“He’ll have plenty once he gets to Hollywood.”
“True. If any of that is real.”
“Your point is taken. In that case, Booter’s bank account would be attractive.”
“Graf has financial problems.” Harold had been the one who got the information for Tinkie, so I didn’t bore him by repeating the litany of Graf’s debts.
“Sarah Booth, I know you didn’t hurt anyone. But I want you to know, should things go wrong, Dahlia House won’t be sold. Tinkie and Oscar and I have discussed this. We’ll figure a way.”
Caught between fear and gratitude, I kissed his cheek. “I have the most wonderful friends in the world.”
“You won’t lose your home. Or your hound or horse. So put those worries behind you and prove yourself innocent.”
As if his words were magic, Tinkie swung down the driveway to pick me up.
“Thank you.” I got into the car and Tinkie carried me home.
When we got to Dahlia House, I turned to her. “Come inside and have some coffee. Will Oscar mind?”
“He’s asleep by now.” She turned off the car, and we walked across the porch together. Sweetie greeted us with a lick before she ran outside to chase armadillos and whatever else she could sniff out.
“What’s on your mind?” Tinkie asked when she’d settled at the table and the coffee was brewing.
“I don’t think we have a viable suspect.” I could see that my words rang true to her. She didn’t even offer a tiny argument. “That concerns me.”
“I know.” She slumped onto the table. “Graf is so perfect as a suspect, but I don’t think he did it.”
“I know. And Gabriel is good, too. But it just doesn’t hang together.”
“Bobbe couldn’t do it,” she said.
“Nor Kristine.”
“So where does that leave us?” she asked.
“Dangerously close to defeat.”
She got up and walked to where I stood at the counter. “We’ve been through a lot worse than this, Sarah Booth. Only a few weeks ago, a serial killer was holding both of us hostage. We’ll figure this out and put this murderer behind bars.”
“Have we overlooked someone? Someone right under our noses?”
Tinkie tilted her head as she thought. “Who? Sir Alfred Bascomb?”
“We haven’t checked him out thoroughly.”
“You don’t sound all that enthusiastic.”
“It doesn’t feel right. Sir Alfred really has nothing to gain.”
“That we know of.” She got the heavy whipping cream from the refrigerator and poured it into two cups. I added the coffee.
“Someone from the audience?” I thought again of Booter and Graf. We’d ruled Graf out as a suspect, and Booter had no motive.
“What did you learn about this Robert Morgan?”
I filled her in on what Gabriel had told me, none of it adding up to serious suspicion.
“He’s the best we’ve got. I say we go for him.”
We settled in at the table to drink our coffee. The clock showed two A.M., but the next day was Saturday, and I didn’t have a single thing I had to do. The show was over. I could collect my mother’s dresses from The Club and resume my life as a murder suspect. My moment of glory was passing, and even if Graf went to Hollywood, I wouldn’t be allowed to leave Sunflower County.
“Cheer up, Sarah Booth, we’ll—”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence. The phone rang. I picked it up, checking the caller ID to see that the call came from The Gardens. “Hello.”
“Sarah Booth, it’s Graf. I just got a call from Morgan. He’s in Memphis. He says he has to see me. You and Tinkie want to come along?”
“You bet.” I signaled Tinkie with excitement. “What does he want? Did he say?”
“He said he had to talk to me. He said the cops are on his tail, and he has things he has to get rid of before they catch him.”
This sounded like the most promising turn of events since Renata had died. “Tinkie and I’ll pick you up.”
“No! I’m going alone. You two follow. I’m meeting him in the bar of the Peabody Hotel. I told him I’d be there in an hour.”
“We’re right behind you.” I was undressing as I spoke. I wanted my black jeans, boots, and my all-purpose leather jacket.
“Do you have any jeans in the Caddy?” I asked Tinkie.
“I’m not going horseback riding at two in the morning. Not even for you.” She walked to the coffeepot and poured another cup.
“We’re going to Memphis. Graf is meeting Robert Morgan.”
