Hallowed Bones (18 page)

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, too shocked to say or do anything. Mr. Crenshaw wet a paper towel under the tap and handed it to his wife. She blotted her face, swallowed a few more sobs, and then looked at me.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's been four years since Adam died, but it hits me just like it was yesterday when somebody says his name."

"I'm so sorry," I said. They hadn't even asked me what I wanted with him.

"Adam's gone to live with Jesus," Janey said, new tears welling in her eyes. "I know he's in a better place. I just weep for myself. I miss him."

"How did he die?" I was still absorbing the shock. Adam would have been close to my age. That was pretty young to die.

"He drowned. It was a terrible accident," J.J. said. His voice roughened, as if he was fighting tears.

"Why are you looking for Adam?" Janey asked.

"I'm working for his sister. She asked me to find him." It was the truth, as far as it went. I decided against mentioning the inheritance until I spoke with Doreen.

"Adam had a sister?" Janey's eyes lit up. "If she's like him, she must be a wonderful woman. God-fearing, religious. Our Adam never missed a Sunday at the church. He was in the choir, and he spent every Saturday working for the Lord. Well, until he hooked up with Kiley. Why he married that girl I'll never know."

"He was married?" I don't know why I was so surprised. He was plenty old enough to be married.

"She's the one who killed him," Janey said, her mouth hardening. "She took him off to the river with all those worthless friends of hers. They got him to drinking. They got him out in the treacherous current. His death is on her."

J.J. put his hands on Janey's shoulders, a gesture that could have been comforting or restraining. I couldn't tell. "Tell us about his sister," J.J. said. "What's she like?"

"She has an interest in religion, too," I hedged. "She's very pretty."

J.J. nodded. "Adam was handsome, and he turned out to be a good boy. You can tell her that. We got him when he was a toddler. He musta had a hard life before us."

Janey sat up at the table. "The first word he ever spoke to us was the F-word. He just looked right at me and told me to F myself. I was so shocked I sat down and cried."

"But we knew God had sent us to help him," J.J. said. "When the welfare folks told us that he was in a really bad situation at his foster home, we didn't hesitate. We took him right in."

"It took a lot of work, but we got the Devil out of him." Janey sighed.

"The first few years, we had our doubts." J.J.'s voice was shaky. "We weren't sure we could reach him. When he got old enough to read, he took to the Bible. He'd read and study every night. We never really had to lead him there, he just went on his own."

"I got him a little suit with a vest for him to wear to church." Janey's face shone with love. "He was a handsome boy, and he enjoyed looking all cleaned up." Her face darkened. "I never understood what he saw in Kiley. He never seemed to care about the girls at all until she started wagging herself in front of him. She's just white trash."

"I'll be sure and tell his sister all about him." I felt sorry for them, trapped with all the "what might have beens" of a dead son.

"Wait just a minute." Janey got to her feet. "Come with me."

She led the way down a hall to a closed door. She opened it and snapped on a light. "Adam loved Jesus," Janey said, pointing at a poster that took up most of one wall. It was a graphic depiction of the crucifixion. One that made me take an involuntary step backwards. There was a well-worn Bible beside the bed and several other religious pictures on the walls. Other than that, the room was bare. "He understood that God sent his son to save us. We each and every one have a mission. Adam knew his, yet he walked away from it. It cost him his life."

"He had a mission?" I didn't understand.

"Adam was going to be a preacher," Janey said. "When he was ten, he started preaching at the church. He had a real gift. When he turned his back on it for that trashy girl, God called him home."

In the last few days, I'd learned that what people believed shaped their entire lives. The Crenshaws made me uneasy.

"Our Lord suffered mightily for us," Janey continued as she looked around her dead son's room. She didn't seem to notice that all of the pictures showed people in the midst of persecution. "The older Adam got, the more he studied the Bible. He loved the word of God. He could quote whole passages. That was before Kiley."

"And after Kiley?" I couldn't help asking.

"He got a job running wire for the power company. It paid good, but it wasn't what Adam was called for. He wasn't fulfilling his promise." Janey wiped a tear off her cheek. "He had a God-given talent to preach. Do you think it was a coincidence that his name was Adam?"

I looked around the room. "I don't know," I answered. I didn't know much except that I was more than ready to leave.

16

It was out of my way, but
I
made a sweep by Pearline's house
on my way back to the Quarter. It was a relief to be back in the city, but I hadn't completely left behind the sadness of the Crenshaws. Lillith Lucas had produced two children, both of them obsessed by religion. One was dead and the other was charged with murder. It was a tragic legacy.

When I saw the same old car parked in Pearline's drive, I stopped and walked to the house. I knocked on the front door with no results, so I tucked another business card in the screen.

Back in my car, I tried Tinkie's cell. A recorded message told me the phone wasn't in service. A chill swept over me. Tinkie never turned her cell phone off. Never.

The desk clerk at the Monteleone rang her room, and I left a voice mail for her to call me as soon as she got there. It wasn't like Tinkie to simply disappear.

Since I couldn't find her, I decided to pay a call on the senator. I had a question for him about Pearline's employment. I also wondered if the maid who'd answered the door on my first visit might not be the mysterious and elusive Pearline.

On the way, I telephoned Cece. She was supposed to be in
New Orleans
any day now, and I wondered if she'd talked to Tinkie.

"Zinnia Dispatch,
Cece
Dee
Falcon speaking."

Cece's voice was rich and deep, with just a hint of boredom. I asked her about Tinkie and discovered her interest was already piqued.

"No, I haven't talked with her, but I ran into Oscar last night. He acted very strange."

