Ham Bones (28 page)

"Where did he go?" I couldn't believe he left me in
Zinnia to face all of this alone. I'd begun to believe he'd
changed. At least a little.

"Where do you think he went?" Coleman asked.

"Hollywood?"

"Would you have a specific address?"

I shook my head. "Call Federico Marquez. That's the
director who was interested in Graf for a movie." I looked
at Tinkie. Her blue eyes were misty as she saw my dream
begin to crumble at my feet. "If Graf is missing, that's
where he's gone"

Now that Robert Morgan was dead, chances were good
that Graf's debt would be forgotten. He could go out to
Tinseltown and live the good life, the life he'd offered to
share with me.

"Any other possible places he might go?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you can console yourself with the fact that he
hasn't gone to Hollywood. And he won't likely be going. I
took a statement from the driver of the farm vehicle, one
Calvin Rogers. Mr. Rogers said the driver of a silver
Porsche was obviously in pursuit of Robert Morgan on
the highway. We have a warrant out for Graf's arrest for
vehicular homicide and leaving the scene of an accident.
He won't be going to Hollywood or anywhere else."

I felt the pain in my stomach tighten. "Graf didn't kill
Morgan. Coleman, that's just not fair. Graf might have
been chasing him, but it was Morgan who drove an SUV
like it was a sports car. You can't blame Graf for Morgan's
stupidity."

Coleman stood up. "Oh, but yes I can. Graf Milieu is
somewhere in the state of Mississippi. If he tries to buy a
plane ticket, I'll have him in custody in nothing flat.
There's an APB out for him from here to California. We'll
have him before the weekend is out"

"Can I print this?" Cece asked.

"Every word of it." Coleman walked to the door and opened it. "You're all free to go. For the moment. Sarah
Booth, if you leave Sunflower County again, you'll be in
jail without even a chance to explain. Tinkie, you'll be in
the cell beside her."

When we'd all been evicted from his office, he closed
the door and I heard the lock slide into place.

I linkie blazed a trail through the reporters, and I followed, abandoning the roadster and diving into the
front seat of the Cadillac for the moment. When the journalists and paparazzi cleared the square, I'd go back and
get my car.

"Imagine what it must be like to be a celebrity every
day," Tinkie said. "This is what life in Hollywood will be
like."

"The difference between celebrity and notoriety is
vast" I shielded my face from a hundred flashes as Tinkie
drove slowly through the crowd.

"Coleman was really pissed." She stated the obvious.

"Too freaking bad" I was really pissed, too. He had no
right to act so high-handed. Connie was nibbling him to
death, but that didn't give him cause to mood-swing all
over the place. I had nothing to do with the complications
of his life. I was only trying to save my butt from going to
prison for something I didn't do.

I sat up taller as we left the reporters behind.

"Where to?" Tinkie asked.

We couldn't go to Millie's. The cafe was crawling with
journalists. They'd found good coffee and a place to set
up their laptops, and they weren't going to budge. "Tinkie, what are we going to do? With Morgan dead .. ."

She headed out of town toward the wide-open spaces
of the Delta. "We're going somewhere quiet where we
can think for just a minute."

We were a long way from Scarlett's moment in the
Georgia clay, but there was truth that the land sustained
us. Whenever I was down, if I went back to the earth, that
rich dirt that grew crops in such abundance, I found momentary peace. As we drove deeper into the land down
poorly maintained farm roads, I felt my body relax. I didn't
care where we went.

Careful not to cross the boundary of Sunflower County,
Tinkie pulled into the driveway of the old Maxwell Plantation. Treacherous buck vines with half-inch thorns grew
out of the untended azaleas and climbed the old oaks. The
house itself seemed to slump. I closed my eyes, suddenly
overcome with a desire to cry. The place retained an elegance that's hard to describe in the middle of decay, but
time had worked hard magic. Vines wound around the
columns that supported the second story. The old bricks,
baked by slaves, had begun to crumble. The massive oaks
that lined the drive held Spanish moss that wafted in the
gentle breeze and told a story of past lawn parties and
laughter.

