Splintered Bones (29 page)

"Cece is smitten with him?" I asked, remembering the day he'd come into her office looking for publicity. He'd certainly played to her sense of power.

"They're thick as thieves," Lillian said, visibly making an effort to pull herself together. Though her voice was still shaking, she continued. "Cece's been busy driving him around the area, introducing him to people who might want to invest in one of his developments."

I knew Lillian's attitude toward developments. It ran a close parallel to mine. We were antiprogressives, lovers of the soil instead of asphalt. We were troglodytes.

"What exactly does he want to develop?" I asked.

"Quaint inns, bed-and-breakfasts, culturally stimulating things such as a working plantation, maybe a racetrack. To hear Cece talk, Nathaniel is popping with ideas. Like a big fat bloodsucking tick."

Harold kissed Lillian's cheek. "It does me good to hear you so riled up. Otherwise, I'd be worried about you. I'm going to take Sarah Booth home. Last chance to ride with us."

"I'm staying," Lillian said. "I'd better go look for them. Nathaniel's probably staking out the burning barn as a great locale for an ice-skating rink surrounded by discount shopping stores."

Harold stood beside me as we watched her move slowly into the night.

"Come on, I'll give you ladies a ride home." Harold still had Sweetie on the rope. He grasped my elbow with his free hand and led me toward his car. He put Sweetie in the back and me in the front, and he walked around and got behind the wheel. He drove very carefully away from Swift Level.

"Coleman went to tell Lee, didn't he?" I asked.

Harold hesitated. "Yes. He thought it would be best if he could tell her alone." He drove for a few moments before he spoke again. "Listening to Lillian was very interesting. I should tell you that Nathaniel Walz came by the bank a couple of days ago. He was asking about Dahlia House."

I had thought I was numb, incapable of feeling any emotion. I was wrong. A bolus of fear and anger zoomed through me. "Asking what about Dahlia House?" I'd come so close to losing my family home only the year before. At that time, a developer had been interested in the land for a strip mall. The idea of seeing Dahlia House razed and leveled, the rich soil entombed beneath asphalt, still haunted me. Harold had tapped into the main line of my fears.

"Asking if you might sell it."

"I'm not behind in any of my notes. How dare--"

"I told him that Dahlia House was not, under any circumstances, up for sale."

The pressure inside my skull eased, allowing for some brain function. I'd been about to jump down Harold's throat, and he was protecting me.

"Sorry. Hot button."

His chuckle was amused. "Sarah Booth, I always thought it was your thumb that was your hot button."

If I had ever doubted that he knew what effect he'd had on me the night he'd seduced my thumb, I now knew the truth. I was struck simultaneously by a weak throb in my thumb and a hot flush in my face.

I decided that I would fall back on some Daddy's Girl training and ignore the gauntlet that Harold had thrown down. "I wonder how Nathaniel knew to ask about Dahlia House." Cece would never, never divulge my financial difficulties, not even if Nathaniel Walz were the last man alive.

"He knew a great deal about a lot of property in this area. Inside information. I asked him where he got it, and he only laughed. He said it was his business to know these things."

"But you let him know Dahlia House wasn't in any danger?" I needed the reassurance of repetition.

"I did." Harold reached over and brushed my hair from my face. "Sarah Booth, as hard as you've worked to save your home, I couldn't let you lose it."

Once again, tears threatened. My emotions were raw, my thoughts jumbled. Out of the clear blue, Harold had made an offer so generous that I couldn't begin to thank him. But I had to try.

"I can't tell you what it means for you to say that."

He picked up my hand and brought it slowly to his lips. "Sarah Booth, you've won my admiration and respect. Be careful, or you're going to have to decline another marriage proposal from me."

"I'll think about being careful," I answered.

We were almost to Dahlia House when I spoke again. "Why did you invite Carol Beth to the dance?"

Harold thought for a moment. "The finances at Swift Level are of interest to Coleman. He has never believed Lee's confession, and he believes that Kemper's death was because of financial difficulties. He asked me to keep an eye on Carol Beth, to see what her interests were at Swift Level. She isn't a client of mine, so whatever she told me in social conversation could be passed on. Taking her to the dance gave me a reason to call on her. For all the good it did."

"Did you learn anything?"

"She was determined to have that horse. 'Obsessed' may be a better word. I won't say she set Kemper up to lose money gambling, but I know she encouraged it. She loaned him money, which only put him deeper in the hole. When he was in over his head, she cut off his funds and demanded Avenger. Kemper's ace up his sleeve was Tony LaCoco, or so Kemper thought. LaCoco is a businessman with only one business: high-interest loans. Carol Beth wasn't above dealing with LaCoco if she thought it would help her get Avenger." He seemed to be searching for the right words. "Carol Beth can't seem to see the difference between taking something from someone else and building something of her own."

"She lost a lot tonight. At least financially. It looks like her husband is going to divorce her."

"She put Bud Lynch in a corner, and he jammed her back. I have to say Bud gave her fair warning, repeatedly."

"I told Coleman about the check Kip wrote."

He patted my hand. "I know. He was upset with me, but in time he'll get over it."

"In time, will I?"

Harold pulled up in front of the house. Reaching back, he opened the door and let Sweetie Pie out. "You have no choice, Sarah Booth.

You'll either recover or die. And dying isn't as easy as you might believe."

He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Good night, Sarah Booth. Drink some whiskey and try to sleep."

Instead of going inside, I sat on the front steps and watched Harold's red taillights disappear. I didn't have the heart or the energy to go inside. Sweetie had undoubtedly gone to the back and gained entrance through her own personal doggy door.

