Bone-a-fied Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

“That would be Boyd Moffett,” the receptionist said. She dialed a phone and spoke softly into it. In a moment, she waved Roger through into the private office area behind a thick closed door. He knew where Lisa’s office had been and assumed Boyd Moffett had taken her office as well as her clientele.

  The door was cracked, and Roger was about to push it open when the sound of hushed voices stopped him.

  “You’d better make this right, Boyd. And you’d better do it now,” another man said. “We can’t afford an investigation. We have too much riding on the outcome of the new seed. Grundle will cut us off if we have any kind of scandal. I’m under a lot of pressure from the top.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the answer.

  The receptionist turned the corner of the hallway and saw Roger standing there. She was surprised to see him so clearly eavesdropping. Roger had to think fast. “Mr. Moffett’s with someone. Should I interrupt?” At her nod, he tapped softly on the door. “May I come in?” he asked, avoiding glancing back at the receptionist. He couldn’t afford to look guilty.

  “Please do.” The voice was pleasant and non-stressed. “Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Connor. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.”

  “You do that.” Mason Connor, owner of DayZSeed, stepped past Roger. “Mr. Long,” he said. “How’s that cotton coming up?”

  “Bigger and better than any of the other plantings.”

  “That’s what I want to hear,” Mason said before he strode down the hallway, turned a corner, and disappeared.

  Roger entered the office of Boyd Moffett. He sat at the desk Lisa East had occupied only a few short days before.

  “I meant to come around to introduce myself,” Boyd said, standing and holding out his hand. “Lisa’s death…well, we didn’t know what had happened to her until very recently. I was just told today to take over her clients, so please excuse me for not being up to speed on things.”

  “Not a problem. I really came here to find out who was taking Lisa’s accounts and also if there are any leads in her murder.”

  Boyd shook his head. “We haven’t heard anything. I can’t imagine who would harm Lisa. She was outgoing and friendly and a terrific employee.”

  “I liked her a lot,” Roger said truthfully. “One of my employees, a friend of Lisa’s, is missing. I hoped maybe someone here might have some idea where she’d gone. You know how young girls make those spur-of-the-minute plans. I wouldn’t give it another thought, except for what happened to Lisa.” He played it casual.

  Boyd frowned. “You’re talking about Trudy Wells. Yeah, she was supposed to be by here several days ago and she didn’t show or call. I thought that was strange. She was meticulous about keeping her appointments.”

  “That’s the young woman.” Roger shook his head. “Hell of an employee. I mean if she found a job with a bigger salary, I can’t blame her, but I just want to know for sure she’s okay.” He stared directly into Boyd’s eyes.

  Boyd’s gaze never wavered. “I hear you, man. I haven’t heard anything, but then again, we’ve been working double shifts filling in for Lisa. We thought something had come up in her life and she’d be back so everyone was chipping in to make sure her job was done. Connor didn’t want to replace her…” He sighed. “I guess that’s all a moot issue now.”

  “It’s a shame,” Roger said. “No one here suspected anything was amiss in Lisa’s life?” Roger spiced his question with a hint of incredulity. “DayZSeed has always seemed like such a close-knit family.”

  “Lisa kept her private life away from work. She and Trudy Wells were very close, always going out.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “It concerns me that Trudy is missing.” He hesitated, looking through the open door into the hall as if he wanted to make sure no one was passing by. “You know Trudy was seeing Dirk Cotwell. That’s one of the worst kept secrets in the Delta. I like Dirk, but he seems to think he can have his fiancée and his girls on the side. His fiancée’s family couldn’t have been too keen on him putting a ring on their daughter’s hand and still going out with Trudy. I’ve only met Lily on a few occasions, but I wouldn’t want to cross the Kennedy family. She’s her daddy’s little princess, and the shame of it is, she’d make a good farmer. That’s just not the role her daddy wants her to have.”

  “No doubt Lily is capable.” Roger shrugged. “Gender roles are still a big part of Delta life, it seems. Those young women, Lisa and Trudy, they were breaking out of that.”

