Bone to Be Wild Page 3

  My journey to the past was interrupted when a black sedan headed down the driveway. The car progressed through the lane of bare sycamore trees until it stopped at the front door and Harold exited the driver’s seat. A little dog with a strange goatee and wiry, untamable hair hopped out behind him.

  “God is going to get you for lying to Bijou.” I kept a straight face.

  “Seems I had a little help in the fabrication department. And you’re the one who slandered Mrs. Hedgepeth.”

  “That old bat deserves all the slander I can muster.” She hated dogs and children and had ever since I could remember.

  “You served up a lie well within the probability of reality. Had I not come home, Roscoe would surely have been in hot water by tonight. He doesn’t do well when I leave him alone. And by alone I mean with a professional dog sitter who he manages to evade and torment.”

  Roscoe could find trouble when Harold was sitting beside him. I shook my head. “Bijou is a handsome woman. She’s got it bad for you.”

  “I’m the last man in Sunflower County she hasn’t sucked the juices out of,” Harold said wryly as he came up the porch. “If she got her hooks into me, I’d be nothing but a dried husk. Like a cicada. She’d probably nail me to the pasture fence.” He picked up my glass, sniffed, and took a long sip. “Perfect.”

  I rose to refresh my drink and make one for him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I ushered him into the house and led the way to the parlor where the bar was. When I’d first returned to Sunflower County, Harold had expressed an interest in more than friendship, but we’d never pursued the possibility. This evening, I needed a friend, and Harold knew the importance of that role.

  “Primarily I came to check on you. I didn’t see a lot of you at the ball. I know this is a hard time. I wanted you to know I’m sorry. I really liked Graf, and I can’t help but feel he’s pinched up pretty good himself.”

  I poured the Jack over ice, added water, and handed it to him. “I’m not mad at Graf.” It would be so much easier if I were.

  “He didn’t know about his daughter. Let me just clarify that point. Because if he lied to you, I’ll—”

  “No, he didn’t. He was as shocked as I was.”

  “It wasn’t like he deceived you.”

  I’d made all of the same arguments to myself. “Harold, I’m not upset with him. I understand exactly what he’s doing. And why. His life has been upended. He’s a father, responsible for another life. His acting career took a hit when he was shot. Everything he believed to be the future isn’t any longer.”

  Harold studied me and picked up my hand. My thumb gave the weakest tingle. I wasn’t dead yet, but my reactions were dulled by grief. “Then why are you acting like everything is over? Life intervenes, Sarah Booth. Past decisions, good and bad, come back to haunt everyone. I’m sure you have your buried secrets that could derail a situation if they ever rose from the crypt.”

  “It’s not even that.” I’d tried to untangle the knot of my emotions. Without success. “I can only tell you that I’m numb, which is a good thing right now. When my nerve endings wake up, I’ll be able to tell you more.”

  He took a seat and patted the uncomfortable old horsehair sofa beside him. I slipped down and leaned against him. For a long moment we simply sipped our drinks and relaxed.

  “You need time, and there’s nothing for it but to wait it out and determine what you feel on the other end.”

  “That’s sort of the conclusion I came to.” I hadn’t felt as at ease since Graf dropped his bombshell.

  “There is something else.” He propped me up so I faced him. “It’s about Scott and the bar.”

  “What?”

  “I heard about the threats against the band.”

  “What? How did—”

  “Tinkie told me. The bank holds the mortgage on the bar. I believe the caller might have been attempting to intimidate the bank into pulling out the financing. If Scott can’t open the bar, he’ll default on the loan for sure. Oscar gave very lenient terms, and the board of directors may have second thoughts.”

  “How would the directors know anything about this?” Gossip was the lifeblood of a small town, but the only people who knew about the threatening calls were Scott’s friends.

  Harold brushed a tiny piece of lint from his jacket, a delaying tactic to give him time to think. “I got a call on my private cell phone this morning as I was driving home. Unidentified male voice. He threatened to burn down Playin’ the Bones unless Scott and the band leave town.”

