Them Bones (3 page)

There was no time to rest on my laurels. The next communication had to be prepared. If Tinkie had any resistance to paying, the second note would catapult her into cooperation.

3

"You keep jumpin' up and down on that hunk o' plastic without the proper foundation garments, your breasts gone hang to your navel."

I ignored Jitty and followed the video instructor as she executed the steps of the tango on the aerobic bench. I watched her breasts intently. They were large, and yet they didn't jiggle or bounce, and her sports bra was far skimpier than mine. Of course she didn't sweat, either. And not a hair straggled out of place. Perhaps genetic engineering was older than anyone knew.

"What you want to build muscles for? Women are delicate. They don't need those ugly bulges. Men supposed to have the bulges." Jitty laughed naughtily.

Flopping to the floor to add a two-pound leg weight, I glanced at her. She was reclining on the horsehide sofa beside Chablis. The dog watched me with an intensity that bordered on love. We had bonded. My attention went back to Jitty, who was wearing turquoise velveteen hot pants and a white satin blouse. I had to admit she didn't look bad for a double-decagenarian.

Slightly behind the instructor, I scrambled to my hands and knees and started with the doggie hydrant leg lifts. Recognizing body language, Chablis began to bark.

"You'd achieve the same results if you'd just show Harold a good time," Jitty said grumpily. "And you'd save Dahlia House to boot. Why you want to grunt and sweat all over the floor when it don't get you nothin'? I swear, your great-aunt
Elizabeth was sensible compared to you."

"I'm getting strong so I can move out of this house," I said, tired and hot and wanting to needle her. Chablis suddenly started an excited bark.

"Uh-oh." Jitty pointed to the door. "Company, and you'd better hide the dog."

I scooped up Chablis and made a dash up the stairs just as the doorbell rang. I'd barely cleared the landing before the pounding began. Tiny little fists once again. Tinkie Bellcase Richmond was back on my porch. Was it possible that she'd figured out I had Chablis?

On the way down the stairs, I steeled my nerves and checked my watch. It was eleven-twenty. Tinkie had gotten the note.

Tinkie's state of panic was so high that she failed to notice my outfit or even my sweat as she sailed through the door, wailing. "They've kidnapped Chablis."

Guilt was my gut reaction, but I overcame it and substituted fake concern. "Oh, my goodness, sit down," I said, ushering her to the overstuffed wing chair that had been my grandmother's favorite. I put her feet up on the ottoman and handed her a cardboard fan from O'Keefe's Funeral Home. The room was cold as a tomb, but Tinkie's face was bright pink. Tears had stained her silk jacket, and for a moment I was sincerely sorry for what I'd done.

"Oscar is insisting that we won't pay the ransom. He says he's going to call the police."

My emotions were getting a better workout than anything my body had attained from the video. Remorse was bulldozed by fear. I'd taken care with the note, but the police, even in Zinnia, were a lot smarter than they used to be.

"What note? Tell me from the beginning," I prompted. I caught sight of Jitty sitting at the top of the stairs. She held her finger to her lip to warn me. Like I was stupid enough to tell Tinkie that the ghost who'd masterminded the doggie abduction was watching us?

"Chablis went out last night to eliminate, and she disappeared. I was heartsick all night, but Oscar assured me she'd just found a little doggie friend and that she'd be home today." Tinkie's face collapsed, mouth widening and cheekbones scrunching into her brow. A sob issued forth. "Someone cruel and evil and mean has stolen my baby. And they want money."

I cleared my throat. "How much?"

Tinkie gasped, "Five thousand."

I swallowed, trying hard to hang on to my nerve. "That's not such a large amount."

It was the wrong thing to say. Tinkie wailed again. "Oscar says he won't pay that for a dog!"

Once when I was playing in the woods by the river I stepped into what we called quicksand. The sensation of sinking, of going slowly deeper and deeper into muck, was one of the most terrifying experiences I'd ever had. Well, deja vu! Only this time I was going down in my own little private cesspool of black despair. Oscar, who'd never had an original thought in his life, was going to be a tight-ass about five grand! He blew that on a round of golf with his buddies.

"Oscar won't pay?" I croaked.

