Rock-a-Bye Bones (37 page)

“Wonderful news!” I clapped and whistled.

Coleman was not to be avoided, though. “Out front, Sarah Booth. Now, please.”

When he used that voice, I had to obey.

The day was sunny and brisk and the light golden. Coleman steered me across the drive and toward the barn. It was a perfect day for a ride, but my horses were still at Lee's, where they were safe from Gertrude's evil schemes. Except I heard the thunder of hooves and my three beauties crested a hill, squealing and bucking and farting. Only a horse could make a fart charming.

“They're home!”

Coleman was pleased with himself. “I called Lee and she brought them this morning.”

“What about Gertrude?”

“That's what I want to talk to you about.”

“She's dead? Did I kill her? I honestly didn't mean to.” I sounded a lot like Dorothy, who hadn't meant to melt the wicked witch.

Coleman put a finger on my lips. When he gently touched my chin, lifting it so that my gaze met his, I connected with such a jolt that I put my hand on the pasture fence to steady myself.

“She isn't dead, but based on the blood the highway patrol found in the field, she's hurt pretty badly.”

“She escaped?” How was that possible? She had no means of transportation and she'd been hit by a car.

“Someone stopped and picked her up. And someone had planted a tracking device on Tinkie's Cadillac. DeWayne took it off and sent it to the state lab for analysis. I doubt we'll learn anything except the brand and maybe where it was bought. There weren't any prints.”

“Gertrude's had help all along. Bijou,” I whispered.

“Maybe, but I can't prove it. A state team from the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation is tearing Hemlock Manor apart right now. The main house and every outbuilding on the property. If Bijou is guilty of harboring Gertrude, she'll pay a hefty price. Wherever Gertrude is, she won't be bothering you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“She's not a young woman, Sarah Booth. She's seriously injured. If she values her freedom, she won't come at you again.”

He knew something else. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Maybe I'll spill if you tell me what Tinkie was really doing in Memphis.”

“Keep your secrets. Fiddle-dee-dee, who wants to know anyway?” I assumed my best Scarlett persona.

“I figured you'd protect Tinkie to the grave. But I don't want to know, because then I'd have to charge her. Just leave it. And those bounty hunters are gone, too.”

Awareness widened my eyes. “You think they picked up Gertrude?”

“Maybe.”

“But they'd take her to Junior Wells. They were working for him.”

“Unless they weren't.”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Gertrude has had help all along. You're right about that. Someone has been giving her money, information, places to hide. And to that person, she was a real liability. She was reckless and foolhardy and dangerous. Whoever was funding her would be revealed if she were captured.”

“You think they snatched her up to do away with her?”

He focused on the bucking horses as they frolicked around the pasture. “I do, actually.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. That's what I want to ask you. Who benefits from having Gertrude on the loose to torment you? To possibly hurt you?”

“I don't know anyone who hates me that much.”

Coleman sighed. “Someone does. And we have to find out who that is.”

“How?”

“By watching and listening and digging into your past cases.”

“You think it's someone from a past case?”

“Who else could it be?”

He was right about that. Prior to becoming a private eye, I'd led a life without conflict. There were jealous actresses in New York, but none had a reason to take out a vendetta on me. I'd never been that successful on the stage. Maybe some crazy fans of Graf Milieu, my former fiancé, would want to take me out—but Graf and I had broken up. I was no longer part of his world. It had to be past cases.

“After Thanksgiving, we'll get Tinkie and go over each case. There's a loose end somewhere. Someone with money and a motive to hurt you.”

“Okay.” I didn't look forward to this, but I was glad to have Coleman on my side.

“Would you do me a favor?” Coleman asked.

“Sure.”

“Take off that ridiculous pumpkin stem hat?”

“Why?”

“I can't kiss you when you're wearing that thing. Makes me feel like I'm abusing a vegetable.”

I laughed and removed the hat just as Coleman swept me into his arms and delivered on his promise of a kiss. “I'll find out who's behind this, Sarah Booth. I promise.”

