Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery (26 page)

“Let’s get it over with.” Tinkie talked big, but she waited for me to push through the door.

Sweetie’s bark cinched it. She’d found something in the kitchen.

When I entered the room, I saw the blood. It was splashed across the counter and sink.

“It’s not enough for someone to be dead,” Tinkie said. “Hurt, but not dead.”

She didn’t say it, but we both thought it. That someone was likely our client.

*   *   *

Arley McCain didn’t answer at the marina. Tinkie and I didn’t know if it was because the lines were down or the towers out or because the destruction at Angela’s house had spread to the
Miss Adventure
and therefore Arley.

“Should we call the sheriff?” Tinkie asked.

I could tell by her tone she had more negative feelings about such a call than positive.

“If Chavis is behind this, it’ll tip them off to the fact we’re on to them.”

“Why abduct Angela?” Tinkie asked.

“The telescope.” It was the only thing I could come up with. “Somehow, everyone knows how crucial it is to finding the treasure. If you and I didn’t have it, stands to reason Angela would.”

“So they were here searching and Angela walked in on them?”

“Either that or they waited here for her and intend to force her to talk.”

Tinkie shivered. “We need to find her and evacuate. I know this isn’t a big storm, but we could die. A piece of tin could fly through the air and slice us in half.”

She was exaggerating, but only a bit. While the hands on the clock had spun around toward nine o’clock, the day was growing progressively gloomier, the weather more and more blustery.

I tried Graf’s cell phone—no answer. But I did reach his voice mail and left a message telling him we were en route to the marina. No details. I didn’t want Graf coming to find us if things were dicey.

Before we could get to the marina, though, a sheriff’s patrol car pulled us over. The rain had stopped for a moment, and when the officer approached, I rolled down my window.

“We’re evacuating the island of all tourists, ma’am. You need to head north or west. Evacuation routes are marked.”

“My friend is back at our cottage,” I said. “I have to check on him, and then we’re leaving. Is this a mandatory evacuation?”

“Not mandatory, but highly recommended. Storm watching isn’t worth risking your life. Be quick about checking on your friend, and then please leave. We don’t want any injuries or casualties.”

I didn’t recognize the officer, so I took a chance. “I’m trying to find Deputy Chavis. Do you know if he’s on the island this morning?”

He lowered the brim of his hat against a gust of wind. “Randy was called in by the sheriff last night. Haven’t seen him. I can radio a message to him if you want.”

I shook my head. “Is he on the island?”

“Couldn’t say.” He nodded and headed back to his car. In a moment, he pulled away.

“What do you suppose Chavis is up to?” Tinkie asked.

“The same thing you’re thinking. I think he was involved in Angela’s abduction, and he’s probably holding her hostage.”

“Or disposing of the body.”

I punched Tinkie’s arm lightly. “You’re just the cheeriest little optimist I’ve ever met.”

“We are about to be in the middle of a hurricane. Our client is missing, and there’s blood in her kitchen. Since Angela doesn’t strike me as a voodoo queen who might be sacrificing chickens, I wouldn’t say this is looking like a case with a happy outcome.

“I should call Cece and let her know we’re delayed,” Tinkie said. “She’s worried sick, no doubt.”

She tried the call, and to my amazement it went through. Cece answered immediately, and Tinkie put the phone on speaker.

“Where are you, dah-links? Oscar is beside himself. He said you called earlier, but he hasn’t been able to get through since then.”

We summed up our situation, keeping it as positive as possible.

“The ball starts at ten Saturday evening. We’ll be dancing at midnight on Halloween.” Cece’s voice held only a little panic. “You’ll be here, won’t you?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep us away.”

“No, but a case might. Or a storm. I know it’s only Friday, but you say you’re coming, and then you never leave the island.” Cece was nobody’s fool.

“We have to find Angela. Our cell phones don’t work all the time, and the landlines are down or something has gone wrong.”

“What can I do?” Cece asked.

In the midst of the most lavish ball of the New Orleans season, Cece had time to help her friends.

“I snapped a photo of a drawing on a wall of the old stockade at Fort Gaines. If I can message it to you via the phone, could you research what it might be? There’s something written in French, and we need the translation, too.” It was a big request with everything else Cece had going on.

