Bonefire of the Vanities (19 page)

After a brief conversation with Tammy, Coleman was as puzzled as ever. “They were ready to leave, and Amanda said she’d forgotten something,” Coleman reported. “Tammy left. She never dreamed Amanda wouldn’t follow.

“As far as you know, all of the guests were accounted for on the stairs?” Coleman asked.

“Except for Yumi and the kitchen staff. Palk dismissed the maids at eight. That’s the routine,” I told him.

“Can’t you arrest someone?” Marjorie asked. “How about Chasley? He should be arrested on general principle.”

“Can’t do it, Mrs. Littlefield.” Coleman was a good sheriff because he kept his eye on the bigger picture, and he didn’t jump to conclusions. Normally. There was that time he’d accused me of murder, though.

“She implied she knew something or had some evidence against Yumi,” I said. “I can’t imagine what kind.”

“What would Amanda have?” Coleman’s question was as much for himself as for us.

“Why was she in the basement?” Tinkie asked.

“To stop the séance.” Marjorie’s answer was emphatic. “Is Chasley involved in this? He must be.”

“That’s a long jump to make,” I cautioned her. “Marjorie, why do you think Chasley is capable of such awful things?” It was unnatural for a mother to have such dark thoughts about her son.

“A week after Mariam’s death, I picked up the telephone to make a call. Chasley was talking with one of his friends. He said that he would be the sole heir now that Mariam was gone. He said it with such … coldness. Chasley knew how dangerous the currents there were. He
knew
.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and so did her spirit. She turned away and covered her eyes with her hand. “Chasley and I are both to blame for her death.”

Money did not buy happiness—Marjorie was walking proof of that.

“Do you have evidence Chasley played an active role in Mariam’s death?” Coleman asked.

“I don’t think the law demands a brother jump into a dangerous river to save his little sister. You could charge him with cowardice or perhaps corrupt character. That’s about it, unless he confesses.”

Marjorie was far more devious than I’d thought. “You’ve set this all up, this whole séance thing, to see if you can frighten Chasley into confessing!”

“Damn!” Tinkie saw Marjorie’s plan, too.

“I’m not certain I approve of the way you’ve manipulated everyone,” Coleman said with some heat. “A young woman is dead, and if I find out this is a result of a scheme—”

“I assure you, I’m as distraught by the young woman’s death as you are,” Marjorie said. “Chasley’s guilt or innocence has nothing to do with the poor young woman. As far as I knew, she wasn’t allowed out of the kitchen except to clear dirty dishes from the table.”

“It’s a mighty strange coincidence that you kick off your plan to get Chasley to confess and a woman dies at Heart’s Desire.” Coleman’s voice had an edge.

“I’m not denying Chasley may be involved, but I don’t see how this could have anything to do with me.” Marjorie stood up and faced Coleman though she barely came up to his armpits.

“I’ll have a talk with Chasley,” Coleman said. He pointed at me, then Tinkie. “You two stay put. Don’t leave this room until I give you the okay.”

“I could help with the interview,” I said.

“And give up the ruse of being a maid. No, I can handle this on my own. Stay put. I’ll be back in the morning to finish my investigation,” he said. “I want to do some research on the Westins and Chasley.”

That was good news, because Coleman had law-enforcement resources Tinkie and I didn’t. He might actually be able to turn up something.

Coleman motioned me to the doorway and slipped me a cell phone—a nice one with all the features I’d been missing. “Call me if you see anything suspicious. I don’t like that you’re here, Sarah Booth. Or Tinkie. I worry about both of you.”

He was beginning to sound suspiciously like Oscar and Graf. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d all ganged up to herd me and Tinkie into a role where safety came first and career second. Then again, a young woman was dead. He had a right to be worried. Oscar, when he heard, would go through the roof and be on the phone to Graf. Tink’s and my time at Heart’s Desire might be short if we wanted to salvage our romantic relationships. We had to get busy.

After Coleman left, I convinced Marjorie to try to sleep. She was wound up tighter than a spring. “I can’t sleep. My whole plan depends on the séance.”

“Do you really believe Mariam will appear and accuse Chasley of pushing her off the dock?” I asked.

“I believe she will tell the truth. I have to know the truth. I’ve lived too long suspecting him. This has to be finished. For both our sakes.”

