Bone-a-fied Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  Bone-a-fied Trouble

  Familiar Legacy #9

  Carolyn Haines

  Copyright © 2019 by Carolyn Haines

  All rights reserved. Published by KaliOka Press.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Cissy Hartley

  For Cissy Hartley, an author's best friend and a great talent

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Game of Bones

  Trouble’s Double Contest Winner

  Familiar Legacy

  Chapter One

  I smell money! I’ve heard the expression all my life and thought it was an exaggeration of the rapacious American spirit of Manifest Destiny. Not true! I, quite literally, smell it. It’s the odor of this rich Delta soil being turned over by the big machines plowing and planting. Another money crop is going into the Mississippi alluvial ground, and yes, now I understand what money smells like. Something to keep in mind as I learn my way around Sunflower County in Mississippi.

  I’m here on a mission. A fellow feline, Pluto Delaney, has called me in to assist him in resolving a mystery. Pluto needs to find a missing female humanoid. Trudy Wells belongs to one sassy little marmalade kitty named Vesta, and Vesta is missing her human. Pluto has a thing for Vesta, and I’m here to help. Nothing flips my ascot as much as a mystery given to me by a black cat almost as eloquent and articulate as I—a mystery that also involves a missing person. If anyone can find the missing girl, I’m that bloke.

  Pluto, who lives on a fine plantation in the Mississippi Delta, has issues of transportation. He’s not savvy about hitching rides and public transit, which is in short supply in the land of King Cotton anyway. When he heard I was in town with my biped, Tammy Lynn, he sent out an S.O.S. I responded, of course, and hence I’m currently sussing out the circumstances at the elegant Long Hall, home of Samuel and Charline Long. They’re elders of the agricultural Long family—the place where Trudy Wells worked before she vanished off the face of the earth. While it’s possible Trudy has simply moved on, Pluto suspects foul play.

  Peeking out of the Long shrubbery, I’m getting an eyeful of a long-stemmed American beauty with a fiery mane.

  The redhead in question has been snooping around Zinnia, Mississippi, the county seat of Sunflower County. She goes by Tabitha Kingsley and the locals say she has a pact with the devil. She’s a psychic medium—or so she says—and can communicate with the dead. So what is she doing here at Long Hall?

  I watch her exit a new Genesis G90 black sedan. She has all the physical attributes I normally find endearing, yet I have reason to be wary. Tabitha Kingsley has the look of a woman of money and privilege. It’s in the way her long red curls swing when she walks, the perfect drape of her dress, the long, tapered legs and expensive heels—and I am a cat who knows my stilettos. Looks aside, she’s likely a con artist. I have a healthy skepticism for such professions. My interest in Tabitha Kingsley concerns the nosey questions she’s been asking about Trudy Wells. My mission—and I have accepted it—is to find out what she is after.

  My immediate need is to make Tabitha think that I’m part of the Long family. I rush up to her, crying to be let into the house. Oh, my, her gaze is intensely green. She has very feline eyes that seem to pierce my soul! I hope she’s not smarter than the average humanoid because she might see through my scheme to get into the house and eavesdrop on her conversation. She is knocking on the door just as I planned.

  Long Hall is definitely a posh place—statuary along the drive, what looks like a topiary of…dear god, it’s schnauzers. All poses of those high-energy, bouncing, and annoying dogs. When human taste goes wrong, it’s deplorable! This is a perfect example of the old saying that big money doesn’t mean good sense or taste. The topiary would be far more attractive if it were cats.

  Lucky for me, Tabitha is too twitchy to pay much attention to me. She’s shifting her slender weight from hip to hip, picking at her nails, settling her perfect dress, all the classic signs of impatience or nervousness. Could be both. I mean how is she faking those psychic readings she’s conducting. But I, Sherlockian trained detective that I am, shall investigate. Trouble, the black cat detective, is far more adept at finding the diabolical machinations of the human heart than any mere biped.

  Ah, the door is opening. I slide inside before anyone notices. There is a pleasant exchange of greetings and I have to say, I find Tabitha’s voice to be polished and pleasing with a dollop of sincere kindness. If she’s a fake, she’s very good at the scam. Charline Long is seeking counsel from Tabitha. I must determine how Tabitha fits in with the missing Trudy Wells! The conversation is heating up.

  Not to fear, all will be well. Trouble is on the case.

  * * *

  Tabitha Kingsley stepped into the foyer of the Long plantation and sighed. It was exactly what she’d been expecting. She walked to an antique sideboard that held a lovely arrangement of fresh camellias and stopped at a small sculpture of two figures holding hands. “That is a lovely bronze. An Erte?” she asked Charline Long, the slender woman with the very worried expression who’d greeted her at the door. Tabitha was proud of the hours she’d spent boning up on “culture” to be able to fit in with her clientele.

  “Yes. My mother-in-law loved art deco. She collected quite a few pieces. This is one of my favorites. The Kiss of Fire. She was so excited when she purchased it.” Charline turned away, her shoulders dropping. “I realize that many wives would be relieved that their live-in mother-in-law has passed, but I really loved her. I miss her.”