"Oscar?" I was intrigued.

"He was at The Club, in the bar. I asked him about Tinkie and he started crying."

"Oscar?" I tried to sound puzzled, but it was fear I felt, not curiosity. I knew why Oscar was upset. The fact that he was crying made my stomach flip. Oscar didn't sweat the small stuff.

"What's going on?" Cece demanded. "One shouldn't hold out on one's friends."

More than anything, I wanted to tell Cece my worries about our friend, but it wasn't my place. "You can ask Tinkie yourself when you get down here. Which will be when?"

"Tomorrow. My dress is exquisite. And I have a date!"

She proclaimed the last with such satisfaction that I had to grin. "Good for you. Who is it?"

"It's a surprise, dahling. One that will knock you out of your shoes. Do you have a dress?"

"I will. I swear it."

"How's the case going?"

"I haven't stumbled on anything that will prove Doreen's innocence." I didn't bother to hide my disappointment.

"Well, dahling, I'd help you but I have my hands full right now. I'm plotting a coup!"

As worried as I was for Doreen and Tinkie, I couldn't help but smile. Cece had something special up her sleeve. "What kind of coup?"

"There's to be a very important society event after the Black and Orange Ball. A charity auction! All of us ladies who attend the ball will model our gowns at an auction. The proceeds will go to charity. And I was promised that I could be the emcee. But Ellisea Boudet Clay is trying to blackball me!"

Indignation rippled in Cece's voice. Surprise registered in mine. "Why would Ellisea blackball you?" Ellisea had been a big-time model in
New York
. She wasn't a provincial or a Baptist.

"When I interned for that summer at
Vogue,
I wrote an article about her."

"An unfavorable article?" This was like pulling teeth.

"It implied that her father's money bought her a runway job."

"Was it true?"

"In a word, yes. And she's never forgiven me."

"What are you going to do?" Whatever it was, I wanted to witness it. Cece and Ellisea going at it would be the catfight of the century.

"I have a friend at
People
magazine, and I asked him for a tiny little favor. He ran an auto-track for me."

"An auto-track?"

"It's a computer program used to gather background information. You know, neighbors, their phone numbers, addresses, that kind of info. Things have been slow around here, and I had some time. I learned some very interesting things about Ellisea Boudet Clay. If she screws with me, I'll blast her."

"Can I see what you got?" I hadn't told Tinkie anything about my suspicions about Senator Clay, but her instincts were killer.

"If you participate in the auction."

Cece loved nothing better than fashion and a runway. "You can have my gown, but I'm not modeling anything." Tripping on the runway was a definite possibility.

"If you want the info, you'll walk down the runway. And by the way, when I spoke to Ellisea yesterday, she asked a few questions about you and what you were doing in
New Orleans
. She put it together that we're from the same town. You've got her radar up."

"Give me a hint of what you found out," I begged.

"Dahling, the fact that her family is Crescent City Mafioso is old news. There's not an illegal activity that they aren't in up to their hairlines. The real dirt is that Ellisea has had laser treatments to remove the hair from her chin. Thick, black hair."

"Really," I said as I pulled into the senator's driveway. "Aside from unwanted hair growth, what else did you find out?"

"The Boudets have been rumored to make people disappear. Dahling, how do you think Clay got elected? It was the Boudet money and the Boudet muscle. People were afraid
not
to vote for him. Ellisea's neighbor, Mrs. Lorna Fitzpatrick, said she witnessed an altercation between Ellisea and a very upset woman who accused the Boudets of taking her husband to the swamp and killing him because he supported Clay's opponent."

"Anything ever come of it?"

"No charges were filed, but I did learn that Ellisea is a very despised woman. Mrs. Fitzpatrick referred to her as that 'ill-bred poseur.' I'll tell you the rest tomorrow at lunch. I can't wait to see you." There was a click and she was gone. It was just as well; I'd reached my destination.

I eased out of the car and started through the wrought-iron gate of the Clay home.

Someone had been decorating. Indian corn hung in clusters around the porch. Unmolested pumpkins lined the steps. Jack-o'-lanterns were far too gauche for Ellisea. It was all very elegant, and oh, so dull. The madam of the house might have the final word in fashion, but it simply wasn't my style. My Halloween decor included cobwebs everywhere, spiders, grinning jack-o'-lanterns, and at least one ghost.

In answer to my persistent pressing on the bell, Ellisea opened the front door. Her beautiful mouth slanted down at the corners when she saw me.

"Thaddeus is busy." She started to close the door.

"I need to talk to him."

"You're a nuisance. If you don't leave, I'll call the police."

"Yes, I know what a wonderful relationship the Boudet family has with the police." I smiled sweetly.

"What do you want?"

"Tell Senator Clay I'm here. If he doesn't want to see me, I'll be glad to leave."

She hesitated, trying to decide if I was threat enough to bother with. She gave a noise of disgust. "Wait here." She slammed the door, leaving me no other option.

After ten minutes, I turned to leave. There was more than one way to skin a cat. I'd deal with the senator later; I felt a need to get back to the hotel to check on Tinkie. I was worried how her meeting with Doreen had gone.

Just as I made it down the steps, the front door opened and the senator stepped outside. Before he closed the door, I heard Ellisea.

"My brother can take care of her. And I just might call him. You're too spineless to step on a roach. You--" He slammed the door and took a deep breath.

"My wife believes abuse is what motivates a man to greatness." He looked me dead in the eye. "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you were providing a housecleaner and maid for Doreen."

He inhaled. "So you found out about Pearline."

"Yes. It's a little strange, don't you think?"