“They believed all that foolishness about something of great value in that Indian burial mound. Arbin filled their heads full of nonsense to make up for the things he didn’t provide for them. Stupid brats. They hung on his every word. Me, I worked three jobs, stopped buying clothes or doing anything for myself. They had no use for me. It was always Arbin and his foolishness.”
“What stories?” I asked gently. “What was the valuable thing at the burial mound?”
“Dirt.” She laughed. “Nothing there but dirt, some pottery shards, and bones. That and the spirits of the dead. That’s the other thing. What none of the kids counted on.” Her grin was filled with malice.
“What didn’t they count on?” I asked.
“Something evil walked that mound late at night and protected all the secrets hidden there. Arbin ran across it a time or two when he thought he’d get wise and dig around to find that secret treasure he was always going on about. I told him not to mess with dead Indians, that they deserved to rest in peace. He couldn’t help himself, though. He’d drink with ‘the boys’ and ended up out there with a flashlight and shovel. It was bad enough when he was doing it by himself, and then he got the boys going. And Bonita. They were all caught up in it. They’d sleep all day to go hunting for treasure at night, leaving me to run the house and earn a living. Worthless.”
Time had not been kind to Martha Bailey. The bitterness had festered and changed her into someone who had lost her joy.
“What was this big treasure?” Tinkie asked.
“Who knows? It was some kind of fountain of youth or some such foolishness. To hear Arbin spin a yarn, the people buried in that mound lived to be much older than normal humans. They’d found the secret to heal illnesses and such.” She waved a hand through the air in a gesture of dismissal. “Arbin was a fool and my kids fell right in with him. He’s the one planted that seed of hatred between Bradley and Jason. He’s to blame for setting them against each other to the point that Brad killed his brother. Arbin was gone by then, only coming back to dig and stir up trouble with the boys. I shoulda killed him years ago, putting that ignorant bullshit in their heads and then taunting them into hurting each other.”
I couldn’t imagine a father pitting his kids against each other, but lots of tragic things happened in “average” households every day. “Did they ever find any signs of this miracle … solution?”
“Are you kidding? Arbin lived in the realm of The X-Files and Ancient Aliens. He was certain some space creatures had come down, lived with the Indians, and given them the cure for old age and illness. Even after he abandoned us, he’d sneak back up to the mound and dig. I called the cops on him more than once, but he always got away sliding down the backside of the mound and cutting through the woods.”
“Was Bella Devareaux your daughter named Bonita?” Tinkie asked gently.
For a moment Martha’s face changed to sorrow. “She was. She changed her name when she moved to New Orleans. I didn’t blame her. I was sorry to see her come back here. I tried to make her leave, tried to make her step away. She couldn’t, though. She was as caught up in this as Carl.”
While Tinkie was consoling Martha as best she could, I stepped to the place where someone had swept everything from the top of a dresser. Amidst the fragments of glass from a broken frame I picked up a picture of a family gathered in front of an old Southern house in disrepair. The Bailey house. A much younger Martha Bailey stood with a brood of kids. I recognized the slender girl who would grow up to be Bella Devareaux. And there was a boy, standing beside Bella. The years had changed him, too, and I couldn’t be positive, but I thought I knew him.
“Mrs. Bailey, is this your son Carl?” I held the photo out to her.
“That’s him. Changed his name, too. No one wanted to carry the Bailey name.”
“Is his name Cooley Marsh?” I asked.
“That’s him. He’s the one came in and tore up my house.”
My cell phone rang, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “We’d better be on our way.”
“Yeah, we have a lot to do,” Tinkie said. She was as eager as I to get out of there.
“If you see my worthless kids, tell them not to bother to come by unless they bring money to pay me back.”
We didn’t respond as we got in the car and drove away. When we were several miles down the road, I pulled over. There was a weight on my heart. When I looked at Tinkie, she, too, was upset.
“Her daughter is dead and her son is likely in some trouble,” Tinkie said.
“It just seems like a terrible waste. Do you think Cooley killed his own sister and Dr. Wells?”
