Ham Bones (16 page)

Typical Renata conduct.

"That's when I vowed to make her life a living hell as
long as I could. So I devised guerrilla tactics to thwart
her. Giblet and I have picketed every performance of her
show since I got to Atlantic City. We give interviews, and
whenever possible we get other animal lovers to join us.
It's been highly successful."

"And all because she wouldn't say she was sorry for
hitting your dog"

Kristine stopped completely. "She wasn't sorry, Sarah
Booth. Not a bit. That's what made me so furious. She
truly didn't care what she'd done"

I couldn't defend Renata. I was saddened by her complete lack of compassion for a living creature and the
human who suffered, too.

"I didn't poison her," I said. "Do you know anyone
who might have done it?"

We turned to head back to the motel. "So many people
hated her. One night when I was picketing, I heard her get
into it with Graf Milieu. Boy, she didn't hold any
punches"

"What did she say?"

"She had something on Graf. Something big. And she
was holding it over his head, forcing him to do something
for her that he didn't want to do"

"Do you remember what?"

"It wasn't clear. It had to do with money and Mexico,
but that's all I really heard. I felt sorry for Mr. Milieu. He
was always so nice to me and Giblet. He brought treats
for my baby."

"Money and Mexico?" I spoke the words aloud, but
my thoughts were too rapid to catch hold of for speech.
Graf had once talked about a hacienda in Mexico. Perhaps he and Renata had purchased one. It was something
to check into. As well as the rest of Renata's will. Who
had she left her considerable fortune to? Those who inherit are always up for suspicion. The logical heir would
be Gabriel, but he hadn't been in town until after Renata
was dead-at least as far as I knew.

"That's all I know," Kristine said. "I hope some of it
was helpful."

"Possibly more than you think." I stopped in the parking lot. "Thanks, Kristine. For the information and the
walk."

On the way to my car, I slipped out my cell phone and
called Cece.

"Can you find out where Gabriel was the entire week
before Renata died?" We'd assumed he was a new arrival
in town, but assumptions could be deadly in a murder
case.

"You bet" She hung up, and I headed back to town.

> obbe Renshaw was packing her makeup kits when I
->walked into the backstage area at The Club. A trash
can beside her was full of cosmetics she'd tossed, and I
noticed they were all Renata's. "I guess the sheriff's office has been through all of that" I pointed to the trash
can.

"They've taken samples of everything, tested everything." She picked up the can. "Here, keep it if you want
to be certain. I want every last reminder of that woman
gone from my life."

"What are you going to do now?" I asked. Bobbe kept
her attention on her work and didn't answer. "Go home to
your family?"

"For a little while. Danny will go on the road again in
the spring, and I might go, take the kid." She shrugged.
"It's not as much fun as it was when we didn't have Little
A." She saw my puzzled look. "Adam."

"I can imagine." But I really couldn't. Touring in a bus
with a bunch of sometimes drunk, sometimes stoned rocksters was a tough life even for a young, single person. For a mom and a toddler, it would be sheer hell.

"No chance at ABC?"

She looked me in the eye. "That's doubtful. Why? You
volunteering to write me a letter of recommendation?"

I laughed, and finally, she joined me. "I doubt a letter
from a suspected murderer would do you a lot of good,
but I'll write one. You've done a great job on my makeup"

She perched a hip on the vanity counter and began to
swing a long, shapely leg back and forth. "You know, I
got a bum rap hanging out with Danny and the band.
Everyone thought I was a drug addict, that I serviced all
the guys. It was never like that. Maybe I did too good a
job on the makeup, because none of the guys do heavy
drugs. None. They drank some, smoked a J now and then.
At least that's all I ever saw. Danny grew up with his dad
screwed up all the time, and his mom an alcoholic. When
I got pregnant with Little A, he stopped drinking completely. Not even a beer, until I got stuck on the road like
this." A heavy mark drew her brows together. "That bitch
Renata"

This was the most I'd ever heard Bobbe talk. Since she
was in the mood to reveal, I asked a leading question.

"How'd you hook up with Renata?"

Her laugh was bitter. "I went to see a play with a girlfriend of mine. We went backstage to congratulate the
cast, and I ended up in front of her. Her makeup shade
was all wrong, and I just blurted it out."

I could imagine Renata's reaction. She probably belted
Bobbe. "And?"

"She was furious. She called security and had me
thrown out the stage door. It was all pretty humiliating,
but then, I figured I'd opened my mouth and inserted my
foot, so I got what was coming to me"

"Until...

"Two days later I got a phone call. She figured out who
I was, traced the band, got me that way. She asked me to
come and redo her makeup for the show."

"And history was made" I twirled a sable brush that
Bobbe used with such artistry. "She looked great in the
show."

"She looked great every night. I made sure of that. At
first it was a trip, traveling with the show. And my job was
so much easier than with the band. I mean, this was regular stage makeup. No special effects, no limb regeneration. It was a piece of cake"

"Until you wanted to leave, right?"

She got up and paced the room. "I got pregnant, and I
had terrible morning sickness. I kept working until time
to deliver, and that's when I applied at ABC. I was set to
take the job when Little A was four months old."

"Renata lied about you"

"In a big, big way. I never so much as stole a salt
shaker or a candy bar. It was the meanest thing she could
think of to do to ruin it for me. Now, I'm branded a thief."

It was tough to be falsely accused. I was walking a
mile in those shoes.

"ABC withdrew the job?"

"With cause. They told me because they're so sensitive
about lawsuits. Renata didn't expect that. She thought
she'd malign me, and I'd never know."

