Ham Bones (9 page)

Scanning through the photos of Bobbe with the band, I
saw a different person. She was still the same tall, elegant
girl, but in the photos she was smiling and hugging
Danny Joe's waist. In another photo she was holding the
fake arm in her mouth like a dog. The fun was sick but infectious. In a final photograph, Bobbe and Danny were
getting married. Bobbe was pregnant and in the bloom of
health.

I compared the pictures on this Web site to the woman
I'd met at The Club. Bobbe was still a beauty, but the
smile had disappeared.

Bobbe's bio carried her forward to the off-Broadway
musical Stomp, and then she'd hooked up with Renata
and followed her for the past two years. New York, Atlantic City, Reno, and Mississippi. The photographs depicting the travelogue showed a woman with more and
more unhappiness in her face.

If Graf had been telling the truth about Renata blocking Bobbe's job at ABC, then Bobbe had good cause to
kill Renata. Danny Joe and C-4 were living in New York
City. The job at ABC studios would have been much easier on Bobbe than being on the road.

Sighing, I turned the computer off. It was nearly four
A.M. I had another performance at eight P.M., and if I didn't get some sleep, I was liable to fall off the stage. Crawling
under the covers, I let my hand drift down the side of the
bed to rest on Sweetie Pie's head. My hound was loyal
and loving. She never let me down. Why couldn't Coleman be that way?

I drifted into sleep where Coleman and I were standing at an altar. The minister held a Bible.

"Take the ring and place it on her finger," the minister
instructed. "Repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed"

But it wasn't a ring Coleman pulled out of his suit
jacket. He snapped the handcuffs around my wrists and
turned to the minister.

"Marry her? Why would I marry her? I'm taking her
to jail on a murder charge"

I woke up with sweat beading my face and my heart
racing. When I looked at the clock, it was just after six.
I'd been asleep for little more than two hours.

It wasn't enough, but I sure wasn't going to try again
after that nightmare. I got up and began to think about my
day. I'd become my own worst enemy. Instead of being
proactive, I was moping around, depressed, with my feelings hurt. What I had to do was begin to find the person
who'd killed Renata. If Coleman was going to try to pin
the murder on me, then I had to find the real killer.

And I had to do it soon.

I could feel everyone staring at me as I walked into
Millie's Cafe, Tinkie at my side. She slowed at a table
where Booter and two friends had stopped eating their
naked salads to stare at me.

"You've been to both performances of Cat, Booter."
Tinkie picked up a piece of spinach from Booter's salad bowl and chomped it. "I didn't realize you were such a
culture vulture. When we were at Ole Miss, didn't you
flunk Art Appreciation?"

"I don't recall." Booter was unfazed. "What I remember about Ole Miss was how every fraternity boy in the
school wanted to be my sweetheart. Compared to that, my
memories of Art Appreciation dim a bit." She batted eyelashes an inch long. "I guess being unpopular, you have
completely different memories."

Tinkie's smile had something feline in it. "I know what
you mean, Booter. When I heard the entire Ole Miss football team, including the B string, bragging about shaking
your pom-poms, why, I just realized what a wallflower I
was with only the president of the Greek system for my
homecoming date. How I survived without having my
name and phone number on the boys' bathroom walls, I'll
never know."

Tinkie selected the plumpest olive from Booter's salad
and popped it into her mouth. "I adore Greek salads,
don't you?" She took my elbow and steered me to the
back table where Cece and Millie were waiting. I'd called
a pow-wow of the smartest women in the state of Mississippi. During the sleepless night, I'd determined to fight
back.

"Sarah Booth, could I have your autograph?" Cece
held out a paper napkin. Beside her, Millie laughed out
loud.

"Don't look so glum, Sarah Booth." Millie whipped
out the National Enquirer. She was an avid fan of that rag
and the Star. "Look! You're a bona fide star! You're on the
cover!"

Indeed I was, in a clinch with Graf taken when we were
onstage. Even though I knew it was a play, I was trans fixed by the way we stared at each other. It was downright
passionate-filled with love and longing and hate.

"You're going to be a big star!" Millie got up and went
to the counter for two more coffee cups and the pot.
"Jimbo in the kitchen is fixing you up a piece of fresh
apple pie, a la mode. My treat"

My gaze had just found the headline above my picture,
which read, "Graf and old flame suspected of murder."
Below that was a picture of Renata taken several years
earlier. "Star dies of poisoning" was the headline for her
photo. I almost missed the tiny picture of the shaggy red
dog, but the headline caught my eye. "Giblet the Miracle
Dog tells why Renata Trovaioli needed to die!"

Great, the dog was giving interviews. I turned to the
page listed. Whatever the dog was saying expressed the
sentiments of his owner. As far as I knew, no one had seriously looked at Kristine Rolofson as a possible killer.
And God knows she had a motive. She'd devoted her life
to making Renata pay for the hit-and-run of Giblet.

"I've already read that," Millie said. "It was awful. Little Giblet was trotting down the street. He went every
morning to the deli and picked up coffee and a Danish for
his owner, Kristine."

"I know you three are crazy about dogs, but really!"
Cece wasn't pulled in by the canine-interest story. "How
did the dog pay for the coffee and Danish? I've been to
New York, and I never saw a deli owner putting up with
that."

Millie rolled her eyes. "Kristine had an account at
the deli. She paid by the month or week or whatever!"
She turned back to me. "The little dog had just picked
up the sack with the coffee and Danish and was headed
back to Kristine's apartment when Renata came flying
down the street going at least ninety miles an hour."

"There was a witness who clocked her speed?" Cece
shook her head. "Sounds like-"

"Kristine herself was sitting on the steps of her building waiting on Giblet. But she wasn't the only one. Another person saw Renata. She got the license plate of the
car and actually reported it, but the police wouldn't do a
thing because Giblet was only a dog"

"Only a dog," I repeated.