“There’s a family history of sibling-on-sibling violence. What do you make of this elixir for health and immortality?”
“There’s no such thing as this fountain of youth. You know that. Arbin Bailey must have been half a bubble off, and his kids didn’t fall far from the tree. But why go to all the trouble of this subterfuge? Why didn’t Bella or Bonita or whoever just show up and volunteer at the dig? They would have accepted her.”
“I don’t know,” Tinkie said. “But we’re going to find out. But first we need to stop by Hilltop to get Chablis.”
“Absolutely.” I pulled the car back on the road, did a U-turn, and headed to Zinnia. “We have to find Frank and make him tell us what he knows about this elixir. He’s lied to us the whole time. If he knew about this…”
I didn’t have to finish the threat. Tinkie already had blood in her eye.
30
By the time we’d picked up Tinkie’s pup at her home and driven to Dahlia House—I had to check on Coleman—we’d figured out some of the major connections of the case. While the waters were still muddied with lies and false motivations, we’d linked some dots in the pattern. I couldn’t wait to tell Coleman that Bella Devareaux was none other than Bonita Bailey and that Cooley Marsh was her brother, Carl.
The day was ending and I had a terrible, nagging feeling that I was neglecting something important. I fed the horses while Tinkie went inside to put on some coffee. In the quiet of the barn, I listened to the horses snuffling as they ate their grain. Bonita and Carl Bailey had returned to Mound Salla to follow the obsession their father had instilled in them—the idea that some magical elixir was hidden in the mound. It was cockamamie bull, but people sometimes needed a Camelot to believe in. I understood that perfectly. But the question of their relationship was whether they had been so competitive with each other that Carl had murdered his sister. The Baileys had a history of fratricide, so perhaps sororicide wasn’t out of the question.
Once the horses had finished I put out three flakes of hay for each one and made sure their turnout blankets were snug. The weather prediction was for a warm-up beginning tomorrow, but the night would still be cold and bitter—and bright from the full moon.
I went inside to find Coleman at the kitchen table, sharing a cup of coffee with my partner in solving crime. “That’s some good detective work, Sarah Booth,” Coleman said when I walked in.
“We stumbled into it.”
“You found the Sister Grace connection and you worked it. That’s the legwork that always pays off.”
I didn’t want to preen and flutter at his praise, but it did make me smile. “Thanks.”
“I was thinking about the Baileys,” Coleman said. “Martha, I remember. I had no idea she’d turned herself into a palm reader, but I guess it beats standing at a conveyor belt checking groceries.”
“I guess.” I shook off the sadness that came from realizing people had wrecked their own lives. “Peter and Kawania are linked into this. Either innocently or because they knew the legends. This may be why Peter was so dead set against the dig. If he thought something of value was in the mound, it should go to his people, but it wouldn’t.”
“You’re likely correct. Depends on the contract. But as you well know, it was also highly likely that if someone found something of that value, it might just disappear.”
“We need to talk to Peter.”
“He’s at Elton Cade’s house.”
“I’ll give him a call.” When Peter didn’t answer, I dialed Elton Cade. I watched Coleman make ham sandwiches as I talked to Elton. My man looked like he was preparing to feed a battalion of men. I counted at least seven sandwiches.
“Do you know where Peter is?” I asked Elton.
“He said he had to look at something out at Mound Salla. He was insistent. I offered to go with him, but he said he had to do it alone,” Elton said. “Can I help?”
“No. But thanks.” I hung up with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Peter went to Mound Salla.”
“I’m making sandwiches for DeWayne and Budgie. They were supposed to come by here with the camera images so we could watch together. I’m eager to see what scared you so.” He checked his watch. “They should have been back by now.”
“Yeah. They should have.” I looked at Tinkie. We both knew what had to happen. No matter how much we didn’t want to do it. “Tinkie, call Delane Goggans. See if she answers.”
“I think she’s flown the coop,” Tinkie said, but she dialed. Her eyebrows jumped up her forehead when someone answered the phone. “Delane?”