“Dah-link! I always have time for a riddle. Send away.”

“We’ll be on the way to New Orleans as soon as we can,” Tinkie said. “Tell Oscar not to worry. We’re fine. Once we locate our missing client, we’ll leave.”

“I’ll tell him,” Cece said. “Be careful, ladies. Folks go a little crazy when a storm is coming in. Something about a drop in the barometric pressure.”

“No, that’s supposed to bring on labor in humans and colic in horses,” I corrected her. “Nothing about crazy. You’re thinking of a full moon.”

“You’ve never been on the coast during a hurricane,” Cece said. “Drop in barometric pressure or fear-induced insanity, I can’t say for sure. But I’m telling you, people start to act like there’s no consequence to their behavior. The crazies come out of the woodwork. So watch yourselves.”

“Will do,” Tinkie assured her. She pinched me until I yelped an agreement.

“If you aren’t here by five o’clock, I’m calling out the National Guard.”

It wasn’t an empty threat. Cece would do it. “We’ll be there. And we’ll be safe.”

It was a big promise, but one I intended to keep.

*   *   *

The marina held an air of abandonment. Most of the boat slips were empty. Wise sailors had set sail away from the storm. Only a few boat owners worked frantically to lash their crafts to the wharf with extra ropes. I understood the concept of tying the boat so it couldn’t bang into the dock or other boats, but the way the water was already rolling, I wondered if any of the beautiful vessels would survive. This was just the precursor of the storm. Unless Margene weakened drastically or changed directions, the worst was yet to come.

A car pulled in right beside us, and, to my surprise, Phyllis Norris got out and ducked into the backseat of the Cadillac. “Have you seen Angela? I’ve called and called. I’m worried sick. I thought she was moving her dad’s boat, and I kept a crew at the sea lab shifting valuables to safer areas. But they finished, and I had to let them leave the island. I never heard from her, and I haven’t been able to raise her with a phone call. She was supposed to move the boat yesterday.”

“We’re looking for her, too,” I said. The
Miss Adventure
bobbed and tugged at her tie-lines. “Where have you searched?”

“She doesn’t answer her door or her phone. I hope she didn’t fall overboard.”

I didn’t want to tell her what we’d discovered in Angela’s kitchen. There was no point worrying her more than she already was. And she’d added another layer of anxiety—I hadn’t even considered a boating accident. “We thought we’d talk to Arley. Maybe he’s heard from her, though earlier he was surprised she didn’t move the boat upriver like she’d planned.”

“I just don’t know about Angela.” Phyllis was frustrated. “She’s so headstrong. She could be anywhere. Maybe on the way to Atmore to visit Larry.”

“I don’t think she’d abandon the boat.”

“In some ways, it would be better for Angela if the boat sank. She’d be free of the cost and the past. And I believe John has a handsome insurance policy on it.”

“Which wouldn’t pay out at all if it was discovered Angela made no effort to secure the boat with a hurricane coming,” Tinkie said. My partner knew more about business than most people. “And fat lot of good an insurance payment will do Angela if she’s hurt.”

“Good point.” Phyllis sighed. “I just want Angela to live a little. She should give up hunting for the treasure and simply build a solid life with a husband and children. She’s a fabulous writer. She could hire on at a bigger paper or maybe write a book. This quest for the Esmeralda treasure is stealing her life from her.”

Everyone thought Angela was motivated by finding the treasure, even Phyllis. “Angela’s quest isn’t about the treasure. It’s about justice.”

Phyllis laughed. “
She
believes that. She does. I get it. When I talk to her, she’s dedicated to saving Larry Wofford. I’ll give you that. But even though she won’t admit it to herself, Angela wants that treasure. She believes it’s her due.”

I’d never seen that in Angela. “I believe she’s in love with Wofford.”

“She has all the classic symptoms,” Tinkie said.

“Oh, she is. But she’s still after the treasure. Someone stole Couteau’s spyglass, the one thing her father desperately wanted back when he claimed he’d figured out the key to Couteau’s treasure. That spyglass has nothing to do with freeing Wofford. But it could be involved in finding the treasure. Ladies, I love Angela. I do. And I loved her father. But this treasure quest has become an obsession. It took over John’s life, and now I see the same thing happening to Angela. She’s been here on the island over a year, and she has no steady job, no steady income, and not one single person in her life. Tell me how that’s healthy or a good life.” She brushed an angry tear from her cheek.

