“You’re on your own,” he said. “She looks dangerous.”
I dodged another swing and dove into her midriff, my head down. I clasped my arms around her and clung like a burr. Though I wasn’t above defending myself in a catfight, I didn’t like the idea of striking a pregnant woman. As I clutched her to me, I had a strange realization. Connie Peters’s stomach was a little pudgy, as in overindulgent, and soft. Nothing like the taut, ripe belly of a woman with child.
She wasn’t pregnant!
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t homicidal. After escaping death at the hands of Virgie Carrington, a far better bred killer, I was going to be pummeled to death by an insane wife who’d pretended pregnancy to keep her husband from divorcing her.
“I’m going to kill you!” Connie brought both fists down on my back with enough force to make me lose my grip on her. She broke free and did some kind of karate spin while kicking sideways. I stepped back and avoided her foot.
When she had to put both feet down or fall, I grabbed her ankles and tugged. Her feet came out from under her, and she went down hard, striking the floor with sufficient force to knock the wind from her lungs.
Because I had no choice, I straddled Connie and pinned her arms to the floor. I found myself staring into her furious eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was really insane, or if she was simply so angry she’d lost her ability to reason. Whatever, I wasn’t going to turn her loose until someone with authority was on the scene.
“Call security!” I screamed at the gawking gaggle of nurses. When none of them made a move to do anything, I resorted to the death threat of the medical profession. “If you don’t call for some help, I’m going to sue!” That scattered them to five different telephones.
The door of Coleman’s room opened, and he staggered into the hall. As he took in the scene, I saw his expression drop into weariness.
“Sarah Booth, Connie, break it up.”
I wasn’t about to let the tiger go free and risk a chance of being eaten before help arrived. I kept her arms pinned and her lungs deflated until I heard the squawking radios of help.
Security arrived, and I found myself strong-armed off Coleman’s writhing wife. She took the opportunity to drive one into my gut before the second security guard grabbed her. He wrested her to her feet and held her in a double-armed headlock.
I heard the staccato tapping of Tinkie’s heels and her indrawn breath of disbelief. “What’s going on here?” she asked. “Good lord, where did Connie come from? And Sarah Booth, why are you green?”
“I’ve come to dispense justice!” Connie said as she took a swipe at me with one foot.
I took a ragged breath, managing not to toss my cookies from the gut kick, and shifted my focus to Coleman, who swayed but remained standing. It was killing him not to be able to control the two women in his life.
“Are you okay?” Tinkie put an arm around my waist for support.
“I’m fine. The psycho over there tried to kill me. In case you haven’t noticed, she isn’t pregnant.”
Tinkie assessed Connie’s figure, her normally merry features settling into cold fury. “No, she isn’t pregnant. Just a little flabby, with most of her ass shifting to her stomach. Isn’t the term for that butt gut?”
Connie was unable to express her rage in actual words. She gave a howl and tried to hurl herself at Tinkie. The security officer, though slow on the move, was strong.
Coleman stepped forward. “Connie, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m beating the shit out of the woman who wrecked our marriage and her insulting friend. We had a good marriage, Coleman. We had everything. Until you fell in love with her.” She gave me a look that would have frozen hell over.
Coleman put his hand on the door frame for balance. “If that were true, Connie, you’d have a reason to be angry, but it isn’t true. We never had a real marriage. I would have divorced you long ago, but I felt responsible for you. And then the whole pregnancy ruse.” He looked at her with sadness. “It’s over, Connie.”
Connie at last quit struggling in the security guard’s grip. It was as if the starch had gone out of her. She sagged. “That’s all a lie. You wanted a baby, so I tried. I did all of it for you.”
The moment was so awful, a few of the nurses slunk away to tend to other patients. Coleman looked from Connie to me. “We need to talk. All three of us. I’ve tiptoed around this issue for too long. Now it’s going to get resolved.” He looked at the security guards. “Turn them loose, please.”
I thought perhaps the bullet had struck his brain. He wasn’t the one Connie was going to jump as soon as she was free.
“Are you sure, Sheriff Peters?” one of the men had the good sense to ask.
Coleman nodded. “This isn’t the time or place for this, but there’s no helping it now. Sarah Booth, Connie, come into my room, please.” The guards released us both and stepped back. Connie glared but made no move to strike me.
“I’ll stand guard at the door,” Tinkie volunteered. She was letting me know she wouldn’t be far away if the fur started to fly.
I followed Coleman into the hospital room and closed the door. He sank onto the side of the bed. He was still pale, but he held himself with perfect posture. “Now, let’s get this straight once and for all.”
“We can’t get anything straight as long as she’s”—Connie pointed at me—“in the picture.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Connie.” Coleman’s voice was slow and deliberate. “Sarah Booth isn’t the problem.”
