Ham Bones (4 page)

"Defend Sarah Booth all you want," Renata said.
"When the play fails to open, she'll be to blame."

I'd had enough. Memphis was a couple hours away,
and it would be worth going just to get away from Renata's ceaseless harping. "I'll go get your lipstick, just to
shut you up"

Tinkie's smile was worth whatever it was going to cost
me. I was doing this for her, not Renata.

The leading lady pulled a card from her purse. "They
sell this shade to no one but me. You'll have to give them
my card before they'll give it to you"

"How exclusive." I refrained from rolling my eyes, but
just barely. Taking the card, I stared into Renata's perfect
face. She was a great beauty, but there was something
plastic about her expression. Perhaps it was the lack of
warmth in her eyes. Whatever, she'd lost the facile expressions of her youth and had become hard and brittle.
She was only thirty-seven, but I could see the hardness of
her future. Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. If I
worked at it, I could almost pity her.

"Get it right." She dismissed me with a wave of her
hand. "Since you had no talent on the stage, Sarah Booth,
perhaps you'll work out as an assistant."

"Did it ever occur to you, Renata, that if you don't get
your precious lipstick, I'll open the show in your stead?"
I'd hoped to harpoon her, but she only chuckled.

"The dream of the understudy. Fetch the lipstick, dear,
and stop wasting all of our time with your futile dreams"

It wasn't the sting of Renata's words that forced me to
walk away, it was the look of pity on Tinkie's face. I realized then that Tinkie knew more about my rusty dreams
than I'd ever believed. She knew, and she hurt for me. I
had to get out of there before I decked Renata Trovaioli
and ruined all of Tinkie's hard work.

I tanding outside the cosmetic shop on a busy Mem_>phis street, I forced myself not to rip open the hermetically sealed lipstick. The old man who'd run the shop-a
crank who looked like Ebenezer Scrooge-told me he
didn't keep samples of the colors, so I had no idea what
Almond Mocha Retreat looked like. It had to be something pretty special for Renata to have such a fit over.
Then again, she could have a hissy fit over the sequin
count on a gown. She was that kind of gal.

Tapping the lipstick against my palm, I fought against
the urge to rip it open and write Renata's name coupled
with obscenities on the sidewalk. Only my friendship
with Tinkie saved the lipstick. I got in my car and turned
toward home. Renata would have her Almond Mocha Retreat, the curtain would rise, and Tinkie could bask in the
success of the production. I'd seen enough during the rehearsals to know it was a superb rendition of Tennessee's
work.

Although the playwright had never lived in Zinnia, he'd spent plenty of time in the Mississippi Delta. He
would be proud that his work was being performed by
such a talented cast. Despite the fact that she had the personality of Godzilla, Renata was a spectacular actor.

As I crossed the mighty Mississippi, my cell phone
rang. Tinkie checking up on me for sure. I answered in a
fake Japanese accent.

"Sarah Booth?"

Coleman's voice sent chills down my spine. "Sorry, I
assumed it was Tinkie"

"We need to talk."

Four little words that could stop a perfectly healthy
heart. "Sure. When?"

"I have to go to Jackson this afternoon"

"What's in Jackson?" As if I didn't know. Connie Peters was institutionalized in the Bridge, an upscale mental
ward. I suspected that Coleman was footing the bill, but
I'd never asked. He had to assuage his guilt in the way
that worked best for him.

Coleman opted not to answer the question. "Tomorrow
is the opening of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Would you like
to go with me? Maybe we can talk after the play."

That would leave me in torment for only twenty-six
hours. "Sure"

"Good. I'll pick you up about six. Maybe we can have
a cocktail at The Club."

