She answered in what sounded to me to be a fearful tone.
“Marilyn, I need to talk to you.”
“Have you seen Tinkie? She was supposed to meet me for breakfast. She never showed.”
“Tinkie may be in serious trouble.” Where I hadn’t wanted to tell Lorilee the time of day, I didn’t mind sharing this information with Marilyn.
“I’ve been so worried. She told me about the note.”
I was momentarily stunned. “She did? What did it say?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Marilyn asked.
I managed to control my temper. “I haven’t seen Tinkie. Please, tell me what the note said, if you can remember.”
“Oh, I remember,” Marilyn said. ‘Birds of a feather flock together—then die together.’ Those are the exact words. I’m terrified for her. You know, Mother received one of those enigmatic notes before she died.”
I knew. It made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. “Did your mom receive more than one note?” I hoped she’d say six or eleven or thirty.
“I don’t recall but one.” Marilyn paused. “There could have been more, but I only found that note after the fact. Mother had stuck it in one of her drawers.”
“Typewritten?”
“Yes.”
“How long before she was ... died?”
“About two weeks, judging from the postmark.”
“Mailed in Memphis?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
I ignored her question. “Was Tinkie’s note mailed?”
“No, it was hand delivered. She found it tucked in the windshield wiper of her Cadillac.”
“Do you know where she was going when she left you?”
Marilyn considered her answer. “She was very excited. She said she’d figured something out and that you were going to be so proud of her. That’s all I remember.”
Her words were like small stones striking my soul. Tinkie didn’t have to do anything to make me proud. Especially not risk her life. “Where were the two of you?”
“At The Gardens.”
“And after she left, what did you do?”
“I went to my room for a rest. Lorilee is driving me insane. I had to get away from her, so I left word at the front desk that I had a headache and was not to be disturbed. You know, I’d rather not have a friend than have to put up with her.”
“Have you received any notes?” I heard the thrum of my pulse in my ears as I waited for her answer.
“One.”
It was clear she was reluctant to talk about it, but I had to push. “What did it say?”
“Ashes to ashes and trash to trash—you will be canned.”
“When did you get the note?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“What have you done?” Three weeks had passed, and Marilyn was still walking around unharmed. She had to have done something.
“I called up the chemical company and told them I wasn’t interested in selling my land to them.”
I bit my lip. “You took immediate action to cancel that plan?”
“I’m not an idiot, Sarah Booth. Mother was murdered. I knew it, though I couldn’t convince the police. Mother flaunted her sexual conquests. She was shameless, having sex in houses she was supposed to be selling. She disregarded that note, and she died. I wasn’t going to be next.”
“Thanks, Marilyn.” I had to get off the phone. I hung up and turned to Cece. She held up several sheets of paper she’d printed.
Her voice was angry. “Mrs. Reynolds’s death was ruled accidental. No one even examined the bookshelf. It was treated as a freak accident, just like all the others.”
“I hope Coleman has more success than we did,” I said.
“Maybe we should pay him a visit.” Cece picked up her coat as I filled her in on everything I’d learned from Marilyn.
Coleman’s news was even grimmer than what I’d learned. He closed the door to his office as he told us that the investigations into all three murders had been slipshod. “It was assumed that the women had no enemies. The authorities were never told about the threatening notes,” he said.
The fact that his gaze slid from mine every time we connected told me a lot about how worried he was for Tinkie.
“Marilyn and Lorilee both said Tinkie figured something out. That she was very excited.” I took a deep breath. “Do you think she confronted the killer?”
“So quickly? That would imply the killer is in Zinnia,” Coleman said.
“I know. But Tinkie’s note and mine were hand delivered.”
He nodded. “The question is, do we believe the murderer is a resident of Sunflower County or a visitor?”
“Visitor,” Cece said without hesitation. “This all came to town with Quentin. Before she arrived, we’d never heard of these notes or any of it.”
I nodded agreement. Coleman smiled. “On the surface I’d have to agree, but there’s not enough evidence to view that as a fact.”
“My gut tells me that whoever is responsible for all of this blew into town for Quentin’s funeral.” I couldn’t sit still. “That’s where we need to start looking.”
Coleman sat on the edge of his desk. “I agree. It’s where I start looking. Sarah Booth has already been threatened. Cece, I don’t want to have to assign a deputy to watch over you. It would be best if you both took a little vacation.”
“Are you insane?” I jumped to my feet. “Tinkie is in danger. I’m not going anywhere.”
Coleman only looked amused. “I figured you’d say that. So I’m going to assign Gordon and Dewayne to watch you.”
“I don’t want a bird dog on my tail. The deputies should be out looking for Tinkie.”
“I can’t afford to lose you, Sarah Booth. So we’ll do it my way.”
I didn’t have a choice. I looked at Cece, who was studying her feet and trying hard not to smile. She thought it was amusing. “If Tinkie did figure this out, she must have found out something I don’t know. I intend to find out what, and I don’t want one of your deputies interfering.”
“There’s a fine line between interfering and protecting,” Coleman said. “I’ll tell them to stay on the protecting side.”
