Dixie Divas (40 page)

“You look like you’re about to bust, Trinket,” he said, grinning at me. “Just what have you found out?”

I promptly told him what I’d heard, all unsubstantiated rumor, of course, but surely could be verified. Jackson nodded, his expression noncommittal. Then he sat back in his chair with a creak of leather and locked his hands behind his head.

“I’ve been investigating Johnston myself. I hadn’t really considered a link with Melody Doyle until now.”

“You have? Why have you suspected Johnston of being involved?”

“Something he said at that St. Patrick’s Day party. It just didn’t sound right. Not for a foot doctor. Of course, I don’t know much about podiatry, so I didn’t think much of it at the time. It just hit me later.”

We looked at each other, both tangled in our own thought processes, his much more legal and thorough than mine, I’m sure. Still, if Jefferson Johnston warranted investigation, and Melody Doyle was involved with him, the two of them were likely to be up to something that had to do with The Cedars. That might explain Sanders being killed, but why the senator?

After a few moments of thinking, Jackson Lee leaned forward and clasped his hands atop his desk. “You should know that Philip Hollandale got a measure tacked on to the supplemental appropriation bill to pay for the war in Iraq. It involves the increase of a previous twenty million dollar cap for the Regional Utility Authority. New trunk lines, an interceptor, and a centralized wastewater treatment system that involve Sanders’ land.”

I just looked at him for a minute. “Uh, does this involve the Nissan plant, too?”

Jackson Lee shook his head. “No. Apparently, that was just a rumor. Although Nissan is looking at possible sites in our area for their new plant, Sanders’ land isn’t one of the sites listed. I checked it out. Sanders’ land is earmarked for sewage trunk lines that stop any Nissan deal.”

“So Philip wasn’t really trying to make a deal to buy Sanders’ land for Nissan? What does he get out of it?”

“Maybe the senator was paying back favors to some big donors in the Utility Authority.”

“So maybe Sanders did kill him. Then that still leaves the question of who killed Sanders and why. And how is Johnston involved in this, and Melody?”

My brain started to throb. I seemed to be going in circles. Then I remembered Bitty.

“Bitty should be here any minute. She has some information on Jefferson Johnston she’s going to share. It may be something you already know, but she sounds quite excited about it.”

Jackson Lee glanced at his watch, an inexpensive sports watch when he could probably afford a top of the line Rolex. “Where is she?”

“She went to pick up her dog. It’s being groomed.”

“Willow Bend?”

I shook my head. “No, the dog grooming place farther down the road, halfway between here and Snow Lake. Bitty says they give specialized care.”

He grinned. “Bitty sure is particular about that dog.”

“Bitty can be fiercely protective of someone or something she loves. I sure wouldn’t want to get in her way.”

We both smiled, thinking of Bitty wearing that dog like a new ornament all the time, as obsessed with it as she’d been her boys when they were younger. That’s just Bitty’s nature. She’s always been like that. One thing about Bitty, she loves deeply. That may sound like a funny thing to say about a woman who’s had four divorces, but while she may make light of it at times, each decision had been heart-wringing for her. And once the decision was made, there was no going back. She had to reach the point of No Return, and after that, while she could be civil to them, and may even love them as a friend, nothing any of her husbands could say would coax her back.

After another half hour passed, Jackson Lee called Bitty on her cell phone to see what was keeping her. She didn’t answer, so he called the grooming place to see if she’d left yet. The expression on his face made me uneasy, and when he hung up, he took a deep breath.

“Bitty left an hour ago with her dog. Rachel said she saw her talking to someone in the parking lot, but she couldn’t see who. Bitty’s car is still there.”

I gripped the edge of his desk hard enough to break a nail. “Was it Melody Doyle, do you think? Or . . . or Jefferson Johnston?”

“I think we need to bring in the police. Whether or not she’s in danger, we can’t take any chances.”

I didn’t argue. Bitty isn’t stupid. Bitty wouldn’t get in a car with either, especially if she’d just found out things about Jefferson Johnston, since she and I had already decided that Melody is somehow connected to him. So if Bitty did get in a car with one of them, even Melody, it had to be because she was forced.

Jackson Lee was on the phone with the Holly Springs Police Department when I stood up. He waved me to sit back down, but I shook my head. I couldn’t just sit. I had to do something. I had to go to Bitty’s house to tell Clayton and Brandon before they heard it from someone else.

