Bone to Be Wild (11 page)

Scott was in the denial stage—and I had no desire to push him out of it, but it was my job to update him on my investigation.

“The preacher, Reverend Jebediah Farley, might be capable of inspiring his disciples to kill, but he has an airtight alibi. Coleman is checking it just to be certain, but I think we can rule him out as the killer. Personally, I think he's a blowhard who gets off on bullying and repressing women who have nowhere else to turn. Killing a man doesn't seem to be his style.”

“I talked to the band members, and no one can think of a single reason anyone would target Koby.” He almost flinched. “His girlfriend is coming to Zinnia,” he checked his watch, “any minute now. I don't look forward to this. Koby never mentioned anything about a girlfriend moving here with him.”

Based on Koby's flirtatious ways, I was a little surprised too. “Does she know he's been killed?”

“She does. She called to talk to Koby and Jaytee told her. She was halfway here with the U-Haul loaded with all her possessions. She doesn't have anywhere else to go.”

“What will you do?”

“She's a bartender. She wants to work.”

“Geesh.” He was in a tough place.

“There's something I really need to talk to you about.”

Why did I feel like the second shoe was about to kick me in the shins? I put down my coffee cup and flattened my hands on the table, possibly for stability. “What?”

“I talked to Coleman about Gertrude.”

This wasn't where I expected the conversation to go. “There's nothing Coleman can do until she violates the law.”

“I think both you and Tinkie should have some security until the old bat is behind bars. Coleman thinks so too. In fact, he's checking her alibi for the time of Koby's murder.”

Their concern was touching but impractical. “I'll stay alert for Gertrude, but I won't have bodyguards following me around.” I picked up the coffee and sipped. “Tinkie and I are smart enough to steer clear of a psychopath.”

“If she's stalking you, Sarah Booth, she means to hurt you. We've all been trying to figure out why someone is targeting me or the club. What if it's you that's the target? You were outside. You could have been killed as easily as Koby.”

He was right, but vigilance was my only option. I couldn't hide in Dahlia House, afraid if I stepped outside, Gertrude would plug me.

“Scott, I appreciate your concern. But—”

“Coleman told me you'd resist common sense.”

Instead of getting angry, I laughed out loud. “It's comforting to know the two of you are diagnosing my stubbornness.”

“Coleman and I will be adversaries at a later date. We both care about you. And Tinkie. She's in danger too if she's hanging around with you. So you two should stay together and have some protection.”

Instead of the divide and conquer, Scott and Coleman had come up with the combine and protect philosophy. “Okay.”

Scott's mouth opened and nothing came out. “What?” He was confused. I'd capitulated too easily.

“Okay.”

“Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer if I forced you to argue and reason and try to persuade me?”

“This was way too easy.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”

“Tinkie and Oscar have to come here. I'm not leaving the horses. The Bellcases only have Chablis and she lives here half the time anyway. They can move into Dahlia House for a while.”

He looked up at the ceiling. “You know Oscar—”

“I'm not leaving the horses. If it's for a few days, they can come to my house. If it's longer, I'll move the horses to Lee's and go to Hilltop. How about that? See, I can compromise.”

“I'll take it.” He stood just as his phone rang. When he glanced at the number, he frowned. “It's Tatiana Scitz, Koby's girl.”

This would be a hard conversation. I signaled him to sit and I picked up the dirty dishes and put them in the sink, then walked out in the backyard to give him some privacy.

In a moment the screen door slammed and he walked with me to the barn. “I have to go to the club. Come with me.”

“Sure. Let me check my supplies. I may need to swing by the feed store.” We entered the barn, which was dark and chilly. If I had the money for a modern barn, I'd have light and better ventilation, but this old structure had withstood time and the elements. It was as much a part of my home as Dahlia House. I flipped on the light switch and inhaled the scent of fresh hay and leather cleaner. This place soothed my spirit.

“Why are you being so agreeable, Sarah Booth? I don't recall you having a pliant streak.”

“I don't want to be hurt and I don't want anyone I care about to find themselves in a bad situation for helping or protecting me.”