"How could you work for her all these months?" I was
amazed.

"Danny was nearly electrocuted during a show. His
guitar was hot, and the nerves in his right hand were damaged"

She didn't have to draw a picture. He couldn't play the
guitar if his hand was injured.

"He's been in rehab all this time, trying to keep it secret from the press. I mean, he's like thirty-two. Virtually
over the hill for a rocker. It can't get out that he's injured,
even if it's only temporary."

"My lips are sealed" Thirty-two! Over the hill! Yikes.
I was practically sitting with my legs dangling in a grave.

"I had to hang onto the job, because I couldn't get another with a thievery charge hanging over me. This was
the only income we had, and I didn't know where Renata
would smear me next"

Renata had held Bobbe by the short hairs and hadn't
batted an eye at such unethical behavior. The prima
donna got what she wanted, and that was all that mattered.

"The thing that kept me going was knowing the show
would close this week. I marked the days off a calendar,
like a person in prison. I tried to focus on one day at a
time. And then Renata died, and you took the role. It's
been a pleasure, Sarah Booth"

"Well, thanks" How hard was it to be nice to someone
who was a major talent and made me look good? "Did
you notice anything unusual about Renata the last few
months?"

"Big time. She would never admit it, but she went
somewhere for Botox injections. The last few weeks, she
could barely change expressions."

"Did she see a doctor?" I couldn't imagine Renata,
with all her bucks, going for black market treatment. I
would've figured her for a strictly 90210 doctor.

"I have no idea. I never heard her say, but I didn't keep
up with her. All I know is that she couldn't move her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth were sort of ...
frozen in place."

"That's a high price to pay for vanity."

"She was aging. She used to sit and stare at herself in
the mirror, pulling at her skin, examining the color of her
hair for gray. She was obsessed with it."

I'd spent a few hours searching for gray and lifting my
skin up. The first-blush peachiness of youth had slipped
from my features, but I was a long, long way from Botox.
"Did she have a treatment here, in Zinnia?"

"She must have"

"She never mentioned a doctor?"

"Not to me. I wasn't a confidante. I was the paid help."

Right. I'd forgotten that Renata lived in a class-conscious
world that was as bad as anything the Delta had ever concocted. "I'll check around "

There were plenty of plastic surgeons in Jackson and
Memphis, and a few scattered in the Delta. My bets were
on Memphis, though. That's where the makeup came
from, and that's where Renata probably had contacts.

"Did you ever hear anyone threaten Renata?"

"Only everyone in the cast and crew at some point.
Most of it behind her back. She and Graf were going at it
like cats and dogs most of the time." She paused. "Keith
Watley almost stroked out last week about something she
said to him. He told her he was going to kill her with his
bare hands"

Renata made people dislike her. Whether it was deliberate or not, she certainly brought it on herself. "Did you
notice any strangers hanging around?"

"There was a man in Reno, but she frightened him
away with one of her temper fits"

"A name?"

"Buster Long. He was a cute, older man with these
amazing muttonchop whiskers. I thought at first they
were fake, but they were real. He let me tug on them"

I couldn't help my expression. Bobbe scratched to a
verbal halt. "What's wrong?"

"How old was this guy?"

"He looked to be in his sixties, but he had to be
younger. I saw him picking up some suitcases, and he
was pretty spry."

"He showed up in Reno?"

"That's right. But she ran him off before we came
down here"

"You don't remember where he was from?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I wrote him off as a
chump, one of those guys who fall for a stage star and
live in a fantasy."

"Bobbe, is there any of the original tube of Almond
Mocha Retreat left in Renata's makeup?"

"That's what was so strange. I'd been doing her
makeup for the whole show and suddenly she has to have
this particular lipstick in that particular shade" She threw
up her hands. "What a bitch. She'd done all the shows before without it. I'd never heard of the stuff."

I took a deep breath. A lot of things continued to add
up-to a very well-planned murder.

While I was at The Club, I went to the bar to talk to the
barkeep, Bernard, until I could find Sir Alfred Bascomb. I
thought he might be in the dining room for lunch. It was
a well-known fact that Sir Alfred liked his vittles, and the
chef at The Club was renowned.

"You don't look good, Sarah Booth." Bernard put an
icy glass of diet drink in front of me. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay. How's Molly?" Bernard's wife, Molly, was an
old family friend and the exceptional seamstress for my gown for the Black and Orange Ball. She'd also been
pressed into service to make alterations and repair costumes for the play.

"She's backstage, mending something right now. She
saw the play last night." His smile was radiant. "We both
did. Sarah Booth, your mama would be so proud of you"

"Thanks, Bernard. Do you really think?"

"Yes, ma'am, I sure do. Your mama had a little bit of
the actress in her. She could be dramatic when the need
arose. I remember, when you were still in diapers, she
taught you to sing and dance. You'd perform these little
numbers .. " His laughter was like a warm kiss. "Folks
couldn't help but smile when they saw them. And you
loved it! Your mama encouraged you, Sarah Booth. If she
were alive, she'd be in the front row every night, clapping
herself silly with your daddy right beside her."

The gift Bernard gave me was greater than he'd ever
know. I was so young when my parents were killed that I
had no real idea how they might view my adult activities.
Bernard made me believe they would approve, and God
knows I craved their approval. "Thank you, Bernard" I
stood on the rungs of my stool and leaned across the bar
to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"You take care, Sarah Booth. That mean woman put
you in a fine pickle. I heard her in here on her cell phone,
planning and plotting."