  He nodded. “Lisa was also dating one of the sales reps from Grundle. Alan Dotsun is his name. Trudy and Lisa double dated sometimes.”

  This was news to Roger, and it was helpful. “Thanks, Boyd. Do you know anything about this Dotsun?”

  “Good looking. He’s been in the area for the past couple of weeks. He has business here and over in Arkansas across the river. Lots of big planters there. Oh, yeah, he’s very close to the Kennedy family. Rumor had it that he’d set his sights on Lily for his own wife.”

  “Poor Lily. You make her sound like the stuffed bear in a carnival ball pitching contest.”

  “She’s the only daughter of Martin Kennedy. She comes with a lot of assets. If you married her you’d double the holdings of Long Agricultural. That’s not a reason to marry a woman, but it sure doesn’t hurt.”

  Roger nodded. Boyd wasn’t being mercenary, he was just stating facts. The planter families of the Delta had often considered the merger of two big holdings to be a priority in marriage. Some things never changed.

  “If you hear anything about Lisa or Trudy, please let me know. And if you’d ask the other employees to give me a call.” He wrote his number on a slip of paper Boyd handed him. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Roger closed the office door. By all rights he should leave, but he wasn’t done exploring. Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  Tabitha slipped into her room at Long Hall to return the call to the dating service. She had four queries, and she answered three of them with pleasantries but declined to meet. They were not men who might have appealed to Trudy; Tabitha had no time to waste. A man named Alan Dotsun had requested a date. She knew the name from Trouble’s work at the dating service, and as she reviewed his profile, she grew eager. He was a salesman for Grundle Seed Company, a big firm that was on the cutting edge of new technologies in farming. Grundle supplied DayZSeed with some products—Tabitha knew this from talking with Roger. In his profile, Alan mentioned he’d only arrived in Zinnia a few weeks earlier and would be leaving for his Arkansas territory soon. He was the only lead out of the prospective suitors. She returned his call.

  “I saw your profile and wondered if you might like to have dinner,” Alan said. “I’m in town on business. I come to Zinnia regularly as part of my job.”

  Tabitha hated to deceive the man, but it was part of what she’d agreed to do to find her sister. “I’d be open to dinner.”

  “How about tonight?”

  “I’m sorry, but I already have plans. Tomorrow night is good.”

  “There’s a little out-of-the-way steakhouse near Drew. Tom’s Big Sizzle. Great food, great band, dancing. Only the locals know about it, but it comes highly recommended. I could pick you up at the Prince Albert. When I get a chance, maybe we could fly to Memphis for some great ribs, but my time is jammed right now so a local date is the best I can offer.”

  “A Delta eatery is probably better than any place else,” Tabitha said. “I’m new to the area, so it will be a great opportunity to learn about a restaurant.” This was easier than she’d anticipated. She’d already learned he had access to a private plane. Trudy had mentioned something about that, and now Tabitha had begun to wonder if her sister had been spirited away from the Delta by air. “Tell you what, I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

  “You modern girls always like to have your own wheels. In case the date is a bore.”

  He said it good-naturedly, but Tabitha was on high alert. “My mama didn’t raise a fool,”
she said brightly. “See you tomorrow night.” She hung up.

  Feeling a little flushed, she went to the bath that was part of her suite of rooms and put a cool cloth on her face. She’d taken one positive step in her attempts to find Trudy. If Alan Dotsun wasn’t a lead, then at least he could be crossed off the list. When she went back to her bedroom, she called the local sheriff’s office to see if they’d had any luck with leads on Lisa’s murder or Trudy’s disappearance. Deputy Dattilo took her call, speaking in a deep voice with a long drawl.

  “No, ma’am, we haven’t found anything that relates to Trudy Wells. There was something with Lisa East, though. It might be of interest to you and Mr. Long.”

  “What’s that?” Tabitha asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “We found DNA under Lisa’s fingernails. We don’t have a match yet, but we do have something else.”

  “What?” Now she was a little breathless, feeling the stress.