  “That is outrageous.” The only reason to include Harold in such threats would be to make the bank think the club was a risk. “Did you let Coleman know? He told me about Ned Gaston’s arson. Someone isn’t playing around.”

  “I did talk to Coleman. DeWayne tried everything to trace the call, but no luck.”

  “What did Scott say?”

  “He’s concerned. He told me he’d hired you because of death threats to the band members.”

  I nodded. “I’d hoped this wasn’t serious. I did a little research into the band’s history, and it’s remarkably clean. At least there weren’t any paternity suits or breach of contract. No legal action. Nothing easy to put my finger on.”

  “Then who would be making death threats?”

  “I’m not sure. Pissed-off ex-manager, undoubtedly some girls are angry over being left behind, competitors who’d like Scott to fail.” I had a pretty vague list of suspects.

  “I didn’t recognize the voice, Sarah Booth, but the man sounded … peculiar.”

  “Foreign or northern?”

  “Antique. Or archaic may be a better word choice. He said the blues club would ‘perish in a conflagration.’”

  “That helps.” But it didn’t. Who would threaten a blues club in such a formal manner?

  “I know.” Harold polished off his drink and stood. “Now I have to take Bijou to The Club for dinner. Care to join us?”

  “I’d rather have a colonoscopy.”

  He shuddered. “She showed up at my front door about twenty minutes after I got home. Sometimes it’s just easier to give in than to fight. I’ll let her think she’s reeled me right up to the boat, and then I’ll turn into Jaws and break free.”

  “Be careful you don’t get caught for real.”

  “I’ll see you at Playin’ the Bones tomorrow night. Grand opening. Curtis Hebert is barbecuing.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  Harold blew me a kiss as he left. Roscoe zoomed out of the bushes and jumped into the front seat when Harold opened the car door. I waved them down the driveway. At least tomorrow night I had something fun to do.

  3

  Dark dreams niggled at me throughout the night, but I couldn’t remember anything except vague impressions of rushing water and smoky blue lights when I woke. I made coffee and indulged in shooting whipped cream from the can straight into my mouth for breakfast.

  “Sarah Booth, whipped cream will go right to your hips.”

  I nearly choked on a huge gob of Reddi-wip as I whirled around to confront Tinkie. She’d entered without alerting me or my critters. Chablis, her lionhearted Yorkie, was right at her feet, looking at me like I was the social equivalent of a Snopes.

  “I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat.” Why did I feel the need to explain my actions? I was a grown woman. I could eat like a savage if I wanted.

  Tinkie tapped her high-fashion boot. She was stunningly turned out in stiletto lace-up boots, skinny jeans, and a plush teal top that made her blue eyes pop. “Let’s go to Millie’s,” she said. “Oscar dropped me off to pick up the Caddy, and I’m free for the morning. I have a massage at one. Since we haven’t officially begun Scott’s case, I thought I’d pamper myself.”

  I licked a stray swirl of whipped cream from the back of my hand. “Oh, but we have begun.” I filled her in on the threatening phone calls to Scott and to Harold.

  She gave her musical laugh
that always made me think of Miss Woody and music classes in grammar school. Tinkie’s laughter would make a silver bell jealous. “That blues boy will do anything to get in your panties.”

  “Tinkie!”

  She only laughed harder. “He still has feelings for you, but he has too much sense to let you see it. He’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel better.”

  Her chatter made me suddenly sad. “I don’t feel anything at all.”

  She was instantly contrite. “Honey, you’re just numb.” She enveloped me in a big hug. “Squirt some more of that whipped cream. It’ll make you feel better.”

  And it did.

  “Now, let’s go to Millie’s and you can tell me all about Scott’s case. He was such a huge hit at the ball. Everyone is still talking about him. I’ve gotten at least three dozen calls. Oscar hinted that one person asked about investing in the club. And I heard a New Orleans promoter is trying to book a twenty-city tour for the band.”

  I wondered if Scott would go on the road since he’d just bought a nightclub. To my surprise, I didn’t have an opinion one way or the other. My emotions could be zoned arctic.