  “Keeping the bronze in the foyer is a lovely tribute to her taste and the things she appreciated.” Tabitha looked around, catching a glimpse of the black cat who’d darted in the door. He was sitting on the staircase in deep shadow. Almost as if he were hiding. Perhaps he wasn’t allowed in the house. Well, it wasn’t her job to chase him out. She was sure the Long family had servants who could handle that. The Long plantation’s immaculate upkeep spoke of lots of hired hands busy at work.

  “You’ve called me here about your mother-in-law, haven’t you? Her name is…I can’t quite catch it because it’s like two names. It begins with a…an S.” Tabitha knew she was correct. Research did pay off.

  “Yes, how did you…know? Her name is…was Suellen Long.” Charline’s eyes filled with tears. “Samuel believes that he senses his mother’s spirit. I’m afraid he’s going to snap and lose his mind. I sense her too, but I haven’t seen her. I have to believe she’s lingering here at Long Hall to tell us something we need to know.” She looked down and away.

  Tabitha read her body language—Charline was hiding something. “I see.” Tabitha had anticipated this turn in the conversation. “Suellen Long loved this house.” Tabitha walked down the foyer, looking at a lovely Van Gogh that had to be worth at least three hundred thousand dollars. “She l
iked sunshine and laughter. She wanted grandchildren, but she never blamed you, Charline.”

  Charline gasped and stepped back. “How do you know all of this?”

  Tabitha shook her head. “I can’t tell you how I know. I simply know. If a spirit wants to make a connection and can manifest the energy, all I have to do is open myself to what they’re trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a symbol or a visual image. Sometimes a smell or even a song. Sometimes I see the spectral world. Here, with Suellen, it’s much more subtle. She’s sharing her feelings with me. I simply know how she feels, and I can relay that to you.” What most people wanted to hear from a psychic medium was that their loved ones had made the transition and found serenity and happiness.

  “That’s so…”

  “Invasive?” Tabitha filled in with a smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. But you’ll be glad to know that by tomorrow morning I won’t remember anything I’ve told you. As easily as the thoughts come into my head, they evaporate as quickly and completely. I’m merely a messenger. That’s all. Nothing special or fancy, just someone delivering a message.”

  “Oh, you’re so much more than that.” Charline grasped her arm. “Come into the parlor and I’ll have Nancy prepare some refreshments. I almost think we need a cocktail.”

  “Not for me,” Tabitha said. “I don’t want to cloud my abilities with alcohol, but you feel free. This is a difficult experience for many people. Relax as much as you can and just let it happen.”

  The two women moved into a beautiful parlor with lovely antique French furniture, a huge mirror over the mantle, and more art work. A silver service sat on a buffet, catching the afternoon light in the polished surface. “Your home is so lovely,” Tabitha said. “I’m looking for a place to buy, but so far I haven’t found anything that suits me. I’m forced to stay in a hotel, which makes me very unhappy. You know, people leave vibrations behind, psychic energy, so to speak. It’s on the beds and dressers and all the furnishings in a hotel room. It confuses me at times. There is so much coming at me all at once. Here, I sense your touch, of course, and your husband’s. And there are others. Maids, I presume. But also Suellen’s and there’s another, a woman? An unhappy woman?” She turned to look at Charline and knew she was playing her perfectly. “She isn’t here often but she is vibrant—spilling energy.”

  “That’s Samuel’s step-sister, Hannah Sellers. She grew up here but after graduating from college she’s only here for the occasional visit. She and Suellen weren’t close, unfortunately. And Hannah isn’t happy.” She turned away to hide her emotion. “After Suellen passed, I thought I saw a change in Hannah. I thought maybe she regretted her hardness toward her step-mother. I could have sworn she was coming around, but recently…”

  “And she doesn’t get on with her brother or you, does she?” Tabitha asked.

  “No, she doesn’t. She and Samuel aren’t…compatible. Oil and water.” She sighed. “I was an only child and my parents died several years ago. I’d give anything for a sister. It seems such a shame that Samuel and Hannah can’t bridge hard feelings to build a true relationship.”

  Tabitha felt a pang of pity. She’d had her ups and downs with Trudy, her notoriously hard-headed sister, who had suddenly gone missing. Trudy who’d fallen in with some unsavory characters before she up and abruptly moved to the Mississippi Delta. “Maybe things will improve.”

  Charline shook her head. “In the last month, Hannah has made her wishes clear that she’d prefer to sell Long Plantation. She wants the money, not the property. Samuel refuses to sell. This place was built by his great-great grandparents, and it’s part of his identity. Now this sudden move on Hannah’s part to force a sale. It’s just incomprehensible.” She laughed softly. “I’m from Memphis, so I’m not attached to the place the way he is, but I love it. Still, if it would make life easier for Samuel, I’d be happy to move.” She motioned Tabitha into a chair. “I’m not much of one for strife. As Samuel says, I’m No-drama Lina. That’s his pet name for me.”

