The Devil's Bones Read online

  “I sat in the bus station with her until she left. She didn’t have anyone else. No one from her family was there to see her off.”

  That made my heart ache. I’d had my aunt Loulane, who was the best second mother a girl could ask for.

  “We understand Betsy was terribly shy. That seems like it would be hard to be in the movie business. In the limelight, as it were,” Tinkie said.

  Polly Jean’s smile was tinged wth sadness. “I think Betsy believed that she could slip into different roles, become someone different. She was shy, but she was really smart, and she was also driven to get out of this county.”

  “Was she successful as an actress?” I couldn’t help but hope she’d found some triumphs.

  “I don’t know. Her parents moved about a week after she left. As far as I know, no one has seen or heard from Betsy or any of the Dell family. I have to say, it came as a shock to me that Betsy aspired to be a movie star. She was always so … mousy in high school. Quiet. Shy. Who knew she harbored those big dreams, but she had more courage than a lot of us. She took action to manifest her dream.” She tidied a stack of books. “I honestly haven’t thought of her in a long time.”

  Sometimes, big dreams were just a way to escape the tedium of everyday life. But if she’d gone out to Hollywood, at least, as Polly Jean noted, she’d made an effort to reach for her ambitions. Maybe she hadn’t been totally successful, but she’d been brave enough to try. I knew what that felt like.

  “Did Erik and Betsy ever date?” Tinkie asked.

  Polly Jean rolled her eyes. “Heavens no. Erik was the most popular boy in his class. He just knew how to have fun and all the girls dated him, casually. He made sure they understood it was casual and just for fun. Erik was in it for the fun, but he was emotionally elusive. He loved life, and it was contagious.”

  “You haven’t heard from Betsy recently?” I asked.

  Polly Jean shook her head. “I wish I’d stayed in touch. I got married, had a couple of kids, just got swept up into the daily grind.”

  “I know how that goes,” Tinkie said without a smidgen of irony.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about cruise lines out of Miami, would you?” I asked. “Maybe a trip that’s especially popular with local folks here?”

  She frowned. “Some of the churches sponsor bus vacations to Branson, Missouri, or winter trips to Dollywood to see Pigeon Forge and if they’re lucky, they run into some Christmas snow. The garden clubs sometimes take tours of places like Calloway Gardens, but I don’t know of any group that goes on cruise ships. Sorry. There’s a cruise line that runs out of Mobile down to Miami and then into the Caribbean. Gulf Voyager, I think is the name. That’s all I know.”

  “That’s okay, and thanks for the help,” I said. “I need to make some copies of these yearbook photos.” I had them on my phone, but I needed print copies in case I had to leave them somewhere. We desperately needed a line on Betsy.

  The librarian pointed me toward a copy machine that was for the public to use. Five dollars later, I had pretty good prints of every photo with every person we’d been able to identify. The hunt was on.

  Tinkie and I decided to stay in town for some food. I loved Donna’s cooking at the B&B and also her smart-aleck remarks, but we had a lot of ground to cover if we were going to find Betsy Dell before the day was over.

  We stopped at the local diner and the same waitress came over with a grin. “You look like you could use some fried catfish, turnips, sweet potato casserole, and how about some praline pound cake for dessert.”

  She had Tinkie pegged for a big eater. In the South, being a big eater is a high compliment to the cook. Every child I’d grown up with had been taught to “clean their plates” because there were hungry children doing without. Tinkie had never belonged to the clean plate club until her pregnancy. Now she could clean her plate, my plate, and anyone else’s plate at the table.

  “That sounds like a lovely lunch!” Tinkie was all in. “Could we also have a side of fried dill pickles?”

  “Absolutely.” The waitress turned to me. “And for you?”

  “Vegetable plate with turnips, butter beans, fried okra, and cornbread. And one question: Do you know this woman?” I thrust a photo of Betsy at her.

  “Sure. Betsy Dell is her maiden name. She married a Bastid out in California.”

  “What’s her married name?” I had my pen out.

  “Bastid. Are you hard of hearing?”