“Tomorrow we’ll speak with Sherry.” I tried to calm her. “I’m sure she’ll reschedule the séance. This is her business. This is what she does. Other people are counting on her to contact dead relatives.”

“Will you see if you can find Sherry downstairs? Just ask her. Pin her down.” She hugged her elbows. “I want to make certain the séance will be held tomorrow.”

“I’m sure everyone is in bed. It’s been a rough night. The Westins must know Amanda’s death will bring unwanted scrutiny on Heart’s Desire.”

“Everything is in jeopardy,” Marjorie said.

“Marjorie, I promised Coleman we’d stay in the room. Let’s sleep. Tomorrow I’ll speak to Sherry first thing.”

Before we crawled into bed, I checked the lock and forced a chair under the doorknob. If someone was determined to enter, the chair wouldn’t stop him, but it would make noise and wake us up.

I’d just pulled the sheet up to my chin when a heavy weight moved up my body. Pluto had crept out from under the bed. He walked the entire length of my body and settled down to cuddle with me. I thought I’d have trouble sleeping, but I was out like a light.

*   *   *

I’m not certain what awakened me. Pluto, too, was wide-eyed. Then I heard the sound again. Not the clanking of chains that would have told me Christmas Past was lurking in the darkness. This was even scarier. It was the tap of high heels on the floor.

Tinkie was asleep beside me. Marjorie snored lightly in the bed. Pluto and I remained completely still as we listened to the footsteps come closer and closer.

“Sit up, you faker. I know you’re awake.”

The voice was high-class and amused.

A shaft of moonlight coming in the window illuminated the figure of a woman in a suit and heels. The hem of her dress came just below the knee, and the shapely silhouette, complete with curls that circled her head beneath a sophisticated hat, told me my visitor didn’t have to worry about fashion or weight. Or time period. She was right out of the 1930s.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Jitty.

“One of us has to work the mystery. As far as I can tell, you and your sawed-off partner do handsome work as maids, but you haven’t progressed an iota toward helping Mrs. Littlefield.”

“Sic her, Pluto.” I nudged the cat toward Jitty, but Pluto was wise enough to resist. He dug his claws into my thigh and refused to budge.

“Tell me what progress you’ve made.” Jitty sat on the edge of a chair. Her stockinged leg swung back and forth. She was the epitome of annoyed sophistication, and I knew the character she was playing. Nora Charles from
The Thin Man.
Obviously Jitty had a lot of time on her hands in the Great Beyond. She could read books and watch old movies, or maybe she time-traveled. Who knew how she dug up her references, but she was spot-on, right down to the pearl necklace glowing softly in the moonlight.

“Why are you here deviling me?” I was exhausted.

“That lawman came and went and you got nothing out of him.”

That wasn’t true. “He gave me a phone.” I indicated the device on the table beside me. “This is important for our safety. I can call for help now.”

“A good first step. But a young woman is dead, Sarah Booth. A girl who meant no harm to anyone.”

“I know.” I’d managed to push back the emotion of Amanda’s murder, but Jitty brought it all home. Remorse and grief are hard to swallow. “She was a sweet kid. I really can’t think why someone would hurt her. Maybe she did trip and fall.”

“You can’t find any clues?”

“Her room in the servants’ quarters was locked, but Coleman searched it before he left. No clues as far as I know. But she said she had evidence against Yumi for something.”

“You’re getting warmer.” Jitty was irritating in her sarcasm.

“If you know, then tell me. It’s three in the morning and I don’t want to play guessing games with a haint.”

“A haint who knows a thing or two about solving a mystery.” She turned so that the moonlight struck her face. Her hair was softly curled around her cheeks and the back of her head. The little hat, a perky Robin Hood kind of thing, suited her perfectly.

“I miss Graf. I think I made a mistake.” The sentences popped out of my mouth before I even thought. Too late to retract it.

Jitty inhaled slowly. “So, you’re off your detective game because of a man. Sounds like you need to be deprogrammed.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jitty was all about a man and sperm and a baby. Now she was fussing at me because I was worried about my fiancé. About my future as a wife and mother. “You are as contrary as a seed wart on a pointer finger.”

Jitty chuckled, the tone mimicking a black-and-white movie where the woman held all the cards. “Frustration doesn’t suit you.”

“Well, it should. You’ve given me plenty of practice wearing it.”