"Perfect" I put the cell phone away and gripped the
wheel with both hands. Something was definitely on
Coleman's mind, and I didn't think it boded well for our
relationship. I'd deliberately left him alone to deal with
his feelings about Connie. He carried a lot of guilt about
her mental condition, though Connie had always been
half a bubble off plumb as far as I could tell. In high
school she'd been the Energizer Bunny or Gloomy Gus. There was never that happy balance. Bipolar would be
my uneducated guess. Since it was chemical, Coleman
couldn't assume the blame, no matter how hard he tried.
And he was trying hard.

The truth was, he was trying much harder to feel
guilty over Connie than he was trying to have a relationship with me. There was also the nagging fear that his
wound wasn't healing properly.

My own spirits sank even lower as I drove through the
empty cotton fields toward home. My life was a void.
Any minute I could step into the chasm and completely
disappear. Only Tinkie, Sweetie Pie, and Reveler would
notice.

I pulled into Dahlia House as dusk was settling. Perhaps I should have gone by The Club and delivered the
lipstick, but I wasn't up to verbal sparring with Renata.
I'd let Tinkie take it in the morning. It was too late for a
ride, but I went to the barn to feed Reveler. The cold
weather had made him frisky, and he reared and bucked
as I gathered his feed.

Horses are herd animals, and I wanted to get him a
companion. While a goat might work, I had my eye on a
beautiful little mare at Lee's place. She was a half sister to
Reveler and shared his good nature and common sense,
but I'd have to break several big cases before I could take
on another mouth to feed.

Sweetie Pie met me in the barn as I was finishing. Her
tail wagged furiously in greeting, and she gave one low,
sweet, hound-dog howl. Jitty had another greeting entirely as I stepped through the back door.

Her dress was rich green velvet, and before I could
stop myself I hurried into the parlor to make sure the curtains were still in place.

"Fiddle-dee-dee," she said. "Don't get your panties in
a wad. I haven't pulled down the draperies."

"And it's a good thing."

I had forgotten that her costumes came from another
plane altogether. The ghostly seamstress who'd constructed
this concoction must have used fifty yards of lush velvet
and a half-mile of satin trim. "Panties in a wad isn't exactly a saying from the pre-Civil War era. Scarlett didn't
wear panties." I eyed the liquor cabinet but decided that
Jack on an empty stomach was begging for a hangover.

"You look like someone stole your lunch money."

"You look like a Cecil B. DeMille production." I
matched her tit for tat.

"Where's that lawman?"

The one thing I didn't want to do was explain Coleman's whereabouts to Jitty. It wasn't that she didn't like
him. She just wanted me in the state of nuptial bliss. Until
the divorce came through, Coleman wasn't a good prospect
to put me there.

"I'm going to-" The phone rang and saved me from a
spur-of-the-moment lie. I picked it up and answered.

"Put on your best miniskirt and let's go dancing."
Graf's voice was a rough purr.

The one other thing I didn't want to do was stay in the
house moping about Coleman and arguing with Jitty. Heck,
there was hardly room for her dress and me. "Sounds like
a plan."

"I'll pick you up at ten when we finish rehearsals."

"I'll be waiting."

Jitty didn't follow me to my room, and I bathed and
dressed in privacy. Her absence worried me a bit, but I
figured she was dancing the Virginia Reel with some
Rhett Butlerish ghost. I intended to tap my toes to a far different sound. Super Chicken was singing at Playin' the
Bones.

Not caring that I might appear too eager, I was on the
porch when Graf arrived. He kept the conversation light
on the drive and through dinner. When Super Chicken
took the stage, I'd forgotten how much fun it was to dance
with a man who knew all my moves.

"What did you do to Renata today?" he asked after we
returned to the table for more drinks.

"Not nearly as much as I'd like to"

"She was fit to be tied for the whole rehearsal." He
leaned close and his breath touched my ear. "She said she
was afraid you were going to try to kill her so you could
get on stage"

"Right. That's my plan." Around the club couples were
dancing to a sexy tune. I was glad Graf and I were sitting
this one out. My body had a mind of its own when it came
to hot music and men.