  Tinkie giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile. “No, no … I thought you were saying something else,” I explained.

  “Yeah, like my general description of men. Because they’re all bastards, one way or another.” The waitress poked through the other photocopies I had. “If you’re looking for Betsy, she lives over in Mobile. About forty minutes from here, but she seems to have left Lucedale behind. She had such big dreams about going out to Hollywood. I guess it’s hard to come home.”

  My failed career as a Broadway actress had given me a taste of coming home with my tail between my legs, but in the long run, it had been a wonderful decision. I’d saved my family home, learned to deal with a bossy and aggravating haint, and fallen in with the best bunch of friends a girl could have. And then there was Coleman.

  “You wouldn’t know how to get in touch with her, would you?”

  The waitress pulled an order pad from her pocket and wrote down something. “Here’s her email. Drop her a line.”

  When she went to put our orders in, I looked at Tinkie. “I’m going to ask if we can meet with her. In person.”

  She nodded. “But first, I think after this meal I’m going to need a nap. Could we make the appointment for a little later?”

  “Sure thing, partner.”

  I sent Betsy Dell an email while we were waiting for the food, and by the time we finished eating, I saw that Betsy had replied and agreed to a chat later in the afternoon.

  We arrived back at the B&B and Tinkie went straight to her room. I checked in with Donna, who said Cece had called to let her know she wouldn’t be back for dinner. She and Hans were covering some territory, it seemed. In the quiet of my room, I called the number Betsy had given me.

  On the phone, Betsy sounded older and more self-assured than I expected. Looking at photos of someone in her teens can be misleading. Turned out Betsy was a nurse at a Mobile hospital and the mother of two children. Whatever dreams of being an actress she’d once held on to, she’d set them aside for the satisfaction of motherhood and a regular paycheck.

  “I understand you paid for an ad regarding Erik Ward,” I said. I’d already explained that I was a private investigator hired to prove Erik was innocent of killing Slay or Pepperdine.

  “That’s right. And I know the libel laws.” She might have the law on her side but she sounded super stressed, like maybe there was more to the story. “Truth is a defense.”

  “Hold up, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wonder why you think Erik is guilty of—”

  “Of murder? Because I have good reason to believe he is. He and Patrice … look, you can search for all the evidence that shows Erik to be innocent that you want, but Erik is guilty.”

  “Do you have proof?” I wished I was talking to Betsy in person, but a phone call was as good as it was going to get for now.

  “Did Erik tell you about the cruise?” she asked.

  “No.” This was exactly where I wanted to go, though. “It appears there are more than a few things Erik hasn’t told me.”

  “That’s because he’s guilty.”

  “Of what? Patrice died here in George County. She wasn’t on a cruise. I don’t have a clue who this Johnny Braun you mentioned in your ad might be.”

  “He died, and Erik is guilty of killing him.”

  Either she really believed that or she was stuck in some alternate-reality delusion. “How does that relate to Patrice Pepperdine’s death?”

  “It all goes back to the dance competition. Johnny was Erik’s n
umber-one competition for the Caribbean Cruise International Dance King competition title.”

  “What?” Now I was really bumfuzzled.

  She laughed. “Erik didn’t tell you about his secret life? Why am I not surprised? Erik is a professional ballroom dancer. Not just a professional, but a highly ranked dancer. He specializes in the shag and the tango. It’s all a big, hush-hush secret because a lot of people think dance professionals like Erik are gigolos and also that little thing of a murder accusation hanging over his head. Erik was convinced his drugstore would suffer if people knew about Johnny Braun and that Erik was paid to dance with lonely women.”

  This was sounding worse and worse, not because there was anything wrong with dance competitions but because our client had been lying—if not lying outright then withholding the truth. “No one has told me anything about any of this. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “Gladly. Maybe then you’ll stop trying to save him. Erik is one of the top ballroom dance competitors in the Southeast. He’s highly sought after for competitions and as a partner. Patrice was his dance partner, up until he threw her over for some Latin lady from New Orleans. You’ll want her name, Ana Arguello. A real fiery Latin beauty. That’s why Patrice poisoned his shrubs, not because she hated his plants. He hurt her and she wanted to hurt him back. And that’s why he killed her—because she was filing suit with Perry Slay for breach of promise.”