  Tinkie continued recapping the ball, the gowns, the catfights, the acts of generosity, the men who could dance and those who couldn’t as we rode to town and parked at Millie’s Café. The place was bustling, and I realized that while my life had effectively stopped, everyone else was having a normal day.

  Millie greeted us with a hug and never gave me a chance to order. She brought coffee and plates heaped high with her special portobello and cheese omelet, biscuits, buttered grits, and homemade scuppernong jelly she served to honored customers.

  “Eat up, Sarah Booth. Broken hearts dissipate in the flames of carbohydrates.”

  “It’s supposed to be alcohol,” I told her. The old adage was not one of Aunt Loulane’s, but something every Ole Miss student knew by heart.

  Millie was undeterred. “Hangover, cracked heart, not a lot of difference in my opinion. Now eat until you’re ready to go home and sleep again. That’s the best. Food, sleep, friends. And time. Time does heal many things.”

  “You and Aunt Loulane.” My father’s sister had moved into Dahlia House to care for me after my parents were killed in an auto accident. Aunt Loulane was a proper lady, and she had a saying for every occasion. She insisted they were true—which was how they became popular sayings. I couldn’t argue with her logic.

  “The older generation knew some things, Sarah Booth.”

  “I know.”

  Tinkie and I worked hard to belong to the clean plate club, but there was too much food. We did the damage we could, and Millie waved us away when we tried to pay. “Don’t be foolish. This one’s on me. My horoscope in The Enquirer said I should be generous today and it would come back tenfold.”

  “You’re always generous,” I reminded her.

  We’d risen in preparation to leave when the front door opened and a distinguished gentleman came in. I recognized him instantly as Yancy Bellow. He’d been at the ball in New Orleans.

  Several men greeted him, but he came directly to our table. “Sarah Booth Delaney,” he said, extending his hand, “I regret I didn’t have a dance with you. You are the spitting image of your mother, Libby.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bellow.” I shook his hand.

  “Please, call me Yancy.”

  Tinkie smoothly stepped in to help me out. “Mr. Bellow is a financial advisor and a sponsor of the Youth for America campaign. He organizes volunteer groups of young people to go across America and help the elderly with lawn work or home repairs. He offers the young people a college scholarship or pay. It’s an inspiring program.”

  “Mrs. Bellcase, so good to see you. I had a wonderful chat with Oscar in New Orleans. The man is a genius with business plans.”

  “Are you the person interested in the blues club?” Tinkie softened the question by looking up at him through her eyelashes.

  “News does fly around Sunflower County. I think a place with live music and a dance floor would add a lot to the nightlife here, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Tinkie said. “Is that a yes?”

  “I never kiss and tell, Tinkie. But I am on my way to the bank. I needed some sustenance before wrangling with Oscar over interest rates on my investments.” He laughed. “We are so lucky to have a hometown bank run by one of us.”

  “I’ll be sure and pass the compliment to Oscar. I know he’ll appreciate it.”

  Yancy leaned down and lowered his voice. “You know Gertrude Strom will have a bail hearing today? She’s asking for a reduction in the half-million bond the judge set. Highest on record, I do believe. I anticipated you and your fiancé would be at the courthouse, Sarah Booth.”

  I must have blanched because Tinkie stepped between us. “I think they’ll call Sarah Booth when they need her. Gertrude is the unpleasant past, as far as we’re concerned. We have a new client to attend to.”

  “Anything interesting?” Yancy asked. “I’ve watched with fascination the way you two dispatch cases. Bravo! If I ever need any investigative work done, I know exactly who to call.”

  “We’d appreciate your business,” Tinkie said, taking my elbow and leading me out of the café.

  “Get in the car,” she directed. “Just get in and sit down.”

  “Why didn’t someone tell me about Gertrude?” I asked. I wasn’t angry, just flattened. This was the woman who’d shot my fiancé and sent my relationship spiraling. She’d targeted Graf because she thought my mother had betrayed her. In an attempt to poison a meddling college professor, Gertrude killed a harmless graduate student. Gertrude was a hot mess, and if she got loose on bail, I had no doubt she’d do whatever was in her power to harm me and those I cared about.

