wasn’t totally true. Back in college, I had thought Tinkie was kind of a ditz, but that was because she played the role so successfully. She’d given up all attempts to demonstrate brains and judgment and presented herself as a shallow society girl and man bait. She’d become the perfect upper-crust society girl while I’d focused on theater. Our worlds hadn’t crossed that often. When I’d moved home from New York, I’d found there were depths to Tinkie I’d never bothered to see.

  “Look!” She pointed through the front windshield to a four-way stop, a blink of civilization at a crossroads. A small country store with gas pumps squatted on one corner, an empty shop was on the next corner, and two houses sat catty-cornered to each other. The place was so small it didn’t even have a name. But there was a sign in front of one of the houses. SISTER GRACE’S PALM READING. COME IN AND FIND YOUR FUTURE.

  “That’s the place.” Tinkie pointed again. “My gut says go there.”

  “You’re serious?” If we needed help from the spirits, we could go to Madame Tomeeka, the woman I’d grown up with in Zinnia who was truly gifted. I didn’t know Sister Grace from Adam’s housecat—and I had no reason to believe she might help us.

  “Just pull in. And let me do the talking.”

  “You do remember there’s a serial killer on the loose and our friend is missing?” I reminded her.

  “That’s why I’m talking and you’re listening.” Tinkie got out of the car and churned toward the front door on her short little legs before I could even climb out. I ordered the critters to wait in the car. Like that ever worked. I hurried and caught up with Tinkie as the front door was opening.

  “We’d like a reading.” Tinkie was direct. “Do you have time for us?”

  I took in the older woman who scrutinized us. She was in her sixties or else had been a heavy smoker. Impossible to tell. Her dark eyes were sharp, acute. She didn’t miss much, and she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was assessing us. Whatever she saw, she kept her reaction hidden. She didn’t invite us in, but she stepped out of the doorway and walked into the interior of the house, assuming we would follow. Tinkie was on her like a duck after a june bug. I followed Tinkie. The animals were fine in the car. It was sunny but not hot.

  Sister Grace sat down at a small round table and motioned for Tinkie to take the chair opposite her. She gave me a sour look. “You can sit there or pull up to the table, whichever. I know you’re skeptical. Just keep your negative energy to yourself, please.”

  Score one for her. I was skeptical. Reading body language didn’t take psychic ability. Instead of sitting at the table, I unobtrusively snapped a few photos of the room. It was interesting and filled with books, some nice pottery, and peacock feathers. There was no evidence of a computer or any electronic equipment, but they could have been in another room.

  She motioned Tinkie’s hands on the table, then reached across and held them in hers. She turned them over and asked to see the palms. For at least three minutes she studied the lines in Tinkie’s hands.

  “What do you wish to know?” she asked.

  “There’s someone killing women in the place where we live. What can you tell us about him?”

  Sister Grace looked up quickly at Tinkie, then over at me. “I have no knowledge of that kind of darkness. I don’t allow it into my realm. What I can tell you is that danger is close around you both. It’s like a fog, a miasma, clinging to your skin. It dims your auras. It comes from a place where old things are buried. You should stay away from that place.”

  “Are we in danger?” Tinkie asked.

  “Yes. From an unexpected source.”

  “Can you tell us who that is?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I read the energy of the body, the sensations that pulse from you. You know this danger exists.” She spoke to me. “You’ve been told.”

  Buffalo Calf Road Woman came back to me as clearly as if she sat her horse in front of me. I had been told. My skepticism about Sister Grace was quickly evaporating.

  The psychic turned to Tinkie. “Your body is changing. Have you seen a doctor?”

  I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. Why would Tinkie need a doctor? “What’s wrong with her?”

  Sister Grace held up a hand to silence me. “Let her speak.” She dared me to continue and instead gave Tinkie the floor.

  “Not yet. I will.” Tinkie took my hand. “I’m fine. I promise. I’ve had cysts on my ovaries before. They treat them and they go away.”

  I wasn’t relieved, but I wasn’t going to drag out Tinkie’s medical issues in front of a stranger. Sister Grace watched us, but said nothing more.

  “Why are you here?” she asked at last.

  “We’re looking for a young woman, Kawania Laveau.”

  Sister Grace didn’t say anything, but I could see a flicker of recognition, and that she knew the young woman.

  “And I wanted to give her this.” Tinkie reached into her handbag and brought forth the medallion that Chablis had found at the dig site. Budgie had returned it after photographing it and scanning the photos into his computer to compare against various websites.

  Sister Grace took one look at the pewter necklace and stood up from the table. “You must leave.”

  “What is this thing?” I asked, taking it from Tinkie and sliding it toward Sister Grace.

  “Leave.” Sister Grace pointed to the door. “You bring evil into my home and I won’t allow it.” She pushed away from the table.

  “What is it?” Tinkie picked up the medallion. “It looks like costume jewelry.”

