Bones to Pick (26 page)

Though I would normally bask in Coleman's praise, my heart was too frozen with fear for Tinkie to bask. "We have to find her."

"Tell me Tammy's dream again."

I told him about the glass, the sense of a bell jar, of Tinkie crying out but not being heard.

"Is there any place like that?"

I shook my head. I'd already given it some thought. "Like a small solarium or sunroom, maybe. There's one at Hilltop, but Oscar would know if she was there."

"I'll take the note for fingerprints, but so far the killer has been very careful. There weren't prints on the shelf or on any of the other notes."

"This killer is careful and clever."

"And resourceful, if Quentin's death is any indication. He or she bides his time until the murder can be set up exactly as he wants it."

We were triggering each other. "The killer punishes. Death is the ultimate punishment."

"Punishes for perceived crimes? Injustices?"

It struck me with such force, I must have looked like a beached guppy. "For social infractions!"

His eyes widened. "Dragging her family's name through the mud!"

"Crushed by the weight of her own knowledge--that's arrogance or pride."

"A good time to d-y-e. A slam at the things Belinda Loper was doing in her salon. Things that might be thought of as immoral."

"Oh, my God! I'm nosey. I'm tending to others' business. So the killer takes my best friend and partner."

Coleman picked up the note, which he'd placed in a plastic bag. "Let me get this checked. We may get lucky."

I was torn between pushing him out the door and begging him to stay. I didn't want to be alone, but the fingerprints were more important than my fears.

"Hurry," I said as I walked him to the door. "Call me as soon as you hear anything."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get with Cece and see if she knows of any houses with solariums."

He stepped toward me, then stopped. "I don't want you to be alone. Stay with Cece."

"What about Oscar?" I stepped closer to him. I wanted the comfort of his touch, nothing more. Because of the man Coleman was, he made me feel stronger, better. I wanted to lean my forehead against his chest and let him hold me, just to share his strength. But I would not.

"The less Oscar knows, the better. For the moment." He circled me in his arms and pulled me against him. I resisted, but only for a second. Right or wrong, this was what I wanted, what I needed. I felt the strength of his chest, inhaled his scent, remembering our so very brief moments of physical contact. "I'm worried about you, Sarah Booth."

"I'm okay." There was nothing else to say. "We'll find Tinkie, and we'll find the killer."

"I'm going to make some calls to
West Memphis
, Rosedale, and
Jackson
and see what I can find out about the Loper, Reynolds, and Jenkins 'accidental' deaths."

I stepped back from him and walked outside. The cold air brought me to my senses, and I managed a smile for Coleman. "Tinkie. That's all that matters right now."

"After we find her, we need to talk, Sarah Booth. There are things you need to know. About my situation."

My heart rocketed around my chest, but I hung on to my smile. "After we find her."

He waved and walked to his car. I waited until his patrol car was at the road before I drove to the newspaper and the busy, busy typing of Cece Dee Falcon, society editor.

"Do you have any photographs of Harold, hopefully doing the wild thing?" she asked, without looking up. She kept typing with one hand and held the other out for the cup of coffee I always brought. "Harold gave me his recipe for pheasant soup, but he refuses to let a photographer stop by his house and snap him. I need a photograph. What can you come up with?"

"Cece."

The tone of my voice froze her. She stopped typing and looked up. "What? What's wrong? Is it Sweetie Pie?"

"It's Tinkie."

Cece was made up with all the latest fall colors, but her skin tone faded to a pasty white. "What's wrong with Tinkie?"

"She's missing. I'm afraid she may have been kidnapped by a serial killer."

Cece looked at me, shifting her head so that she got me from several angles. "You're not kidding, are you? Because if this is one of your practical jokes, I'm going to break all of your fingers."

"It's not a joke." I sank on top of a stack of old newspapers that cluttered the only half-empty chair in her office. "She's been gone since yesterday morning. Oscar is frantic. I'm--" A sob caught me unexpectedly. I looked up and saw the compassion in Cece's face. It was my undoing. My next words were lost in a wail. I stood up, arms hanging at my sides, and just blubbered. My terror was paralyzing.

Lucky for me, Cece isn't short on courage. She dropped the blinds in her office so the curious reporters couldn't see in, sat me down in her chair, and lifted my chin so that I looked into her eyes. "If you don't stop it, dahling, I'm going to take your picture and put it on the society page. Too bad Halloween is over."

Cece never made idle threats. I managed to choke back the wailing, but I couldn't stop the tears. Cece handed me several tissues and sat on the edge of her desk. "Go on and cry," she said with a sigh. "The worst thing you can do is bottle up emotions."

About five minutes passed before I could manage to collect myself. "Thanks, Cece."

"Don't mention it.
The Crying Game, The Crying Room,
what's the difference in a town like Zinnia?"

I matched her wispy smile as I wiped the last of the tears from my face. "I'm sorry. My emotions just caught up with me."

"Tell me all about it."

So I did. I went through everything, including my last conversation with Coleman. "Can you make some calls to the newspapers in Rosedale,
Jackson
, and
West Memphis
? The reporters who worked the case may have details that were never put in print. Then we need to make a list of every building we know that has a solarium . . . maybe an Internet check, if that's possible."

"Yes and yes. My only regret is that while the serial killer was on the job, he didn't finish what he started on Lorilee Brewer."

"That's right." It was a tidbit of information I hadn't recalled. "Maybe Lorilee heeded his warning?" I felt something click in my brain. "She's the only one who escaped, isn't she?"