I heard the sound of footsteps coming across the wooden boards, and I was glad Jitty had decided to stay home and wait for me.

"Sarah Booth, are you okay?"

The voice was unexpected--masculine, yet full of warm
Mississippi
nights. In the darkness, I couldn't see the man's features.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Chill, it's me, J.B."

"J.B.?" I was on guard. The night had left my nerves a ragged jangle, and this man had nearly scared my dress right off my back. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you at the motel earlier tonight. I saw you go into that gangster's room with the sheriff."

"What are you still doing in town?"

"I got a gig over at Smokin' Blues, out on the highway. I played there Friday night, and I'm doin' a brunch this mornin' at Playin' the Bones."

The porch light wasn't on, and I still couldn't see him. "Where's your mother?"

"She went on back to
Greenwood
. She doesn't care for the nightclub scene. I guess she freaked you out a little, huh?"

"Maybe just a little." I was too tired to lie. "She was lovely, though."

He came forward and took a seat on the steps. For some reason that made me feel better, and I relaxed beside him, arms folded on my knees.

"You look like you lost your best friend, ran over your own dog, and got gut-shot by the revenuers."

"Thanks, you have a way with compliments."

He chuckled. "I couldn't help but overhear some of what was goin' on tonight. You ever find the kid?"

Tears burned in the back of my throat, but I managed not to cry. "There was a fire. One of the barns burned. Kip went in to save a horse. No one saw her come out."

J.B. put a hand on my shoulder and began a slow, easy massage. "I heard all the sirens and wondered what was going on. That's sort of why I'm here. I talked to her a few minutes at the motel. She was hangin' out at the Coke machine by the office, tryin' to get up her nerve to see that gangster. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined. She was a gritty little thing."

" 'Gritty' is a good word for her. Did she say what she was doing with LaCoco?"

"Not in any detail. She said she was stayin' with you, and that she was the one who'd put your profile on the Internet. She was tryin' to help, you know."

I nodded, fighting a lump in my throat. "I know. What else did she say about LaCoco?"

"She had the idea that he was going to try and hurt her horse. She said she'd tried to pay him so he'd leave town, but that something had gone wrong. Then she said she'd fixed everything so her mother would be set free." He sighed. "I guess it didn't work out the way she planned."

"She didn't say what she'd fixed?"

"No. But when I came up on her, she and that little guy were talkin'. He'd really pissed her off."

J.B. kept working the knots in my shoulders. "What little guy?"

"The one in the neat suits. Some kind of deal-maker. He's staying at the motel. Likes to talk loud on the telephone."

"Nathaniel Walz?"

"I'm not sure of his name." John chuckled. "He's so lazy he won't walk over to talk to anyone else in the motel. He calls them on the phone. Can you believe that?"

Knowing that Walz was the kind of man who looked to destroy the past to profit from the future, I wasn't surprised at any aberrant behavior. "Did you hear what they were saying?"

"The kid just told him to go to hell. That's all I heard from her, but I've heard other things. Those walls are thin."

"Like what?"

"He found a place for that singer to move to. She wants to put in a sound studio and things like that. He found an old house that's cheap, something that has the space for everything she wants. I'm a blues man, but she's got the look of a country star. I wouldn't mind playin' some backup for her."

"You're talking about Krystal Brook?"

"Yeah, Krystal. She's pretty nice, too. Anyway, that Nat guy talked to her and her husband. I'll bet he's turnin' a pretty penny on that deal. He was talkin' to that gangster, too, and some other folks. I couldn't always hear too good. Somethin' about a piece of property that would come on the market soon at a really cheap price, due to some kind of economic screwup."

John was a wealth of interesting information. "You came here to tell me all of this? Why?"

"I saw you and the sheriff go in LaCoco's room tonight. I figured it was about the girl. I don't really know much, but I thought I'd come tell you what I know. I thought it might bear on your case. Like I told you, being a detective was always a fantasy of mine."

I had not treated this man with any measure of fairness, and yet he'd come to my home to tell me something he thought might be useful.

"Thank you, J.B."

"No thanks necessary. I hate it about the kid. If you need some cheerin' up, come by Playin' the Bones about eleven. I'll play a song just for you."

He walked down the steps and disappeared into the night. In a moment I heard the sound of his car, and then his headlights cut the darkness as they sped down the long drive toward the road.

I forced myself to get up and go inside. No matter how weary, how defeated, I was going to make someone pay for what had happened to Kip.

Jitty was sitting at the top of the staircase. She wasn't her vibrant self. Her skin tone was a little on the ashy side.

"Girl, you've talked your way through most of this night, but what are you gonna do now?"

"I don't know," I said, stepping past her.

She followed me into my bedroom. "Will Coleman let Lee go free, since Kip confessed?"

"I don't know." I let my red dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Jitty didn't even raise an objection when I left it where it fell. "It's odd. Now that Kip's confessed, I'm not so certain she killed her father." There were a lot of things niggling at me.

Jitty sank down in the old rocker that my mother had used when I was an infant, and generations of Delaneys before that. She rocked slowly. "Any other detective would be glad to have things neatly wrapped up."

"If this case were neatly wrapped up, I'd be happy, too."

"Kip confessed to the murder. What could be neater?" Jitty persisted.

I went to my purse and got out the hair clip. Roscoe had never said how he came by it. "Kip, Bud,
and
the horse are gone," I reminded Jitty. "Lee will collect the insurance on Kemper and on the horse."

"Are you saying that Lee benefits from all of this tragedy?"

I slowly paced my bedroom. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm too tired to think right now."