“Tell Jackson Lee that I’m going to Bitty’s house,” I said to Diane on my way out, and she nodded. He’d know why.

Clayton was gone with some friends, but Brandon was there. Most of the boyishness in his face vanished, and his mouth thinned into a taut line when I told him my fears. He nodded.

“Mama isn’t a fool. Scattered, yes, but she’s not known to be stupid. If she thinks it’s not right, she wouldn’t get in a car with one of them unless she was forced.”

“I know the police are efficient, but the more people out looking, the quicker we can find her, I hope. But Brandon,” I added when he reached for his cell phone, “tell everyone not to get close if they find them, just call the police immediately. If Melody has been desperate enough to kidnap Bitty, she might be desperate enough to kill her if anyone goes blundering in.”

“If that bitch touches one hair on my mama’s head, she’ll wish she hadn’t,” Brandon said in a growling tone that reminded me a little bit of his grandfather. John Truevine hadn’t been any man to mess with when it came to his family. Just like my daddy.

Knowing a force of determined college kids was about to be mobilized, I felt a little better about Bitty being found. Give young adults an important mission, and my experience has always been that they are more than capable of succeeding.

“Oh,” I said as Brandon headed for the door, “you might go by and pick up Georgie Marshall, too. Gaynelle Bishop’s niece. She’s probably at the museum or the cemetery.”

Brandon stopped in the foyer. “Why her?”

“She’s more than familiar with the history of Holly Springs and is likely to know the best hiding places.”

Making an “okay” sign with his thumb and forefinger, Brandon left. I headed over to the Inn. Rayna could mobilize the Divas, and would know who to trust.

I caught her in the midst of her new painting, a rendition of the Audubon gardens out at Strawberry Plains. She was working from a photograph taped up to a small easel nearby.

As soon as I told her about Bitty, she stripped off her work clothes and grabbed a dog leash off a hook. That startled me.

“What are you doing?”

“Jinx is a tracker. We’ll take him with us if we find a location where Bitty might have been taken. I’ll call the Divas. You go back to Bitty’s and get an article of her clothing that she’s recently worn.”

I looked doubtfully at Jinx, a rather pudgy golden retriever mix who’d sat up alertly the minute Rayna picked up his leash. He doesn’t look like a tracker, unless it involves ham hocks or roast beef, but then, as I’d recently been reminded, appearances can be deceiving.

I left for Bitty’s.

Maybe Bitty’s much neater than I am, or better at hiding her sloppiness. It took me several minutes to find an article of her clothing that I knew she’d recently worn. Her nightgown lay in a white wicker clothes hamper hidden under a shelf in her bathroom closet. How tidy. My discarded clothes go into a rattan hamper in plain sight in the bathroom. I like organization, but don’t feel a need to hide it.

By the time I got back to the Inn, Rayna had changed into sensible shoes with socks, khaki pants with pockets on the legs, a long-sleeved windbreaker, and wore an
Atlanta Braves
baseball cap. Jinx looked very business-like in a spiffy little orange vest and his brown leather leash. I felt inappropriately dressed, as usual.

“You’re fine,” Rayna said when I mentioned my clothes, and tossed me a windbreaker. “Just take that along. We’ve got a storm brewing.”

A glance outside showed me bright sunshine, soft breezes, puffy clouds, and gently swaying grass. But like Rayna, I know how quickly a storm can blow across the Mississippi river and the delta, coming from the west with colder air that clashes with the warm, humid air coming up from the Gulf Coast. It usually creates thunderstorms at best, tornados at worst. Part of the price for living in an area rich with history, cotton, and eccentric relatives.

“Is anyone coming here to meet us?” I asked, and Rayna shook her head.

“Gaynelle’s calling Sandra and Georgie. We’ve all got cell phones to keep in touch.”

“Oh good. Then Brandon doesn’t have to find Georgie. What about Cindy?”

Rayna hesitated. “After all the confusion, maybe it’s best to leave her out right now.”

I understood. “Five of us should be enough, anyway. Clayton and Brandon and their friends are out looking, too. And of course, the police. I imagine Jackson Lee has his own posse rounded up by now.”

“We’ll find her.” Rayna put her hand on my arm. “She’ll be all right, Trinket. Nothing bad ever happens to Bitty. Or bad enough to really hurt her, anyway.”