Her eyes widened, and then she bit her lip. “You can’t go, Sarah Booth. You can’t leave the county.”
“Watch me.”
She frowned. “I’ll go. You stay here.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
She sighed. “I have some khakis and hiking boots in the trunk. I’ll get them.”
“Hurry. I’ll fix a thermos of coffee for the drive.”
Chapter 19
No one followed us out of Sunflower County, but as a precaution I slid down into the seat so that only Tinkie’s head was visible. Well, partially visible. She’s pretty short.
Once we cleared the Sunflower County line, I sat up and poured us both more coffee. My body ached with exhaustion. Tinkie had to be tired as well. All of the details of the production had fallen on her shoulders for the past month, and on top of that she was worried to death about me.
“I’ll be glad when this is over,” I told her.
“Me, too.” She hesitated. “What do we hope to gain by going to Memphis?”
I didn’t have a ready answer—at least not one I wanted to give. “Graf said Morgan had some things he needed to get rid of before he was picked up by the authorities. Morgan knows he’s a wanted man. If he’s a killer, Graf may be in trouble.”
“And we’re going to protect Graf? And do a better job than Coleman could do?” She was dubious.
“We have surprise on our side. And no one will suspect you. And I told Graf we wouldn’t notify the law unless he was in danger.”
“Sounds like Graf has something to hide.”
Ever astute, Tinkie went to the heart of the matter. “You know he does. But even knowing all that I know, I can’t see Graf hurting Renata.”
“Is this a smart decision?”
“I have to see Morgan. To be sure he’s the man who sold me that lipstick. If he is, then we’ll figure out a way to get Coleman to nab him.” The truth was, Coleman was hamstrung by legal procedure, and I wasn’t. I’d taken no oath of public office. I was a free agent, in a manner of speaking. “It’s just that we can be more subtle than Coleman.”
“We can?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, duh, Tinkie. We don’t have to wear a uniform.”
“Should I call Coleman and at least tell him what we’re doing?”
I wanted to answer yes, but I didn’t. I was violating my bond, and no matter how worthy the cause, Coleman would have to uphold the law. “It’s best to leave him out of it. He’ll have to arrest me.”
“What if this Morgan is dangerous?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I just want to see him. To see if he’s the guy. Bobbe identified him as the man hanging around the show all the time, but if I can hook him into that lipstick ...”
Tinkie gave up the argument as we entered the parking garage. “We can hang out in the ladies’ room until we figure out what’s what.” Tinkie tossed the valet her keys and headed in.
“Keep the car available for a quick getaway.” I gave the valet twenty dollars and hurried after my partner. For a short person, she could cover some ground when she set her mind to it.
Like all of the Delta belles, Tinkie knew the Peabody lobby like the back of her hand. High school and college graduation spawned dozens of parties in the grand old hotel where ducks waddled through the lobby each morning and afternoon on their daily march to the pond. The Peabody retained th
e grandeur of a South long gone, and it was revered in planter families like an old and glorious family member.
We skirted the lobby, which was almost empty at nearly four A.M. The hotel employees, who’d seen rich people do all kinds of crazy things, paid us no mind. Finally we slunk into the ladies’ room, which featured a sofa to recline on, hot and cold washcloths, a drink machine, and ashtrays for those women who’d failed to give up the habit but didn’t smoke in public. Just the sight of the porcelain designer ashtrays made me want to light up.
“Wait here. I’ll do surveillance.” Tinkie was out the door before I could protest. It was the best plan, too. Morgan might recognize me, but he had no reason to know Tinkie. Unless, of course, he’d been lurking around Zinnia and knew she was my best friend and partner.
I almost went after her, but I forced myself to wait. Tinkie was capable. She’d fought a long, hard battle the last few months to prove that to herself and to me and Oscar. She’d willed or prayed or chanted a breast lump away—with both Oscar and me sniping at her heels to go to a surgeon. The least I could do was trust her enough to spy around a lobby.