He stepped closer and I knew he meant to kiss me. I wasn't ready. I pushed lightly on his shoulder and he instantly backed away.

“Sorry, I didn't plan that.” He flushed. “I'd promised myself I wouldn't press.”

My palm warmed his cheek. “This hard time will pass. I have to rekindle my hope that opening my heart is more than a trap for pain. I have to believe love doesn't always end in being left alone. The only way for me to get there is to find my own path.”

“I'll help you find that hope, if you'll let me.”

“I can't make any promises, Scott.”

“I know you have feelings for the sheriff.” His fingers traced my jaw. “The future is something no one can guarantee. You know I care for you, and I think you feel something for me. Now it's time to step back and give you room.
Rebound
is a word I don't care to have a personal relationship with.”

“Thank you.”

“Let's head to the club. This conversation with Miss Scitz won't be easy.”

In deference to the solemnity of the situation, I opted to leave the animals at home, but I wanted to be sure they were safely inside. I whistled up Sweetie Pie. She bounded around the house, long hound ears flapping behind her. It took Pluto a bit longer to arrive. He was a cat and therefore disdained any movement that lessened his dignity. He could be lightning fast when chasing a hummingbird, but he never exceeded a creep when he had the opportunity to make a human wait for him.

“Molasses is slow,” Scott said as we waited. “That cat has a definite attitude.”

I picked Pluto up and put him in the house with Sweetie and carefully locked the door. “He's a cat. By definition he has an attitude.”

Scott climbed behind the wheel and turned on the CD player. The voice of Howlin' Wolf filled the van. As we left Dahlia House, I remembered another trip with blues music playing. When I was in college, I'd traveled with a vanload of fellow students to a blues festival in Memphis. A golden memory.

A hint of sadness settled over me as we pulled up in the parking lot of the blues club. Only a few hours earlier Koby Shaver worked in and owned the space behind the bar. He'd been a giant of a man with a big presence. The place was empty without him. But not for long. A female tall enough to rival Cece came out of the ladies' room. Her black, black hair was shaved on one side and bristled on the other. A dragon tattoo curled around her neck, shooting flames into her cleavage. I couldn't count at first glance how many holes she had pierced in her ears, eyebrows, and nose, but it was at least a dozen.

“Tatiana Scitz,” she said, holding out a bejeweled hand banded at the wrist with a studded leather bracelet. Her miniskirt was black leather and her top, little more than a halter, was also leather. Her lushly curved body was blue from the cold, but she seemed impervious. “Have they found the asshole who killed Koby?”

“Not yet,” Scott said. “Let's go in the office and talk a minute. This is Sarah Booth Delaney.”

We shook, and I realized her grip could break all the bones in my hand. She was tough and strong and proud of it. Her appearance would give Zinnia something to talk about for at least a week.

Scott sat behind an old wooden desk and Tatiana and I took seats in front of it. Photos of famous blues players hung around the room, and a map of Mississippi showing the Blues Trail had been stapled up. Someone had thumbtacked notes on the map with facts about current clubs, performers, and contact information.

“Maybe in the future we'll have a movable blues feast,” Scott said, noting my interest. “Change the venue around to different bars. The best thing to fertilize the blues is to soak the soil in plenty of opportunity for talent to rise.”

“Tell me what happened to Koby.” Tatiana cut to the chase. She was dry-eyed and resolute. She had accepted the facts, and judging from the hardness in her face and voice, she hungered for revenge. I flashed a warning glance at Scott, but it wasn't necessary.

“We're not certain if the attack was targeted at Koby, or if he was simply in the wrong place.”

“That's about as comforting as a hole in a condom.”

Scott played it straight. “I'm sorry, but we don't have any answers. Not yet. The sheriff is working on it and Sarah Booth and her partner are also helping. She's a private investigator.”

Tatiana examined me head to toe but reserved her comments. I had questions, though. “Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Koby?”

“Hell, he'd only been in Mississippi a week. He had a big personality and he liked to flirt, but I doubt he could make a mortal enemy in that time.”