Tinkie and I had grown close enough that I could
speak my thoughts. "Dahlia House will look like this if I
go to prison."

Tinkie's hand found mine on the car seat. "No, Sarah Booth. It won't. I'll buy Dahlia House, if it comes to that.
Harold and I have discussed it. Your home won't be sold
or razed. You have our word."

The tears slid down my cheeks. I hated to cry in front
of anyone, but Tinkie was more than just anyone. She was
the sister I should have had. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just
can't help feeling sorry for myself."

She hugged me to her, and I felt her own tears wetting
my hair. "It looks bad right now, but it isn't over. You
know that. The fat lady hasn't sung yet"

"Do you really think Graf has left for Hollywood without me?"

She looked at the Maxwell place. The processes of nature were at work even as we sat and watched. "Graf doesn't
take action, Sarah Booth. He reacts. If he has gone to Hollywood, it's not because he didn't want to take you with
him. It's that he fled in such a hurry, he couldn't wait."

I saw that, but it didn't make me feel better. "Everything he said was a lie."

"Probably. But did you really expect it to be different?" She smiled at me. "I think not. You always knew
him better than the rest of us. We saw that gorgeous exterior, and we thought the outside was a preview of the inside. We were just wrong"

How to explain to her that I'd really felt that Graf was
different? The first time I'd fallen for him, I'd been inexperienced and unprepared for a man who believed his
own lies. I'd allowed myself to be swept up in his powerful beliefs. This time, though, I hadn't. Yet Graf had
played me again and made me believe in him. Or at least
in his innocence.

"I wonder where he is."

"Coleman will find him. Eventually. But Graf can't really help us, Sarah Booth. We need someone who can corroborate your identification of Morgan as the man that sold
that lipstick."

"And in the meantime, I'll have my preliminary hearing and then be indicted by a grand jury for murder. That's
going to be a great recommendation for your future clients.
`Oh, yeah, my former partner's doin' time for murder."'

"Let me worry about my future," Tinkie said. "Why
don't we go for a ride? You have Miss Scrapiron over at
your house. I could ride with you."

I sat back and felt Tinkie's forehead to see if she had a
fever. She didn't ride horses. She didn't like to get dirty. I
didn't think she even owned a pair of breeches, much less
paddock boots.

"Oh, pick up your jaw," she said. "I took lessons at
summer camp each year. And I dated a boy my freshman
year at Ole Miss who owned a breeding farm in Lexington, Kentucky. I used to help him breeze the racehorses"

"You what?"

She laughed. "See, there are still some good surprises
left in the day, Sarah Booth" She started the car and backed
out of the driveway. "If you mess with me, I'll have to
race you, and then you'll be humiliated when I win."

Surprised, yes. Humiliated, never. "You're on "" I covered a big yawn. I was tuckered out.

She pulled up at the courthouse so I could get my car.
The reporters had moved on, sharklike, looking for new
stories. "Why don't you grab some lunch and take a quick
nap. I'll give you a call to wake you up and be at Dahlia
House at three, ready to ride. Then I'm going to make
you eat my mud"

Food and nap, in that order. Tinkle was a genius. "I'll
be ready at three ""

I watched her pull away before I drove home. Once in side I fell into bed, asleep before I could even slip out of
my clothes.

I dreamt of vines and old houses that moaned as each
brick fell from the foundation. Behind the houses was a
small black spring that whispered darkly of the future.

"Look deep, Sarah Booth. Don't back away. Look
deep to see what's hidden." The spring called to me.
Though I knew better, I was drawn there to gaze into the
slick black surface.

Renata floated up, hair streaming around her pale face.
Her eyes were wide open, her expression frozen into victory.

When I backed away from her she reached for me.

