Rock-a-Bye Bones (10 page)

She snapped out of the trance. “I'm sorry, he's gone.” She tilted, almost falling out of the chair, but Scott caught her and steadied her. “Could I have some water?”

Tinkie, choking back a sob, jumped up and went to the kitchen. Tammy reached over and touched my hand. “I'm sorry I couldn't be more specific.”

“It's okay, I think I understood some of it.” We were all acutely aware of Tinkie's distress. “Pleasant had gone to buy a gallon of milk when she disappeared. I think she's alive, maybe living somewhere tropical. Somewhere with lots of green plants and leaves.”

Tammy gave me a nod of approval. “Those are the images I got. A place lush and isolated.”

“She not only abandoned a baby, she left a budding music career,” I said, telling them about Pleasant's songwriting and acquisition of a Nashville agent to represent her work. “If she's alive and surrounded by woods and green, I don't think she's there voluntarily.” The case had suddenly taken on a much more dangerous hue.

“I agree,” Scott said. “Do you think the young man trying to communicate with us was Rudy Uxall, the young man who bled to death? He did leave the baby on the porch. Maybe he was trying to save her.”

“From what?” Tinkie put a glass of ice water in front of Tammy.

“There was danger,” Tammy said. “The young man couldn't explain it. He simply was too confused. He's not even certain he's dead. His perception of everything is skewed, but Scott could be right. There was a sense of urgency in his agitation that had nothing to do with his situation.”

Rudy Uxall was a good lead, and one I would follow up on in the morning. I hadn't gotten a definitive answer, but I'd been prodded in a direction. That was the best any private investigator could ask for.

“Let's adjourn and get some food,” I suggested. The scrying session would have to wait until another time. Tammy's unsteadiness concerned me. The session had drained her of energy.

Tinkie shot up out of the room and rushed to find Oscar and the baby as if she were afraid they'd vanish into thin air.

Scott, who'd remained unusually silent during the evening, came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders with strong fingers. I sighed in relief.

“You've got more knots than a sailors' rope-tying class,” he said, digging deep into the muscle. “If I had half a day, I could work them out.”

My shoulders had just begun to relax when Cece sidled over to us. “That's not the thing about Sarah Booth that needs working out. In my expert opinion, she is desperate for a good man to jerk the kinks out of her.”

“Cece! Just because you're happy with Jaytee doesn't mean you can diagnose what I need.”

“Oh, baby girl, everyone in town has diagnosed what you need.” She laughed, and Scott joined in.

“I'd be happy to volunteer, Sarah Booth. My contribution to your … health.”

“Don't gang up on me,” I warned them.

Cece ran a perfectly manicured hand through my short, short hair. “I prefer your long curls, but this isn't so bad. Tinkie's hairdresser did an amazing job with that burned-up thatch you had on your head.”

“Yes, she did.”

Scott rumpled my hair, too. “It'll grow back. And I still owe you, Sarah Booth. You risked your life and saved the club from burning to the ground.”

“Yes, she's brave about everything except love,” Cece said. “Tammy, any predictions for when Miss Delaney might take a trip to the wedding chapel?”

“I don't have any insight into that,” Tammy said.

“You leave Sarah Booth alone.” At least Millie came to my defense. “It takes time to heal a heart. Give her a chance to get her balance back.”

“Sarah Booth isn't a girl, she's a grown woman. She'll find her way,” Harold said. “She knows we all have her best interest at heart.”

“I'm not talking about a career move,” Cece said, hands on hips. “I just think she ought to get laid. Makes life so much more enjoyable!”

“Enough!” I held up both hands. “Please. I feel like a pot roast at a table of starving people.”

“Sarah Booth is right.” Millie patted Scott's arm and winked at Harold. “I know it's hard to wait, but pushing a woman into a relationship never works.” She looked around to be sure my partner wasn't in the room. “It's Tinkie I'm really worried about.”

“Dah-link, I'm thinking the same thing.” Cece faced me. “You have a problem on your hands.”

I couldn't even pretend I didn't know what she was talking about. “I don't know what to do. That baby, overnight, is her and Oscar's world.”

