Bone Appétit (28 page)

Dawn was just breaking over the pasture, which was empty because Reveler and his buddy Miss Scrapiron were vacationing at my friend Lee McBride’s. I trudged upstairs to shower and prepare for the day. I wanted to be back in Greenwood early, but first I had to see Doc.

I left the dogs at Dahlia House. Dew sparkling on the cotton plants and the tree leaves, a billion diamonds glittering in the first shafts of sunlight. My favorite time of day.

Doc was, as I anticipated, in his office. The smell of coffee snaked down the hallway to alert the innocent he was brewing up a witch’s pot of strong caffeine. I’d attempted to drink his brew a few times. Never again.

When I tapped on his door and entered at his invitation, I was greeted with a smile. “Sarah Booth,” he said as he came around the desk to hug me. “You look healthy. A bit thin for my taste, but your color is good.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Thanks to you.”

He waved my gratitude away. “You’re here about those Greenwood murders, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Ricin, digitalis, belladonna—those are unusual poisons.” My impulse was to pace, but I didn’t. “I know my client, Hedy Blackledge, didn’t poison anyone. But I have to find out who did.”

Doc settled in the chair behind his desk and motioned me toward another. I moved a stack of documents to the floor. The place looked like a recycling center.

“Coffee?” he asked.

I eyed the pot in the corner. I thought a bubble rose from the primordial goo. “No thanks. I like having enamel on my teeth.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m glad to see you up and sassy. You had me worried, Sarah Booth.”

“I know.” It wasn’t a kidding matter. I’d come close to dying. “I’m fine, Doc. But I need some help with those poor dead girls.”

“Strange case. No doubt they were poisoned, but the delivery is interesting. More toxicology reports were faxed in this morning.”

“What did you find?”

“Because Brook was terribly burned, the cause of death was obvious, or so it seemed. The initial tests revealed her body had been rubbed with ambergris, which is flammable. What they failed to detect was the belladonna in her body lotion. It was masked by the ambergris.”

I knew a bit about the plant. “Women used it to make their eyes bright because it dilates the pupils. It translates to ‘beautiful lady.’ ”

“It’s the source of atropine, which ophthalmologists use to dilate eyes for an exam. When a cornea has a minor scratch, it can alleviate the pain.” He gave me a chance to interrupt, but when I didn’t, he went on. “It’s also called deadly nightshade and a host of other names like Devil’s Elixir. Used topically, it’s a critical numbing agent. In an overdose, it can also lead to cardiac arrest and asphyxiation by shutting down the respiratory system.”

“Brook would have died even if she hadn’t caught on fire.”

“She was likely dying as she burned.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think the killer meant for her to burn. I think the action of the poison took longer to kick in than expected. The killer meant for Brook to die during her performance. Not of fire but of asphyxia.”

“Where does belladonna come from?”

“The plant isn’t really native to these parts, but it could
be cultivated here. Hell, by manipulating temperature, soil, and water in a controlled or even hydroponic situation, folks can grow just about anything. It isn’t a difficult plant, is what I’m saying. You know, deadly nightshade is strongly associated with witchcraft. It’s a topical anesthetic and also a hallucinogen. Not a reliable one, because it can kill quickly, but it is potent. That’s how it came to be associated with witches and flying.”

He rubbed the corners of his mouth. He looked like he’d been up all night. “During the witch trials, possession of belladonna was a hanging offense. A lot of healers who used the plant for good were accused of practicing witchcraft.”

“And that gave the real killer a perfect setup to frame Hedy as a ‘conjure woman,’ ” I noted. “The ricin comes from the castor plant, which grows wild here, correct?”

He nodded. “Especially down along the Gulf Coast. The castor plant also has medicinal uses. I doubt Libby ever dosed you with castor oil, but it was used a lot during my sprout days when a young-un looked a might pea-ked.”

“Pea-ked?”

“Pale or jaundiced, usually from eating too much junk food or simply having a case of the pouts. Folks my mother’s age would get out the bottle of castor oil and give a young-un a tablespoon full.” Even the passage of six decades hadn’t dimmed the bitter taste. Doc’s face compressed. “Nasty stuff that cramped your stomach and made staying close to the bathroom a good idea.”