The person on the other end of the phone answered, but I couldn’t understand what they said.
“What?” Tinkie put the phone on speaker so Coleman and I could hear.
“Leave me alone.” The young woman’s voice sounded muffled or maybe she’d been crying. “I’m safe, but leave me be or I’ll be in danger. Don’t call me again.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the bus station. Frank told me to beat it. I’m going home.” She sounded breathless.
I kissed Coleman on the cheek and motioned Tinkie toward the door. If Delane was at the bus station, we’d have her in our custody in under fifteen minutes. We just had to hustle. Tinkie was still talking soothingly to her when we hit the door. Sweetie Pie, Chablis, and Pluto were not going to be left behind this time, and I let them into the backseat.
“Delane, just give us a chance to talk,” Tinkie said as I drove. “Where is Frank?”
“I have to go.” Delane sobbed. “I have to go. Frank told me to run. I should have listened to him but I love him.” Her voice faded, and in the background I thought I heard a male say something.
“Delane!” I had to keep her talking. “We’re coming to the bus station. Just stay there. We can help you.”
“No one. No one can help. Save Frank. I know you think he’s a horndog, but he truly loves me. The whole thing between him and Sandra was fabricated to gain attention for the dig. I told him it was stupid. He doesn’t sleep around. I want you to know he loves me enough to send me away to keep me safe. Something terrible is going to happen tonight and no one can stop it.” She broke the connection.
Tinkie put her phone away and looked at me. “She isn’t right. Something is wrong with her.”
“I agree.” As I pulled out of the driveway on the county road, a bank of clouds parted. I looked to the pasture where my horses grazed and felt a stab of fear in my heart. Standing alone was another horse. Astride the horse was Buffalo Calf Road Woman. She held a war staff in her hand, the feathers ruffling in a gentle breeze. Her gaze found mine and held. She nodded briefly, as if to say that I’d been warned. A whisper of a wind flute came to me, and then the clouds shifted and the image was gone.
“What’s wrong?” Tinkie asked me.
“Get my gun out of the glove box. You keep it. Put some bullets in your pocket.”
“You’re kind of creeping me out,” Tinkie said. “What do you know?”
“You heard Delane. Someone very dangerous is out and about tonight. I’m afraid we’re going to run into them.”
“I’ll call Budgie and DeWayne.”
Coleman was waiting for them, but I’d feel a lot better if they met us at the bus station. “Okay.”
Tinkie dialed both cell phones but neither of the deputies answered. “I wonder what they found on those cameras,” she said as she put her phone down and checked the pistol to make sure it was loaded. Meanwhile, I called Coleman. When he didn’t answer, I felt again the brush of disaster that swept over me like the shadow of a raven’s wing.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as I turned into the parking lot by the bus station. The lot was devoid of cars, and the bus station was empty except for an older man behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Is there a young woman here?”
He shook his head. “There was a brunette here. The bus to Memphis just pulled out. That’s the last bus for the evening. Nothing until morning.”
“Thanks.” I made a quick check of the ladies’ room just in case Delane was hiding. It was empty, and I had no reason to believe the elderly clerk would not tell me the truth. Delane Goggans had made a bid for freedom and we’d just missed her. Now I had to round up Budgie, DeWayne, and Peter Deerstalker. “I guess we’re going to Mound Salla,” I said to Tinkie as we left the bus station. “Something is going on there.”
“I’d rather go to hell in a handbasket,” Tinkie admitted. “I don’t know what we saw there the other night, and I don’t want to find out.”
“If something’s happened to the deputies, we have to find them. Else Coleman will drive out there and you know it. Peter’s supposed to be there, too. We’ll honk the car horn until they all come to us. To be on the safe side I’ll text Coleman our plan.”
“Let’s go.” Tinkie was resigned. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
* * *
I parked beside the Sunflower County sheriff’s cruiser and Peter Deerstalker’s SUV. There was no sign of the people who should have been in the cars. Tinkie put a hand on the door handle but didn’t open it.
