Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery (22 page)

“You made your mark in social activism and courage.” I spoke to Coretta Scott King, or at least Jitty’s personification of her.

“When I first met my husband, I saw only happiness and the joy of working together for justice. We shared that ambition. And lord, we shared a belief that we could accomplish miracles. Had I known the true cost, I might have taken another path.”

I closed my eyes. It seemed the individual cells in my body responded to her violin music with a terrible yearning. “If we knew the price we’d pay for loving another person, I think all of us would head for the hills.”

She stopped playing. The black silk dress rustled as she came toward me. “Is love always painful?”

“So it would seem.” But there had been weeks and months of joy. “But
not
loving—what is the cost of that?”

Her laughter was silky and vibrant. “You ask the right questions, Sarah Booth.”

“And I have none of the right answers.”

“We’re guaranteed only this moment. Live it completely, without holding back.”

“Even knowing how much it will hurt when things come crashing down?”

“In the end, we all walk to our destiny alone. In between birth and death, there’s time for love. Take advantage of it. Individual love and love of a cause.”

She was a wise woman, but my heart had been weakened by loss. “Tell me how not to be afraid?”

“Ah, but that’s the exquisite part of it. You love even while you are terrified.”

She thinned, her substance gradually fading away.

“Jitty, don’t go!” I really wanted her to stay. In all of the hard places I’d found myself since returning to Dahlia House, Jitty was always a presence I could count on.

She flickered back into a more corporeal form, and this time her features were those of my haint. “I bring you all kinds of wisdom, and you still want to linger in that window and feel sad. Gird your loins, Sarah Booth. Take the battle to him.”

I had to laugh. The contrast between Mrs. King’s gentle encouragement and Jitty’s drill-sergeant kick in the pants was striking. Between the two, I couldn’t find a single place to feel sorry for myself.

Jitty swished up to me, rustling the silk of her dress. “Graf ain’t dead. Yet. Better get him while he’s still breathin’. Once Cece and Harold and Coleman get a hold of him, he’s gonna be hurtin’ too bad to even think about plowin’ your fields. They won’t put up with someone who mistreats you, Sarah Booth.”

“So he is cheating on me?” I’d suspected, but confirmation was a bitter pill.

“I didn’t say that.” Jitty sashayed around me. “You actin’ like he died. All you know is he’s talkin’ with a woman in his own profession. Don’t mean nothin’ ’til you make it mean something.”

She was right. I could mope and moan and wail and whine all day long, but nothing was real until Graf and I talked about it. While I’d taken Jitty’s appearance as the widow of Martin Luther King Jr. as a sign for permanent loss and great sacrifice, perhaps it was about listening to others without jumping to conclusions.

I remembered a famous quote from Dr. King that I’d heard my parents repeat often. “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

Jitty’s face was luminous. “Good girl. When you put hate and fear behind you, you’ll finally be free to grow into the person you’re destined to be.” And then she was gone. Simply there one minute and gone the next.

As good as her word, Tinkie turned into the driveway and was soon at the door, coffee and ice cream in hand.

“Put the ice cream in the freezer. Let’s brew a cup of coffee and decide how to proceed,” I suggested. But I took a moment to text Graf’s cell phone. “We must talk. Soon.”

Tinkie’s smile said it all. “Welcome back from the land of the emotionally battered, pardner.”

18

I’d just poured coffee for Tinkie and me when there was a loud bang on the door of the cottage.

“Mobile County Sheriff’s Department, open up.”

“Better hurry or you’ll have to replace a door,” Tinkie advised. She continued to pour cream into her coffee.

My feet hit the floor at a run, and I flung the front door open just as a deputy lifted a foot to kick it in. “What now?” I asked Randy Chavis. He’d brought three other deputies as backup.

He thrust some folded papers in my hand. “Search warrant.”

I opened the door wide. “Be my guest.”

The search was more aggravation than any real attempt to find stolen goods. And while the deputies threw things around, especially our clothes, they did no real damage to the furniture. It was over in half an hour.

“I hope you enjoy the words ‘I told you so,’ because I told you so. Tinkie and I aren’t thieves.”

“I’ve got men searching your vehicles.” He was a sore loser.

“Fine by me as long as you don’t damage them.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “We have nothing to hide because we didn’t steal anything.”

“Yet you made me get a search warrant.”