"The only one we can put our finger on. Of course, we have no idea who else has been threatened and who complied with the threats." Cece's perfect eyebrows arched. "Shall we pay Lorilee a visit?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with a viper."

"Oh, Sarah Booth, where is your sense of adventure? Come along with me, and we'll interview her. I assure you, she'll answer every question you want to ask."

I followed behind Cece as she led the way out of the newspaper. "How can you make that promise?"

Cece threw a dazzling smile over her shoulder. "For Tinkie, I'm quite willing to bring out the big guns. Just wait and see."

Since Cece was ready for action, we decided to leave the computer research until after our interrogation of Lorilee. I drove while Cece reapplied her China Rouge lipstick and freshened her make-up.

We arrived at The Gardens, and Cece led the way unerringly into the bar, a room dominated by dark wood, crystal, and mirrors. Lorilee sat alone drinking a Bloody Mary.

"How many notes regarding your grass-stained knees did you receive?" Cece asked as she slipped into the chair beside Lorilee.

''Whatever are you talking about?" Lorilee glanced over at me with complete disdain.

"Dahling, I'm working on my Sunday spread. How interesting that you've graced Zinnia with your presence for almost a week. That's worthy of a story. Of course, I'll have to dig up the past. Let's see, how old was that child? Thirteen?"

The color fled Lorilee's face. "You're as bad as Quentin."

"And I'm still alive and writing." Cece tapped her bright red fingernails on the table. "And I'm waiting, which lends itself to creative imaginings."

"If I tell you about the note, will you promise you won't print anything about me in the newspaper?"

To my amazement, Lorilee was a pushover when it came to bad press. I drew up a chair and sat down to listen.

"I promise that your story will wane in my interest." Cece signaled Gertrude to bring another round of drinks.

"Are these two women bothering you?" Gertrude asked Lorilee.

"No. Just bring the drinks." Lorilee looked at Cece. "I want it in writing."

"How boring." Cece drew a pad from her purse and scratched out three lines of an agreement. She signed it and held it so Lorilee could read it. "Now tell us."

"What difference does it make?"

Cece leaned in so that her face was only inches from Lorilee's. "It means a lot to me. So talk."

"I got a note telling me something to the effect that I'd be punished for fooling around with an underage boy. I thought it was amusing and probably written by the young man's high school girlfriend. So, I didn't stop." She stirred her drink with a celery stalk. "About a week later, someone rigged the riding lawn mower to start via remote. It came right at me--chased me, in fact. I was almost killed."

"What did the police say?"

"Something about spontaneous starting. They say it happens sometimes around high-voltage power lines."

"Do you live under a power line?" I was having difficulty believing that people were so foolish.

"No, of course not. Charlie and I wouldn't live by such an eyesore. Charlie was threatening divorce. The police believed he tried to kill me, to get out of any alimony. I convinced Charlie to give me a second chance, and then I convinced the police the lawn mower incident was an accident." She ate her celery stick in one large bite.

"Tell us about the notes you received," I pressed.

"Note." She was bored and didn't bother to hide it.

"Just one note?"

She looked at me as if I'd grown horns. "One was all it took. I got the message."

"And you broke off the relationship with the boy?"

She sighed heavily. "After the lawn mower incident, I did. The boy had grown rather . . . demanding. It was best to break it off before it got public and ugly."

"So how did Quentin find out about it?"

"That bitch Genevieve dug it up somehow. Bank transactions or something. She followed the money that I put in an account for Jos--the boy."

"You wouldn't happen to have kept the note?" I asked.

"Are you insane? What? You think I'd frame it to remind Charlie of the whole incident?"

She had a point. "How long ago?"

"Last March. Listen that's the whole story."

Cece looked at me. "Was the note mailed to you?"

She thought about it. "Yes. From
Memphis
. I remember it was in the mail when Charlie brought it in. He thought it was an invitation to a party."

"And you never wondered who'd sent it?" I was frankly amazed. Lorilee was the kind of woman who would have turned heaven and earth to find the person responsible for her fall.

"Oh, I tried to find out, but how could I? It was typewritten. There wasn't a clue." She drained her drink and signaled for another one. "You know. It was just like the one Tinkie received."

Neither Cece nor I moved. Dust motes spiraled in the open window. There was the clink of ice in glasses.

"What's wrong? Didn't Tinkie show you the note?"

"When did you see Tinkie?" My voice was normal.

"Yesterday evening."

Lorilee was stupid but cunning. I didn't want to give anything away. "At The Club?"

Her gaze narrowed as she studied me. "What's going on? Tinkie didn't tell you about the note?"

"Where was Tinkie?" My voice must have carried an implied threat, because Lorilee looked down at her empty glass. "She was here. She'd come to talk to Marilyn about something."

Cece and I rose in unison. "Do you remember what the note said?" I asked.

"She didn't tell you." There was satisfaction in her tone. "Why don't you ask her? Did you two have a falling-out?"

Cece, who had large, strong hands, grasped the front of Lorilee's blouse and twisted. "You'd better pray that we get a chance to ask Tinkie. Now if you know what it said, tell us."

She shook her head, afraid to say anything. "She didn't show it to me. She told me about it. She was upset. She said she'd figured something out, but she didn't say what."

Dread chilled my spine. "She said she figured something out?"

Lorilee nodded. She was too smart to show her superior attitude. "That's all I know."

Cece let her go, and we left, headed back to the car. For a long moment we sat in the shade of the beautiful oaks in silence. Finally, Cece reached across the seat and touched my arm. "Do you think she figured it out?"