  “Wait! Breach of promise?” That could mean only one thing. “As in marriage?”

  “Exactly. He told her he was going to marry her and then he backed out. Then she threatened to tell everyone in town about his secret life as a dance master, the murder accusation, and that he was a cad who didn’t honor his word.”

  “So?” I loved dancing. Great exercise. No crime there. And engagements were called off all the time. It happened. None of this amounted to a valid reason to commit murder.

  “There was a national chain of drugstores looking to come into the Lucedale area. Erik has a lock on most of the local business, because he’s well-liked and popular with everyone. His store is a community gathering place. Some folks would disapprove if it had gotten out that he was a dance master and someone who broke his word, but the real problem, as I see it, is the deception. Folks don’t like to believe a person is one thing and then find out he’s something else. Especially not a murderer. His business would have suffered and the chain pharmacy would have come in.”

  I felt my stomach drop to my feet as I listened. This shed a whole new light on his possible involvement in Patrice Pepperdine’s murder.

  “How has Erik kept his whole secret life so … secret?” I asked.

  “Patrice was the only person in the county who knew about his passion for dance. He had another dance partner before Patrice, but … Claudia Brooks moved away. She didn’t really have any option. You should ask him about her. See what he says.”

  “How did you stumble on Erik’s passion for dance? His whole involvement in this world?”

  “Johnny Braun was my dance partner. We were in the running for the win, which had a fifty-thousand-dollar purse attached. More than the money, though, I would have been a star. Finally. Then Johnny was murdered just before the competition was to begin.”

  “This was on a cruise ship?” I had to be certain I understood.

  “It was. The Gulf Voyager Cruise Line, which hosts the Christmas Dance Extravaganza each year. This is the biggest competition in this part of the world. The dancers are given a free two-week cruise, and we perform every evening in different dances for the entertainment of the passengers. Erik had the shag sewn up, but Johnny and I took top honors with the waltz and cha-cha. We still had the tango, the rumba, and the salsa left to dance. Johnny had the hip action for the salsa and everyone knew it. We were going to win.”

  “What happened?” I had to know.

  “Someone poisoned Johnny. He was fine one minute and sick the next. We were at dinner, just before the final dances. Johnny turned kind of green and went outside. He was going to be sick and he was embarrassed. I tried to go with him, but he told me to stay and talk to the cruise employee who was taking care of the music. There was a live orchestra because this was such a big event.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Johnny fell overboard. He was throwing up and lost his balance and went over.”

  “You saw this?”

  She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. But that’s what had to have happened. Johnny was leaning over the rail—another passenger saw him—and then he was gone. He disappeared without a trace. They searched the ship high and low. That’s the only thing that could have happened.”

  “Surely there was an investigation.”

  “Of course. His death was ruled accidental. But I know it was Erik. He poisoned Johnny and it’s his fault. He ruined my life and my chance to be someone.”

  15

  We talked for another half hour before I circled back to a point I couldn’t let go of. “Betsy, you need to come forward with this information. Sheriff Glory Howard will want to hear this from you.”

  “I thought you were working for Erik?”

  “I am, but I am first and foremost working for justice. I haven’t found any evidence yet that Erik hurt anyone, but the sheriff needs all the facts.” The best thing for Erik, and everyone else, was to put the facts in front of Glory and let her investigate. I trusted her not to rush to judgment.

  “Are you going to tell her all of this? This makes Erik look really bad.”

  Suddenly she was shy about calling Erik a murderer? “You’re trying to buy an ad in the newspaper to destroy Erik’s reputation. I’d much rather see this put before the sheriff and have an investigation rather than assassinate him in print.”

  She sighed loudly. “I’ll think about it. Now I have to go.”

  “Where can I get in touch with this Claudia Brooks?”