“You need a new tailor, then. How about someone who can wrap you in home, family, bliss, and success?”

“Bring it on.” I was tired of the banter. A young woman was dead. I was sleeping with a twenty-three-pound black cat instead of my fiancé. And I was conversing with a dead relative.

“In the hours after she quit and before she was murdered, what was Amanda up to?” Jitty asked.

“Coleman is investigating. Every other man in my life is annoyed with me. I don’t want to put Coleman against me.”

“Coleman is in Zinnia. You’re here to protect a wealthy woman from her past. Now you’ve got a new purpose. Someone killed a young woman, and the culprit needs to pay.”

Jitty rose and paced the bedroom. “A gin martini would be very welcome.”

“Gin?” I’d never heard Jitty utter the word. “You’re kidding, right? First, you don’t drink. Second, if you did drink, it wouldn’t be gin.”

“It’s all the rage.” Her look told me I had no fashion sense, not even in liquor. “Gin is the drink of sophisticates.”

“And the cure for malaria, if you add tonic water with quinine. I don’t want my alcohol to taste like medicine.”

She laughed, and the curtains at the window rippled as if a gentle wind teased them. I forced myself out of bed and went to the window. Light silvered the lawn. The air-conditioned interior was cool, but I knew if I opened the window, humidity would descend like an oxygenated swamp.

“Why Nora Charles?” I often understood Jitty’s character selections. But Nora Charles, the sophisticate, was a far stretch from Zinnia, Mississippi, and a hot September night. Then again, Jitty didn’t sweat. Being dead was looking better and better.

“I thought you’d appreciate a touch of class, a bit of sophistication and wit. Those qualities are in short supply at Dahlia House these days.”

“And I thought your big concern was a fertile womb and an active impregnator. Wit, charm, sophistication, class—those things have nothing to do with an active libido.”

She chuckled softly. “You’re right about that one. But since Graf is in Hollywood—oh!” She held up a hand. “Gotta go. I’ve been summoned.”

“Jitty!” I whispered her name, because I didn’t want to wake Tinkie or Marjorie. Even Pluto tried to detain her. He swept out a claw and caught only empty air. She was gone.

As I turned to go back to bed, I saw a figure running across the lawn. My heart thudded, and I pressed my hands to the window and strained to make out the slender dark-clad figure moving with great speed.

I was too far away to make a positive identification. I couldn’t even be certain if the runner was female or a slender male. Members of the kitchen staff were young and lean.

The figure headed straight to the servants’ quarters and disappeared into the shadows.

As much as I didn’t want to do it, I had no choice but to jump into some clothes and go investigate.

12

By the time I calculated how to disarm the alarm system, the mysterious figure was long gone. All around me Heart’s Desire slept. With the rigid rules Palk enforced at the compound, it was possible the person I’d glimpsed moving around the grounds was nothing more than part of a romantic tryst, a lonely heart looking for love. The Westins employed very buff guards and an especially attractive female staff. I didn’t need a playbook to figure out Palk would oppose any inter-staff romance.

From the aerials I’d studied, I’d learned the guards’ bunker was a mile or so through the woods. I couldn’t help but wonder if Amanda had found any pleasure in flirting with the men quartered so near her.

The reality of her unnecessary death slammed home. She’d barely been a grown-up, a young woman with dreams. And now she was dead. Why? Had she discovered information that cost her her life? The only way to find out was to get busy. I had a little experience with lock-picking, and this was the perfect opportunity to search room 14, Amanda’s lodgings. Coleman and crime scene techs had combed her quarters, but maybe I’d uncover a clue. Either Amanda had clamped on to a secret or she’d pissed her killer off. It was also possible romance was the motive, even though she’d never mentioned a beau.

Checking to be sure no one else was up and about, I left the protection of the main house and slipped across the parking lot toward the servants’ billets, taking the same route as the mysterious figure. At the bunkhouse, I eased into the shadows and listened intently. My mysterious intruder might have gone to his or her own room, or could still be lurking around. I had to be careful—and vigilant.

If Coleman had found evidence in Amanda’s room, he hadn’t shared it with me, which made me believe he’d ended up empty-handed. It wasn’t that I thought I could do a more thorough search than the Sunflower County sheriff, but I might see something he missed. A tiny detail. Men and women valued things differently.