" 'Not one red cent,' he says." Tinkie turned her swollen face to me. "He says he won't be blackmailed, and besides, he hates Chablis. He was delighted that she's gone. You've got to help me."

It was karma. I deserved this. Every second of it. I'd hidden my financial troubles from the Daddy's Girls and almost everyone else in Zinnia. Now, Tinkie had come to me for a loan. Pride goeth before a fall--and I was busted. "Tinkie, I don't have a penny to my name."

"I don't want money," Tinkie said, eyes widening.

"What then?"

"I have my own money. I'm not completely stupid; I knew better than to put myself at the mercy of a man, so I've been socking away money in my own private account. Money isn't an issue." She reached out and touched my knee. "I want you to make the delivery. When they send me the instructions, I want you to take the money and rescue poor little Chablis. You're so brave, Sarah Booth, going all these years without marrying, living out here in this big old house all alone, hoarding your independence and all. You can do this. I'd just have a heart attack and die right on the spot."

Karma was a tricky beast. Somewhere along the line I'd earned a break. "Of course I'll do it, Tinkie," I said, reaching over and gently patting her knee.

"There's a special hell for hypocrites." This time it was my mother's voice badgering me, but she wasn't a ghost and she wasn't talking from the grave. This was all in my head. Surely, I'd doomed myself to the hottest regions of Hades by stealing a friend's dog and then playing the brave and daring rescuer. But what the hell? Five grand was five grand, and Chablis and Tinkie wouldn't be permanently damaged by my little scheme.

I slipped into my faded jeans and black leather jacket and got my car keys. I'd already sent the second note, setting the drop place and dictating the terms, which didn't make a hill of beans since I was playing both roles in this little drama.

"Be good," I murmured into the cute little tufts of hair on Chablis's head. I was going to miss the damn dog. I hadn't realized how lonesome I was in that big, old house until I had little Chablis to keep me company. I would suffer when she was gone. It was a kind of justice.

I hurried out of the house and drove to Tinkie's to get the loot. She met me at the end of the drive, money in a paper sack, per the instructions I'd written.

"Don't let them hurt her." Tinkie blinked back tears.

Guilt made me twitch, but I took the money. "I won't let anything happen to Chablis," I promised.

In a moment, I was riding free in the night. I drove back to Dahlia House, dropped the money, and picked up the dog.

All the way back to Hilltop I cuddled Chablis in my jacket and felt the pain of the coming good-bye. I hadn't expected the fur-ball to win my heart in two nights. Maybe Aunt LouLane and her cats and I had more in common than I wanted to admit.

My headlights picked up Tinkie's car--she was waiting at the Sweetheart Cafe just as I'd instructed. Well, she was actually pacing beside her car. When she recognized the Roadster, her face lit up with enough kilowatts to send a power surge through Zinnia. She ran toward me, and when she didn't see the dog, her face fell--until I pulled Chablis out of my jacket.

"My precious."

I never had a chance to say good-bye. Chablis was swept into her arms, and I was left with the cold cash and an empty place in my heart.

"Thank you, Sarah Booth. Thank you," she said, leaning down to the car window. "I've never known anyone as brave as you. You brought my darling little baby home."

Shame is a peculiar emotion. I blinked back tears, which Tinkie took for compassion. So she had married for money and security and she frittered away her days in idle spending and gossip. She still thought the best of me when I deserved it the least. If the money had been in the car, I would have been tempted to give it back.

"I've gotta go," I said, revving the engine.

"Wait a minute," Tinkie said, kissing Chablis's head. The dog looked at me, longingly, I swear, and I felt another, deeper gouge in my already wounded chest region.

"Tinkie, I--"

"I was thinking, while I was waiting for you to bring my baby home, maybe you could help me out with something else."

I was all out of playing the role of friend and helper. In truth, I didn't have enough money to save Dahlia House, but I had enough to get across the country and try to find a life. "I don't think I'll be in Zinnia much longer."

"Just listen," Tinkie said, drumming her Red Passion nails on my car door as she cuddled Chablis to her bosom. "You're the perfect person to do this. I wouldn't confide in anyone else, but you're smart and trustworthy."

As my soul writhed, Tinkie continued.

"I never really knew what was at the bottom of
Hamilton 's family troubles. There were so many rumors, so much gossip." Her brow furrowed. "I want to know the truth."

