Bone to Be Wild (19 page)

“Her motives and actions are at odds,” Tinkie said, summing it up neatly. “You're right.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Worried about tonight.” Tinkie yawned. Though she was perfectly turned out, it was evident she hadn't slept well either. “If someone is truly opposed to Scott opening his club, he'll do something awful to destroy the big show. A terrible feeling is churning in my gut.”

Tinkie wasn't prone to premonitions or even bad attitudes. “Have you talked to Madame Tomeeka lately?” Tammy Odom, also known as Madame Tomeeka, was a former classmate and Zinnia's full-time psychic. While some might scoff at Madame Tommeka's dreams, visions, and ability to see the past and future as well as communicate with the departed, I knew her gift was real. Sometimes she was able to warn us when danger stalked. She'd saved my bacon more than once.

“I haven't had a chance. She went to Memphis to visit little Dahlia and just got back. I barely had time to say hi at the funeral.”

“Let's give her a call.”

I had Tammy on speed dial. When she answered, she said, “What worry brings you to my door, Sarah Booth?”

“How did you know it was me?” I fed her the joke line.

“I
am
psychic, but it was caller ID,” she said, but she didn't laugh. “You and Tinkie have been on my mind for the past four days.”

I didn't care for what that implied. “Can you come over? Tinkie is here and we're working on a new case.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

I had concerns that Tammy might be able to sense Jitty in the house. Tammy was sensitive and sometimes Jitty liked to tease my guests, fluttering a curtain or rattling a pan. Jitty always claimed it was a breeze, but I suspected otherwise. Now I had to have a word with my haint. If she showed up singing the blues, Tammy would surely sense her. Best to nip this problem in the bud.

“I'll put on some coffee. Back in a minute,” I told Tinkie.

“I'm creating a flow chart of our suspects. So far, we don't have a damn thing.”

“I know.” I left her to it and hurried to the kitchen. “Jitty! Jitty!” Calling my ghost was about like spitting into the wind. She arrived when she wanted, and she left when she felt like it.

The irresistible sound of a plunky guitar filled the kitchen. Jitty, carrying a bit more weight than normal and wearing trousers and a man's shirt, sashayed into the room. “You a hound dog.” She sang the blues number Elvis Presley had sent to the top of the rock 'n' roll charts. “You gotta quit that snoopin',” she said.

She was dazzling and sassy and I instantly recognized her—Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton. I couldn't resist tapping my toes and I wanted to shake my hips. Big Mama inspired my body to dance. But I knew the dark side to Big Mama's spectacular talent. She was often overshadowed by other singers performing the songs she wrote. I couldn't help but wonder if this was another way Jitty was trying to warn me.

“Madame Tomeeka is on the way over,” I said. “Don't mess around, okay? You know she can sense you're here.”

“Maybe we could collaborate and start a 1–900 hotline to the spirit world.” Jitty was full of herself.

“I'd appreciate it if you cooled your jets. She's here to help with the case.”

“I wish I could sing at Playin' the Bones.”

It was the first time Jitty had ever expressed a wish to participate in an activity of the living. It pierced me. She came and went between my world and the Great Beyond, but she could never fully be in the here and now.

“I wish you could sing at the club, too. You'd be excellent. Scott and the band would love you.”

She smiled. “I would be good, wouldn't I?”

“You would indeed.”

“Sometimes bein' dead is a real pain.” She tucked in the tail of her shirt, which had slipped out when she danced. “Don't worry. I'll steer clear of Tammy Odom. She's more aware than the average human, and I don't want to scratch her suspicions. Though I could have a little fun with her.” The twinkle in her eye was dangerous.

“Thanks.”

“Have fun at the club tonight. And Sarah Booth, be careful. There's mischief afoot.”

I knew better than to ask her what was happening or who was behind it. The Great Beyond had a whole lot of rules, and a big one was not tipping off mortals. We were supposed to find our own way without guidance from a ghost. Jitty did everything she could to help me, but there were limits. And I didn't press her. Over the past year I'd grown to rely on her. If she got recalled from Dahlia House, I would be all alone.