“Because you have such an officious and shitty attitude,” Tinkie said. “And if you put one single scratch in my Caddy, I’ll make sure your department pays for it. And just so you know, if we had stolen a stupid telescope, we wouldn’t be so dumb as to hide it in our cars or where we’re staying.”

Red flushed Chavis’s cheeks, but the skin around his eyes whitened. Never a good sign. “You think you’re smarter than I am because you grew up with money and privileges. But you aren’t. I’ll catch you yet, and you’ll get to sample the hospitality of an Alabama prison.”

“Then we could visit with your cousin.” I watched him closely as I spoke. Lightning forked in his pale eyes. “You might have told me Angela Trotter was instrumental in putting your cousin in prison.”

“Zeke put himself in prison. He chose to be a gun for hire. I’m not sore at Angela for figuring out he was on Barr’s payroll. The ex-governor paid Zeke to push his wife down a flight of stairs. They both got what they deserved.”

Chavis’s words were heated, but I couldn’t tell if his anger was at his brother for being a stupid killer or at me for bringing it up. Before I could pursue the matter further, he stomped out and slammed the door.

“Does he have a chip on his shoulder or what?” Tinkie asked, but she was a little shaken by his behavior.

“He’s pissed because he’s wrong about us being thieves. He’s not a stupid man, and he knew he was wrong before he searched. He
wanted
us to be guilty. And I rubbed a little salt in an old wound.”

“He was really weird about Angela. He actually sounded like he didn’t blame her.”

“He had a crush on her.” Chavis had too many personal feelings involved. He never should have been allowed to handle John Trotter’s murder case. His ties to Angela were a conflict of interest.

“Speaking of Angela: if Chavis has a search warrant for our place, don’t you think he’ll hit Angela’s place, too?”

Tinkie was correct. And it would be interesting to see how Chavis handled our client. “I bet they’ll search the boat first.”

I wrote a quick note to Graf, then loaded Sweetie, Pluto, and me into Tinkie’s Caddy. In no time at all, we zoomed toward the marina. On the way, I called Angela to alert her. She agreed to meet us. Her voice was strained, but I didn’t have time to guess why. I’d ask her face-to-face.

Angela pulled up just as I got out of the car. Chavis and the deputies were arguing with Arley McCain on the dock. It was clear the marina proprietor took exception to the search warrant and the way Chavis was proceeding.

“Your daddy would be ashamed of the way you’re acting,” Arley said quietly, his broad-shouldered bulk blocking the deputy’s passage. “I let you ramrod me into giving testimony that helped put Larry behind bars, and now I’m not so sure I wasn’t played.”

“Don’t be a fool, Arley.” Chavis held his temper by the hardest. “Those private investigators have turned you inside out. You testified to what you knew. Don’t go rewriting history.”

“The only rewriting I do will be at Larry’s appeal. Maybe those lady PIs are right and Wofford was a patsy. Maybe someone snuck onto John’s boat, shot him, and escaped before Larry even showed up. Maybe that someone knew how to turn off the security cameras. The more I think about it, the more I think that doesn’t make sense. I won’t be part of an innocent man being railroaded.”

Chavis took a deep breath. “You do whatever you feel is right regarding Wofford’s appeal, but right now I intend to search this boat for stolen goods. Step back. I don’t want to arrest you, Arley.”

“I don’t think you should try. I whipped your ass when you were a teenage punk stealing hubcaps with that lowlife cousin of yours. And I can whip it again.”

Chavis went beet red with fury. Beside me, Angela was rigid and Tinkie pulled out her cell phone to call 911. The law was already here, but maybe we needed the state police or the highway patrol. Blood was about to be spilled.

“I grew up, Arley, and you know it. I did what Zeke couldn’t do and put my juvenile delinquency behind me. I don’t want to hurt you, and I sure don’t want to arrest you, but I’ll do both if I have to.”

“You surely didn’t get over holding a grudge against people. You never forgave John Trotter because he told you he didn’t want Angela dating a punk.”

So here it was. The gristle on the bone that Chavis so enjoyed chewing. Before I could stop her, Angela ran toward the dock as the two officers with Chavis prepared for a brawl.

My hound bounded into the fray. “Sweetie!” But it was too late to call her back.