  “I have no idea. She went home to her family, as far as I know. Good luck tracking her down.”

  The line went dead and she was gone. I drew in a deep breath and put in a call to Coleman. Tinkie was asleep and Cece was running the roads. I could have a little dirty phone talk with my favorite lawman.

  He answered on the second ring with tension in his voice. “Are you okay?”

  That wasn’t the response I’d expected. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Is something wrong?”

  Coleman quickly got a handle on his tone. “Nope. Things here are fine. I was just thinking about you and when you called, it hit a nerve.”

  “The critters all good?”

  “I took Lucifer out for a ride early this morning. He was feeling his oats in this fine spring weather. Sweetie Pie was delighted for a run. Pluto is really, really pissed at you. He sits in the parlor window and watches the driveway. He was also sniffing your shoes, like maybe he was going to let you know how aggravated he is.”

  “Pluto wouldn’t do that.”

  “Wouldn’t he?”

  I heard the teasing note in Coleman’s voice. He was pulling my leg. Pluto was far too dignified to do such a thing. I hoped.

  “What’s really going on?” I asked. There was something up with Coleman.

  “I just keep trying to get away from here, but the lawbreakers are working overtime.”

  I wanted desperately to see Coleman, but I respected how seriously he took his responsibilities in Sunflower County. He would never leave if there was a hint that he was needed.

  “What about tomorrow?” I asked, trying to keep the plaintive note out of my voice. The Bexley B&B would be so much more fun with a hunk of burning love beside me.

  “Maybe. DeWayne, Budgie, and I are busting it. You know I’ll be there when I can. Or you could come home.”

  I told him about the recent discoveries of my dance master client and the mysterious death of one Johnny Braun—something I needed to talk to Sheriff Glory about when Tinkie woke up.

  “Why would anyone care that Erik is a dance champion?” Coleman
was puzzled. “Dancing is good, healthy fun.”

  “I think it’s perception.”

  “You have got to be kidding me?”

  “Not kidding. Accused of offing a competitor, and maybe it’s the breach of promise thing. If he really walked out on Patrice Pepperdine, that would explain her vindictiveness. If folks around here take that kind of thing seriously, it could affect Erik’s business. Remember old Lenny Lucas and how everyone stopped going to his hardware store after he got Sula pregnant and wouldn’t marry her? They ran him out of business and then out of town. People who breach community standards can suffer.”

  “Good point.”

  “As sheriff, folks hold you to a higher standard, too.” Now was my chance for a little fun. “I mean, if you were to betray me or hurt me, I don’t think folks would stand for it.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know, Sarah Booth. I might get more votes. Folks think you’re on the nosy side.”

  I laughed, too. “Go ahead, just try to wiggle out of loving me. Bad things will happen.” I thought of Jitty. Lord, she’d have a conniption and maybe bring down the wrath of the Great Beyond on his head. Jitty adored Coleman, but if he ever hurt me, she’d be singing a different tune.

  “It might take some serious convincing to keep me on the hook.” There was a playful note in his voice.

  “Oh, I get the picture. You see yourself as some kind of big rainbow-colored trout, all sleek and cagey. And I’m the worm, that little brown nugget of temptation.”

  Coleman’s laughter made me feel closer to him. “I didn’t exactly picture it that way in my head, but now I don’t think I’ll ever get that out of my brain.”

  “Oh, I have some images I need to put in your brain.” I had a hot-flash memory of Coleman sweeping me into his arms and carrying me upstairs. He put me on the bed and began kissing me. When Coleman kissed me, there was no time at all to think. My body responded and desire pushed out all rational thought.

  “Yeah, I have plenty of my own, like you in front of a Christmas tree in a sexy red bit of fluff and lace.”

  I pulled myself out of memory lane with my breath short and my heart pounding. That little outfit had been a Christmas present, and it had worked very effectively to leave Coleman haunted by ghosts of Christmas past. But May Day was coming, and I intended to make some new memories with my man. I’d missed the Easter bunny, even though I still had a sexy little bunny suit I intended to surprise Coleman with when I got home.