Nodding, I said, “I know. Mama says it’s because she’s crazy as a Betsy bug, and we should be as smart as the Indians. They knew to leave crazy people alone.”

Rayna smiled. “See? Bitty comes with her own built-in protection.”

I just hoped we were right.

* * * *

Jackson Lee showed up at the Inn with Kit Coltrane. I was too worried about Bitty to do more than nod at Dr. Coltrane.

“I’ve joined the search party this time,” he said, and it took me a moment, but then I remembered my comment to him the day he’d found me in the root cellar.

“Civic duty is always appreciated,” I said, and Dr. Coltrane smiled.

“Jackson Lee shared the basics with me, but what do you ladies think? You’d have more of an idea where they might have gone than we would.”

While I was a little surprised that the male ego was so ready to relinquish any kind of control, even just asking our opinions, Rayna immediately said, “It’d have to be somewhere she feels safe. Melody, I mean. I’m sure the police are checking Mrs. Overton’s house and probably The Cedars, as well as Easthaven and Dr. Johnston’s office. Those are the most obvious places. I think she might go to her cabin.”

“What cabin is that?” Jackson Lee asked.

“Snow Lake. That’s how she met Cindy, you know. At one of the Snow Lake community dinners. And that’s how we met her.”

“So Cindy joined the Divas at Melody’s invitation?” I asked. When Rayna nodded, I wondered if I had overlooked a connection there. Truth is, my brain darted from one possibility to the next, and I didn’t rule out anyone as a suspect. I told you I’m a cynic.

Gaynelle arrived at the Inn then, parking in the rear like the rest of us. Sandra was with her.

“Where’s Georgie?” Rayna asked Gaynelle, and I slapped my forehead.

“Oh, I didn’t call Brandon. He probably picked her up. I figured she’d know the best places to look since she knows this area so well.”

Gaynelle nodded. “So that’s why she didn’t answer her cell phone. I thought she might be here already, so Sandra and I came on over. I’m glad she’s with Bitty’s boys. She’ll help them.”

“Okay,” Jackson Lee said, “now that we know where everyone is, we need to decide where everyone searches. As Rayna said, the police are covering the obvious places first, but they won’t stop there. We don’t need to be covering territory already covered, or backtrack.”

The tone of his voice was grim and urgent. My stomach flipped. When I looked over at Dr. Coltrane, I recognized urgency in his expression, too. While I’d already realized the danger, it hadn’t seemed truly real until that moment. Maybe somehow I’d still held out hope that it was just another one of Bitty’s melodramas.

Maybe I swayed or something, because Kit Coltrane grabbed my arm and held it. “We all need to split up into pairs and search different areas first,” he said. “The Marshall County police are checking here, so someone needs to check Snow Lake since it’s in Benton County.”

Jackson Lee got out a legal pad and wrote down specific areas to search. Then he gave them out. “Sandra, you come with me. We’ll take horses out to the old Richmond place where they lived after they lost The Cedars. Kit, you and Trinket check the Snow Lake cabin. Gaynelle, you and Rayna see if the dog can find a trail at the groomer’s. We’ll keep in touch by cell phones. My number’s on here, everyone swap cell numbers. Call as soon as you find something or rule it out.”

I rode with Dr. Coltrane in his red four-wheel drive truck. It still smelled faintly of rotten potatoes and pine cleaner. Three car deodorizers had been hung in the front of the dual cab. The bed has one of those covers over it to protect his supplies.

“It seems much later than two o’clock,” I said after a few moments of silence. Kit had taken the back way behind the railroad depot, the truck rocking a little bit in white gravel ruts as it climbed up the hill to Salem Street. Salem turned into Highway 4 a half mile or so down the road.

“That’s because you’ve been so busy this morning.” He glanced over at me. “We’ll find her, Trinket. Do you mind if I call you that?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not. You always seem to show up in dire emergencies, so you can call me anything you like. Within reason, of course.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Call me Kit.”

“Now that we have that out of the way, do you think we should stop and talk to Rachel at the dog grooming place? She might have remembered something else by now.”

“Sure. That’s on the way. It won’t take long, and we can leave when Gaynelle and Rayna get there.”

We turned right to head east for Snow Lake, my stomach muscles thumping in time with my heartbeat. Poor Bitty. Was she scared? I remembered being locked in that root cellar, waking up to solitude and black dread. I’d heard that fear makes a person’s senses more alert, but it had only sent me into overdrive. Bitty might fare even worse.