It was a long five minutes, but when she returned, she had information. “Graf is in the bar, alone. He saw me, but he only arched an eyebrow. He acted like he thinks he’s being watched.”
“Excellent.” I gave her a hug.
“You were worried about me,” she accused.
“Damn straight.”
She hugged me back. “That makes us even. So what’s the game plan?”
“You bribe the bartender to let you work the bar. I’m going to”—I shook my hair loose and quickly worked it into a French braid—“pretend to be a janitor.” Somewhere I’d find brooms and cleaning supplies. There might also be a shirt with the hotel insignia. “At this time of night, it won’t be odd to see someone cleaning, and once he comes in and sits with Graf, I can get a good look and then get out of there.”
Tinkie’s expression showed her doubt, but she kept her lip zipped about it. “Okay, and then what?”
“When Morgan gets there, you can eavesdrop. See what they’re talking about. Just mix Morgan’s drink really strong.”
“What are you going to do, jam him in your clean-up cart and abduct him? Maybe break his kneecaps to make him talk?” She put her hands on her hips.
“If I have to.” I wasn’t kidding. I was charged with murder. This man might be able to prove I’d bought lipstick already coated with a deadly poison. A deadly poison that he’d likely applied to the lipstick.
“He’s not going to say anything that would incriminate himself.”
She had a point. “At least I can identify him.”
“It might be smarter if we tailed him. Maybe then we could find out where he’s staying, what he’s up to. Then we can call Coleman and he can call the Memphis police and they can grab him. He’s wanted as a material witness in this case, you know.”
She was right. “Good thinking, Tink! I’ll go talk to the valet and find out what kind of car Morgan is driving.”
“I’ll take over as bartender. I know you trust Graf, but I’m not totally there yet. I want to keep an eye on him as well as Morgan.”
In the lobby we parted ways. Tinkie went to the bar and I found the valet talking to a desk clerk. He gave me his full attention when I palmed another twenty to him.
“Dude with strange whiskers?” he asked when I questioned him about Morgan.
“That’s him.”
“Pulled up in a Tahoe. Navy Blue. Told me to keep it close, he wouldn’t be long.”
“I need to follow him when he leaves.”
He nodded. “He cheating on his wife?” His grin was wide.
“Something like that. When he starts to leave, could you give me a signal?”
“I’ll do more than that. I’ll hold him up at the booth until you can get behind him.”
His name was on the tag on his lapel. “Thanks, Anthony.”
“All in the name of justice.” His grin was infectious, and I was smiling when I took up my station behind a potted palm. It annoyed me that I could do nothing but wait, but that was the role I needed to play. At least for a little while.
Twenty minutes later Tinkie brought me a cup of steaming coffee and some news.
“He and Graf have been talking. A couple of times, I thought Graf might hit him, but Morgan calmed him down. Whatever’s going on between them is intense.”
“Could you hear anything?”
“Not much.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think they’re almost finished. Are we set to tail him?”
“We’re ready.”
“Good. I’m going to turn the bar back over to the bartender. She’s getting antsy.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
She hurried back to the bar, and I sipped the strong Colombian brew. Just as I put my cup down, a tall man came out of the bar and walked straight toward me.
I eased back into the indoor shrub as much as possible, but it was unnecessary. Morgan was preoccupied with his own thoughts. I got a good look at him as he passed, and I felt my heart begin to thud. It was the same man from the cosmetic shop in Memphis. He’d thrown away the white, muttonchop whiskers, which had obviously been a disguise. Instead, his sideburns, while still oversized, were salt-and-pepper, like his hair. He was younger, fitter, and his mouth was a long, self-satisfied slash.
He passed me by and headed for the parking garage.
Graf was a minute behind him, as was Tinkie. I grasped her hand and squeezed it. “It’s him! He was behind that counter at La Burnisco! He’s the one who sold me that lipstick.” I finally took a good look at Graf. He didn’t look good. “Are you okay?” I asked him.
He sank down on one of the sofas. “He’s a real bastard.”
“What’s wrong?” I touched his shoulder.
