Ham Bones (6 page)

"You're not going on the stage, are you?" Tinkie
grasped my arm.

"Of course I am. If people are foolish enough to think
I killed a woman so I could be on stage for a few minutes in Zinnia, Mississippi, I won't disappoint them" It was
the most ludicrous thing I'd ever heard. If I'd wanted to
kill Renata for some stage time, I would have done it in
New York City, a town where theatre mattered.

"Please reconsider, Sarah Booth. Think how it will
look."

"Think what will happen if I don't. The show will close."

"I don't care. You're more important than a show."

Her words slowed me, for a split second. "I'm going
on, Tinkie. I want to. I need to get this behind me ""

She sighed and her grasp on my arm loosened as she
fell into step beside me. "I think you're nuts to do this,
but if you must, I'm with you all the way."

The applause was better than I'd ever dreamed. Graf
and I stood center stage, flanked on either side by Sir Alfred and the rest of the cast. The auditorium reverberated
with the clapping and foot-stomping and whistles. Graf's
hand exerted excited pressure as we took our fifth bow.

At Keith's direction we hustled off stage, and in the
wings Graf pulled me into his arms. "You were fabulous!" His face told me he wasn't lying. "Whatever
you've been doing this past year, Sarah Booth, it's paid
off in spades. Everyone in the audience couldn't take
their eyes off you"

His words soothed the scars my New York debacle had
left on my ego, and I took even more satisfaction in his
embrace.

Keith Watley hustled into the wings, a smile a mile
wide on his face. The director flung his arms open and
clasped me in a bear hug.

"Sarah Booth," Keith said, laughing, "where were you when I cast Renata? You're the ultimate Maggie the Cat.
Had she not died, I'd never have seen your talent."

His words reminded me that I'd gotten my golden moment at the cost of Renata's life, and suddenly the applause was hollow. I'd been cold and brutal about her
death, because deep down inside I wanted my chance on
the boards. She'd been a bitch, but that didn't excuse my
selfishness.

"I need some water" I felt faint. The excitement, the
reality of my desperate need all of it had combined to
make me feel lightheaded.

As I started toward the dressing rooms, I faltered. I
couldn't go in there. The kitchen was the best place. I could
get a drink of water and avoid the crush of people who
were pouring backstage to congratulate the cast and crew.
Something I'd craved all of my life now unsettled me. I
wanted to go home. I wanted to have a moment to explain
to Coleman that I was sorry that Renata had died. And I
did hope it turned out to be some medical problem, something that would point the finger of blame at no one. Especially not me.

The lipstick on the mirror spoke of murder, but it wasn't
necessarily so. Someone could have written the message
and it might have shocked Renata into a coronary. Who
knew, and it was pointless to speculate until Doc Sawyer
had performed an autopsy.

The staff at the kitchen gave me a warm welcome and
a stool at one of the stainless-steel counters. Trays of pink
shrimp and crab claw tarts whisked through the door,
along with slabs of roast and ham, chicken salad, tiny
sandwiches decorated with peppers and chives. All beautiful and no doubt wonderful. My appetite had fled, and I
was glad to be in the kitchen with people who ignored me
as they went about their jobs.

I had five minutes to myself before Tinkie found me.
She looked at me with proud awe. "I am amazed, Sarah
Booth. And afraid. After that performance, I don't think
we'll be able to keep you in Zinnia for long. New York is
where you belong."

Her words frightened me. This year was supposed to
be about letting go of the past, not falling back into it.
"Don't get the cart ahead of the horse, Tinkie. And
speaking of horses, it would be mighty hard to have Reveler in New York City." I gave her a grin even though I
felt awful.

"Everyone is looking for you. You have to come out of
the kitchen."

"No, I'm happy here"

"Half the town is talking about you. You have to acknowledge the performance"

I considered. "Where's Coleman?"

She looked down at her shoes. "He went into town
with Doc and the body. He asked me to give you a ride
home"

Right. "Did he see any of the show?" I hated myself
for asking.

She shook her head. "No. He was back here with Doc
and he never left the body. Something about chain of evidence."

He was only doing his job, but it still left me feeling
cold and unwanted, especially in light of the questions
he'd been asking before he left.

She sighed. "I still think you should go out and accept
the congratulations. You did a stupendous job, Sarah
Booth. I would think you'd want to enjoy the glory."

"Not tonight." I just wanted to go home and crawl into
my bed and sleep. Tomorrow, in the light of day, I'd feel
more like confronting the cause of her death.

As Tinkie and I walked across the parking lot, she put
her arm around my waist. "Do you think we'll get the
case?" she asked.

"What case?"

"If Renata was murdered, there'll be a big case. High
profile. It would be good for the agency."

"As long as we have a paying customer," I said, getting
into her car.

Dahlia House was dark when Tinkie parked in front of
the porch.

"Shall I come in with you?" she asked.

"You have a party at Hill Top. I've been selfish enough
getting you to drive me home. Go and play host"

She frowned. "I'm worried about you" She touched
my cheek. "You're pale and cool."

"I'm tired. You have to admit, it's been a harrowing
night. Performing is exhausting to me. It never came naturally, which is probably why I don't have any real desire
to do it for a living."

"Really?"

I could see the hope in her face. "Really. I don't want
that life anymore, Tinkie. This business tonight was fun.
It scratched an itch that's been bothering me for a long,
long time. Now I'm not a failure anymore. That's all I really
needed to do it and succeed. Now I can truly put it behind me"

`But you'll finish the show?"

"Of course. If Keith wants me to, I will."

"But you won't run away to Hollywood with Graf?"