He wasn’t going to change his mind, and I wasn’t going to get any support from Cece. “Do you have any leads?” I asked.
“Nothing you don’t already know. She was last seen at The Gardens B&B.”
I nodded. “Cece and I will follow the solarium clue and see what we can turn up.”
Coleman stood up and came to me. He didn’t care that Cece was sitting right there. He drew me to my feet and circled me in his arms. “I’m not trying to thwart you, Sarah Booth. I’m trying to protect you and find Tinkie.”
His arms were warm, but his words were cold. I stiffened and stepped back. “Tinkie is in this because of me. If something happens to her, it’s my fault. Keep that in mind when you try to corral me.”
I walked out, and Cece hurried after me.
“That was cold, Sarah Booth. The man is only trying to protect you.”
“And you were such a support system.” I kept two paces ahead of her.
“Because I agree with Coleman and what he’s trying to do.”
We got in the car, and as I adjusted the rearview mirror, I saw Gordon Walters pull in behind us in the patrol car. Coleman had put words into action already.
“What about solariums?” I asked.
“The Memphis paper did an article several years ago on the resurgence of sunrooms. I can look it up if you’ll drop me at the newspaper.”
“I’ll be glad to.” I eyed the attractive leopard-print hat she was wearing. A plan had come to mind.
Wheeling into Dahlia House with Gordon not-so-subtly on my tail, I saw the bright purple ribbon on the package that was leaned against the front door. I sighed. Humphrey had struck again, or at least I hoped it was Humphrey. I’d have to open the package to be certain.
I darted up the steps and snatched it
up as I stepped inside and closed the door. Gordon parked behind the roadster and kicked back in his seat for a wait. I had an urge to go out and fuss at him, but he was only obeying orders. It was Coleman I was mad at.
I tore the ribbon off the package and dumped the contents on the parlor floor. At first, I didn’t comprehend what all the red and blue Lycra meant, but as I untangled arms and legs, I saw the emblem of Wonder Woman. There was even a cape. I shook out the costume and watched the note drift to the floor.
Women call me the “man” of steel. Let’s bump superpowers! Humphrey (Call me right away. I have news.)
I put the costume back in the box and tapped the note on my palm. Humphrey might have a lead. It was worth a try. I made the call and waited for Gertrude Stromm to connect me to his room.
“Why, Sarah Booth,” he said. “Did I finally hit on your weakness? Superheroes.”
“What news do you have?”
“Allison had a visitor this morning.”
“The Easter Bunny?” I was aggravated.
“No, Miss Carrington. She stopped by to say good-bye. She said she had to get back to the school, that she’d gotten some calls and was needed at home.”
“That’s the big news?” My temper sizzled. What a deceptive move.
“There’s more. I’d like to deliver it in person.”
“The only thing you’re ever going to deliver in person to me might be a pizza. What’s the big news?”
“Testy, testy.” He laughed. “Call your source at the hospital. Umbria Clark’s husband, Rutherford, was taken in by ambulance about half an hour ago. He’d been stabbed in the chest, and I heard he was singing like a bird, telling all of Umbria’s dirty little secrets.”
I was surprised; it was a great lead. “Thanks, Humphrey.”
“How about a date?” he asked.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Very. We could stage a kinky little scene where you find a necklace of kryptonite and bring me to my knees, if you get my meaning.”
I didn’t bother to respond. I hung up and ran out the door. I didn’t care if Gordon followed me to the hospital.
Doc Sawyer’s gaze pierced me as he sat behind his desk and waited. “Now tell me the truth. No foolishness.”
“Tinkie is missing.”
“I thought as much.”
Doc had a million sources—far more than I did—but I was curious about this one. “How did you know?”
“Harold called about an hour ago and asked me to call in something to calm Oscar. In all of my years of treating the Richmonds, I’ve never known Oscar to need a sedative. I knew it had to be bad. How long has she been missing?”
It wasn’t jeopardizing the case to talk to Doc. He’d taken care of both me and Tinkie when we were children. “More than twenty-four hours.”
He didn’t have to say that the longer she was gone, the less likely it was that she’d come back alive. “So what are you looking for here at the hospital?” he asked.
There were ethics and laws, and I was going to ask Doc to violate a bunch of them. “Rutherford Clark was brought in here. I heard he was stabbed and that he was talking a lot.”
“All of that is true.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
Doc considered. He got up and poured a cup of his terrible coffee. “I heard a good bit of it. I was the attending physician in the emergency room.”
Thank goodness. Now all I had to do was pry the information out of him. “Doc, if Umbria McGee Clark is the killer, she may be holding Tinkie alive. What did Rutherford say?”
“A lot of things.” He paced the small office. “You’ve put me in a spot, Sarah Booth.”
“I know.”
“I could lose my license.”
“I could lose my partner. I’m not being melodramatic.”
He sat back in his chair and looked out the small window onto the emergency room parking lot. One scraggly pine grew by the potholed tarmac. It wasn’t much of a view for a man who’d dedicated fifty years to medicine, but it was his view. I was asking him to put all those years in question.