  “Lisa had cotton seeds clutched in her hand. Like she’d grabbed a handful and most of it had slipped out of her grip, but there was enough to identify the seed. G9-14, some kind of new seed. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Roger will have to call you back,” Tabitha said. “That’s a crop Trudy was investigating for Long Agricultural. I know Roger will want to speak with you.”

  “Have him give me a call. Or better yet, I’ll ride over to the business office and talk to him in person.”

  “Thanks, Deputy. If you hear anything about my sister, please let me know.” She hung up and sat down on the side of the bed. She’d worked hard not to let worry for Trudy take over. She’d taken action instead of fretting. But now, she couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. Where could Trudy be? What had happened to her? She had to keep the faith that her sister was alive.

  Trudy’s disappearance was connected either with agricultural issues or her crazy dating episodes. Or possible the two had been combined together. Alan Dotsun had a finger in each of those pies. Was he somehow responsible for Trudy’s disappearance? She pulled up her phone and googled the name. There was nothing of any real interest that showed. When she typed in G9-14, there was a Grundle company press release that mentioned the “new cotton” and the miracle it would bring to growers. The hype was extensive.

  Unable to make any real headway, she went downstairs. She had a few hours to kill until time for the evening’s séance and Mama Bettite had always impressed on her the need to be as familiar as possible with her surroundings. Spirits loved the familiar, whether it was a room or a chair or a dress. If Tabitha was going to help Roger with his mother, she needed to be as realistic as she possibly could.

  The house was quiet, and she found all three cats in the front parlor, looking out the window as if they expected company. It was the slenderer black cat, Trouble, that hooked his claws in the bottom of her jeans and urged her to follow him into the parlor. The line of a possible new song came to her—“I’m hooked on trouble and I can’t let go.” When she found Trudy and returned to her New Orleans life—to the world of writing and music that she’d hardly given a thought to--she’d finish the song. She smiled as she bent down to address the cat.

  “What’s up, Trouble?” She stroked the cat’s sleek black fur and he arched beneath her hand. Tabitha had always loved cats, and she found Trouble to be extraordinary. In fact, all three of the Delta cats were unusually compelling. They behaved as if they had a real understanding of what was happening around them.

  Trouble urged her toward the beautiful painting of the Mississippi vista that Asa Redmond had created long ago when the Delta was another world. “You like this painting?” she asked the cat. She didn’t expect an answer, so his loud meow made her chuckle. “Not only are you good at finding clues, you’re an art critic. Your talents are endless.”

  He hooked his sharp claws in the hem of her jeans again and moved toward the staircase. The cat’s antics diverted her from her worry, and she followed him, willingly going up to the second floor and then the third. She’d seen him up on the third floor and wondered what he was up to. Letting him take the lead, she went into one of the empty third floor rooms and to the windows that opened onto a balcony. The cat was clawing at the window. She opened it for him and he stepped outside into the cold air.

  It was a pre-sunset similar to the one in the painting, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the cat had discerned this. How incredible. It gave the feline a whole new level of intelligence. She stood for a moment, drinking in the view. The words of a Jesse Winchester song came to her, and she hummed the melody to “Mississippi You’re on my Mind” until Trouble hopped onto the balcony railing, making her anxious that he might fall. When she reached to bring him back to safety, he dodged her hands. “What?” He never avoided being petted or held. He faced the vista that mimicked the painting and cried forlornly.

  “Trouble, what are you trying to tell me?” She knew the cat had a message for her. A week before she’d never have believed a cat could or would willingly try to communicate with her. Now she was positive that was exactly what he was doing.

  The setting sun came out from behind a cloud and a ray of light struck something metallic far away in one of the cotton fields. It was a momentary beacon that faded with the changing light. But she’d seen it, and she knew what it was. A vehicle was parked in the middle of one of the fields, likely tucked in a brake. She had no proof, but in her heart she feared it was her sister’s car.

  Heart pounding, she brought out her cell phone and dialed Roger. Her rental car would never make it through the fields. She needed Roger’s big truck. And she needed Roger. If Trudy was in the car—she shut that thought down. Trudy wasn’t dead in the car. She would have felt it. She would have known if her sister was no longer among the living.