"She told everyone that you were out to get her."

"She'd better worry about Kristine Rolofson. That
woman has a reason to kill Renata. Imagine, hitting a dog
and then driving away to let it die on the side of the road"

Graf's finger tucked the hair behind my ear. He leaned
in so close his lips touched my lobe as he spoke. "Renata
doesn't like dogs."

"Renata doesn't like anyone" I got up. Playing with
fire would only get me burned. It wouldn't warm the
cockles of my heart. Only Coleman could do that. "I'd
better head home, Graf. It's a long day tomorrow." I
reached into my purse and withdrew the lipstick and
charge slip. "But you could give this to Renata. I picked it
up for her in Memphis."

His left eyebrow arched. "You picked it up for her?"

"Is there an echo in the room?" When a Daddy's Girl repeated a question, it worked. Graf was merely being
sarcastic. "I charged it to my credit card, so here's the slip
so she can reimburse me"

His laughter was warm as we stepped into the cold
night. He put his arm around me and pulled me close, just
as I noticed Deputy Dewayne Dattilo coming in with a
date. Dewayne's kicked-puppy look turned red-hot with
betrayal. Coleman's deputies were loyal to a fault.

I turned to Graf and whispered that I was cold. He
pulled me closer. Let Coleman stew on that!

It took only long enough for me to get seated in the car
to regret my actions. I wasn't a high school kid; I was
supposedly an adult. Yet I was acting like a hormonal
teenager trying to make an uninterested boy jealous.
Great. Move over in the loony bin, Connie, I'm about to
book a room.

Now I'd simply have to live with the consequences of
my actions. I'd admit the truth to Coleman when I saw
him. I'd tell him that his absence had hurt me, and that I'd
struck back in a truly childish action, using Graf, who deserved such treatment, but nonetheless I didn't want to be
the one dishing it out. By the time that train of thought
ended, I was exhausted, and Graf pulled in front of Dahlia
House.

"I'd love it if you invited me in for a nightcap."

I didn't remember him being so blunt. Then again,
we'd been lovers for nearly two years in New York. Perhaps subtlety was only necessary for a first conquest.

"I'm in love with someone else." It was time to be a
grown up.

"You loved me, once"

"Once upon a time is for fairy tales, Graf. What we
had wasn't real. I thought it was. I wanted it to be. But it
wasn't. Nothing about my life in New York was real ex cept the disappointment and the fact that I didn't have the
talent to make it on Broadway. Those are the only truths I
brought home with me "

"I never thought you'd be a bitter woman, Sarah
Booth. I'm sorry for the hand I've had in making that
happen"

I wasn't bitter! I was a realist, and he was an egotist.
Take a lesson from the past, Sarah Booth! "Good night,
Graf." I got out and walked into the dark and empty
house.

During the week of rehearsals, I'd prepared my dresses
to be Maggie the Cat. Since it was unlikely that Renata
wouldn't finish a week's run in Zinnia, Keith Watley hadn't
allocated any funds for an understudy wardrobe. No matter, I had my own inspiration. My mother's dresses, though
a bit snug in the waist and bosom, were perfect for the
part. I was holding them up on hangers, wondering how I
could get them into Coleman's truck without an explanation, when his knock came at the door.

Brazen was the choice I made. "Coleman, please put
these dresses in the truck" I handed them to him at the
door without an invitation to enter.

He hung them in his truck, and when he got back to the
door, I handed him a drink and ushered him inside. "Let's
have a drink here, where we can talk alone. What did you
want to tell me? That I'd make a perfect Maggie the Cat?"
I played it for humor because my heart was thudding.

"The play has sort of been the last thing on my mind."

Looking into his eyes, I could see that. Panic struck
me. He'd come to break up. The sadness was there, just
behind the intelligence. "What's been the first thing?"

"They're going to operate on Connie. There's a tumor. In her brain. It might explain her behavior for the past
few years"