Sticks and Bones Read online

  Although I wasn’t the photographer Cece was, I took dozens of shots with my cell phone documenting the shoulder, the approach to the bridge, and the car’s likely angle when it left the road and entered the floodwaters.

  The banks of the river were covered in small scrubby trees and bushes, but it was a heck of a drop. The Sunflower had been well above flood stage. I’d checked the weather for that date in August. If the river hadn’t been flooded, the accident would have been minor.

  I’d just climbed up the bank when the sound of a rifle shot made me drop to all fours. Tinkie did the same. A bullet smacked into a tree behind me.

  “What the hell?” Tinkie asked, swiveling to look in all directions. “Let’s make a dash for the car.”

  “Maybe it’s hunters.” Only a fool would shoot toward a highway, but it happened all the time.

  Another bullet thwacked into the dirt beside me. “Run!” We dashed the fifteen yards to the car and hid behind Tinkie’s heavy Cadillac.

  “Did you see where the gunshots came from?” Tinkie asked.

  “I didn’t see anything. Whoever it was had to be east of us in the brake along the river.” The trees and underbrush were thick and someone could easily have hidden there. The one thing I couldn’t speak about was my deepest fear. That Gertrude Strom, a former B&B owner and the woman who wanted to destroy me, had reappeared in my life. She was my Jason—the unkillable monster.

  “Do you think this is our new case or…” Tinkie wouldn’t say it either. Gertrude was the person whose name we dared not speak.

  “Listen.” I heard motorcycles approaching. I wasn’t surprised when Marco and Lorraine, both riding the baddest looking choppers I’d ever seen, pulled in behind Tinkie’s car.

  We stood and brushed off our clothes. “Someone was just shooting at us,” I said. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to be here.”

  “Are you okay?” Marco asked. He spun around, surveying the area. “Where did the shots come from?”

  I pointed in the general direction.

  “Let me take a look.”

  Before I could say anything else, he was across the road and disappearing into the thick woods. “Should we stop him?” I asked.

  Lorraine’s long leg swung over the bike and in less than ten seconds she had a camera out and was filming. “If someone is hiding, Marco will find him.” She worked with precision, commenting to us as she captured the area. “It must have been a helluva storm for Son to miss the bridge entirely,” she said.

  “Our thoughts exactly,” Tinkie said.

  She worked another ten minutes before Marco returned. “Whoever it was is gone, but I found marks on a tree. Looks like someone was sitting up there waiting.”

  “For us?” Tinkie asked, a little surprised.

  Marco shook his head. “Maybe for a deer. I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “Who would know you were coming here at this time?”

  Tinkie shrugged. “I mentioned it to you and Lorraine. I thought you might like to scope out the bridge.”

  “I may have let it slip,” Lorraine confessed. “I like to get Sister in a snarl. She’s furious that anyone questions her version of the truth.”

  “Chances are it was a hunter,” Marco said. “When he realized how dangerous his shot was, he took off.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t really agree. Not at all. But if the person was gone, there wasn’t any point in belaboring the incident.

  “Hey, Marco, come take a look at this angle,” Lorraine called out. We all went to the side of the road where Son had to have gone off.

  “I don’t think that car crash was an accident,” Marco said. “I don’t think Son was loaded on drugs or alcohol. From what I’ve heard, Cleo McFee was nobody’s fool. She wouldn’t have gotten in the car with Son if he’d been out of control.”

  Another good point in the “this wasn’t an accident” school of thought.

  “Colin inherited a nice insurance policy when Cleo died,” Marco said. In his leathers, he looked like a taller, handsomer version of Marlon Brando. If the words, “I coulda been a contender” came out of Marco’s mouth, I wouldn’t have been shocked.

  Lorraine embodied the sultry beauty of Natalie Wood and glamour of Lauren Bacall. She could have continued her career as an actress, but the call of working behind the camera had been too strong. I could tell by the way she handled the equipment that it had become an extension of her own body.

