Ham Bones (19 page)

When he picked up my hand on the table, I felt a chill
touch me. He still had power over me, especially in the
vulnerable state in which Coleman had left me. "Answer
my question, please," I said.

"I was thinking. Renata did change. There were
times-just fleeting moments when I thought I saw
something like fear in her eyes. I remember once, she was
backstage in Reno, and I walked up behind her as she was
staring in the mirror. I would have sworn she was petrified of what she saw looking back at her."

His words chilled me again, and this time it wasn't
sexually charged. "What could it have been?"

"I put my hand on her shoulder and asked if I could do
anything to help her. She almost bit my head off. That
was Renata. She rebuffed all efforts of kindness. It was
like she was afraid to allow anyone to see her innermost
fears"

Bingo. Graf had hit the nail on the head. But what
could she have feared so much? Had she known all this
time that someone was trying to kill her? I'd never
worked a case where a person had been so aloof. Not one
single person really knew Renata.

"Do you have any idea why she hated me so? To the
point that she would frame me for her murder."

He gently touched my cheek. "She was jealous of you.
There were hints of it when she pushed all of us into coming to Zinnia instead of closing out the contract and going
home. She would bring up your name to try and get a reaction out of me"

"Why? I hadn't crossed her path in a year? I hadn't
even been to a show as a spectator." I couldn't help that I
was whining slightly.

"She somehow viewed you as having something she
didn't have, something she wanted"

"You?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I was honorable with Renata until
she pulled the plug on our romantic relationship. Sure,
then I had some flings. Before that, though, I honored my
word to her."

"What could it be?"

Graf's laughter was bitter. "You have friends, Sarah
Booth. People who care about you. You left New York,
whipped and beaten, and in twelve months, you've turned
your life around completely. You're loved here in Zinnia.
You're doing a job that makes a difference."

The look in his eyes almost melted my bones. When
he looked at me, he saw a diamond. A year ago, I was a
lump of coal. No matter what anyone ever told me, this
was a satisfying sensation.

I couldn't let my emotions control me. I had to keep
pressing if I planned on proving my innocence. "Some thing changed in Renata's life. Something drastic in the
last year."

"You'll find whatever it is, Sarah Booth. You and Tinkie, and the rest of your friends."

I could only hope he was right.

I awoke the next morning and snuggled beneath the
quilts on my bed as I watched the sunshine warm the
floor of my room. This was my last performance as Maggie the Cat. Part of me felt relief, but another part, a part
I'd thought long dead, wanted more of the stage, more
character to bite into. What was I going to do, assuming I
didn't go to prison?

Pulling one of the quilts around me, I walked to the
bedroom window and looked out over the bare fields. My
gaze was drawn to the ten acres of bright winter rye that
I'd had planted for Reveler. He was frolicking about in
the grass, dancing with his shadow in the crisp morning. I
needed a companion for him. I had plenty of land for a
second horse, but I'd avoided the responsibility-and the
expense. Dragging the quilt, I went to the telephone and
dialed up my old friend Lee McBride. She'd bred Reveler
and given him to me as part of her fee when she'd been
charged with the murder of her rapscallion husband.
Some men did need killing, and he'd been a prime example of the breed. Now that she was free of him and of the
wrongful murder charge, Lee was breeding some of the
finest horses in the nation.

She answered on the fifth ring. "Lee, can I borrow
Miss Scrapiron for a while?" She was a lovely bay mare.

"I'm headed to see Dr. Matthews today. I'll drop her
off before lunch."

"Thanks." I hung up. Lee knew I'd take care of the horse no matter what. She didn't feel compelled to ask
any questions. And I hadn't questioned my impulse. My
next call was to Graf.

"How about a ride this afternoon before the show?"

"I'd love it." His voice said he would.

"Two o'clock. Meet me in the barn." I hung up and sat
down on the edge of the bed. I'd taken control of my life
and wrested it back into forward movement. Coleman
had broken my heart. I was charged with a murder I hadn't
committed. The future loomed ahead of me, secretive and
dangerous, but I'd made a plan for the afternoon. I'd taken
a step. It was something.

The telephone rang, and I almost jumped out of my
skin. No one would call so early except Tinkie, and I
hoped she had news.

"Ms. Delaney?"

I didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the
phone. "Yes."

"This is Brenda Mulholland. I'm Connie Peter's sister." Good thing I was sitting. "Connie wants to talk to
you"

I don't think-" But my words went unheeded. I
heard Connie's voice.

"Sarah Booth, Coleman has told me all that I've done
to you. I want to apologize."

She sounded lucid and sane. I wasn't interested in getting in a moving vehicle with her behind the wheel, but I
could talk to her on the phone. Still, I felt like one of
Jacques Cousteau's cameramen being lowered in the
metal shark cage.

"I heard you had surgery, Connie. I hope you're feeling better." Damn those Southern manners! Why couldn't
I just tell her to screw off ?

"I feel like a tremendous pressure has been relieved.
But I didn't call to talk about me. I did some bad things to
you. I'm sorry, and I hope one day you'll consider accepting my apology. That's all I wanted to say."

"Do you remember what you did?" I couldn't help myself.

"No, but Coleman has given me chapter and verse.
I'm not going to try to lay this at the door of a brain
tumor. All I can do is promise you that I'm making plans
as quickly as possible to get out of your life forever."

I took a breath. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I'm moving to Jackson with my sister. As soon as I
get out of the hospital, I'm dropping my countersuit
against Coleman for the divorce. You win, Sarah Booth"

Whatever the genteel response to such an admission
might be, I was at a loss to give it. "What does Coleman
say?"

