Ham Bones (2 page)

The sound of a loud bay drew both of our attention to
the Cadillac. Sweetie Pie, my invincible hound, was
standing on her hind feet, paws against the window, looking for Tinkie's little dust mop, Chablis.

"Where is your dog?" I asked. Tinkie seldom went
anywhere without the Yorkie.

"I'm having her topknot layered and glitzed. She has a
seat for opening night. Chablis, in case you've forgotten,
is a huge fan of Tennessee Williams"

I cast a sidelong look to see if she was teasing. Tinkie
sometimes took it a little too far with Chablis, who was
manicured, primped, and treated like a child prodigy. I
loved the little rascal, but I didn't believe she cared for
stage productions.

"I'm only kidding," Tinkie said as she grasped the last
of the decorations. "But I am having a cocktail party at
Hill Top on opening night, and I want Chablis to look her
best"

"Right." I stuffed the last of the cedar into my trash
bag and tied it shut. "So what, exactly, is it you want me
to help you do?"

"The cast is due to arrive tonight. I want to have fresh
flowers in the dressing rooms-"

"Dressing rooms?" I wasn't a member of The Club,
but I'd been there plenty. There weren't any dressing
rooms.

"Renata Trovaioli insisted that she must have her own
dressing room, so while I was ordering new construction,
I had one fixed up for Graf and Sir Alfred Bascomb. Can
you believe it?" She clutched my hand. "Sir Alfred Bascomb is going to be here in Zinnia. He's incredible. I saw
him in Lolita " She looked like she was going to swoon.

"An incredible bore" I'd had one encounter with the
Brit, and it had left me emotionally gutted. The man had
looked down his hawkish nose at me and told me to get
elocution lessons. "He doesn't find Southern drawls the
least bit interesting."

"Did you see him in The Gentleman Caller? I mean ..:
Her hand went to her heart. "I cried for days!"

"Yeah, boo-hoo" The more she talked the more I knew
I didn't want any part of her plans.

"Sarah Booth, did you really sleep with Graf ? He's
probably the most handsome man I ever saw. I'll bet-"

The question came out of the blue and struck like an
arrow in my heart, bringing a kaleidoscope of images of
the two of us as young lovers in the most fascinating city
in the world. I held up my hand, palm toward her face.
"Talk to the hand, Tinkie. My New Year's resolution is to
leave the past behind me" I gave her a glare. "Graf is the
past. No good comes of digging it up"

"You did sleep with him!" She arched an eyebrow. "I
sure hope Coleman isn't the jealous type. Then again, he survived your fling with Hamilton Garrett V, and he is
still married."

"Not for long. His marriage is a technicality." Coleman had filed for divorce in November. The case was
slowly winding its way through the court system, and
hopefully by spring he'd be shed of Connie and her insanity.

"Coleman hasn't been sleeping over here" She spoke
fact. "The two of you haven't consummated your relationship, have you?"

I kept my gaze on the bag of Christmas rubble. "Coleman has honor. He doesn't want to start with me until he's
completely free of Connie." I cleared my throat. "He was
also shot in the chest, if you remember."

She shook her head slowly, her blue gaze holding mine
until I looked away. "Honor is one thing, Sarah Booth,
but to leave you all alone Christmas Eve. That's just plain
stupid. He could sleep over and hold you. What's-"

"I haven't been alone." In another minute my blabbering mouth would be telling Tinkie my concerns-or even
worse, all about Jitty. Tinkie would call the men in white
suits. "I mean Sweetie Pie was with me, and Coleman
came by. We built a fire, and we exchanged our gifts."
What I didn't say was that he'd been careful to leave before our passions sent us upstairs to my bed.

"I hope you didn't serve him any of that fruitcake you
made. After Virgie's deadly batch, I can't imagine ever
eating fruitcake again."

"Coleman understands tradition. And fruitcake is the
only tradition I keep at Christmas."

Tinkie's expression shifted to something close to pity
and her blue eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry, Sarah
Booth. I know how much you miss your family."

I shrugged because I didn't trust my voice. I did miss my parents. Years hadn't dimmed the hurt, and the best
thing to do was simply not to talk about it. "I'll help you,
but only today. I'll take my car; I want to be home before
the actors arrive."