“Rutherford was stabbed in the chest. The knife penetrated to the scapula, but I’d say it wasn’t a serious attempt on his life. In fact, he’s saying he fell on the knife.”
“Could he have?”
Doc chuckled. “No, he was stabbed. Most likely by Umbria.”
My pulse increased. Umbria had become a very good suspect, in my book. “What did he say?”
“Only that Umbria had threatened to divorce him. He was rambling, cursing, bemoaning his fate for marrying an heiress who would never inherit, that kind of stuff.”
“Why did Umbria stab him?”
“I’m not clear about that. It was a heated argument. There was an issue about Rutherford having other girlfriends.”
“I’ll say. He has a lust for bimbos.” I thought about my bar fight with his lady friends. “But surely Umbria has known about the girlfriends for years. He didn’t exactly make a secret of it.”
Doc shook his head. “I was in there when Umbria came in. It was one of the strangest things I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Tell me.”
“She bent over him on the table, and I think her hand slipped up between his legs. I couldn’t be sure, you understand. I was across the room. But something was going on. Anyway, the strangest look passed over his face—a combination of terror and awe.”
“What did she say?” I didn’t know if this would help my case, but I was just flat curious.
“She told him that if he did one more thing to cause her public shame, she would rip off his testicles and serve them to him for supper.”
“Yow-zer!”
“Exactly what I thought.”
“I guess she’s had enough.” I didn’t blame her. I would have done worse than threaten my husband if he’d gone around with women he bought with my money.
“I guess the thing that caught my attention was that Umbria was more afraid than angry.” Doc dropped his Styrofoam coffee cup into the trash. “Umbria was afraid of something.”
“Do you know what?”
He shook his head. “She left after that. She didn’t stay to see how Rutherford was going to be, and she didn’t ask. I got the impression she didn’t care if he died.”
Again, I understood that emotion, but I didn’t say anything. Doc was worried about something. “How is Rutherford doing?”
“He’s too stupid to die.” He sighed. “He wants his cell phone so he can call his women to come play cards with him.”
“He isn’t very bright. I wonder why Umbria married him.”
“Now that would be the question of the week.”
“It just became a burning issue.” I didn’t have any other lead to pursue, so I picked up my purse, kissed Doc on the cheek, and headed to The Gardens. If Umbria was still in town, that’s where she’d be staying.
21
“I guess I’m going to have to call the exterminator. The bugs have come crawling back,” Gertrude Stromm said as I paused in front of the desk.
“What room is Umbria Clark staying in?” I ignored her rudeness. I’d deal with her later, when I had Tinkie to help me.
“I don’t give out that information to busybodies.”
I took a deep breath. “Gertrude, please tell me.”
“Why should I?”
I leaned very close to her face. “Please don’t make me do something we’ll both regret. Just tell me the room number.”
Her gaze shifted to her little pigeonhole desktop. Room 22 was missing. I ran down the hall to the room, passing the open door to Virgie Carrington’s empty room. I didn’t blame her for heading back home. Things in Zinnia were getting deadly.
I tapped politely on Umbria’s door. She yanked it open with a growl. “What do you want now? I’m not stealing your towels!”
Her face changed from annoyance to downright anger when she saw me. “Get away from me. You’re working for that woman
who killed my sister.”
Stepping into the room, I forced her back, closed the door, and leaned against it. “Tell me, Umbria, do you really believe Allison killed Quentin?”
Her face told the story. Though she recovered quickly, I saw the truth. She knew Allison was innocent, yet she was willing to let her stew in jail because Allison had inherited the spoils that Umbria coveted. Not all of Miss Carrington’s carefully applied polish could change what Umbria was.
“You know she’s innocent!” I moved in for the kill. “The question is, how do you know she’s innocent?”
“Get out of my room before I call the sheriff.”
“Coleman will be delighted to talk to you.” I took a seat on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “Who stood to inherit if Quentin died before she reached the age of twenty-five?”
Her gaze darted around the room, and I knew she was looking for an escape route. I was too close to the only door. She could run and lock herself in the bathroom, but she couldn’t escape.
“You were the one who stood to gain everything, weren’t you?”
“What difference does it make? Quentin inherited, and she left every dime to that little tramp Allison.” Her face shifted to a sneer. “Maybe all that money will buy her a nice cell at the Mississippi State Penitentiary, or wherever they cage women felons.”
“You know she’s innocent, Umbria. How can you let an innocent person go to prison?” I knew it was because she was a greedy, heartless bitch, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“Why should I care what happens to her? She doesn’t care anything about me.”
Now that was an interesting statement. “Why should she care about you?”
She turned away. “Quentin has always hated me. That hate just rubbed off on Allison. They both spent all of their time figuring out ways to screw me out of what was rightfully mine.”
I saw it then, the mentally ill way in which everything revolved around Umbria. Everything was constructed to appease or torment her—at least in her own mind. Quentin wouldn’t have been able to order eggs for breakfast without Umbria assuming it was to somehow prevent Umbria from having eggs.
Bones To Pick Page 20