"Not much. I thought he'd be tap-dancing in the hallways." There was a pause. "I have to go. I'm scheduled
for a CAT scan"

"I hope your health improves, Connie." And I did.
Poor health was more than anyone deserved.

There was a click, and she was gone. I pulled the quilt
closer and considered flopping back in bed. Connie had
taken the starch out of my spine.

Behind me I heard the rustle of many petticoats. Jitty.
In antebellum attire, no doubt. I wanted to hide in my
quilt. Maybe even my guilt, because for some reason I
had just taken a heaping helping of starch-laden guilt,
compliments of Connie.

"I hear Connie's cleared the infield and thrown you a
touchdown pass"

I whipped around. Jitty hated football. And no one
wearing an azure dancing gown of silk should ever talk sports. "You've been eavesdropping. How come you can't
do that when I need help solving a case?"

She glided into the room with a movement that sent
her hoop skirts swinging. "So Connie's leaving town? Do
you believe it?"

"More to the point, what do you believe?" I often let
my heart lead me astray, but Jitty was more of a skeptic.

"Why would she call you, Sarah Booth? Connie doesn't
owe you anything." One eyebrow arched. "It's something
to ponder."

"Thank you, Jitty." I couldn't stop the laugh. Trust
Jitty to put things in perspective. Connie didn't have a
noble bone in her body. She'd almost accomplished exactly what she intended which was to make me feel
bad.

"Why don't you call Coleman?"

I couldn't believe those words were coming from
Jitty's mouth. "Why?"

She fingered a beautiful pearl necklace at her throat.
Apparently the jewels in the afterlife were better, too. "He
should know about Connie's call, and you can bet she
won't tell him."

"I'm not supposed to talk to Coleman. It might taint
his murder case against me ""

Jitty laughed. "Before you go riding with Mr. Hollywood Britches, give the lawman a call. Sarah Booth,
you've always been an all-or-nothing kind of woman.
You're making decisions about your future without all the
facts. Truth be told, you might be lining yourself up with
a killer."

Jitty wasn't trying to aggravate me. She was serious.

"You think Graf killed Renata?" I truly hadn't given it
serious thought. I knew him. He was a convenient liar and
a self-centered bastard at time, but not a killer.

"I don't know if Graf killed her or not. But I do know
that you didn't. If you didn't, someone else did, and he's
high on the suspect list."

Suddenly my afternoon plan for a ride seemed impulsive. Jitty was making sense. I needed a hot shower and
some time to gather my emotions. "Thank you, Jitty."

"I only want your happiness, Sarah Booth" Her voice
became an echo as she began to fade. "Only your happiness."

I was left sitting in my room cocooned in a quilt made
by the hands of one of my ancestors. I jumped to my feet.
I had places to go and things to do before the morning
was gone.

I picked up the phone and called Tinkie. She answered
sounding sleepy and content, though it was nearly nine.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Oscar and I had a late night." I could hear the satisfaction in her voice. Though they'd had their ups and
downs, as all couples do, there was still the spark of passion in their marriage. I stamped down the flare of envy. I
didn't begrudge Tinkie a single moment of marital bliss. I
just wanted to sample a good relationship for myself.

"I'm going to get dressed and head over to the hospital
to talk to Doc Sawyer about Renata's autopsy," I said.
"Want to join me?"

"Sure" Tinkie sounded suddenly wary. "I talked to
Coleman yesterday, too. He's going to try to get Renata's
medical records from Dr. Abraham Samen on Sunset
Boulevard. Cece came through for us"

I'd never doubted that Cece could get whatever information she set her sights on. She was persuasive. "Did
Renata have plastic surgery?"

There was a moment's pause. "No. And I don't want to
talk about this over the phone"

Tinkie was sensitive about medical information, and I
didn't blame her. "Let's meet at the hospital. I'll pick up
some coffee and pastries on the way." We both knew better than to attempt Doc's brew. There was the possibility
that it multiplied on its own regenerative power.

"Thirty minutes," Tinkie said before she hung up.

Ioc Sawyer had been trying to retire for the past year,
but folks in Sunflower County just wouldn't let him.
He maintained an office beside the emergency room in
the hospital allegedly a part-time office-but Doc was
there from six A.M. until his work was done.

When I knocked on his door, he opened it and let a
smile move over his face. "Sarah Booth, you look more
like your mother each time I see you" He leaned over to
kiss my cheek. "Congratulations on your acting success.
You're a smash!"

"Thanks, Doc. Few people in town are brave enough
to kiss an accused murderer."

"Ah, the stupidity of the masses. Remember, these are
the same people who push down trees to lay asphalt.
What can you expect?"

I held out the bag of pastries. "Tinkie's on her way. We
need a pow-wow."

"Fate is kind to an old country doctor." He took the
bag and rummaged until he found a cheese Danish. Doc had the metabolism of a fourteen-year-old basketball player.
He could-and did--eat whatever he wanted without gaining an ounce. He'd been my childhood doctor, so I figured
him to be in his sixties, at least. Except for the untidy cloud
of white hair, he looked younger than that.

"Tinkie got the basic autopsy report on Renata, but I
need to ask a few questions."

He nodded. "I knew Coleman would share the facts,
but I thought you might be by. I made a copy of the report
for you"

"That's great" I checked my watch. Tinkie was never
late. I retrieved a cup of coffee from the second bag I'd
brought. I offered Doc a cup, but he shook his head and
got a cup of black syrup from his own pot.

"Have you tested that coffee for medicinal properties?" To my knowledge, Doc had never been sick a day
in his life.

He only laughed. "My coffee isn't for the faint of
heart"

There was a light knock on the door and Tinkie stepped
inside. She took the coffee I offered and after a brief investigation of the pastry bag, settled on a cinnamon roll.