  “And Sister inherits Son’s share of the McFee trust effective February 5,” Tinkie said. Her inside sources at the bank had been talking.

  “What’s the trust worth?” Marco asked.

  “Billions.” Tinkie shook her head. “I don’t really know, but it’s land, investments, a huge stock portfolio, you name it. Colin built his own fortune, but the McFee estate is generations of innovative McFee planning and investing.”

  “So, very soon our little author will be a fabulously rich woman.” Lorraine held the camera at her side.

  “Yes,” Tinkie said glumly. “It’s a shame. She’s so awful, and Son was nice. I only knew him a little—they didn’t go to public high school. They were sent away to boarding school. But I knew Sister from parties and from college. We were in the same sorority.”

  Tinkie almost dripped dismay. Whatever had happened at the sorority had left a permanent scar. I intended to make Sister pay for that.

  “If you ladies haven’t read Sister’s book, you need to,” Marco said. “Roon Talley, the screenwriter who optioned the book, is working on a script based loosely on Dead and Gone. We intend to start filming as soon as the script is complete. That’s where you come in. You have to find the truth and find it fast.”

  “I can’t promise we’ll find anything,” I cautioned him. “There may be nothing to find.”

  “You’re better PIs than you think,” Marco said, winking at Tinkie. “I have complete faith in you.”

  “So what’s your first step?” Lorraine asked. “Maybe I should come with you and film.”

  “We’d better try this without a camera,” I said. “Somehow I don’t think the Washington County sheriff’s office is going to want to be on film.”

  “Because you think they gummed up the investigation?”

  “No.” I couldn’t say that without evidence. “But it’s very possible they were helped along in their decision to so quickly call it an accident.”

  “Colin bought them off!” Marco had a handle on what Colin McFee was capable of.

  “Maybe. Let me see the reports and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Be safe, ladies. Watch out for hunters.” Marco waved a hand and covered his black hair with a helmet that gave no view of his features. Lorraine followed suit. In a moment they were buzzing down the highway like slender, lethal insects.

  “They’re deeply invested in making this film,” Tinkie said.

  “Yes, they are.” From what Millie said, Marco and Lorraine were eccentric artists. Who was I to question how they approached moviemaking? Going all-in seemed like the best way to do anything, especially investigate.

  “Do you think someone was trying to shoot us?” Tinkie asked. “Marco was a little blasé about the whole thing.”

  The director’s attitude did give me pause. “I don’t know. It could have been an accident, a hunter who overshot. Or it could have been someone trying to warn us off this case. You know by now everyone in ten counties knows we’ve been hired to investigate what happened to Son.” I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t worried, but there was a ray of sunshine. “It seems if they’d really wanted to hit us, they could have. We were sitting ducks.”

  “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Tinkie said. “We have to be really careful.”

  “Agreed. Look, we’re already at the county line. Let’s go to Greenville to visit the Washington County sheriff’s office. We can file a report there.”

  “A brilliant idea,” Tinkie said. “Head ’em up, move ’em out.”

  I whistled up Sweetie Pie and Chablis, Tinkie’s little dust mop of a canine. The two dogs had hit a scent and were romping along the riverbank. Pluto, who was smarter than your average black cat, had remained in the car. Sitting on the side of an empty highway in forty-degree weather wasn’t Pluto’s thing. But when the dogs and I jumped in the car, he was on my lap in a flash.

  “I wonder what really happened that night when Cleo died,” Tinkie said as she pulled onto the empty highway. “Why were they on this road and what happened to send them into the river?”

  “That’s exactly what we have to find out.”

  3

  The sheriff of Washington County wasn’t in, but the dispatcher, Hattie Fagan, took our report of the gunshots.