“Sarah Booth!” Tinkie's voice echoed in the house. “Where's the coffee? Tammy is here!”

“Coming.” The kitchen was empty. Jitty had departed. I put three mugs of hot coffee on a tray with sugar and cream and headed back to the offices of Delaney Detective Agency.

Madame Tomeeka and Tinkie commandeered the rolling office chairs, so I perched on the edge of a desk. “How's the bundle of joy?” I asked Tammy. Babies weren't really my thing, but this baby had won my heart when she was born.

Tammy, who was close to my age, wore the serenity of grandmotherhood. Her face held an inner glow when she spoke of her daughter and grandchild. “Growing too fast, Sarah Booth. She's a beautiful baby. One day she's going to be someone great.”

I didn't doubt it for an instant.

We shared a few more pleasantries before Tammy broached the subject I knew she'd come to talk about. Something was off-kilter.

“I'm worried about you two,” she said, putting her empty mug on the desk. She folded her hands in her lap, and I couldn't help but admire the long, elegant fingers and the calluses. Tammy's life had been hard. We'd both been marked by early tragedy, but I'd had the cushion of family money. She'd had determination and her ability to see things others didn't. For a long time she'd worked as a maid as she built up her clientele. Now she read tarot cards, listened to her intuition when people asked questions, and interpreted her dreams and the dreams of others. In the past she'd been a big help on several cases.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Tinkie asked. She was more direct when dealing with the unknown. I hadn't realized how much I dreaded what Tammy might say until Tinkie popped the question.

“There'll be trouble at the club.” Tammy wasn't happy with her job as bearer of bad news, either. “I'm sorry. I hate having a dream like this, but it's been the same dream for the past three nights. I had no choice but to tell you.”

“It isn't your fault, Tammy. Just give us the details.” Tinkie would yank out a troublesome tooth. She faced things head-on. I preferred to hide under the bed and hope things got better. Now I had to push back my fear and listen to my friend. Tammy's dreams occasionally offered a solution, if I could only open myself to different options.

Tammy's left hand tapped nervously on her thigh. “Last night I dreamed about the club opening. It was raining outside, and the neon lights reflected in puddles in the parking lot. Music swelled out into the darkness, along with laughter. Folks were having a good time. I was eager to get inside and party with y'all, but as I opened the door, I smelled something.”

I could only hope it involved the spicy jambalaya Curtis was cooking. “What?”

“I smelled Death.”

“Oh, no.” Death had stalked me since I was a child. Tonight all of my closest friends would be gathered in Playin' the Bones, and if Tammy's dream was precognitive, this wasn't good. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I don't often get an olfactory warning that Death is riding his black horse into town, but it was strong this time. Blood and fear mingled together in this sharp, coppery odor.” She inhaled and let it out. “I don't like saying this, but something bad is coming down at that club tonight.”

“Tell us the dream,” Tinkie said. “If we're prepared, maybe we can stop it.”

Tammy focused inward, remembering. “Keep in mind I see what
can
happen in my dreams. It doesn't mean it has to happen. External factors change things. Maybe this can be prevented. I don't know. Nothing is carved into the book of life until it happens. Even Death changes directions sometimes.”

I felt slightly better. “Tammy, no one blames you for what you see,” I said. “We appreciate your talents and your willingness to share. This may help us save a life.”

She nodded. “In the dream, I walked into the club and it was like a tide of good sound, delicious smells, laughter, and joy. Folks were having a fine time. The dance floor was crowded, the music was hot.” She paused to gather herself. “Then a black shadow passed over the club. It doesn't make any sense, because I was inside and couldn't see outside, but I felt it. I knew right then Death had brushed my soul. All the bright colors were drained from the room, and faces went from joy to horror, like they were all witnessing a terrible event. The smell changed. Rot was close by.”

I didn't want to hear this. My first impulse was to excuse myself to brew more coffee, but Tinkie's face told me to sit my butt still and not break Tammy's concentration. “Maybe it was Koby's murder you're sensing. A death already past.”

“Maybe,” Tammy said, but I knew from her expression she didn't believe my interpretation.