She knew about his flirtatiousness and had no concerns. But that didn't mean another woman—or man—might not have taken offense. “Maybe someone from his past?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “We were together for the past year. He never had any trouble at work he couldn't handle with talk. Koby had a knack for saying the right thing, helping people feel better. I told him all the time he should've been a therapist.”

“Did Koby have any habits that might have put him in bad company?”

She withered me with a glance. “Koby didn't mix in drugs. He wasn't a violent man. He didn't have dirty secrets or dirty laundry, and we don't have friends who kill each other.”

Scott cleared his throat. “I really liked Koby. I still can't believe this has happened. As I told you, you're welcome to have his bartending job for as long as you want it, assuming the club opens and we can pay our bills.”

“I can't thank you enough.” At last emotion caught up with her. She knuckled a tear from the corner of her eye. “What did Koby tell you about me?” she asked.

Scott shrugged. “Nothing.”

“He didn't mention me at all?” Tatiana asked, a little insulted.

“He didn't,” Scott said. “Koby's been in Mississippi about a week. We met him in Austin on the last leg of the tour. He knew the bar business backward and forward and he had a personality folks enjoyed. I never really had a chance to talk with Koby about anything except the bar.” Scott shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned toward Tatiana. “No one talked personal history. We were working too hard to open the bar. There wasn't time.”

“He was so excited about my arrival.” Tatiana slumped in her chair. “He planned to ask if I could be the relief bartender. We met working in Tristan's Irish Pub. At first we didn't like each other much, but we grew on each other.” Another tear leaked out and she angrily brushed it away. “I refuse to cry. Koby wasn't the kind of man who wanted folks weeping after him. He would have said to raise a glass at his wake and dance around the coffin.”

“We will find who killed him,” I told her.

“Maybe you could speed up the process.” Her words were hard, but her delivery was defeated.

“We're doing our best. A drive-by isn't the easiest kind of murder to solve, especially since we don't know if the act was based on personal issues with Koby or directed at the club.” I wished I hadn't explained so much, but the words were out. I'd want all the information possible if I were in Tatiana's shoes.

“Can I go to work?” she asked. “I want to familiarize myself with the bar. Get all the setups in place, review the flow.”

“Sure.” Scott walked her to the office door. “We've delayed the opening until tomorrow, but there's no reason you can't check the supplies. If anything is missing, just ask. Have you moved into Koby's house?”

“Everything I own is in the U-Haul. I can unload it later, when I'm too tired to be upset. Right now I need to be somewhere with action and other people.”

“Let me know if you need anything for the bar. We'll open tomorrow evening.”

Scott closed the door and leaned against it. “She's one tough lady.”

“She is.” I considered how the conversation had gone. “Koby didn't mention anything about her moving here?”

“We didn't really talk personal stuff. I know about Jaytee and Cece, but only because their relationship happened in front of me in New Orleans. Mike is married. I honestly don't know anything about the romantic liaisons of the other band members.”

In a bid to make him smile, I said, “Obviously, we need some reporters from the
National Enquirer
or one of the gossip TV shows around here to keep you abreast. Maybe Cece should do a story about the personal lives of the band members.”

Scott held up a hand. “That so isn't going to happen.” The left side of his mouth lifted slightly. “We've delayed the opening until tomorrow night, but we're going forward come hell or high water.”

I slipped out the door and hurried through the bar into the November sun. I dialed Tinkie and asked for a ride. She was more than happy to escape a planning session for a garden club. I lit a cigarette while I waited for her to fetch me.

 

7

Huddled deep in my coat, I stomped my feet and finally put out the cigarette because my hands were too cold. To my surprise, Yancy Bellow pulled into the parking lot in a black Land Rover. The woman who got out of the passenger side was none other than Bijou LaRoche. I'd seen them talking at the ball in New Orleans, but apparently it had gone a bit farther than casual chitchat. Bijou looked fantastic, as always, except for the sneer on her face as she came toward me.