  “I hate to say it ladies, but a lot of folks carrying guns these days don’t have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot. They get trigger happy. What do they call it, ‘buck fever’? But I’ll have the sheriff check it out. He’ll have a few of the usual suspects to talk to. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”

  “Me too.” Hattie had made me feel better in one way and worse in another. Everyone assumed it was a careless hunter. What if it wasn’t? I couldn’t allow “what if”s to control me. We’d filed the report in the proper jurisdiction, which relieved me of having to report it to Coleman. Now it was time to get busy with our case.

  When I told Hattie what we needed, she pulled up the file on the cold case and gave it to us as we sat at Sheriff Bud Lenton’s desk.

  “I can’t see why the sheriff would care about you seeing this,” she said, “but don’t get me in trouble, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tinkie said with an angelic smile. She could play ninety percent of people like B.B. King could play Lucille. The dispatcher was putty in her hands.

/>   “Why are you looking up that old case?” Hattie asked. “They never found that poor boy who washed down the river. He’s crab bait in the Gulf.”

  Not the image I wanted in my head as I contemplated lunch.

  “Were you working here when the accident happened?” Tinkie asked.

  “Been here fifteen years. Ever since the sheriff took the oath. I told him just last week he ought to deputize me. I handle a lot of things around here.”

  “He should,” Tinkie said. “I’ll bet he couldn’t get along without you.”

  “That’s a fact. So what are you two so interested in the McFee accident for?”

  “They’re going to make a movie about what happened to Cleo and Son,” Tinkie said. “We’re scouting locations for Black Tar Productions, and the director asked us to take a look at the accident report. He wants to get everything right.”

  Hattie’s interest increased. “A movie? That’s exciting.”

  “A big Hollywood film. Marco St. John is directing and Lorraine St. John is the cinematographer. It’s going to be fabulous.”

  I studied the accident report as Tinkie chatted up the dispatcher. We made a good team.

  From the photographs taken at the scene, it was easy to see the Sunflower River was way out of its banks and raging across the flat delta land. One mystery solved. When the SUV went off the road, it would have impacted with the water about four feet down the bank. The car would have instantly smashed into trees and other debris in the flood. The photos showed the driver’s door was torn off the car. Son could easily have been pulled out of his seat belt and taken down river, never to be found. Chances were, he’d been battered into pieces.

  Cleo, in the passenger seat, had been somewhat better protected.

  The car had traveled at least a mile downriver, bumping and tumbling until it hung up in some fallen trees that had partially blocked the river. It had taken searchers two days to find the vehicle, due to the heavy rains, flooding, and the fact that Cleo wasn’t reported missing in that area. The search for her had focused on Highway 55 South. It wasn’t until the car was found with Cleo in the passenger seat that another person was added to the list of the missing. At first, no one suspected that the driver was Son. Not until a young waitress at a gas station diner had finally identified Son as the man with Cleo McFee. The man who must have been in the driver’s seat.

  By the time a search party was out looking for Son, the odds of finding him were slim to nothing.

  From what I could tell, the investigation into the accident had followed the regulations play by play. The lawman hadn’t skipped a step—but there was no way to tell if anyone had unduly influenced him. Sheriff Lenton came to the same conclusion I’d come to—Son had missed the bridge. Whether it was the storm, drugs, homicide, carelessness, or perhaps a deliberate desire to end his life and his mother’s, the sheriff couldn’t tell. Official pronouncement had been death by accident.

  Son was the only person who knew the truth, and I believed he was dead. Now it was my job to find the evidence that supported my belief. If it wasn’t an accident, we needed to find the person responsible.

  “Do you remember anything about that night?” Tinkie asked Hattie.

  “I do. It was terrible. I remember when Bud found the skid marks. It was like the SUV went off the road and the driver fought to get it back on. Anyway, that’s what Bud said. There had been some serious accidents on Highway 49 South and Highway 82 was under water near Indianola. All those coastal people trying to evacuate north had the main highways jammed for miles—it was a freaking nightmare. I’m surprised more lives weren’t lost.”

  “Did you know the McFees?” Tinkie asked.