She got between Chavis and Angela and growled at both of them. Never one to rush when a saunter would work as effectively, Pluto followed my hound. He gave the water a look of disdain and sat down to clean his paws, but his wary green gaze locked onto Chavis with clear intent.

“Well, I’ll be,” Arley said, laughing. “That dog means to stop anyone from taking a swing.”

The tension collapsed, and I found I’d been holding my breath. “Let Chavis execute his search warrant. There’s nothing for him to find.” I shifted toward the boat with Tinkie at my side.

The deputies boarded the
Miss Adventure
while Angela, Arley, Tinkie, and I stood on the dock. Sweetie was having a sniff fest as she wandered from boat to boat, but Pluto remained seated on the dock. He didn’t have to be able to talk to let us all know he was over the adventure at the marina and ready for a nap.

Half an hour later, Chavis came off the boat, empty-handed, as I knew he would be.

“I don’t know where you’ve stowed the spyglass, but I’ll find it eventually.” He spoke to me instead of Angela. When he felt her gaze on him, his cheeks colored again. So Arley was right. He’d been sweet on Angela, and might still be. Whatever had happened between John Trotter and the deputy regarding Angela, it was still a source of shame for Chavis.

He started to leave, but Angela called his name. He stopped, and she joined him as he went down the dock toward the patrol cars. The deputies hung back, giving the two a bit of privacy. Whatever she was saying, he was listening to her.

“So Chavis had a crush on Angela?” I asked Arley. “It might have been nice to know this sooner.”

He shrugged. “Angela could have told you too. John pretty much said Randy wasn’t good enough for his girl. That’s a hard thing for a man to hear.”

“And great motivation for a man to act out of passion instead of reason,” I pointed out.

“I think we need to have a word with our client,” Tinkie said, and her tone could have frozen ice cubes in hell.

“Good idea.”

After the deputies were gone, Arley returned to his office and we had a chance to speak privately with Angela.

“You might have told us Chavis had a thing for you,” Tinkie said with some heat.

“It was a long time ago.” Angela pulled her Windbreaker closed. “Dad was hard on him. Chavis and his cousin got into a little trouble when they were young. Like Dad hadn’t had his share of brushes with the law.” She blew out her breath in exasperation. “It wasn’t fair, and it pissed me off that my father would suddenly decide to assume a parental role by trying to dictate who I should and shouldn’t date. I’m not a child.”

I could see her point. Absentee father suddenly becomes overprotective bear. Still, she should have told us. “It’s good motivation for Chavis to hurt your father and pin the blame on Wofford.”

Angela motioned us onto the boat. Sweetie made the leap to the deck with grace. Pluto assumed the gargoyle pose on the dock. No way was he boarding a boat.

The deputies had done a remarkably neat job of searching, and she adjusted a few throw pillows and closed the galley doors before she poured us each a glass of juice and motioned us onto the deck, where we settled into comfortable chairs.

“I felt bad for Randy. He’s been an ass, I know. But part of it was because my father scalded him with that ‘you’re not good enough’ speech. I didn’t want to bring it up. It shouldn’t have happened. I had no interest in dating Randy. If Dad had let me handle it, a lot of hurt feelings could have been spared.”

“You have to be honest with us,” Tinkie said. “We can’t work for you if you lie to us or hide facts.”

Angela got up and walked to the rail. “Then I have a confession.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Which is?”

“I stole the telescope from the museum. I have it hidden.”

“Why?” Tinkie and I said in unison.

“Because it meant something to my father. And because Prevatt is an arrogant man who thinks he can bully and blackmail people. I wanted to take it right after Dad died, but I knew that would point the finger at me. With the storm coming and all, I just did it.”

“That’s not a good reason to commit larceny. Or is it grand larceny?” Tinkie asked. “How much is that thing worth?”

“He paid Dad a hundred dollars for it. It’s probably worth five times that. But it isn’t the monetary value I care about. It was my father’s, and he sold it in desperation. Prevatt should have willingly sold it back to him. A gentleman would have. Instead, he tried to horn in on Dad’s treasure hunt.”

“You could have reported that to the police,” Tinkie said.

“Right. I had no evidence. I did put Prevatt forth as a suspect in the murder, but the sheriff didn’t take any action. From the very beginning, Sheriff Benson and Randy Chavis were determined to make Larry Wofford the killer. So I saw an opportunity and took the telescope. It’s justice in my book.”