I laughed and it sounded real, even to me. Maybe I
was an actress. "No. Not Hollywood, and certainly not
Graf." But her words had opened a hole in my heart
where Coleman was concerned. He could have taken the
body with Doc and returned to see me home. I under stood chain of evidence, but once the body was delivered
to Doc for the autopsy, he had no need to stay with it.

"I'll come by in the morning with Cece's review."

I got out and waved as Tinkie headed down the driveway. As much as I loved her, I needed to be alone for a
while to sort through my feelings. I had lied to her about
Hollywood. With the tiny success on the stage of The
Club, my ambitions were reborn. I wanted to be an actress. A star. Time was running out, too. At thirty-four, I
didn't have a lot of good years left. Hollywood wasn't
kind to aging women. In a way, Renata had died at her
peak, which wasn't all bad as long as she wasn't murdered. And in order to sleep, I had to believe that her
death was from natural causes.

As soon as I opened the front door, I knew Jitty was
awake and waiting. She stood at the staircase, the most
beautiful red dress I'd ever seen swirling about her ankles. I couldn't pull my gaze off her dress, which looked
vaguely familiar.

"How does it feel to be swept off your feet?" she
asked, giving a little shimmy that set the dress rocking.
"Nothin' like bright lights and applause, is there?"

Somehow, Jitty knew my every move. "It was a vindication." I tried to brush past her and head for my bed, but
her skirt filled the staircase.

"I thought you was lettin' go of the past"

"Not everyone operates by your set of rules, Jitty.
Maybe this is how I'm letting go of the past"

`By struttin' around on the stage and knowin' you
were born with a talent?"

I'd never hoped to hear Jitty admit that I had a talent.
That in itself was another tiny helping of vindication. "I
do have talent. When I was in New York, what I lacked
was nerve"

"And comin' home to Zinnia, you found that"

"Can I please just get some sleep?"

"Gone be hard to sleep with that guilty conscience."
She pressed her skirt aside with her hands.

I saw my opening and darted past her on the steps.
"Why should I have a guilty conscience? I haven't done
anything wrong"

She floated up the steps after me. "You wished that
woman dead"

"I've wished a lot of people dead. No one has ever
obliged me before. Why should I think that Renata keeled
over because I wished it?"

"Because maybe she did."

That stopped me. And it made me furious. "You and
Coleman, what is it? Both of you have teamed up to make
me feel bad about something I had nothing to do with.
Sure, I took her place in the cast. I don't regret it for a
minute. I learned something valuable about myself-that
I can act. That I have talent, that I could go back to New
York if I wanted to-"

Before I could finish my tirade, Jitty began to fade.
The dress was a mesmerizing red swirl as she departed.

"You come back here!" I hated it when she slid out of
a conversation just because she was losing. "Jitty!"

But she was gone. And then I remembered the dress.
Scarlett had worn it when Rhett swept her off her feet and
carried her up to their New Orleans wedding suite for a
night of blissful sex.

I climbed the steps slowly. Jitty's point was well made
even in her absence. Ego was cold comfort on a January
night.

'he rapping on my front door-incessant and loudfinally woke me. I'd had trouble going to sleep, and
as I forced my eyes open, I realized bright morning sunlight was flooding through my bedroom window.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The rapping turned into pounding. I
got out of bed and hurried to the door. Whoever it was
sounded desperate.

"You've got to read this!" Tinkie thrust a newspaper in
my face as she raced into the house and toward the kitchen. "I need coffee! Maybe even a Mimosa. We should
celebrate or pack up and flee! You decide."

I took the paper and followed in her wake. She'd conveniently turned it to the page with a blaring headline,
HOMETOWN GIRL WOWS THE AUDIENCE.

Living in New York, I'd fantasized about picking up
the Times and reading a review of my work. This wasn't
New York, and it was the Zinnia Dispatch with a review
written by a close friend, but nonetheless, I felt chills race
over my body as I read Cece's delicious words.

I was halfway through when I hit the part about Renata's death. Cece hadn't tempered her thoughts with
kindness toward the deceased. She called Renata a prima
donna and noted the play was vastly improved by her absence.

"Had Ms. Trovaioli not died so inopportunely, the audience would never have been treated to Ms. Delaney's
performance. Perhaps the Angel of Death is a better critic
than any of us knew!" Cece wrote.

"Holy shit." I sat down at the table and let Tinkie put
the coffee on. She always made it too strong, but I needed
a jolt of something.

"Holy shit is right. Cece just gave you the definitive
motive for murder" She turned the coffeemaker on and
faced me. "Tell me one thing, Sarah Booth. You didn't
leave Coleman's side all night, did you?"

Of course I had. Why would anything be simple like
that? "I went to the bathroom. I went to the kitchen to
count the bottles of champagne chilling. I took some gifts
to Renata's dressing room" I shrugged. "Nothing criminal in those things."

"Except it gives you opportunity. You have motive.
Now if there's means, you'll have the three elements of
murder" Tinkie didn't look happy.

"Coleman knows I didn't harm Renata"

The doorbell rang, and I hurried to answer it. Cece
would be impossible to live with after her review, but I
couldn't wait to hug her. When I swung the door open, I
stepped back in surprise. Coleman and Dewayne stood on
my front porch, and neither of them looked happy.

"Tinkie just put some coffee on. Go in and have a
cup" I stepped back, aware that I was still in a pair of
pink flannel pajama bottoms and a thermal shirt. "I'm
going to run upstairs and change into some jeans"

"Sarah Booth" Coleman stepped into the house and
grabbed my wrist. "You're under arrest for the murder of
Renata Trovaioli. Anything you say can be used against
you .... He continued with the Miranda warning as I
stood speechless in my foyer.