  “He’s a lucky man.” Tabitha took a wing chair where she soon spotted the black cat who’d followed them into the parlor. He was a watchful creature. If only he could speak, he might be a big help. But cats didn’t talk, and Tabitha knew she was going to have to figure out a way to get a more permanent invite into the Long household. She had to be here—this was where Trudy’s trail ended. If she meant to find her sister, she had to get an invitation to stay in the house.

  “There’s a lovely house for sale just north of Zinnia,” Charline said. “I can arrange for you to see it. It isn’t on the market yet, but I’m friends with the owners. Lovely people, and the house is exquisite. Not as large as Long Hall, but this place is far bigger than we need.”

  Tabitha’s eyes widened. “Would you?” She did dream about a small farm with room for her, some horses, Trudy, and cats and dogs, but any real estate Charline Long was talking about was way, way out of Tabitha’s league. The fine car was a rental, and the stay at the Prince Albert was stretching her budget.

  “Yes, it comes with three thousand acres, but if you don’t want to farm, I’m sure they’ll cut the house out and sell it separately. As it is, the big agricultural companies don’t really care about the old homes. They only want the dirt. They’ve bought a few old homes and razed them. I think the Bessmers would be glad to entertain an offer for just the house and say, ten or twenty acres?”

  “That would be perfect. Really perfect.” Tabitha smiled. Yes, that would be perfect. An old home, some acreage, it was her dream come true, but her bank account held no hope of purchasing such a place in the Delta. This was all just part of the set-up, her pretense of having money and a desire to own property in Sunflower County. She was acting on the principle that folks who owned the large farming plantations would trust someone closer to their economic status—hence the disguise. And she couldn’t afford to stay at the Prince Albert or lease the new car for much longer.

  “Why don’t you stay with us for a week or so?” Charline offered. “It doesn’t make sense that you’re paying for a hotel room when we have so much unused room.” She waved a hand around. “The house is simply too empty, now that Suellen has gone. I’d be glad for the company.”

  “What a generous offer.” Tabitha bit her lip. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m a stranger. Your husband might find it awkward.”

  “Everyone is a stranger until she’s a friend,” Charline said. “Please. If you find it uncomfortable, you can always move back into the hotel. And if you’re here, you can more easily communicate with Suellen. She is here. I know it. And I don’t care who calls me crazy.”

  “You’re certainly not crazy, and it’s true that being here, on site, would simplify things greatly.” At last Tabitha smiled. “Deal! Once we finish our session, I’ll go pack my things and come back. Are you sure your husband won’t mind?”

  “Samuel is very easy going. He’ll be happy to see that I’m making an effort to be social. He’s been concerned for me, because I’ve been so worried about him and the…ghost. Some might say I’ve been obsessed with it. I’m not. I worry that Suellen is here for a reason. There have been some strange…never mind. I just want her to go on and be happy. On to the next adventure. Samuel wants me to figure out what’s going on and put it behind me. He’ll be more than happy that you’re here.”

  “You’re a very generous woman, Mrs. Long.”

  “Call me Charline. If we’re to be friends, we should use first names.”

  “Of course. Now let’s get to the session.” Tabitha reached into her handbag and brought out several small candles, a silver bell, and some cards. “These are all tools I use to help the spirits communicate. What say we give it a go?”

  The sound of the doorbell chiming made Charline pause. “Excuse me. I’d hoped we wouldn’t be interrupted.” She rose and went to the front door.

  “I won’t let you get involved with a shyster.” The male voice from the doorway came clearly to Tabitha, and she knew it was tr
ouble for her. But who was the male? Not Samuel—she’d done her research and knew he was never that confrontational. Who was this brusque man? She didn’t have long to wait.

  A tall, well-muscled man in his late twenties stepped into the room. He glared at her. “You should leave now. My aunt is vulnerable, and you’re nothing more than a vulture here to pick her bones.”

  “Raj!” Charline said. “Please stop. Tabitha is my guest. Please, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Aunt Charline, I won’t have you made a fool of by someone claiming to see the future or talk to spirits or whatever her gimmick is.”

  “Tabitha Kingsley, this is my nephew, Roger Long. We call him Raj for short, and you can see why. He’s a bit of a tyrant when he gets his dander up.” She went to her nephew and stood on tiptoe to kiss his scowl. “Say hello to my guest.”

  “Ms. Kingsley.” Raj nodded. “I apologize. I hope you understand I’m looking out for my aunt.”

  “Of course.” Tabitha looked at Roger Long and thought of a panther. He was energy contained. And he was also at the top of her suspect list. Trudy had worked for him, and in the conversations Trudy had shared with her sister, Trudy had revealed that Roger Long was hot-tempered, volatile, aggressive, and generous to his employees. “We can have a session another time.” Tabitha put a hand on Charline’s shoulder. It was just bad luck that Roger had showed up so quickly.

  “No, don’t let me interrupt,” Roger said. “In fact, I’m curious as to what brings you to Mississippi? I’ve heard the gossip in the local café that you’re connecting all the best families with their dead relatives.”