“Sounds unpleasant, but isn’t it deadly?”

“Not the oil used in the laxative form. Ricin, made from the castor bean, is one of the deadliest poisons around.” He picked up a notepad and studied it. “Foxglove, which is the plant that produces digitalis, is also easy to grow in this
area. A lot of people are unaware of the medicinal value of the plant and cultivate it for the beautiful blooms. The interesting element with Babs Lafitte is incorporating the poison in a cigarette. She’s lucky to be alive.”

“Do you think she’ll regain consciousness?”

“She has. Early this morning.”

“Thank heavens.” I checked my watch. It was going on seven o’clock. I needed to get back to Greenwood to interview Babs. She might hold the clue to finding the real killer. “Doc, no one was murdered last night. There were extra precautions in place. The final event is today. I wish they’d cancel the whole thing.”

“This may or may not be helpful, but I suspect your killer grows these plants. They can be ordered over the Internet, but with heightened national security, it might set off alarms.”

“That will narrow it down.”

“Look for someone who has a green thumb and has some knowledge of the occult.”

“I’m more certain now that Hedy is being framed. All of these poisons could have come from her backyard. She’s admitted she has an interest in botany and marine biology. The killer left gris-gris bags with each girl who was poisoned. This is a complicated setup.”

Doc got up and poured another cup of coffee.

I couldn’t swear, but I thought I heard a splat, as if a blob of semisolid coffee had splashed into his cup. The idea was disturbing in more ways than one. “Gotta hit the road.”

“I shouldn’t need to caution you to be careful,” Doc said. “Poison is one of the easiest ways to kill someone. Medical science can detect it now and trace it back, as we’ve done with these young women. But, sometimes, if the poison is
metabolized, there’s no trace. And no antidote. If you ingest the wrong stuff, Sarah Booth, you’ll be dead. Finding the killer doesn’t bring the dead back to life.”

“Have you spoken with Graf?” I didn’t mean to sound suspicious, but it seemed everyone and his brother was trying to protect me.

“No, I’ve talked with the young coroner, the one better suited to preaching than searching out the motives for murder.” Doc came over to me, his coffee cup in one hand. He put a palm on my forehead to take my temperature and then kissed my cheek. “You be careful, Sarah Booth. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Doc. If you find anything else, call me.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ve discussed this with Coleman, and he’s offered to help Jansen. Things are calm here in Sunflower County, thank goodness.”

The thought of Coleman butting heads with Jansen made me smile. “Good idea. Did he say he’d be in Greenwood?”

“Didn’t say, but it wouldn’t surprise me to see him there.” He patted my shoulder. “You’re too thin. When you and Tinkie solve this case, I’ll treat you to a tray of bear claws from the bakery.”

I had one more stop to make before I left Zinnia. I called Tink to tell her the good news about Babs.

“Can we talk with her?” Tinkie was raring to go. Oscar had recharged her batteries.

“We’ll give it a try. Ask Jansen if he’s interviewed her yet.” The Greenwood chief would not appreciate us preempting him.

“Will do. I’ll wait in the room. We can visit Babs together.”

“I’ll be there as quick as I can.” I disconnected as I pulled under the big shade tree in Tammy’s, aka Madame Tomeeka’s, front yard.

Our psychic friend had been strangely silent in the last few days. It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear from Tammy at least once a week. Sometimes I played a big role in her dreams and visions, and she always alerted me to danger when she sensed it. After the tragedy of Brook Oniada’s death, I hadn’t heard a peep from Madame Tomeeka.

I was relieved no other car was parked there. Tammy’s services were popular with area residents who sought her advice on everything from dating to illnesses.

The screen door wasn’t latched, so I went in, calling her name.

“In the kitchen,” she yelled back.

No surprise since the smell of bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the house. Tammy, along with her special talents, was an excellent down-home cook.

She indicated a chair at the table, and I sat while she poured me coffee and broke two eggs in the frying pan. “You’re here about those pageant girls, aren’t you?”

Her tone was neutral, but she didn’t face me. Tammy had made it clear she wanted no part of the competition. I’d brought trouble to her doorstep. “Actually, I need to ask you about poisonous plants and voodoo.”