“Go on,” Tinkie urged her. “Tell us the rest.”

“The shadow passed over the club and everyone looked up. A gunshot came close and very loud, then a scream, a woman I think. When I turned to the stage, all the band members wore blank masks and stood together, but one was missing. There was an empty spot.”

“Which man?” It couldn't be Scott.

“I don't know, Sarah Booth. They were lined up on the stage—all alike, but I couldn't say who wasn't there. When I walked up to the stage, blood pooled in a big circle. Outside the club, an eagle shrieked, and a small creature squealed in fright. Another loud scream came from inside the club, then silence, and I woke up.”

“What a terrible dream,” Tinkie said. She stood and went to Tammy, pulling her into a hug. “I'm so sorry you had to relive it, but thank you for telling us. Are you okay?”

Leave it to Tinkie to do the kind, compassionate thing. I was so busy worrying about Scott and the band, I hadn't considered what a toll this would take on Tammy. I picked up her cold hands and chafed them to bring back the circulation. “Ditto what Tinkie said, and thank you for warning us.”

“I don't always know what the dreams mean, and this one is confusing. There's danger at the club, but also danger outside the club.”

“We'll be very careful,” Tinkie promised. “And we'll warn everyone else. Nightshade Security has roadblocks set up at the front entrance and another team at the farm road near the back. I don't think anyone will be able to get close to the club with a gun. They're checking every person and car that tries to enter. Anyone with weapons or a crappy attitude will be sent packing.”

Tammy didn't seem comforted. “Mean folks can always find a way. Coleman's hands are tied. He can't stop folks from carrying guns. Or from using them.”

“No, but Scott can stop them from coming onto the club property. You'd think people would have enough sense not to bring loaded weapons to a place that serves liquor, but folks don't think. They assume everyone will behave. They don't consider individuals with anger issues or a hothead who's just looking for an excuse to light his fuse.” Tinkie was getting agitated herself.

“Now hush that fretting,” Tammy said. “We're putting on a brave face and hanging hard to the belief that this will be a stellar event.” Tammy couldn't hide her worry, though she was doing her all to be supportive.

I considered calling Scott and urging him not to open, but the threat wouldn't go away. Not next week or next month. If a person was determined to prevent the club from opening, he could wait us out. Scott would lose his investment if the doors didn't open soon.

“Let's put away the doom talk. We're all aware now. We'll be on the lookout. What are you wearing?” Tammy asked me. “Something sexy, I hope. Now that you're a free filly, you have to get out there and shake your moneymaker.”

I pretended insult. “Moneymaker?”

“Don't play coy,” Tinkie threw in. “You know you've got a handful of men waiting for a chance to make change.”

Tammy yelped with delight, and I took an outraged tone. “As if I'd sell myself to a man just for security.”

“I would!” Tammy threw both hands in the air.

“Sarah Booth would, too,” Tinkie said. “It's just got to be the right man. But as my mama used to say—and I'm sure Aunt Loulane would agree—you can love a rich man just as easily as a poor man.”

I'd heard such wisdom from Aunt Loulane more than once. “I'm not in the market to be loving any man,” I said, arms akimbo. “I was bitten by the python of love and I'm not going back to play with more snakes.”

“Oh, my lord,” Tinkie gasped. “Python of love? Where did that come from?”

“I think I'm off sex for the rest of my life.” Tammy pretended to swoon.

“Just remember, when you start to tease me, I have the power to destroy your love life with a simple turn of phrase.” I leaned toward them. “One-eyed wonder muscle!”

“I submit.” Tammy rose and put her arm around my shoulders. “No more love advice from me. Just promise me, you'll stay inside the club tonight. No going outside to smoke cigarettes.”

I wasn't aware Tammy knew I smoked, but why should I be surprised? Everyone in Zinnia knew everyone else's vices. “I'll stay inside. You have my word.”

“You, too.” Tammy drilled Tinkie with a glare. “We'll stick together and enjoy the music and hope my dream was anxiety tapping at my subconscious.”

I nodded, but the chances of Tammy having a mere anxiety attack were slim. Her dreams were precognitive.