Smarty Bones (24 page)

“How do you know someone was in your room?”

“Things are moved. My makeup and personal items. And I can sense it. Boswell used to put everything exactly as I liked it. He appreciated how fractious I can be when anything is touched. I’m positive an intruder pawed through my things.”

“It doesn’t appear to be an emergency.”

“Fine. Don’t come. I’ll call Coleman. He’ll take me seriously. He understands I’m delicate. I have to be tough in my work, but I’m really a very sensitive person, and he appreciates those things about me.”

I wanted to throw the phone out of the car and then run over it, but I didn’t. Coleman was a grown man. Olive was … something else. I had no place anywhere in their relationship, certainly not trying to stand between them.

“I’m working on an aspect of the case, Olive. I don’t have time to stop by The Gardens. Why don’t you set up your expensive video equipment and monitor your room? Kill two birds with one stone—you can continue to document every breath you take on your quest to fame and fortune.”

“Good idea!”

The woman was impossible. She couldn’t even tell I was goading her.

“Report the incident to Gertrude. She takes her B and B’s reputation seriously. The idea that a miscreant is slipping around the rooms will motivate her to change your locks.”

“Another good idea. I had my doubts about you, Sarah Booth, but maybe you are a decent PI.”

“Thanks.” Her insults failed to rouse me. “What did the DNA indicate?”

The long pause got my attention. “It was inconclusive.”

“Meaning what?”

“They had trouble running the samples. The body was preserved in alcohol. Essentially pickled. When it was originally unearthed, the seal was broken and decay was almost instantaneous.”

“The alcohol destroyed the DNA?” This would certainly crimp her entire premise. Maybe she’d leave town and take her problems and all the turmoil she’d brought to Sunflower County with her.

“Not completely, but it will require a more sophisticated lab to process the DNA. I’ve sent samples off. But I also need comparison DNA. I’ve spoken with Jeremiah Falcon. He’s consented to giving me a swab, for a handsome price. He claims he needs money, but I think he’s hoping to discover a connection to the Lady in Red. Especially if I can prove she was involved in an attempt on Lincoln’s life.”

“When did you talk to Jeremiah?”

“About ten minutes ago. He’s supposed to be on his way to the hospital. They’ll conduct the test there and send it in—you know, so folks can’t claim later that I tampered with the results.”

I really wanted to wring Jeremiah’s neck. “I’ll be in touch.” I pressed the accelerator hard. Cece needed to know what her brother was up to.

“Don’t call me tonight. I have plans. The kind that won’t welcome a phone call or interruption, if you get my drift. Coleman is dropping by. And Sarah Booth, don’t tell anyone about the DNA test results. You’re my employee, and you have to honor my wishes.”

“I didn’t read that passage in the Olive Twist employment handbook.” I knew the minute I said it I was picking a fight.

“There are expectations in a relationship where one person pays the other for services. Discretion is one. It goes without saying for people with ethics.”

“Ethics?” I wanted off the phone, but I also had a few questions for her. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Richard Webber back when you were a graduate student? You two have a history—a sordid one, I believe.”

“Did he tell you this?”

“The source is confidential. Is it true?” I didn’t doubt it was, but I wanted to make her corroborate.

“You’re a better detective than I suspected. So you found out Richard and I had a torrid affair. He was smitten with me, completely and hopelessly in love. He wanted me to move to Oxford and finish my degree there, as his wife. I couldn’t do it, though. I’d invested everything in my studies at Tufts. That’s where I was awarded my PhD, and I was deep into the degree. Tufts is an excellent school, and credentials are everything in my line of work.”

My goodness, Twist could prattle on about her many wonders. “Did you know Richard had gotten a young woman pregnant?”

“Ummm, he said something about a baton twirler who was lying and attempting to trap him into marriage. He feared she’d go to the history department and report him. He languished in the final weeks of obtaining his PhD. Such a scandal would have been a righteous mess. Imagine a tramp accusing him of sexual assault. Thank goodness the little twit backed off her threats and realized she couldn’t trap a man as smart as Richard.”

I didn’t know if Richard was a terrible bastard or if Twist had reimagined history to suit her purposes. As far as I could tell, they both should be tied in a sack with heavy stones and thrown in a deep river. “I have to go, Olive.”

“You’re in my employ. We’ll talk until I say we’re finished.”

