Bones to Pick (6 page)

It was something to ponder as Tinkie and I headed back to the jail for another word with Allison.

Deputy Dewayne Dattilo was in charge of the sheriff's office when we got there. He was greener than Gordon, and I was tempted to pump him for details about Coleman, but Tinkie kept a watchful eye on me.

He led us back to Allison, who looked more tired than she had the day before.

"Humphrey was just here," she said. "They're fighting over Quentin's body. She would hate this!" Tears hung on her bottom lashes, but they didn't spill.

"What did Quentin tell you about her trust?" I asked. There was no point beating around the bush.

"She was due to inherit the bulk of the McGee estate." A faint smile crossed her face. "I guess Quentin and I really messed up the game plan for everyone."

"How do you figure that?"

"Her folks had her lined up to marry Talbert LaRue, a lawyer in
Baton Rouge
. They'd planned to make the announcement last year, with the wedding to be held just after her twenty-fifth birthday. Sometime this week, I guess it would have been." She wiped a tear away. "But Quentin and I fell in love, and that screwed my family's plans."

"Which were?"

"To have Humphrey woo Quentin and marry her--after she'd inherited--thereby securing the future of Tatum's Corner."

"The best laid plans of mice and mamas," Tinkie said softly.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked.

"We can try." I'd learned to be hesitant in granting wishes.

"Have some kind of court order issued so that no one gets Quentin's body. I'd like to make the arrangements myself. I know what she'd want, and it wouldn't be this nightmare." She gripped the bars. "Is Virgie Carrington in town?"

"I've heard she's here."

Allison swallowed dryly. "We were a big disappointment to her. I can't believe she's actually here."

"Once a Carrington girl, always--" Tinkie started.

"A Carrington girl," Allison finished. "Right. That was the motto. But the truth of the matter is that neither Quentin nor I was really a Carrington girl. We didn't live up to the image. We weren't the only ones, but we were the ones who became celebrities, and that was our greatest sin."

I had another matter to take up with Allison. "We found the threatening note sent to Quentin. It was printed out on a laser printer. Do you have any idea where the envelope might be?"

"Quentin had a journal. Maybe in there. She got other notes, too. Some may be in the house in
Oxford
."

"We'll check it out." I touched her hand on the bar. "Do you have any idea who might have sent the notes? Who knew the content of the book?"

"Quentin wasn't bashful about letting folks know she was getting ready to bloody them in print. She told at least two dozen people."

This was going to increase our legwork, but I was never one to complain about too many suspects. "Can you make us a list?"

"Talk to the owner of Booking It. A lot of the customers who were there yesterday were furious. Quentin's sister was the angriest of all. I still believe she was the one who bought all the books and burned them."

"
Umbria
," I said, looking at Tinkie. It was almost time for a visit to the McGee family. "Did anyone see
Umbria
burn the books?"

Allison shook her head. "I don't think so."

"But you said it was her."

"Maybe I'm guilty of the same thing everyone else is. I jumped to the conclusion based on what Quentin told me.

"Which was?" Tinkie asked.

"That
Umbria
hated her and had vowed to spend her entire inheritance buying the books and burning them."

"Pretty strong circumstantial evidence," Tinkie said.

"Thanks, Allison. We'll be in touch."

"Will they let me go to Quentin's funeral?"

If Coleman had been in charge, the answer would have been yes. He'd allowed Lee McBride to attend her scoundrel husband's funeral, and I felt certain he wouldn't view Allison as a great flight risk. Hell, where would she go? There was no one to help her. The jail docket had showed she hadn't had a single visitor except her brother. "Maybe. We'll have to see," I said.

Tinkie and I said our good-byes and were almost out of the jail when Allison stopped me.

"Humphrey was asking about you," she said. "He's interested."

Tinkie grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, "He recognizes another deviant."

I pulled free of her. "He's my client," I said a little stiffly. "I don't date clients."

"That's a new rule," Tinkie said drolly, and as we left the jail, I could hear Allison's laugh. I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before she might laugh again.

Booking It was a quaint shop on a side street not far from The Gardens B&B. Pots of yellow and orange mums accented the gray steps that led to the front porch of the old house that had been converted into a bookshop. Pumpkins were lined up in the front window, along with a display of cookbooks featuring Thanksgiving recipes.

The store owner, Jasmine Paul, was a slender blonde with an amazing knowledge of books and a keen ability to see the bottom line. She wasn't a native of Zinnia, but she'd managed to become an indispensable part of the town, matching book and reader with a skill that bordered on psychic talent.

"Sarah Booth," she said when I walked in. "How did you enjoy that Dean James book?"

"It was perfect," I said. The book's clever plot and unique humor had gotten me through the first few days of Coleman's disappearance and
Hamilton
's return to
Paris
.

"What can I do for you today?" She included Tinkie in her question.

"We need a copy of
King Cotton Bleeds"
Tinkie said.

"You're in luck. The publisher just overnighted fifty copies, and they arrived about ten minutes ago." She bent behind the counter and pulled out a box, which she opened with a sharp knife.

The book she handed Tinkie was heavy, with a photograph of a cotton field, computer enhanced so that the plants dripped blood. Effective and grim.

"I heard you ran out of books for the signing Saturday," I said.

"Umbria McGee bought every copy I had." She frowned. "I had mixed feelings about selling them to her. Had I known she was going to burn them, I wouldn't have."

"Did she actually burn them?"