All merriment fled Cece's face. “When you find that baby mama, there's going to be hell to pay.”

“I know.”

“I'll give Coleman a call,” Cece offered. “Maybe it would be best if he took the infant to Child Services sooner rather than later.”

“No!” I didn't mean to sound so emphatic. “Tinkie has her because that's what's best for the baby. Pulling her away now won't keep Tinkie and Oscar from getting hurt, but putting Libby into the system might be damaging. We're in this. We'll just have to keep on course to the bitter end.”

 

8

I wasn't the type to suffer prophetic dreams, but the conversation with Cece must have lodged deep in my subconscious because I spent the night chasing after little Libby, who had suddenly grown into a baby with Olympic track abilities. She crawled faster than I could run. I chased her over the river and through the woods, while she scooted about like a nymph from Greek mythology.

In the background of the dream, Tinkie searched for the baby, calling to her in a plaintive voice. She sounded like a lost soul.

I woke up at daybreak, exhausted. I had to find Pleasant Smith—for Libby's sake and for my partner. And I had to find out who'd stabbed Rudy Uxall. He was my best lead.

First on my agenda was Rudy. I called DeWayne, who filled me in on his investigation into the young man's death. Uxall had been stabbed in the thigh. The blade had nicked the femoral artery, and medical care could have saved his life.

“An inch to the left and it would have been a muscle injury and Uxall would be alive,” DeWayne said. “If he'd gone to the hospital, he'd be alive. I found out something else, too. Rudy got into a fight with a muscular blond man about a month ago at the Waystation Bar on the Bolivar County line. The fight was about a pregnant woman who'd been playing and singing in the bar.”

“How'd you find this out?”

“I tracked down Rudy's family. Hoss Kincaid had to break the bad news to them about Rudy's death. He said one of the Uxall brothers told him Rudy had been in a fight with an ex-con.”

“Name?”

“He didn't know. But the brother, Alfred Uxall, said the fight was about a pregnant singer. It has to be Pleasant. Alfred denied knowing anything about Pleasant or how Rudy was involved with her.”

“Thanks, DeWayne.”

“How's Coleman's case going?” I missed Coleman. I'd become spoiled by having him as a sounding board.

“He hopped a private plane to Memphis this morning at six. Should be back by two. He's with the three bodies, waiting for the autopsy. He's worried, Sarah Booth. This kind of element in Sunflower County is more than we can manage. Even with help from the state investigators and the highway patrol, we can't cover the land area we need to patrol.”

“Watch Coleman's back,” I requested.

“Will do.”

DeWayne gave me Rudy's address, which turned out to be not too far from the road where Charity Smith lived. Although it was in Bolivar County, I went anyway. Hoss Kincaid would just have to get over himself.

When I pulled up in the yard, I knew I'd made a mistake. Rudy's kin had gathered to wake his death. They were a burly group of four large men and the fiercely unhappy glare they sent my way should have warned me off. I couldn't let it.

A big man, at least six-foot-six, came toward the car. “We're not interested in talking with anyone,” he said. “You can leave the same way you came in.”

I introduced myself and got a long glare for my troubles.

“Maybe you didn't hear me,” he said. “Get back in your car and leave.”

“I've been hired to find a young woman who recently gave birth to a child. Rudy has been linked to the baby. You can either talk to me or talk to the sheriff in Rosedale.” I hated to be blunt to a grieving family, but sometimes kindness wasn't the ticket. I was working against a ticking clock, in more ways than one. “What's your name?”

“It's none of your business, but my name is Alfred. Rudy didn't have nothin' to do with a baby, and even if he did, he's dead now and can't pay child support.”

I inhaled slowly to keep my temper in check. “I didn't say he was the father.”

“You said linked. What else could that mean?”

“I don't know what his relationship with the mother of the child might be, but I need to find her. Now. It's urgent.”

Maybe he realized I wasn't going away and it would be simpler to answer my questions than to fight about it. “What is it you want?” He waved the other men to the front porch of the house where they gathered in a clump to watch me as if I might turn into a dragon.