I made a crackling noise into the cell phone. “I’m losing reception. I’ll call when I hit a clear signal.” I punched off the phone and tossed it into the seat with Sweetie. “Silly woman,” I said aloud as I turned down a rutted dirt road that would, hopefully, take me to my man and my wayward friends.

*   *   *

Oscar’s camp was on the wrong side of the levee, meaning it was between the levee and the water. Crossing the levee was like entering a completely different world. On the dry side was an endless vista of cotton almost ready for harvest. West of the levee was a magical land of trees, sloughs, small ponds, and abundant wildlife.

The marginal land between the river and the levee can be a quarter mile in places, and much wider in others. Oscar’s property was in the latter. I drove into the brake and was instantly swallowed by a wilderness. The lushness of the green—trees, shrubs, vines—depicted my version of paradise.

Wild birds twittered and missiled in front of the car with such fearless abandon even Sweetie was in awe. There was no evidence of a camp or a cabin, but I kept driving. If this was Oscar’s property, no wonder he kept it in the family. This was a rare place in a world gone crazy with development.

Of course, when the river rose, most of this land would be underwater. Or all of it, depending on the severity of the flood.

To my left, a small herd of white-tailed deer broke cover and bounded away. They’d probably been sleeping in the summer heat, and the car had disturbed them. Though Sweetie was bred to hunt, she had no interest in chasing deer. Like me, she knew the beautiful creatures harmed no one and deserved to live in peace. Her choice of prey was evildoers who threatened those she loved.

The narrow path took a sharp turn, and the cabin came into view. It soared high into the treetops, like a boys’ clubhouse dream on stilts. It had been built to withstand all but the worst floods. The weathered, dark-gray cypress blended into the natural scene. But Graf’s green Range Rover told the story—my beau and two best friends were on the premises.

Curious, I pulled out my cell phone. We all used the same carrier and I had four bars. Plenty of juice to make and receive calls. So why weren’t they answering? The little voice in the back of my reptilian brain screamed, “Danger! Danger! Danger!” I had learned to heed that remnant of my tree-swinging DNA alerting me to possible death or maiming.

Before I got any closer, I stopped. Sweetie, too, was on high alert. She stood in the seat and sniffed the air, letting out a low whine.

“What’s wrong, Sweetie?” I laid a hand on her back and felt the way her hair stood on end. “Timmy in the well?”

Her look of disdain would have quelled a gentler spirit. But I was used to contempt, from Olive and my dog.

I eased my car into a leafy turnaround and prepared for a hasty retreat should it become necessary. I called the Sunflower County Sheriff’s Office. I was outside Coleman’s jurisdiction, but if I needed the cavalry, he’d figure out a way to help. DeWayne answered, and I told him where I was and my concerns.

“Why don’t you wait? I’ll call for assistance from the Washington County SO.”

A reasonable request, except Sweetie leaped from the car and took off at a dead gallop toward the cabin. “Gotta go, DeWayne. I’ll call back when I can.”

“Sarah Booth, Coleman is going to skin you alive. You can’t run around courting danger. It puts him in a black mood.”

“Maybe he can just take a jog with Miss Skinny Britches and improve his frame of mind.” I snapped off the phone.

Sweetie disappeared into the woods to the right of the cabin. I grabbed my gun from the trunk and lit out after her. Her determination roused my anxiety. Sweetie never got in a rush unless bad things were on the horizon.

I caught up with her on the cabin’s south side. A soft wind tumbled the green leaves fluttering around us in all directions. On the western side of the cabin, a gallery stretched the whole length and wind chimes tinkled. The scene was peaceful, yet my nerves pulled taut.

Sweetie stood beside me, her nose delicately sniffing. She didn’t make a sound, which was not like my hound. She was vocally expressive, with little snuffles, grunts, howls, barks, and full-on bays.

At last she started forward and I was right beside her. At times like this, I had to trust her nose. She could smell far better than I could see. If she was willing to move toward the cabin, I was her point man.

She halted at the steps below the gallery. The space was used for a barbecue grill. Several lawn chairs surrounded a mountain of empty beer cans and liquor bottles. And lots of spent shells. Someone had been shooting like a Wild West show. No doubt that Buford and his buddies had been hanging out here. Nothing more reassuring than drunks with loaded weapons.