  “This is just a bail-reduction hearing. No testimony. The judge won’t lower it and she’ll never come up with the cash. We decided to spare you.”

  “Should Graf be here?”

  “Unnecessary.” Tinkie pushed me into the car seat and slammed the door. She walked around and got behind the steering wheel. In a moment we were cruising out of town.

  “She won’t get a lower bail, will she?” I’d never considered that Gertrude might get out. She was nuts. And extremely dangerous. And she had a hard-on for me.

  “The judge won’t let her bamboozle him. They have psychiatric evaluations that show she’s a danger to society. Don’t worry.” Even as she tried to calm me, I could see she was upset.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sighed. “I just wish we could have avoided telling you about the bail hearing. Mr. Bellow meant no harm, but he sure stepped in it.”

  “Do you know Yancy Bellow well?” He was a handsome man, very charming, tailored suit, obviously successful at his business. He’d spoken of my mother with warm affection.

  “Buford, Oscar’s cousin, managed some of his accounts before Buford went off the deep end. Buford said Yancy is gifted in the financial market. He never had children of his own, but he’s been very active in helping the county youth and the elderly.”

  “He lives in Sunflower County, but I don’t know anything about him.”

  Tinkie shrugged one shoulder. “There are those rare birds who’ve escaped your eagle eye. He spends part of the year in New York and part in Geneva.”

  “Family?”

  “Never married. I heard he played the field when he was in his twenties. He was well-known for taking young women on private jets to ‘the Continent’ for breakfast and a shopping spree. He’s led a very exciting life, by all accounts. We were in college when he was in his heyday. I haven’t seen him for the last two or three years. He may have been in Europe or New York.”

  Out of sight, out of mind, as Aunt Loulane would say. “He’s very good looking. I’m surprised one of the Delta belles hasn’t snapped him up. He was talking to Bijou at the ball.”

  “He’s a sly fox.” Tinkie laughed. “He’s led some ladies on a very merry chase, but he has yet to
be caught. Are you interested?”

  “Not in the least. Nothing about that lifestyle appeals to me. And he’s a little old for me, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Sarah Booth. Maybe a more mature man is the ticket for you.”

  “No, thanks. I have no interest in a man, young or old.”

  She didn’t press it and I was glad. She’d meant to tease me and lighten the mood, and she had. Tinkie had the soul of an angel. She knew when to prod and when to simply be a friend to lean on.

  * * *

  We drove to the club and walked into major event preparation. Scott and the band tweaked and checked equipment, hung lighting for the grand opening, and discussed the menu Curtis Hebert had prepared. Laughter and bustle ruled the afternoon, and it was balm for my wounded spirit. I put red-checked tablecloths on the tables and arranged chairs. Everyone chipped in to make the evening a success.

  I also kept a close watch on the band members and bar staff, wondering if someone working with Scott was behind the threats. It wasn’t that I distrusted any of the people—heck, I didn’t know them—but trouble as often came from the inside as the out. Jealousy between brothers dated back to Cain and Abel.

  Tinkie went over the playlist with Scott. “Who is this secret performer?” she asked, showing me the names. “She’s going to sing ‘I’d Rather Go Blind.’”

  “Taking on a cover of Etta James is pretty darn bold.” I smoothed the last tablecloth into place. “Who is she, Scott?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

  “Dah-link!” Cece sidled up to us. “You act like the Spanish Inquisition. What’s a night without a little mystery?”

  Right behind Cece was Jaytee. He was tall and slender, with wonderful olive skin. His black eyes followed Cece’s every move. He was smitten. I had no doubt Cece had been scrupulously honest with him about her past. He didn’t care that she’d once been Cecil. He saw the woman we all loved, a person of tremendous courage. While the bond between Jaytee and Cece had quickly strengthened, I understood how long it had been since Cece had risked her heart. Jaytee’s loving acceptance was everything Cece had ever wanted. It did my heart good to see her so happy.