The Garrett tragedies had happened shortly after my parents' deaths. I'd had other things on my mind. "I vaguely remember," I said. The Garrett family had been accused of the usual list of Southern crimes that involved everything that could be done to a relative, but most especially matricide.

"I want to hire you to find out the truth."

Tinkie's declaration caught me by surprise. "Me?"

"You're perfect. You understand the code of our set. Whatever you find out, you'll keep it a secret. And you seem to have a knack for solving things." She kissed the dog. "You got Chablis home safe and sound."

"What good is knowing about
Hamilton 's past going to do you?" I asked. "You're married." It didn't make a lot of sense.

"I want to know." Tinkie took a deep breath. "We all accepted the gossip and never thought to find out the truth. Well, I want the facts. If
Hamilton comes home, I want to be able to look him in the face and know that I made the right decision or the wrong one. I'm tired of living my life based on perceptions and gossip."

"Tinkie?" I started to reach out and feel her forehead. Perceptions and gossip were the parameters of her life--of all the Daddy's Girls', except mine. My parameters were a lot uglier--theft and cheating for cash.

"I mean it, Sarah Booth. This business with Oscar not wanting to pay for Chablis. That's the final straw. I love this dog. And if Oscar really loved me, he would have given me the money. I'm only thirty-three. If I made a mistake by turning away from
Hamilton , maybe it's not too late to rectify it. But if he did all of those things . . ." Her eyes rolled.

She had a point, about
Hamilton and about Oscar.

Men of our class were used to laying down the law and letting the women live with the consequences. This was an interesting consequence.

"You want me to find out his family secrets?" This didn't sound too hard. There were plenty to pick from in every family.

"Exactly." Tinkie reached into the pocket of her suede jacket and brought out a slip of paper. She pushed it into my hands.

I glanced down at a check made out for ten thousand dollars.

"I'll cover all expenses, and you get another ten if you find out the truth."

Tinkie had paid cash for Chablis, and now she was forking over another ten grand for information I could get by visiting a few town mavens. "I'll get some answers for you," I promised.

"The truth, Sarah Booth. And hurry. I want to know before
Hamilton gets here for Christmas. Madame Tomeeka didn't say exactly when he'd be home, but I'm sure it'll be for the holidays."

4

A small town is a hard place to be different. It's also a good place, because you know everyone else who's different. That's how I knew Cecily Dee Falcon, the society columnist for
The Zinnia Dispatch.

Though I'd not slept well, guilt being worse than a thousand needles in a soft bed, I was up early and dressed for success in wool slacks and a silk blouse. The newspaper was my third stop of the morning; the first had been the bank to deposit Tinkie's check, cleverly written on her mother's account. Once the moola was stashed, I strolled the two blocks to see Cece. On the way I picked up some coffee and two Danishes from the bakery. Cece loved her sweets.

The newspaper office was small, cluttered, dirty, and a hive of activity. No one paid me much mind as I negotiated between the desks. Cece's office was in the back, the only private office. The details of local society do's were more closely guarded than
Washington , D.C. , political affairs.

I knocked and entered, holding out the coffee and treat as a peace offering.

"Sarah Booth," she squealed as she stood up and rushed toward me. After air kisses on each cheek, she grabbed the pastry bag with an elegant hand adorned with bronzed two-inch nails. She peeked inside. "Cream cheese, my favorite."

The deliberate effort of memory for small detail is a social grace that will take a person far.

Already biting into the Danish, she bumped the door closed with her narrow hip and went back to her desk. "What brings you to the paper?"

The question was casual, but her eyes were not. She'd heard that Dahlia House was in trouble and though she was my friend, she was also a columnist. "I need your help," I said.

"Are you organizing a fund-raiser?"

Now that wasn't a bad idea. I'd reserve it for the future in case my job for Tinkie didn't pan out. "No, actually, it's the past I'm interested in. Discreetly interested."

"Do tell, dahling." She reluctantly deposited the pastry on a napkin, licked her fingers, and found a pen.

"As you no doubt know, Dahlia House is in . . . financial disrepair." This was not news to her, but I had her attention. The fall of the House of Delaney would make headlines in the Delta. "I've decided to write a book to raise some cash." Authors were her weakness.