"From the grave, Sarah Booth. We're coming from the
grave for you"

I looked deeper and saw Robert Morgan floating up
behind her. His hands had talons for fingers and he
snatched at me.

I awoke at the sound of my own scream. Sweetie Pie was
frantically licking my face, and once I sat up, I realized it
was nearly five o'clock. I'd slept away the entire afternoon.
Dusk was settling over me, and Tinkie had stood me up. I
could only smile. She'd tricked me into focusing on a horseback ride so I could sleep. Pretty clever, my old friend. If
the dreams had left me alone, I would have slept through
until the next day. As it was, I awoke with a sense of dread
and no plan for the afternoon.

I scouted the house for Jitty, but she was nowhere to be
found. Not even up in the attic, where I sometimes found
her in Alice's old rocking chair. The old rocker, armless
and designed for nursing mothers, was covered in dust.
No matter how much I knew about the past, or how much I cared, I couldn't maintain the weight of it, as well as the
present. The future was a dark spring that dared me to
look deeply. My goal was to find that place of balance in
the present.

I tried Tinkie's cell phone, but she didn't answer. Cece
answered but said she was on deadline, that she'd call me
back. Millie sounded frazzled, but she told me she was
bringing a boxed dinner and a stack of old tabloids for my
entertainment.

"There's another big story about you, Sarah Booth. It's
in The Galaxy. They've got a great photo of you and Graf
kissing, and they've drawn prison bars-like the two of
you are locked up together. Very sexy, I have to say."

Great. Now some maniac was drawing me into prison.
"Do they say I'm guilty of murder?"

Millie's chuckle was amused. "Honey, they don't care
if you're guilty or not. It's the romance of two stars locked
up together. It's a great story, even if it isn't true"

"Right"

"I'll be by in fifteen minutes. And I have a doggie bag
for Sweetie Pic."

"You're the best, Millie." Sweetie had been reduced to
dry dog food for the past several days, and the food from
Millie's would be a real treat.

I fed the horses, whistled up my hound, and made a
Jack and water while I waited on the porch for Millie to
arrive. True to her word, she was there before my butt had
frozen. We went inside and I made her a wine spritzer.
Millie wasn't a big drinker, but she liked a light drink.

The stack of old tabloids she'd brought was impressive. Maybe it would keep my mind off my woes. I picked
up an issue while Millie opened the go-box and changed
my dinner to a china plate. "No sense in eating out of Styrofoam," she said. "I hate the way it sounds when a
fork touches that stuff." She shuddered.

The plate she set before me included all of my favorites-fried chicken, fried okra, turnip greens, purple
hull peas, and a corn muffin. My mouth watered as I
looked at it.

I saw that Sweetie, too, had a treat. Millie had brought
her a half-dozen chicken tenders, broiled, and a dollop of
homemade macaroni and cheese, one of Sweetie's alltime favorites.

"This is wonderful."

"Tinkie said you might be hungry."

"Speaking of Tinkie, where is she?"

Millie looked chagrined. "I shouldn't have mentioned
her name"

Now I was really curious. "Where is she?"

"She went to Memphis, Sarah Booth. She knew you
couldn't go, but she said she had something she had to
do"

"What?" I lowered my fork.

"She was going to that cosmetic shop. And she was
going loaded for bear."

It was eight o'clock when Tinkie finally called me, and
I could tell from her voice that she was both jubilant and
tired.

"Meet me at the sheriff's office," she said. "I'm about
ten minutes from town. I've already called Coleman."

I didn't argue, I just loaded into the car and drove. I
took Sweetie Pie along. She liked to ride, and she enjoyed
a visit to the jail, where she'd once spent several daysfalsely accused of biting.

The reporters had cleared out of the town square, leaving only the wind to whistle down the empty streets. It
seemed much later than it was as I parked and walked
along the sidewalk. A piece of litter skittered across the
sidewalk in front of me, and Sweetie nabbed it. She carried it up the steps and into the courthouse where I put it
in a waste can.