"At any rate, Kristine saw the accident and was able to
get Giblet to the vet immediately. After extensive surgery
and much pain and suffering, Giblet was saved. When the
police wouldn't prosecute, Kristine went directly to Renata. The only thing she wanted was an apology. Renata
slammed the door in her face!"

Tinkie had been silently following the conversation.
Her brow furrowed as she spoke. "There's no doubt Renata was a heartless bitch. There's no doubt she deserved
to die. What we have to prove is that someone other than
Sarah Booth killed her!"

A commotion at the front of the cafe caused all of us
to stop talking and look up. I held a forkful of delicious
apple pie in midair as I watched an extremely handsome
man walk through the tables.

We weren't the only people who'd stopped talking and
eating. Booter rose slowly from her chair as if magnetically drawn in the wake of the man, who was making a
beeline for our table.

His gaze swept over the occupants and settled on me.
As he drew closer, I could see the tension in his face.
Hazel eyes zeroed in on me as he advanced, and I had a
sudden feeling that no matter how handsome the package,
I wasn't going to like what he had to deliver.

"Sarah Booth Delaney?" he asked, standing to his full
height of over six feet.

"Yes" I wasn't about to back down to a stranger.
"What can I do for you?"

"Go to prison for the rest of your life." He spoke loud
enough so that everyone in the cafe could hear. The place
was completely quiet. Even Jimbo in the kitchen had
stopped chopping things and was listening.

"What are you talking about?" I lowered the apple pie
to the saucer.

"You killed my sister, and I'm here to see that Renata
is avenged" He looked around the cafe. "I want everyone
here to know that this woman is a murderer. I'll spend the
rest of my life making certain that she pays for the heinous
crime she committed."

Iece rose to her feet. I stood, too, sensing that I might
need to restrain her. She was always ready to jump to
my defense, but I didn't want to see her arrested while defending my honor.

"I have one thing to say," Cece said. She stood completely motionless.

"What would that be?" Anger simmered in the man's
eyes, and his voice was a dare.

"You are one handsome hunk of man!" Cece tilted a
shoulder. "I'm Cece Dee Falcon, society editor of the
Zinnia Dispatch. I'd really like to ... interview you"

"Cece!" Tinkie and I spoke in unison.

"Oh, calm down" She stepped around us so that she
was beside Renata's brother. "If I have a few moments
with Colin Farrell, here, I think I can make him understand that you're falsely accused, Sarah Booth" She
smiled up at him. "I'd sure like to give it the old college
try."

"You're the person who wrote that awful review."

Cece frowned. "That might have been my assistant."

"Cece!" Tinkie and I spoke in unison again.

"Oh, hush" She shook a finger at us. "And mind your
own business." She turned to Renata's brother. "What's
your name, shu-ga?"

"Gabriel Trovaioli." His anger hadn't dissipated at all.

"Gabriel, I'd be glad to hear your side of the story, but
I have to tell you, Sarah Booth wouldn't hurt a fly. Not
even an insect like Renata"

I wanted to knock Cece upside the head. She wasn't
helping matters at all.

"My sister called me the afternoon she died." He
turned angry eyes on me. "She told me she was afraid
Sarah Booth Delaney would kill her."

"What?" I didn't believe it. I hadn't even been near
Renata. "That's ridiculous."

"She said you were desperate to get on stage and that
you and Graf had rekindled your love affair. She said
you'd kill her and that Graf would try to cover for you"

"That's a pretty serious accusation." Millie held a
coffeepot in one hand and looked as if she might throw it.
"If Cece would quit thinking with her crotch, she'd point
out that slander is a serious charge"

Thank goodness for Millie. She wasn't immune to a
handsome face, but she didn't let a good-looking man
addle her brain.

"I didn't hurt Renata," I said crisply.

"Like you'd admit to killing her." He iced me with his
gaze.

"Mr. Trovaioli, I didn't like your sister. She was an arrogant woman with a mean streak a mile wide. But I didn't
kill her. I didn't even wish her dead"

He studied me. "You are good," he finally said. "She said you'd been working on your acting, and you're convincing enough"

My appetite was completely gone. Everyone in the
cafe had stopped all pretense of eating. Booter and her
table full of DGs watched with unadulterated pleasure.
"I'm not acting. I'm innocent. At least of hurting Renata
in any way."

"She warned me that you'd deny it. But I have proof."

That was impossible. There wasn't proof because I hadn't
done anything.

"What proof?" Tinkie rose and came to stand behind
my shoulder.

"Ms. Delaney works fast. She's already booked for a
screen test in Hollywood next week, as soon as the play
closes."

I was as stunned as Millie, Tinkie, and Cece. They all
turned to look at me with varying degrees of amazement.

"I haven't scheduled any screen test, and even if I had,
it isn't evidence that I killed Renata"

"You're busted, Ms. Delaney. Paramount Studios. Director Federico Marquez has ordered the test" He acted
as if he held the smoking gun.

Graf hadn't even bothered to wait for me to agree.
He'd gone on and scheduled my screen test. On the one
hand, it showed his faith in my ability. On the other hand,
it made me look guilty as sin. Denial was the river I chose
to swim. "I can't help what arrangements Graf has made.
I didn't agree to any screen test"

"Then you're turning it down?" Gabriel asked.

It was like a tennis match. Heads swiveled from me to
Gabriel and back to me. "I don't know." I spoke firmly.
"Since I didn't know about this screen test, I have to think
about it."

"Excuse me" Cece picked up her purse that matched her purple suede heels. "I just have the scoop for my next
story. Sarah Booth has screen test."