"Don't trust yourself with Graf?"

The devil had danced away her tears. I couldn't help
but smile. "I have no feelings for Graf except regret. I remember too well what a pompous ass he is."

"Then why won't you stay and welcome all of them?"

"Because I have a date with Coleman at eight." It was
a lie born of pride. The trouble was that I hadn't seen
Coleman all week. All I could do was pretend.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll meet you at The Club."

I grabbed the huge vase of American Beauties and
started back into The Club. My back was killing me. I'd
never thought I could be exhausted by hauling flowers
and fruit baskets, but Tinkie had worked me like a field
hand. She was a regular Patton at cracking out orders. I
had serious sympathy for the numerous employees of The
Club who fell under her regime. Oscar, as president of
Zinnia's only bank and largest stockholder of The Club,
wielded a big stick. Tinkie had borrowed it for this event,
which had become her special baby. She was determined
that Graf, Renata Trovaioli, Alfred Bascomb, and company would have every amenity a large city could provide. Zinnia would not be looked upon as a backwater.

I put the flowers on the dressing table especially
crafted for Renata Trovaioli, a woman I'd once been an
understudy for in a Marsha Norman play called 'Night,
Mother. Renata had been the worst kind of prima donna,
and there wasn't a night that went by that I didn't wish
she'd fall into the orchestra pit and give me my chance. I'd loved the play. Renata, though, was healthy as a horse.
The only thing that might kill her would be a flying house
from Kansas. I couldn't conjure one of those up, so I
never had a chance to speak even a line of the play. Renata, on the other hand, won a Tony.

"Sarah Booth, quit daydreaming and put that vase
down. I need someone to help me hang these pictures.
They're only reproductions, but Renata is a huge fan of
Van Gogh. I thought these would be homey." Tinkie held
a painting of a vase of sunflowers with a frame that must
have weighed ninety pounds.

"Could you hold it up there so I can see how it looks?"
She pointed at a wall.

Hefting the painting with a small grunt, I lifted and
lowered and shifted and eased until she declared perfection. "Hold it right there. I'll be back with a nail and hammer."

This work was far more difficult than pulling down a
bit of garland. I'd make Tinkie pay.

When at last the picture was hung, I stepped back.
"I'm going home, Tink. It's after six." I was starving and
my shoulders were on fire. "Everything looks great" And
it did. She'd done a spectacular job. The space looked like
the backstage area of an elegant theatre. The lighting was
flattering, the area for costumes plentiful, the sofas and
chairs more comfortable than what I had at home. She'd
blown through a wad of cash, but her plan was to auction
off everything any of the actors touched. She'd recoup her
outlay and make additional money for The Club's Hurricane Relief Fund.

"Is that it couldn't be Sarah Booth Delaney!"

The baritone voice froze me to the spot. I closed my
eyes and swallowed while Tinkie did her best sorority
squeal.

"Why, it's Graf Milieu! Sarah Booth, turn around and
look. It's really him!"

I knew it was him. I'd recognize his voice anywhere.
I'd saved phone messages from him, simply to hear that
rich, sexy voice. I spun around, pasting pleasant on my
face. "Why, Graf, you look marvelous."

No hardship to say that. His dark hair was touched by
gray at the temples, and there were a few additional character lines at the corners of his eyes, but the hand of time
had touched additional handsomeness into perfection.

"Sarah Booth, you've never looked lovelier."

Before I could do anything, he swept me into an embrace. His lips, so warm and firm and tasting of peppermint, closed over mine. The kiss went from friendly to
sexy in a nanosecond. "I've thought about you every day
for the past year," he whispered into my ear. "The only
reason I came to this godforsaken hole was to see you."

"Easy, Graf." I wiggled free of his arms. My heart was
pounding, and I couldn't look at him. His words were
vindication for an old, ugly wound. When I'd left New
York, he hadn't made a single attempt to stop me. Not
even a please. He'd remained silent as I picked up my last
suitcase and walked out into a bitter winter day. He'd
watched from the window as I'd gotten into the taxi. He
didn't even wave.

Since I'd been home, he hadn't bothered to call. Not
even once. Not even to make sure I'd gotten home safely.
When I left New York, I left his sphere of awareness. Or
so I'd thought.