And I knew he would.

When we ended the kiss, I needed a moment to compose myself. Scott and the band were on the way. Harold was in the house. Both were men who'd stated their interest. And they were my friends who deserved fair treatment. “I want to feed the horses. Alone,” I said softly.

“Don't be too long. I'll see you inside.”

I watched him walk away, aware yet again of my attraction to him. I hurried to the barn, glad to see my ponies filled with piss and vinegar and ready for breakfast.

I'd just filled their feed buckets when I sensed a presence behind me. Still raw from Gertrude's sneak attacks, I whirled, swinging an empty bucket like a weapon.

“Lawsy mercy, Miss Sarah Booth, you 'bout took your mammy out.”

“Oh, no! You cannot do this.” Before me stood Hattie McDaniel in her maid uniform and doo-rag. “This is politically incorrect, Jitty. Stop it now. Really, you must stop it now.”

“I made you some breakfast and I want you to stuff it in right this minute.” She magically held a tray filled with pancakes dripping in butter and hot syrup. “Then when you go in that house with all your gentleman callers, you eat like a bird. You hear me, don't go in there and shovel food down like a field hand.”

“What is wrong with you!” I had to get her out of the Hattie guise and back to herself. “Please, Jitty. Why are you doing this?”

“Who took care of Scarlett?”

She had a point. Mammy took care of Scarlett even when Scarlett was a terror. And Jitty took care of me, but she wasn't a mammy figure. Jitty had more style in her little finger than I had all over my body. “You do take care of me.”

She shimmered in the dim light of the barn and suddenly was my familiar haint, all svelte and stylish in my black jeans and a red cotton sweater. “Sarah Booth, you've had some hard lessons this past week.”

I couldn't argue that. “Tinkie and me both.”

“You didn't fail me or your parents. You lived up to your raisin'.”

“I almost didn't. I came close to killing a man in cold blood.” This was going to eat at me for a long time to come.

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

“Is that an Aunt Loulane saying?”

Jitty laughed. “No, I heard that on Johnny Carson, back in the day. I'm not sure where he got it.”

“I can't believe you're quoting Carson.”

She lifted her head and listened. “There's joy in Dahlia House today. Your mama and daddy are happy. I want you to know that. Now get up to the house and tend your company like you were taught.”

“I wish you could eat with us, Jitty.”

“Girl, I don't need food. If I ate like you, I wouldn't have a figure at all.”

She was a devil, but I loved her. “Happy Thanksgiving, Jitty.”

“And the same to you.”

The barn door cracked open and a shaft of pale gold light revealed only emptiness. Jitty had skedaddled. “Are you coming up to the house?” Tinkie asked.

“The horses have finished eating. I'm ready.”

We linked arms and walked through the golden morning light toward the house that I loved and the friends that I cherished.

 

ALSO BY
CAROLYN HAINES

SARAH BOOTH DELANEY MYSTERIES

Bone to Be Wild

Booty Bones

Smarty Bones

Bonefire of the Vanities

Bones of a Feather

Bone Appétit

Greedy Bones

Wishbones

Ham Bones

Bones to Pick

Hallowed Bones

Crossed Bones

Splintered Bones

Buried Bones

Them Bones

NOVELS

Revenant

Fever Moon

Penumbra

Judas Burning

Touched

Summer of the Redeemers

Summer of Fear

NONFICTION

My Mother's Witness: The Peggy Morgan Story

AS R. B. CHESTERTON

The Darkling

The Seeker

 

About the Author

CAROLYN HAINES
is the author of the Sarah Booth Delaney Mysteries. She is the recipient of both the Harper Lee Distinguished Writing Award and the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence. Born and raised in Mississippi, she now lives in Semmes, Alabama, on a farm with more dogs, cats, and horses than she can possibly keep track of. You can sign up for email updates
here
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Contents

Title Page

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