  “No!” Sister Grace waved it back from her. “Take it. There is no place here for such. It is a curse on the person who carries it.” She leaned in to Tinkie. “Take it back where you found it or you could lose the thing you want most in life.”

  Tinkie dropped it like it had suddenly become red hot. “We’ll throw it out the car window when we’re on the road.”

  Sister Grace grasped Tinkie’s hand. “No, you cannot. You must return it where you found it, and bury it. That is a ward against evil. It is enchanted to contain a very bad spirit in one place. The spirit, or zonbi as we call it in the Creole culture, will seek to find that talisman. It is bound to it.”

  “We’ll return it where we found it. It came from the archeological dig at Mound Salla,” Ti
nkie said. “They’re going to excavate the mound. I don’t think I can bury it there, but in the woods nearby…”

  “You must. This is bad juju. Who does this pendant belong to?”

  “We don’t know,” I said. Tinkie was almost quaking in her stilettos. “Look, I don’t believe in cursed things or charmed things or magic. We’ll take it back, but lay off scaring my partner.”

  Grace looked at me. “You don’t believe.” She laughed. “And you think that makes you immune. You’re a fool.”

  Dang! Sister Grace was a lot more direct than Madame Tomeeka or Jitty. “It’s not that I don’t believe in things beyond this world, I just don’t believe an inanimate object can bring about disaster or tragedy because someone put a curse on it.” I reached for the medallion and put it in my pocket. “I will see it’s returned to the mound.”

  Grace sat back down. “The dead are always with us. If they are angry, then they can share that emotion with you. The person who owned that necklace is very angry.”

  “And who owned it?” Tinkie asked.

  “A woman with many needs. Slender, brunette, she thinks highly of herself. She met a bad end.”

  She described Sandra Wells to a T.

  “And this woman, this spirit, is angry?” I hated myself for falling into her mumbo-jumbo but I’d been warned that someone I loved was in danger.

  “Much more than angry. She is vengeful. She will have her pound of flesh. And there is something there, at that place, which is of great value. She will protect it.”

  I couldn’t help it that her words gave me a terrible feeling. Cece was missing. I’d been warned to protect my loved ones by Buffalo Calf Road Woman. Now Tinkie had been told she might lose the one thing she loved the most, which had to be Oscar. This was way more woo-woo than I cared to handle, yet I couldn’t deny that a tiny part of me believed it. Jitty forced me to.

  I clicked on my phone and brought up a photo of Cece. “Have you seen this woman?”

  “I know her. She works for the newspaper in Zinnia.”

  “She does. Have you seen her today?”

  “I see everyone who comes and goes through Elmore.”

  Apparently, this crossroads did have a name. “Has Cece been through Elmore today?” This was like googling. You had to get the question just right to get an answer.

  “She was here.”

  Tinkie started forward. “Who was she with? Where did they go? Was she hurt?”

  “She was a passenger in a car. Dark blue SUV. Didn’t see the make and they all look alike now. A man was driving. They ran the stop sign—just blew right through it and kept driving. She looked straight ahead.”

  “The direction they were traveling?”

  “South.”

  I texted the info to DeWayne at the sheriff’s office so he could put up road blocks and an APB. “How long ago?”

  “Maybe nine this morning.”

  “Thank you, Grace. And this girl, do you know her?” I had a photo of Kawania from the dig.

  “Stay away from her. She is a nasty girl.”

  “What do you mean ‘a nasty girl’?” Tinkie asked.

  “She dabbles in the darkness. For personal gain. Beware of her. She brings more bad spirits around you.”

  I wondered if she knew Kawania’s claim to the bloodline of Marie Laveau, and if that was the reason she thought she ‘dabbled in darkness.’ “Do you know this girl personally?”

  “I have met her. She involves herself in the psychic realm, but always for herself. Not to help others. This is dangerous, and though she’s been warned, she doesn’t heed advice.”

  “May I ask where you met her?” Tinkie said.

  Grace leveled a long gaze at her. “No, you may not. Now you must leave. Get rid of that pendant. Put it back where it came from, and stay away from that area. Light three pink candles each evening at dusk for three nights. Remember the full moon has great power. Ask to be cleansed. Take a bowl of water blessed by the full moon and wash your face. Ask again to be cleansed. Stay away from that burial sight.”

  “Do you have any pink candles?” I asked. She’d been helpful, and she hadn’t asked for pay for her session with Tinkie. The least we could do was buy a few candles.

  “In the front.”

  We returned to the front of the house where sunlight filtered in and gave the room a cheery look. Orange was a happy color on the sofa covers and curtains. Grace went to a cabinet and opened the top. When she reached up for the candles, her sleeve slid down, revealing a tattoo on her upper arm. It was a curious design—and familiar. It was the same horned creature, ram or beast, that had been found on the bodies of two dead women. The only difference was that Grace’s tattoo was more colorful.