"Why, Sarah Booth, you look pure flushed." Tinkie
sucked in her bottom lip. It popped free and I heard a
gasp behind me. Sir Alfred Bascomb stood only two feet
away.

"I am flushed. With hunger." I strode away from Graf and Sir Alfred, heading for the hallway that would, eventually, lead to an outside exit. I had no use for either of
them. "I'm going home, Tinkie," I called behind me. "I
have plans."

"In the arms of the great, big, handsome sheriff, who
is still legally married," she called after me, and I knew it
was for Graf's benefit. I heard her high heels tapping after
me.

Betrayal stung me. "Coleman is your friend," I whispered to her even though we were well out of earshot.
"How could you?"

"Every cook knows an extra hunk of meat improves
the stew." She grinned. "Sarah Booth, Graf looked at you
like a starving man would eye a T-bone"

"How flattering. And how accurate. I'd be his next
meal, and then he'd move on to dessert-if I were even
slightly interested, which I'm not" I put my hand on her
arm. "Tinkie, you don't know the history between us. He
treated me poorly."

The mischief fled from her eyes. "You're right. I don't
know the history. It's just that you've been so down lately.
Coleman isn't making you happy, and I thought a harmless flirtation with Graf might perk you right up"

The problem was that Graf was never harmless. He
could charm the knickers off the Queen Mother, and
there was always a price to pay for being the object of his
attentions. "Not a good plan. Let's get this production up
and running so these people can vamoose"

"Okay. No more meddling." She stood on tiptoe and
kissed my cheek. "If you promise to laugh a little more"

"I promise." Anything to keep her from trying to set
me up with Graf.

Renata Trovaioli swept into the hallway. Her hair was a tangle of Medusa curls and her ice-blue eyes were offset
with kohl that gave her an exotic aura. "That stalking
bitch is hanging around the front door. I was promised
there would be security to protect me. She's going to kill
me. She is! She's got a poster and is marching back and
forth calling me a heartless killer!"

I had no idea what Renata was talking about, but Tinkie stepped forward to handle it.

"I'll call the sheriff." Tinkie whipped out her cell
phone and began the call, as Graf and Sir Alfred came
down the hallway toward us.

Renata's bosom heaved dramatically, and her hand
fluttered as if she nearly fainted. "Someone, please! Help
me!"

She slumped artfully into Graf's arms. As he looked at
me, he rolled his eyes. While Renata's theatrics were annoying, they did give me a chance to slip out the door and
depart.

As I stepped into the cold January dusk, I saw a petite
woman with auburn hair and a huge sign. When she
turned toward me, I could read the neatly lettered words.

"Renata doesn't brake for pets!"

I walked over to the woman. "You probably have every
right to despise Renata, but I should warn you they're
calling the cops"

"My name is Kristine Rolofson, and I've been arrested
at every venue Renata has played since she struck Giblet
and left her lying in the street, bleeding and in pain."
Anger sparked in her eyes. "She's going to pay, and I
won't stop until the laws are changed. She should've been
prosecuted for leaving the scene of an accident."

"If you want to live to picket another day, you should
leave." I pointed in the distance to the flashing blue lights. Coleman, Gordon, or Dewayne was on the way. Or, it
could be all three of them. Even law officers weren't immune to the intrigues of celebrity.

Kristine lowered her sign. "She really called the police."

I nodded. "Renata is acting like you're a security risk."

Kristine laughed. "Right. I'm so deadly. She just doesn't
like the bad publicity that comes with me ""

I had an inspired idea. "Put your picket sign in my car,
and I'll take you straight to Cece Dee Falcon, the reviewer for the Zinnia Dispatch. She's a close friend, and
I'm sure she'd love to hear all about Giblet." My grin was
wicked.

"Great" She tossed her sign into the backseat of my
roadster, whistled up her dog, and both of them jumped
in.

In less than a minute we were on the road to town and
what I hoped would be a huge thorn in Renata Trovaioli's
side.

y eight o'clock, I was in my pajamas and under a
-fleece throw in front of the fireplace. My lie to Tinkie
gnawed at my conscience. I had no date with Coleman,
and hadn't seen him since New Year's Eve, when he'd
given me a chaste kiss on the cheek and ducked out the
front door as the ball was dropping in New York City.