“Do you know this woman?” I showed him the photo of Pleasant on my phone.

“She lives around here, but she disappeared, like four weeks ago.”

At least he didn't deny knowing her. “Have you seen her?”

“Last I saw her she was broke down on the side of the road on Highway 12. I was headed to the tire shop over near Clarksdale.”

“She was alone on the side of the road?” I wanted to add, and you just drove by, but I didn't. Once upon a time a man would never leave a woman—especially a pregnant woman—stranded on the roadside. He'd stop and fix the car or see to it that she was driven to safety.

“She was sittin' on the hood of her car. I would've stopped, but I had to get a tire for my boss and have it ready. If the tire shop closed before I got there, I'd have lost my job.”

“How well did Rudy know this young woman?”

He considered. “They were friends. I've seen 'em talkin'. Not sweethearts. Nothin' like that. Rudy said she was nice to him.” He shrugged. “End of story.”

“Not quite. Rudy had Pleasant's newborn infant daughter.”

The big man tilted his head back. “Rudy had her baby? What for?”

I wanted to knock his brain into gear with the flat of my hand. “That's what I need to find out. Why would Rudy have Pleasant's newborn daughter? Why would he drop her off at someone's house, and then drive to an abandoned farm instead of going to the hospital? He was wounded and he knew it.”

“You're asking me to explain Rudy. No one here can do that. I told that deputy who came asking that Rudy got into a fight over a month ago with some character. All I know is Rudy tied up with the guy and it was over Pleasant. I don't know the particulars.” He pointed to a woman who came out the screen door of the house and stood staring at us. She wore a navy dress with white dots in a fashion that made me think of another era. “That's Rudy's ma, and she couldn't' tell you why he did half the things he did.”

“Pleasant Smith may be in trouble. Serious trouble. Her life could very well be in danger.” More likely she was dead, but I didn't say that. “Rudy may have been the last person to see her alive. Do you know where he was Tuesday night?”

“Rudy don't live here most of the time, but you can ask Ma if you're bold enough to do it.”

I only rolled my eyes and walked past him to where Mrs. Uxall stood at the edge of the porch. She was a tall, stout woman dressed in her Sunday best to attend to the funeral details of her son. I wasn't oblivious to the situation.

“Mrs. Uxall, I'm sorry for your loss.” I started to introduce myself.

“Get off our land,” she said. “You got no call snoopin' here. Rudy was a good boy, and today I got to make arrangements to put him in the ground. I don't need nothin' you're wantin' to say unless it's to tell me who murdered my boy.”

“I don't know who stabbed Rudy, but I'm looking into it. He's very much a part of my case, which involves a young woman whose life hangs in the balance.” I explained the situation to her.

She shook her head. “Rudy wasn't always smart, but he was never mean. He couldn't hurt anything. He couldn't chop off a chicken's head if he was starvin' to death, so don't go tryin' to say he hurt a girl and took her baby.”

Mrs. Uxall wouldn't be the first mother who had blind spots for the criminal inclinations of her son. “I'm not saying anything about Rudy. Don't forget your son was stabbed, and maybe by the same people who took Pleasant. I'd think you'd want justice.”

“You think that missing girl was the reason someone killed my boy?”

“It's possible. He may have been trying to help her. Look, I need to find Pleasant. If she just had the baby, she may need medical attention. Time is critical. Don't you think she should be reunited with her child?”

She thought a minute, and her face softened. “If Rudy took that baby, he had a good reason to do it. He didn't confide in me, but he set a store by that girl. He was a friend to Pleasant, and he told me she could sing like an angel. He said she was gonna be famous, and when she was, she'd hire him to be her security. If he was fighting about Pleasant, it was because he thought someone meant her harm.”

“Back when she disappeared, do you remember anything Rudy might have said? Maybe he was trying to help her. Maybe he said something that would help us locate her.”

The others had slowly drawn closer to us as we talked. They were big people—tall and broad shouldered. If Rudy took after them, he would have been a good bodyguard for Pleasant. If he had been trying to help her, then he had been stabbed for his efforts.