  When Roger answered, she didn’t procrastinate. “I’ve found Trudy’s car. It’s parked in a field behind Long Hall. I saw it from the third-floor window. Trouble showed it to me.”

  “I’m on the way. Meet me in the drive. Call the sheriff’s office. Get Dewayne and Budgie out there with a forensic team. There’s no time to waste.” He paused. “It’s going to be okay, Tabitha. We’ll find her. This is not bad news. It’s a clue that will set us on her trail.”

  His reassuring words brought a sob from her, but she fought to control her emotions. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  The cat hopped down from the balcony and entered the window, calling for Tabitha to follow. In a daze, she walked behind him, shutting the window to keep out the cold. She took a moment to compose herself, remembering not to jump to conclusions. Roger was right. The car could be the lead everyone needed to find Trudy’s trail. It could be a good thing, not a bad one. She simply couldn’t allow the images of a broken Trudy decomposing in the front seat to settle in her brain.

  How long would it take Roger to arrive? She didn’t know, but once she was outside the house with Trouble, she called the sheriff’s office as Roger had suggested.

  “Are you sure it’s your sister’s car?” Budgie, the shorter of the deputies, had answered her call.

  This was no time for hysteria. “I couldn’t see clearly,” she admitted. “It was a flash of sunlight glinting off something metallic.” She realized she might have jumped the gun, but Troubled rubbed against her legs, giving her encouragement. “I’m positive it’s Trudy’s car. Roger said we would need forensics.”

  “We’re on the way,” Budgie said. “I hope this will lead us to your sister, alive and safe.”

  “Me, too.” Once she hung up the phone, there was nothing to do but wait.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bipeds come in all shapes, sizes, and mental acuity. With Tabitha Kingsley I hit the top tier. She has an intuitive way of catching my drift, to use a quaint American turn of phrase. And she’s no quitter, a real pisser. She’s holding herself together by sheer will power alone. And yet she is taking a moment to stroke me and thank me for helping her. She accepts what I did and d
oesn’t try to rationalize it as a coincidence or something of that foolish nature.

  A few figure eights around her ankles and she is at least smiling at me, though it’s a somewhat tremulous smile. I can feel her anxiety. She has the complexion of a fair, English rose, but now she’s a bit pallid. Finding her sister will resolve all of that. The car will give us and the authorities some leads. I know it. Whoever thought I would convey a message through a painting. I have to admit that this episode is a fine example of the positive role art can play in our lives. I went to the third floor to see the vista painted nearly two hundred years ago by Asa Redmond. I was admiring the power of the landscape when I saw the flash of light on the car in the field. I knew then it was a vehicle hidden in the high growth, and it’s a logical deduction that it is likely Trudy’s car. Thank you, Master Redmond, for the clue.

  Now it’s time for me to kick into action. I must be on board the truck when Roger and Tabitha go to the car in the field. If there’s anything gruesome to be discovered, I can’t let Tabitha see it. There are things you simply shouldn’t see, and a decomposing loved one falls into that category. While I didn’t come to Zinnia to protect and serve our red-haired soothsayer, I’ve taken on the responsibility and will fulfill it with a stiff upper lip. I won’t be a wanker about it either, though I’m not at all fond of viewing dead things. I think back to my bucolic days as a kitling growing up in Wetumpka, Alabama where my biggest concern was slipping around the hedges to spy on the neighbors and flirt with the local feline femme fatales. Now, I’m building a thriving business of solving cases wherever I go, following in dad’s enormous pawprints.

  And here comes Roger, roaring down the driveway. Tabitha all but leaps off the porch and into the crushed shells of the path. And we are off. Whew! Roger-Dodger hardly slowed enough for me to jump in. Thank goodness Tabitha is as agile and strong as I am. We’re aboard the truck, which is something of a land yacht with this huge cab, a long truck bed, dual wheels in the rear, and an engine that sounds like it might be able to fly. And we’re off.