“I don’t believe in zombies,” she said. “Just so you know.”
“Are you telling me something new or trying to convince yourself?” I nudged her in the rib cage. “Personally, I’d prefer to load up our friends, snatch those videos, and get out of here.”
“Yeah.” She reached over and laid on the horn for a full minute. As the sound blared, the clouds parted and the full moon lit the scene. The night was peaceful and serene once the noise stopped. We waited, but there was no sign of anyone. I had the sense that we were truly alone at the old burial site.
“This is not good,” Tinkie said. She opened the car door and stood. Sweetie Pie, Chablis, and Pluto cascaded out of the car. The hound sniffed the air, testing. Pluto stretched and yawned, then began licking a paw as if he had all the time in the world.
I laid on the horn again, for a full minute. As we scanned the area for signs of life, we found nothing. Near the tree line, a breeze whispered through the bare limbs and set a few pine needles to rattling. The dread that I’d felt leaving Dahlia House hit me hard again.
“Do we have to go to the top of the mound?” Tinkie asked.
“I don’t want to.”
“Do you think Budgie and DeWayne are here?” she asked.
“I don’t know, which is why we’re going to have to look. Their vehicle is here. We can’t just leave without seeing if they’re in trouble. If they could answer, they would have come when we blew the horn.”
“Look at Sweetie Pie.” Tinkie pointed to my hound, who was sniffing the ground, moving quickly, stopping to lift her muzzle to test the air. She moaned softly in her throat and looked at me.
“What is it, girl?” I hated to ask because I was afraid she’d tell me.
She moaned and shook her head until her ears flapped, then she started up the side of the mound. She looked back to see if we followed.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Be sure you have the gun.”
“Check.” Tinkie sighed. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Nope, but we’re doing it anyway.”
Sweetie Pie was halfway up the mound under a moon so bright that we all cast shadows. The pale gold orb floated
just beyond the edge of the mound. “Where in the heck are DeWayne and Budgie?” My voice held a slight whine. I was scared, and that made me angry and irritated.
“They would have come if they could have.”
Tinkie said what I knew—and didn’t want to acknowledge. The two deputies were in trouble. “Peter is here, too.”
“Maybe.” Tinkie was huffing slightly. “Damn, I hate this mound of dirt.”
We made it to the top and peeped over. The grassy plateau stretched out in front of us, empty in the moonlight. The area where the most extensive digging had been ongoing was empty. The tent camp was abandoned. I motioned toward the area where trees had grown up around the old Bailey plantation. “They have to be over there.”
“Let’s check for fresh signs of digging. If someone is looking for treasure, it won’t be where the Bailey home stood.”
She was right. We moved across the top of the mound in a crouched position because we were completely exposed—a perfect target. When we got to the area where sifting tables and machinery to carefully excavate the site had been left in place, Tinkie put a hand on my arm. Beside the hole that had been dug, presumably for Dr. Wells’ body, were fresh marks of excavation. This had been done with a backhoe and without care. Someone had been in a great hurry.
“Dr. Hafner is going to be PO’ed,” I said. Whatever else Hafner might have done, I didn’t believe he would destroy the integrity of his site.
Tinkie knelt at the edge of the pit. “How can we tell if they found what they were looking for?”
To the right of us, near the tents, I sensed more than saw movement. I checked around for the dogs and cat, but they were on the other side of the mound where the old Bailey house had stood. I put a hand on Tinkie’s wrist. “Someone is over there.”
She followed my gaze. “You sure?”
“I am.”
“Let’s check for the deputies and get out of here. Sarah Booth, they have to be up here. The car is here.”
I nodded and we went toward the tents. Neither of us spoke what was heavy on our minds—if the deputies had been able to answer us, they would have. Either they were gone from the dig or they were detained in a way that prevented them from answering. First, they wouldn’t have abandoned the patrol car. Second, it would take a lot to contain DeWayne and Budgie. They wouldn’t go down quietly, a fact that resulted in the pounding of my heart.
Game of Bones Page 26
