Hallowed Bones (17 page)

"Tammy was crying." Mollie spoke softly. "She's worried about you. She said it wasn't a fair choice."

"A wolf or a lion." I visualized both animals. They were both powerful. Both predators.

"I'll give Tammy a call," I said as Mollie motioned me down from the dais. She'd worked quickly.

"Do that, Sarah Booth. And watch out for choices. Some of them are all bad."

I kissed her and slipped back into my clothes. My stomach was still knotted as I headed home.

Instead of going through Zinnia, I took a back road. I was only a mile from Dahlia House when I saw the blue lights in my mirror and heard the siren. I braked and pulled over. I hadn't been speeding or violating any traffic laws. I wasn't being apprehended for a traffic violation. It was much worse.

Coleman pulled the patrol car in behind me and got out. He was wearing sunglasses that concealed his eyes. I watched him approach in my rearview mirror. If my stomach was knotted before, now it was snarled.

"Sarah Booth," he said as he put his hands on the window. "And Sweetie Pie. A lovely duo out for a drive?"

"How are you, Coleman?" I reached up and removed the sunglasses.

"I've been better."

No kidding, I thought. He looked like he hadn't slept in five years.

"The case is a mess," I admitted. "I came home to get a dress fitted."

He laughed out loud, and I felt a smile tug at my mouth. It was good to hear him laugh, even if it was at me. "Appearances are very important to a private investigator. After all, who wants to hire someone who looks tacky?"

He laughed again and leaned down. "I've missed you."

"Don't--"

"I won't lie, Sarah Booth. I have missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I said. "Come by Dahlia House and have a drink. I'll tell you about the case."

15

I POURED US BOTH A DOUBLE JACK AND HANDED COLEMAN A glass. "Are you off duty?" I teased.

"I just clocked myself out," he answered. My fingers brushed his as he took the glass, and I felt a dangerous sensation race through me.

He took the wing chair, leaving me the sofa. I found that as I talked about Doreen and the case, I relaxed. Coleman and I had been friends long before we'd let stronger emotions flare between us. Friendship was the ground we had to rediscover.

"So you honestly believe Doreen is innocent?" He sipped his drink as he waited for my answer.

"Do you think I'm a sucker?"

He shook his head. "There's something about Doreen, a... a gentleness." He paused. "I did a little digging in the records, just to satisfy my own curiosity. Lillith was arrested in 1963 on a charge of public drunkenness. The arresting officer was Coot Henderson."

I remembered Coot. He was a good-looking man with a quick smile who, on occasion, turned his head when he saw an underage teenager driving. "He's living out around Blue Eve, isn't he? He hasn't been a policeman for a long, long time."

"He started drinking. Bad. The county had to let him go." Coleman held up his glass to check the level. "Hell, even Marshal Dillon had a drink every now and again."

"Are you drinking too much?" His color didn't look good.

"Not nearly enough." He shook his head. "Let's talk about your case. I'm not a worthy subject."

I started to protest but felt the ice cracking around my heart. I retreated to my case. "Doreen loved that baby."

"But she couldn't heal her."

"That's not grounds for murder."

"Normally, no. But Doreen is a long way from normal." Coleman's gaze shifted out the window. The sun was setting and the sky was a glowing peach. It was a color that made me think of Tinkie.

"Do you think Doreen can heal people?"

Something in my voice must have given me away. Coleman's gaze zeroed in on me with sudden intensity. "Are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

Tears gathered in my eyes, and though I tried to will them away, one slipped down my cheek.

"Sarah Booth," he said, sliding from the chair to his knees. He was beside me in a split second. "Are you sick?" His hand hovered over mine but didn't touch me. He knew the danger of the simplest of touches.

I shook my head. "I'm perfectly fine." But the tears, once started, wouldn't stop leaking.

"You don't look fine."

He was on his knees looking up at me, his hands lightly touching my arms. He was way too close. "I'm really okay."

He stood up. "I don't think so. I'm going to call Tinkie right now and ask her what's wrong." He started toward the telephone.

"Coleman, don't call Tinkie."

Something in my voice stopped him. He turned slowly. "It's Tinkie, isn't it? Something's wrong with her."

Coleman was a perceptive man. Now that he had the scent, he wouldn't give up until he knew the answer. "She has a lump."

"My God," Coleman said. "Is it cancer?"

I took a deep breath. "They don't know." Relief softened his face.

"It could be anything," he said. "
Lot
's of women get lumps and they aren't malignant."

"I know." I inhaled, belatedly remembering that crying made my eyes all red and swollen. Even worse, I needed a tissue. "But what if it's bad? Do you think Doreen can fix it?"

Coleman reached into his pocket and produced a clean white handkerchief. He handed it to me and managed not to watch while I blew my nose. "Don't go borrowing trouble, Sarah Booth."

"Where have I heard that before?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

He rocked back on his heels. "Tinkie's still in
New Orleans
?"

"She's on the case," I said with a large degree of pride. Tinkie was no quitter. I had excellent taste in partners.

"What does she think about Doreen?"

"She thinks Doreen can heal her."

That stopped Coleman. "Does she believe Doreen's innocent?"

"I guess we both believe it."

"So who killed the baby?"

"My bet is on one of the potential fathers." I filled him in on what I had learned, delighting in his shock and surprise at the names I listed. It was good to bounce my theories off Coleman. Unlike me, he was objective and trained.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked.