  “My mother worked for Angus McFee.”

  I lifted my head and looked at Hattie Fagan. I’d tuned out the conversation between the dispatcher and Tinkie as I’d focused on the report. Now I was paying attention. “What did your mom do?”

  “She took care of Colin and Liam.”

  “Liam?”

  “Colin’s brother. He died in a terrible accident when the family was living in Switzerland. They were camping in the Alps. That’s why Mom took the job. She wanted to get out of Mississippi and Switzerland sounded like paradise. Too much Heidi, I think. Mom had a real obsession with the Alps.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Colin was seven or eight, I think. Liam was ten, but he was slow. Something happened when he was born. Mom said he was sweet and loving, but Angus kept him hidden away. Folks around here never even knew he was part of the family.”

  “What kind of accident?” Tinkie asked.

  “An ice shelf broke and fell on Liam. He and Colin had left the camp and gone exploring. Colin did everything he could to dig his brother out, but he was just a kid.”

  A kid alone in dangerous territory. And another tragic death. Either the McFees were slow learners, or they had a real passion for losing family members.

  “Your mother knew Colin as a young person?” Tinkie asked. We were obviously thinking along the same path.

  “Would she have some time to talk with us, do you think?” I asked.

  “She’s in the Loving Arms Nursing Home. She’d probably enjoy a chance to talk about the good old days. I go by every morning and afternoon, but that leaves twenty-two hours when she’s mostly alone. She doesn’t sleep well.”

  “Thanks so much, Hattie.”

  “Her name is Aurelia Fagan. Tell her I’ll bring her a milkshake when I get off work.”

  “I could do that,” I offered. “There’s an ice cream shop just down the street.”

  “She’d like that. It’s an easy way to get some calories into her. Thanks.”

  I’d learned all I could from the accident report, and Hattie had given us an unexpected lead. I wasn’t keen on a visit to a nursing home, but that’s exactly where we were headed.

  * * *

  The visitor’s parking lot was all but empty when we pulled in. Walking in the door, I saw two older women in wheelchairs looking out at the bright January day. They called a greeting as we entered, and Tinkie stopped to speak with them while I took the vanilla milkshake to Hattie’s mother. I found her in the community room working a jigsaw puzzle.

  “Mrs. Fagan?”

  When she looked up at me, I continued. “Hattie said you might be able to help me with some information. She also said you’d like a vanilla milkshake.” I put it on the table where she could reach it and offered my phone. “You can call Hattie to make sure I’m okay to talk to.”

  Aurelia only laughed. “You look okay. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I eased into a chair. The puzzle was a Monet painting of water lilies. Aurelia’s eyesight had to be pretty darn good to piece those intricate shades into place. “Would you mind telling me a bit about your experience in the McFee household?”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Colin said some movie people might be around to talk with me. You want to know about Angus McFee. That was a good time in my life. I was a young woman, unsure of what I wanted to do with my future. Travel was the big lure. Travel to Switzerland and the Alps. It was my dream. And it was wonderful for a while. Until the accident.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “The time with the McFees, while lovely, made me realize the role of governess wasn’t for me.”

  “Because the children were so difficult to manage?”

  “Oh no, Liam and Colin were lovely boys. Sweet-tempered, kind, considerate.”

  I couldn’t believe she was talking about Colin McFee. Ruthless, willful, take no prisoners—those seemed more appropriate descriptions. “We are talking about the developer, Colin McFee of Sunflower County?”

  “Yes, I was with them in Europe, but I also spent time at Evermore with the family. Now Jamie, the grandda, he was a love. I wasn’t too fond of Angus, and his missus wasn’t my cup of tea, either. They weren’t hard to work for and the pay was superb, but there was tension in the house. Bethany, Colin’s mother, was cold and a real bit—bad person. I don’t approve, mind you, but I can see how Angus might have been driven to find love in other places. In fact, I’d say all the terrible things that came started with Bethany. But that’s just my opinion.”