Jasmine nodded. "It had to be her. She came in and paid by credit card for all seven cases of books. That was about an hour before the official signing. She said she wanted to surprise her sister." She rolled her eyes. "Now that's an understatement."

"So she left with the books?" Tinkie asked.

"She had her own dolly. I thought she was going to take them out and then return at the book signing, like a surprise."

"But she never returned."

"She never left. She carted them down to the end of the driveway and dumped them in a pile. She poured gasoline over them and set the fire."

"Did you see her do this?" It was a crucial detail. Assumption could be a fatal mistake.

"I didn't see her pour the gasoline or throw the match, but there's a pile of ashes at the back of the driveway. I saw the flames, but by the time I ran back there, whoever set the fire was gone." She touched one of the books. "Whether you agree or disagree with a book, it shouldn't be burned."

"When Quentin arrived for the book signing, what did she say?" Tinkie leafed through the pages of the book she held, feigning simple curiosity. "She must have been furious."

"She chewed me out, and then she went outside to the ashes."

"Was she aware
Umbria
had bought all the books?"

"She was. She said something to the effect that within twelve hours,
Umbria
wouldn't have three thousand dollars to spend on destroying her dreams."

Tinkie and I stared at each other. It was a damning tidbit, as far as
Umbria
's motive went. "Did she say anything else?"

Jasmine straightened a neat stack of children's books on her counter. "She said I should have known better than to sell all the books to one person." She looked up. "She was right about that. I should have known better."

"Do you have a list of the people who showed up for the signing?"

"A few people ordered the book. They should be back today to get their copy." She pulled a notebook from behind the counter.

I wrote down the names of Lorilee Brewer, Marilyn Jenkins, and Jolene Loper. The names weren't familiar to me, but Tinkie was far better versed in Delta society than I. Once we were out of the shop, we could talk more freely.

We thanked Jasmine and heard the tinkle of the bell behind us as we closed the door. A gust of wind sent a flurry of brown pecan leaves skittering across the porch, reminding me of my childhood and the joys of fall at Dahlia House when my mother was alive to make candied apples, pumpkin pies, and steaming pots of soup.

When we were in the Caddy, Tinkie turned to me. "What's wrong, Sarah Booth? You look as if the life was sucked out of you."

"I was just thinking of the past. Don't you find fall a sad time of year?"

She thought about it as she drove. "Sad because the year is ending?"

"It's a time of change." I touched the window, feeling the chill. "Change has never been easy for me."

"Nor me. But I do love the cold weather and the fires and sitting beside Oscar under a blanket." She slowed the Caddy as we turned down the drive to my home. Her gaze swept the long driveway, past the leafless sycamores to Dahlia House. "Fall isn't so bad if you have someone to share it with." She touched my arm. "You're just lonely, Sarah Booth."

She was right about that; I was lonely. Perhaps that was all that was wrong with me, and I was just too self-absorbed to see it.

"Thanks for the ride, Tink." I leaned over and pecked her cheek. "I count on you a lot, you know." Sweetie Pie and Chablis came running from the back of the house, where I'd had a doggie door installed. Obviously, the groomer at Cut and Curl had delivered them for us. The dogs, so different and yet such good friends, bounded toward us. Chablis barely touched the grass as she ran. With one giant stride, she leapt into the front seat of the car.

Tinkie dazzled me with her smile. "Isn't that odd? A year ago, I thought you might actually have stolen Chablis just to get some money."

Her words struck deep into my heart. I had stolen her dog for the ransom. Had I not done so, Dahlia House would be a shopping mall. "Tinkie, I--"

"Oscar just laughed at me when I told him that. He said you couldn't have thought of something so clever."

I wanted to kiss Oscar and then slap him silly. "I'm surprised with Oscar's opinion of me, he allows you to work in the PI agency."

"Oh, he doesn't
allow
it," she said, and her smile was even more radiant. "One thing I've learned from you, Sarah Booth, is how to stand up for what I believe in. I count on you a lot, too."

She gave a cheery wave and headed down the drive.

5

Not every county in
Mississippi
has a doctor to perform autopsies. State law has few requirements for a coroner. But with Coleman's help in the last election, Doc Sawyer had won appointment to the post. For the most part, Doc had retired from the medical profession, but he often took emergency calls at the hospital and maintained an office in a back corner of the emergency suite.

"Help yourself," he said, pointing at the coffeepot.

I got a Styrofoam cup. The coffee was slightly thinner than molasses and twice as black. "Yum."

"I'm sixty-four and have the heart of a forty-year-old," Doc said. "It's all due to that coffee. It's a wonder drug."

With such an endorsement, I couldn't decline a cup. I took a sip and felt my jaw lock.

"Good, huh?"

I nodded, trying to swallow.

"You're here about Quentin McGee."

'Yes." I put the cup down on the table and inched away from it.

"What can I tell you?" Doc leaned back in his chair, the late afternoon light from a window catching in his wild thatch of white hair.

For a split second he looked like an angel with a halo. I realized then that the coffee had some type of hallucinogenic properties. "Time of death is critical." I forced my thoughts back on the business at hand.

"I've put Quentin's death at two in the morning. I understand her family isn't happy with that."

"Is it possible she was killed before midnight?"

He frowned. "I've heard a lot of money rests on my answer."

"I gather it does. It also speaks to motive."

He sipped his own cup of coffee and rubbed his chin. "Quentin's body was found before dawn, as you well know. She hadn't been dead more than three hours. I won't go into all the medical details, but I'm positive of it. The McGees can have the autopsy repeated, but unless they pay off the examiner, he's going to find exactly what I found."