“What are you going to do?” Connie showed the first indication that she realized she’d made a terrible mistake. I had a revelation of my own: not only wasn’t she pregnant, she wasn’t nuts. She was perfectly capable of understanding what she’d done. Insanity was just her way of not facing the consequences of her actions.
“Coleman, what are you going to do?” she asked again.
I stood beside the door, waiting to hear Coleman’s answer.
“Connie, whatever I’ve felt for Sarah Booth, I haven’t acted on. She’s not that kind of woman, and I’m not that kind of man. You need to know that. I’ve tried in every way I know to be the husband you wanted.”
I could see the anger in her eyes. “How can you say that? You never loved me. You married me because you couldn’t shake me, but you never loved me.”
He rubbed his eyebrow. “I tried to love you. A long time ago I convinced myself that I did. Even when I realized I didn’t, I kept trying. Failing that, I tried to act as if I loved you. My thinking was that if I didn’t love you, at least I could still be a good husband. That was a tragic mistake, and I see the error of it now.”
I felt the tears gathering in my eyes. It’s a hard thing for a man to look at the fabric of his life and see only the holes.
Connie grasped the footrest of the bed. “You can’t divorce me. I’m sick.”
Coleman took a deep breath. “I’m not buying that any longer, Connie. My first mistake was in staying married to a woman I didn’t love. My second, more serious mistake was in turning my back on the woman I do love to accept a burden of responsibility. In doing that, I betrayed myself and Sarah Booth.”
“Sarah Booth!” Connie practically spat my name. “What kind of woman goes after a married man? You speak of her like she’s so wonderful. She’s a tramp.”
Coleman glanced at me, and the tiniest of smiles touched the corners of his lips. “Sarah Booth didn’t go after me. In fact, she’s done a lot to stay out of my path.”
“Right. That’s why she’s always in the sheriff’s office.”
Coleman stood. It cost him, but he gained his feet. “Connie, you can have whatever you want financially. What you can’t have is another minute of my time. Get a lawyer, because I intend to.”
She stared at him, trying to calculate what his words were truly going to cost her. “I’m going to flay the hide off you in court.”
“I doubt it. If I chose to fight you, Conni
e, I don’t think there’s a court in the world that would side with a woman who used the hope of a baby as a weapon against her husband. But I’m not going to fight. Take everything. There’s not a thing I own worth fighting you about. Take it all. Take it and get out of my life.”
Connie’s breathing was hard. She turned to me. “You bitch. You’re going to pay for this!” And then she was gone. She tried to slam the door, but the hydraulic release foiled her last attempt at drama. Coleman and I were alone in the room.
“Sarah Booth.” He faltered, and I rushed to him, putting my arm around him for support.
“I don’t know what to say,” was my brilliant response.
“I sprang that on you kind of suddenly. I tried to talk to you before all of this—when I found out the pregnancy was a complete fabrication to keep me tied to her. The doctor in the mental institution finally told me the truth.”
“It didn’t occur to her that she’d have to produce a baby sometime in the future?”
He shook his head. “I think she thought she could seduce me and possibly get pregnant, but that kind of thing was over a long, long time ago for us. I tried to be a husband, but I didn’t love her. Whatever intimacy we had was a sham, an attempt for me to cover the total lack of love I felt for her.” He touched my cheek. “After years of dealing with liars and criminals, it honestly never occurred to me that Connie would lie about a baby.”
With my urging, he sat on the edge of the bed, and I sat beside him. He slipped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. For a long moment we sat that way, with me listening to the beating of his heart.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked him.
His smile was tired. “What I really want is to go back in time and undo the entire marriage.” Something unpleasant touched the features of his face. “I’ve felt so guilty. For marrying her when I didn’t love her. For not being able to love her.”
“A Brillo pad would be more lovable, Coleman.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Part of the guilt rests on her.”
“And part on me. I always knew, deep down, that I didn’t love her the way I should. There is a special hell for halfmeasures.”
I took his hand. “Love is earned. It isn’t some magical thing that happens.”
“It’s magical with you.” He leaned down and lightly kissed my lips. “See, that was magic.”
I touched his stubbly cheek. “Are you certain this divorce is what you want?”
“Yes. I’m not going to live any longer in emotional limbo. I haven’t asked you what your plans are, and I won’t do that now. I have to make my own plans before I try to hook anyone else into them.”
Sometimes Coleman was truly wise. I kissed him lightly on the lips. “Get some rest.”
“There’s nothing I’d like better.” He sank back against the pillow and closed his eyes, asleep before I could exit the room.
Tinkie sat on my bed as I flipped through my closet for something to wear to Allison’s gathering. Dr. Martin had decided to keep Coleman in the hospital another day, so Tinkie and I’d come home together. Sensing how turbulent my emotions were, she’d stayed with me.