  “That’s an interesting tattoo,” Tinkie said, pointing to it.

  Grace got the candles and moved her sleeve down to cover her arm. “The symbol has great power of protection.”

  I almost didn’t tell her, but then I thought, why not? “Both dead women had a tattoo just like that on their bodies. Why would that be?”

  “You would have to ask them,” she said. “I suspect if you get that chance, you won’t really care about tattoos at all.” She handed the candles to Tinkie but refused payment. She opened the front door. The conversation was over—it was time to go.

  Once we were outside the house, I felt as if I were waking from a dream. The light inside the house had been dim, and now the sun was almost blinding. I got in the car and put on my sunglasses. Tinkie did the same. The critters woke from a deep sleep as if they, too, had been enchanted.

  “Where do you think Cece was going?” Tinkie asked.

  “I don’t know. If we knew who she was with…”

  “We have to assume it was Peter Deerstalker, don’t we?”

  “I don’t know.” I sounded like the proverbial broken record.

  “Where are we going?” Tinkie asked.

  “Back to Sunflower County and Mound Salla. I’m getting rid of this pendant as soon as I can.”

  Tinkie didn’t even tease me about it. She was uncomfortable, too. Whatever talents Sister Grace had as a psychic, she sure had a gift for persuasion.

  15

  We drove back to the burial mound, and to my surprise there were no other cars parked at the base. Midday clouds had rolled across the horizon, and though the fields were greening up, the day had taken on a distinctive gray hue.

  “If a wolf howls, I’m outta here,” Tinkie said.

  “You only have to worry about werewolves on a full moon,” I told her.

  “Which will be any day now. I was looking at my almanac and it’s time to plant. I had some raised beds put in and I’m going to grow some tomatoes, peppers, okra. We need to eat more fresh vegetables. I’ll share with everyone.”

  “You’re growing a garden?” This was not the Tinkie I knew and loved. She paid people to do this kind of work for her.

  “I am. I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m going to eat healthier, and nothing is healthier than fresh veggies. The almanac says this is the moon to plant under.”

  The memory of Buffalo Calf Road Woman hit me hard again. The Crow Moon. That was a dangerous night for me and my friends. “When does the full moon occur?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but very soon. Tomorrow or the next day. Are you making a garden this year?”

  A garden of woe would be my answer. I had the black thumb of death. “Billy Watson has already planted the fields and his crops are coming up. He should be fertilizing the hayfield soon.” The full moon was fast approaching and I felt a strong need to reiterate potential dangers—but I knew I’d upset her. Then again, forewarned was forearmed. “Look, Sister Grace isn’t the first time I’ve been warned about danger all around. I told you about my dream. We have to be super careful on the night of the full moon. Things could be very dangerous then.”

  She looked at me. “I didn’t think you were superstitious.”

  “I’m not. I’m cautious. People get c
razy on a full moon. Ask anyone who works in a hospital. Doc will tell you.”

  “O … kay,” Tinkie said. “I’ll put it on my lunar calendar. Now let’s get to the top of that mound and ditch that pendant. I’m hungry, and it’s lunchtime. We missed breakfast, as you recall. And we’re no closer to finding Cece than we were at eight o’clock.”

  “We know she’s alive, though.”

  “And headed south in a strange car with an unidentified driver. Whoopee.” Tinkie’s sarcasm made me smile.

  “Do you have a better plan?”

  “No.” She took off her sunglasses to clean them. “Let’s get rid of the pendant and talk to Budgie and DeWayne. Surely they’ve heard from Coleman by now.”

  “Good plan.” I got out of the car and started the climb up the mound. Halfway to the top, I knew my butt was going to rebel again if I wasn’t careful. Tinkie was having a little difficulty herself. “Maybe we can just throw it into the weeds on the side,” I said.

  Tinkie considered. “Fine by me.”

  We moved sideways around the mound to the back where the nearby woods had encroached. Saplings and other scrub brush had begun to grow. I pulled the pendant from my pocket and tossed it as far as I could into the thick woods. “That should do it.”

  “Let’s go.” Tinkie looked suddenly uncomfortable. “This place is not a good place. I do think the people buried here want to be left alone. I’ve never given a lot of thought to these archeological explorations, but I wouldn’t want my grandmother dug up and exhibited. She was a strong lady and all of that, but looking at her bones or the things she was buried with wouldn’t tell much about her. Not the really important stuff. Like how she loved me and Daddy.”

  Tinkie was right, but we had zero say-so on the dig. “The body is only a husk, Tinkie. Don’t take it personally. I was thinking of donating my body to science.”

  “You will do no such thing!” Tinkie was emphatic. “You’ll be laid to rest right beside Libby and James Franklin in the Sunflower County cemetery.”

  I hadn’t given my burial any real thought, and didn’t want to do so at this moment. “Let’s head back down.”