“Renata sold my debt to him. He came to tell me I owed him $350,000 at the interest rate of seven percent. I’ve got until midnight to make my first payment or he’s going to the tabloids and tell them all about my Mexican drug experience.” He looked up at me like a kicked dog. “My Hollywood career will be over before it even starts. No one wants a drug-crazed actor on location.”
“Renata sold him the debt?” I was astounded. This sounded like something from indentured servitude.
Graf rose abruptly and began to pace. “I thought I’d gotten out from under it. Imagine that. I didn’t kill Renata, but I had this completely idiotic idea that I’d finally bested her. I was wrong.” His laughter was bitter. “Renata always wins. Even from the grave she’s reached out to hurt me.”
“If you get the Hollywood deal, you can pay that off in no time.” Tinkie was the pragmatist, and I could clearly see she wasn’t overly concerned with Graf’s financial whine.
Graf looked at me. “I’m not sure I can get the movie deal without Sarah Booth.”
Anthony opened the door and windmilled his arm at me in a get-going signal. I gave Graf a quick hug of support. “We have to go.”
“I’m just going to sit here a little while.” He plopped back down. “When I’m feeling better, I’ll drive back to Zinnia.”
He looked completely undone. I felt a pang of remorse as I walked away from him. He was in a financial pinch, but I was charged with murder, and the man who might be able to prove my innocence was about to leave town.
To my surprise, Morgan headed south, taking I-55 down toward the Delta. That would have been the last place I expected him to go. As far as I knew, he was a man without a place to stay. The police in New York were looking for him, and Gordon and Dewayne had alerted the counties around Sunflower to be on the watch for him. He would eventually be caught, but how much better if we could herd him right into Sunflower County where Coleman and the gang could snatch him up. Now that I knew he was the same man that sold me the lipstick, I knew he held my future in his hands.
Tinkie kept behind him a safe distance, but she chanced a glance at me. “We should call Coleman. Or
at least Gordon. I’m serious, Sarah Booth. We need official intervention here. If Morgan slips away from us, we might not find him again. Coleman can set up roadblocks and take him into custody. We can question him then. If we can get him to admit he sold you that lipstick, then you’re off the hook, Sarah Booth.”
To the east, the sun was creeping up the horizon. Another day was beginning, and for most people I knew, their lives would fall into the normal rhythm of a Saturday morning. “You’re right. We have to get him into custody.” We were exhausted.
I pulled my cell out of my purse, then thought better of it. We were still a ways from Sunflower County. “You should call.”
She slipped her hand into her purse, digging around for the phone.
“Want me to hunt?” Tinkie’s bag was almost as big as she was. She had all of her cosmetics, credit cards, checkbooks, Blackberry, and God knew what else in there.
“Sure.”
Just as I took the purse, I heard her indrawn breath. I looked up to see that Morgan had floorboarded his Tahoe. “I think he might have realized we were following him.”
I didn’t know how that was possible. We were a hundred yards back and the cruise control was set on seventy-four, a respectable four miles over the speed limit. Just like he was. But something had spooked him. Some bee had gotten into his bonnet.
“Should I follow him?”
“We can’t afford to lose him now.” I dialed the sheriff’s office number on her cell phone and handed it over to her. She gave Dewayne the statistics in rapid-fire sentences. When she snapped her phone closed, she shook her head. “He’s flying, Sarah Booth.”
And he was. He was doing at least 120 on that straight, empty Delta highway. While the Caddy could handle the speed, the SUV had a different center of balance. A couple of times it wobbled on the road as a wind current swept over the empty fields and buffeted it.
“Did Dewayne say they’d stop him?” I asked.
“He was calling Gordon and Coleman to set the roadblock. I’m supposed to call back if he turns off the main highway.”
“I wonder what spooked him.”
The answer came from behind us. The silver Porsche buzzed past us as if we were standing still. I barely caught a glimpse of Graf behind the wheel before he was gone, blistering down the highway toward the Tahoe.
Ham Bones Page 18