Above me I heard scuffling. Sweetie’s deep-throated whine galvanized me up the steps, right on her heels.

Tinkie was the better shot, but I could hold my own with the Glock. I didn’t like to carry it, but after numerous injuries and watching my friends damaged by mean and greedy criminals, I resolved to shoot if necessary and ask questions later.

I crept up to eye level with the porch floor and aimed. A shot in the leg or foot was almost as good as a kill shot to stop a criminal. Pain worked wonders in bringing a bad guy into line—and minimized the guilt I’d feel at taking a life. I might fantasize about plugging Buford in the noggin, but he was Oscar’s cousin, and I really didn’t want to kill him.

Sweetie pawed frantically at the cabin door.

“Sweetie!” I took my time, checking left, right, above, and below before I duckwalked to her. Rising slowly, I looked through the glass into a homey one-room cabin with bunk beds lining the walls and a cheerful kitchen area. Graf, Cece, and Tinkie lay hog-tied on the floor facing the opposite direction.

My first reaction was gut-wrenching fear, but I saw the steady rise and fall of their ribs, and they were sweating profusely. But then so was I. To make matters worse, mosquitoes snacked on every inch of exposed skin. An armed and insane Buford might be a great alternative to the bloodsuckers biting me.

“Clear?” I asked Sweetie.

She snuffled a bark. I twisted the knob and rolled into the room behind her.

The place was like a freaking oven. “Mother Mary selling snow cones.” I gained my feet and discovered duct tape covered my fiancé’s and friends’ mouths. Their faces were beet red. The one-room cabin was empty of Buford or strangers—I savored a moment of blissful silence and, yes, smugness. I was not tied up on the floor of a cabin, I was Wonder Woman, the rescue posse.

My self-satisfaction was short-lived. Tinkie thumped her dainty little flats on the floor. Who goes into a swamp in bejeweled velvet shoes?

“Patience is a virtue,” I said, quoting Aunt Loulane, but I untied Tinkie’s hands. I wasn’t about to snatch the tape off her mouth. She could do that herself. I did the same for Cece and Graf.

“Sarah Booth, we thought you’d never get here,” Graf said without a hint of complaint. He was simply glad to see me.

I offered a hand to pull him to his feet and into my arms. “Thank goodness you aren’t hurt.”

“What the hell took you so long?” Tinkie demanded. “Another half hour and I would have died of heat and dehydration. You wait until I get my hands on Buford. He will rue the day he ever thought of tying me up.”

“Buford did this? Why?” I could see Jeremiah, but not Buford. “And how?”

“The door was open and Graf went inside. There were diagrams and things on the floor, like we interrupted some kind of planning session. I heard a motorcycle or four-wheeler, and Cece and I were scouting the exterior.” Tinkie pulled herself together as she talked.

“When I bent down to examine the diagrams, someone whacked me on the back of the head.” Graf rubbed his scalp. “While I was out, he tied me up. Then, when Cece looked in and saw me, she rushed in and she was clobbered, too.”

“Same for me. I tried to call for help, but there was no reception. I couldn’t tell if Graf and Cece were injured or dead. I had to check.”

The important thing was they were all three okay. “Where are the diagrams?”

“Gone. Along with a laptop computer and some other equipment. Did you see the weapons down below?” Graf asked. “These people have an agenda. They aren’t just kooks. They’re kooks with some kind of plan.”

“The guns are gone, too.” My heart was pounding. Graf and my friends had come very close to being killed. “It might have been nice if one of you had left a note, or a text, or a message in a bottle naming your destination. It was only by chance Oscar mentioned this hunting camp.”

“I did leave a note,” Graf said. “Right beside yours on the refrigerator.”

A series of flash images yielded the answer. The locked door, the animals confined—an intruder had been in Dahlia House. Sweetie and Pluto had dashed out the front door, angling toward the barn, but I hadn’t bothered to follow.

“We have to go.” There wasn’t time to dally. “Dahlia House was burgled. The intruder stole your note, and he might have been hiding in the barn while I was in the house.”

Graf rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into his flesh. “Let’s load up.” Long strides took him to the door.

“What about Buford?” Cece’s blood was still up and she wanted revenge. “And the big guy we saw at Magnolia Grove. Buford called him Arnold. He was here, too, helping Buford load up the computer and stuff. I pretended to be out, but I saw them.”