“We solved another case. Allison is free—and rich. She lost the person she loved, but she has her whole life ahead of her.” Tinkie rolled onto her back. “I can’t imagine not being a private investigator.”
“You could have been killed.” I was still upset about the danger Tinkie had been in.
“But I wasn’t. And neither were you. We put a serial killer in jail, Sarah Booth. We did it. We’re developing quite a reputation.”
I turned to look at her, caught by her innocence and strength. She was right. We had every reason in the world to celebrate. “I owe Humphrey an apology. He turned out to be a pretty good guy, and I never took him seriously.”
“Bad timing on his part. Are you going to marry Coleman?”
“Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? He hasn’t asked.” I dug through the closet for my shoes to avoid looking at her.
“Aren’t you hedging? You know he will. And I predict soon.”
Tinkie was my partner and my best friend. I could be honest with her—which would force me to be honest with myself. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “My thoughts are one giant muddle. For so long Coleman has been out of reach—a married man. Now he’s available. We can actually explore our feelings for each other.” I plopped down beside her on the bed.
“And that thought terrifies you, doesn’t it?”
She was good. She was damn good. I nodded slowly, my gaze on the heels I held in my hand.
“What do you want, Sarah Booth?”
“That’s easy enough to ask but hard to answer.” I went back to the closet and pulled out a red shirt with a deep V-neck and a side tie that was sexy and slimming. “This will go perfectly with my black jeans and those sexy heels. Red is Christmassy, and maybe it’ll put me in the mood for the fast-approaching holiday.”
“This sudden concern for fashion is interesting, but I recognize it as another dodge. Answer my question.”
“That’s a tough question,” I hedged. “What do you want, Tinkie?”
“I want to put aside all the hurt and scar tissue I’ve been building against Oscar.” She leaned on her elbow as she stretched out on the bed. “I want a child. A girl, specifically, but I’ll settle for a boy. I want to sing and play with my child in a garden filled with bright flowers and butterflies. I want to see you happy.”
She had her wants down to very specific details. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Because you’re afraid of having it and then losing it.”
Tinkie hadn’t been to head-shrinking school, but she was damn good at figuring people out. “Maybe.”
“You’re the bravest person I know, Sarah Booth. It doesn’t make sense that you’d be afraid to love someone.”
“It makes perfect sense if you’ve lived my life.”
“I’ve sometimes thought that you loved Coleman because you couldn’t have him. It was safe to long for him—far safer than the reality of having someone.”
“Enough with the analysis!”
She got up and came over to me. She took my hands in hers and held them to her chest. “Once I didn’t run with the opportunity given to me.” She squeezed my hands tightly. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever regretted.”
She held my gaze for a long moment before she released my hands and stepped back. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. I need to see Oscar and change my own clothes.”
“Thank you, Tinkie, but there’s no need to pick up me.” I called after her retreating back. “I’ll see you both at the party.”
She was barely gone when Jitty appeared at my dressing table, adjusting a truly unattractive mop cap fitted over what looked to be unwashed curls. Her dress was a harsh blue cloth, loosely fitted and covered with a dirty white apron. “What the hell happened to you?” I asked. Jitty was prone to numerous costume changes, but she always wore elegant and attractive clothes.
“The revolution happened, that’s what. Even a ghost could lose her head if she showed up in too much finery.”
“Sounds to me like you stayed at the ball too long.” I slipped into my black jeans.
“At least I had the courage to attend.”
I stopped and turned to look at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tinkie was giving you some good advice. The only thing you ever regret is what you don’t try.”
“Tell that to Marie when her head rolls into a basket. She could have done without that ‘let them eat cake’ comment, and she might have lived to raise her children.”
Jitty smiled. “You really aren’t a student of history, are you?”
“Somehow I think I’m going to get the lecture no matter how I answer.”
“Right. The monarchy of France was doomed not by the actions of Marie and her husband, but by the intrigues of men who lusted for power. The rabble w
as roused by those with an agenda. If you don’t get history, take a look at what’s happening in Washington D.C. today.”
Politics was the furthest thing from my mind, and I was a little shocked that Jitty would take an interest in them. “Can I please get ready for this gathering without having to think about rabble and rousing and baskets filled with wigless heads?”
“Of course.” She stood up. “I have an appointment, anyway. Just remember, Marie might not have paid attention to the warning signs, but when she goes to her death, she’ll do so with courage.” Jitty shimmered out of the room.
“I hate your freaking enigmatic last lines!” I threw a brush at the place where she’d been standing. She was gone, though, and no antics would bring her back. I slipped into my shirt and set to work on my make-up. I had a celebration to attend and an apology to give. I wanted to look my best no matter what the night—or the future—threw at me.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2006 by Carolyn Haines
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2005928280
0-7582-1090-6
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7482-3
Bones To Pick Page 27