She put a plate of eggs, bacon, grits, and biscuits in front of me and prepared one for herself. She’d cooked enough for two people, as if she’d expected me, or someone, to arrive.

“I don’t truck with voodoo.” She refreshed our coffee.

“Do you believe in it?”

“Why are you asking?”

I told her about the gris-gris bags and the girls who’d been attacked.

“Doesn’t matter what you or I believe. Voodoo, charms, the power to harm or heal—that comes from the person. If you believe it, it’s real.”

I’d learned this lesson from Doreen Mallory in a previous case. “Do voodoo practitioners use poisonous plants?”

She nodded. “Many groups use drugs in rituals, whether you classify them as religious or spiritual or evil. There’s a history of drug use in voodoo. Whether poisonous or not, elements are designed to hurt people. In voodoo, intent is the weapon.”

Tammy always told me when she had a vision about me, but since she’d volunteered nothing, I asked. “Have you seen anything happening to me?”

Pushing back her chair, she went to her kitchen window. “Not you.”

Her words constricted my chest. “Tinkie?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fear made me react poorly.

“I told her, Sarah Booth. It was her vision to know. I urged her to share it with you. Obviously she didn’t.”

“What did you see?”

She returned to the table and took my hand. “The dream wasn’t specific. She was walking in the woods in a white gown. It was a beautiful place, with sunlight and big oaks. Ferns carpeted the ground. Tinkie slowly staggered and fell. She stretched out with the ferns as a cushion, and she went to sleep.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“When I touched her, she was cold. I couldn’t wake her up.”

I stood up so fast, my chair slammed to the floor. “Are you saying she died?”

Tammy held tight to my hand. “I don’t know.”

“What did she say when you told her?” Tinkie hadn’t
shared this information with me—she meant to spare me worry. Not a good idea.

“She assured me she would be careful. She promised not to eat anything remotely related to the competition.” Tammy tried to tug me back into my chair, but I pulled free.

“That’s not good enough. I’ll make her go home.”

Tammy sat up tall and regal. “You can try. I did. But when you fail, stay close to her. If anyone can keep the devil at bay, Sarah Booth, it’ll be you.”

Along with making her man feel like the king of the world, Tinkie had been a busy gal. I opened the door of our hotel room to find her at the window with some high-powered binoculars watching the front of the Viking Cooking School. We had a pretty good view, unassisted, of the building, but the binoculars snapped everything into sharp focus—including the expression on Karrie Kompton’s face as she lurked outside the building.

“Jansen said we could speak with Babs at ten.” She kept her binoculars glued to Karrie.

“What’s the bitch queen up to?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice neutral. Confronting Tinkie about Tammy’s dream would accomplish nothing. She was, indeed, as hardheaded as I ever dared to be.

“Her attitude says no good.” Tinkie reached over and pinched me hard on the waist.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“Leaving me alone with Oscar.”

“He’s your husband,” I protested loudly. “I thought the two of you would work out a few kinks, have some yucks, and he’d be in a better mood.”

Tinkie lowered the field glasses. “His intent was to convince me to drop this case and go home.”

Now I wished he’d succeeded. “That rascal. And I thought I was doing a nice turn by clearing out of the room and taking care of the pups so you two could have a romp.”

“Oh, you did. It took me all of two minutes to divert his attention from the case. By the time he left this morning, he’d forgotten why he came here.” She bit her bottom lip and let it slowly pop from her mouth. Oscar, even after years of marriage, was not immune to her wiles.

“I wish I’d learned guerrilla tactics in man management,” I said. I made a choice right there: I wouldn’t tell Tinkie I knew about the dream. I would watch her like a hawk.

“My strategies are time-tested and true,” she conceded with a smile. “As your aunt Loulane tried to tell you, Sarah Booth, you can catch more flies with sugar than vinegar.”

I only rolled my eyes. It seemed everyone in my life felt free to quote my dead relatives to me—even my dead relatives, since I counted Jitty as familly.

“What’s Karrie up to now?”

“The cooking school isn’t open, so she’s beating on the window. The person inside is pointing down the street.”

Karrie walked away, her hips swaying in a motion that was all sex. “Let’s check out her room.”

“Even though it’s a hotel, it’s still breaking and entering.”

“Only if we’re caught,” I pointed out.