“Angela can be obsessive.” A point I had no choice but to concede. “But I don’t think it’s about money.”

Phyllis laughed. “It isn’t money. Never money. It’s winning. It’s doing the impossible, finding the thing that’s eluded so many others, proving her father right for the years he spent doing the same thing.” She sighed, her anger spent. “We could have had a wonderful life together. I loved him so much. But he loved the idea of the treasure more than me or his daughter. When I finally accepted that, I had no choice but to walk away.”

She grabbed my shoulder in a tight grip. “If you find Angela, please call me and let me know she’s safe.”

“Our cell phones are iffy.” I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.

“I’ll be at the lab.” She opened the door, but a gust of wind snapped it closed again. “I’m behaving selfishly. You should leave the island. Maybe Angela had sense enough to seek refuge in Mobile.”

None of us spoke, but we were all thinking the same thing. Angela was too damned hardheaded to leave Dauphin Island and the boat. Voluntarily, at any rate.

“We will let you know.”

“And I will do the same.” Phyllis slipped out of the car. In a moment, the headlights of her car burned dimly in the gloomy morning and then disappeared.

21

Sitting in the car with Tinkie, I felt trapped by a force of nature, held against my will in the grip of the approaching hurricane. I couldn’t leave until I found Angela and Graf, and I didn’t want to stay. It felt as if the heavy sky was sinking down on top of me, pressing me into the earth.

Tinkie gripped the steering wheel and stared out at where the
Miss Adventure
lurched and struggled in the active seas. “Let me run in and see if Arley has heard from her. If not, we have to call the sheriff, Sarah Booth. There was blood in her house. We can’t ignore the idea she’s been hurt.”

She was right. We should have called immediately when we found the blood. But we hadn’t. Because I didn’t trust Randy Chavis to really search for her or try to help her. Suspicions be damned, we had to notify the authorities that we suspected foul play.

“While you grill Arley, I’ll take a look in the boat. Maybe she’s below deck.” I didn’t add that if she was, she was probably hurt. Or dead.

“It’s too dangerous. The way the boats are bobbing around on the wind and waves, you might fall into the water trying to board. Then the boat could crush you between the hull and the pilings.”

“Wow, you’re just Worst-Case-Scenario Wanda today. I’ll be fine. Just ask Arley what he knows.” We looked at each other, and I said, “One, two, three—” We threw our doors open and dashed in different directions as a warm rain began to fall.

Once I hit the slick boards of the pier, I almost fell. A gust of treacherous wind slammed into my body like a physical punch. The blast stopped as quickly as it started, which made me stumble forward. Rain stung my face and made it impossible to see. I used my arm to shield my eyes.

At last I gained the boat, and what had been a simple job of stepping from the dock to the deck was now a feat of agility, balance, and courage. The boat’s deck rose and fell on the swells, and the vessel strained against the tie-lines.

“Angela! Angela!” I called, but the wind tore her name from my lips and sent it inland. She couldn’t hear me.

The wind slacked off, and I saw my opportunity and jumped to the deck and managed to keep my feet. Stumbling forward, I went belowdecks to search for her. I entered the dark interior of the boat with a great deal of trepidation.

“Angela!” Her name echoed off the burnished teak walls. The boat, now steady and calm, made me think the storm had finally blown over. But that couldn’t be true. Margene’s eye was still miles offshore and wouldn’t make landfall for another twenty-four hours.

“Angela!” I pushed forward past the galley, the head, and toward the master bedroom, where John Trotter had been murdered, moving forward by feeling in front of me. I didn’t have a flashlight, and visibility was almost nonexistent. Slowly, I slid the bedroom door open and looked into the gloomy room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Curtains had been drawn, and the light seeping in was muddy.

The room was empty. I checked the storage areas, the head, and the small kitchen. Angela wasn’t aboard. I exhaled. I’d been holding my breath, expecting the worst.

I climbed back to the deck and made the jump to the dock before the wind picked up again. Tinkie returned, and we sought shelter in the car. The days had been crisp and autumnal, but now the humidity was like a soggy blanket. Unseasonably warm and sticky. Not a good omen.