"The senator has the most to lose, but Oren Weaver is running a close second. Michael Anderson could be the father, but so far Tinkie hasn't turned up any financial impropriety that would give him a motive. There's also the maid, Pearline Brewer. She has opportunity and she's been impossible to talk to."

"Keep me posted." Coleman stood up. He put his glass on the sideboard. "I have to get home."

"How is Connie?" I made it sound as sincere as I could.

"She's sick. She finally has a doctor in
Jackson
, but she won't let me go with her." He shrugged. "She has some prescriptions, and she's taking them." The light went out of his eyes as he talked.

"I'm sorry, Coleman."

He looked into my eyes. "Not nearly as sorry as I am." He picked up his keys from the sideboard and left. I walked to the window and watched as he got in his car, his back straight, his sunglasses hiding whatever he was thinking.

I felt a chill along my back and knew that Jitty was beside me.

"You did the right thing, Sarah Booth. You just took another step into the land of the grown-ups. You're right, I like Coleman. But he has nothing to offer you but empty hope. Heck, that ain't even as good as a delusion."

Dawn was just
chasing the night away as I packed the car with clean clothes. I walked to the barn to bid Reveler a sad good-bye, when Kip Fuquar drove up. She was one helluva rider and she'd come to exercise my horse and love on Sweetie Pie, per her mother's promise.

I grinned big as she walked toward me. Sans the six pounds of makeup she'd once worn, she was a beautiful girl. "How's your mama?"

"Fine. She sends her love and said for you to come out and visit."

"I'll stop by later. I have to get back to
New Orleans
right away." It was Wednesday, and I felt time trickling away from me.

I put words to action and got in the roadster and headed to Zinnia. I had time for a cup of coffee at Millie's before I did anything rash like drive to
New Orleans
.

It wasn't even six and Millie's was already packed. I wedged myself up to the counter, sipped the coffee that Millie abstractedly poured, and waited. In less than ten minutes she came up behind the counter and let out a long breath. "It's hell during harvest. Every farmer in the county wants a hot breakfast."

I didn't blame them. If I weren't watching my figure, I'd have ordered French toast. "Have you heard anything?"

She shrugged. "Not many people care about a dead baby in
New Orleans
."

"Do you know much about Coot Henderson?"

"I know he's turned into a drunk. When his girlfriend burned to death in that fire, it changed Coot. He was always a little on the loose side. I mean, he'd drink on duty some, but not falling out drunk. But when--"

"You said his girlfriend?"

"Lillith Lucas." She leaned closer. "Back in the sixties it was a big secret. Lillith and Coot were quite a couple. When Lillith wasn't scaring the wits out of the teenagers about sex, she was doing the wild thing with Coot." She made her eyes big. "You can imagine the kinds of comments that were passed around over that one."

I put my empty coffee cup on the counter. "Thanks, Millie. That could prove to be very important information."

"You're welcome, Sarah Booth. How's the case coming?"

"Better and better," I said. I put a dollar on the counter and told her I had to get on the road.

The top was down and the air a little more than brisk as I headed south. It was going to be a much longer drive without Tinkie to keep me company.

I made the outskirts of
Vicksburg
before nine o'clock. It was safe to call Tinkie. I dialed the hotel room and held my breath through seven rings.

"Hello."

She sounded awake and chipper. "I'm headed back." I hated to use the cell phone in the roadster. The noise was awful.

"I was in the shower. Sarah Booth, instead of straight to
New Orleans
, zag over to
Jackson
and come down by the
Mississippi
coast."

"Why?" I liked the
Mississippi
coast, but I had no reason to visit.

"I found Doreen's brother. He lives in
Pearl River
County
. You could swing by there on your way back to
New Orleans
."

"Sure," I said. I was curious to meet Doreen's sibling. What magical powers might he have?

"The family is J.J. and Janey Crenshaw on
Alligator Road
in McNeil. Number 2323. Her brother's name is Adam."

"Where'd you get this information?" I asked.

"Sister Magdalen. It seems the good sisters knew more about Doreen than they let on."

"I found out something interesting, too," I told her. "Coot Henderson, the deputy"--I gave her a second to connect the dots--"was romantically involved with Lillith. In 1963."

Although math wasn't my strong suit, I'd added up the time of Lillith's arrest and the birth of her children, and come up with a potential father for Doreen.

"Well, he was a good-looking man," Tinkie said. "I hear he's drinking heavy now."

"One of us should talk to him."

"Maybe Sunday," Tinkie said. "After the ball. And you'd better have a dress, Sarah Booth."

"You can count on me, Tinkie. So what are you doing today?" "I'm going to talk to Doreen. I have some business with her." My throat suddenly grew tight. "Okay. I'll take care of the Crenshaws. I'll call you when I finish."

The Crenshaw home
was a modest brick house with a two-car garage. It was old enough to fit well in the large, tree-covered yard. There was a basketball goal, netless, on the garage door. It looked like a good place for a boy to grow up.

I rang the doorbell and was surprised when both J.J. and Janey Crenshaw answered it. They were in their sixties, but life hung hard on them. They wore thick glasses, and they looked at me with both sorrow and dread.

I explained who I was and asked if I could talk to them about Adam. Janey Crenshaw's mouth opened and a long wail of grief issued forth.

"Adam's dead," Mr. Crenshaw said as he put his arm around his wife. "Just come on in," he said as he led Janey to the kitchen. He installed her in a chair, where she leaned forward and wept against the polished oak table.