Jingle Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “They came out of the womb wicked and cunning. And good luck with a confession. Those boys are professional criminals. They’ll never own up to anything.”

  She was probably right, but we’d taken the case and now we had to try.

  The Rush family lived in a high-end subdivision that had once been a beautiful pecan orchard. Mr. Rush, the developer, had bulldozed every single tree. That told me a lot about family sensibilities. The house had to be eight thousand square feet, and when we pulled up in the driveway, a young boy watched us from an upstairs window. He had red hair and the wily eyes of a fox. Maybe it was a good thing Tinkie preferred to watch the car.

  The doorbell chimed and the heavy door opened quietly. Marjorie Rush looked annoyed. Her beautiful red hair offset a rare alabaster complexion. She came from money and she’d married more.

  “Sarah Booth, what brings you here?” she drawled. “Collecting for world peace or some other pie-in-the-sky scheme?”

  We’d gone to high school together but never traveled in the same clique. Marjorie had been head majorette, leader of the jazz dance team, Miss Sunflower County High beauty queen, and president of at least six school organizations. At Ole Miss, she zoomed straight to the top of Delta Delta Delta sorority and was the Sweetheart of Sigma Chi four years in a row.

  “I’m in the middle of something important. What do you want?” She inched the door nearly shut.

  “I need to talk to Heathcliff and Lord Darcy.” Not Darcy. Lord Darcy. I patted myself on the back for saying the names without laughing.

  “About what?”

  “The Final Harvest crèche.”

  “They had nothing to do with the theft of the baby Jesus.”

  Defensive, some? “Could I speak with the boys?”

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  “Marjorie, I’m a private investigator. I don’t use search warrants. I just want to ask them what they know, if anything.”

  She put a hand on the edge of the door, opening it a little wider, and cocked a hip. “Why my boys?”

  “They’re boys. This was a prank. They may know something about who did it.”

  “Hogwash.” She turned from the door and screamed, “Heathcliff, Lord Darcy, get down here.”

  I considered the possibility that if someone had given me such ridiculous names, I might have become a serial killer. The boys tumbled down the stairs, punching and trying to trip each other. The fact that neither of them was a paraplegic or dead testified to their toughness. At the bottom of the stairs, Heathcliff, a handsome boy with black hair and dark eyes, stuck a foot into Lord Darcy’s legs and they both tumbled and rolled to a halt at the door.

  “Boys, Miss Delaney wants to ask you some questions. Watch her. Her fiancé dumped her for a blonde and she may be a bit on the snarky side. Be courteous unless she acts rude first.”

  Ignoring Marjorie was the best route open to me, for the moment. When this case was done, I’d drive to New Orleans and see about buying a voodoo curse. “Boys, do you know anything about the theft of a baby doll from the Final Harvest crèche last year?”

  “Us?” Heathcliff, the older by three minutes, looked suitably shocked at such a suggestion. “Why would we take a doll?”

  “We’re not into playing house,” Lord Darcy said. “Dolls are for sissies. Why do you even care?”

  “I don’t. But someone does, and I’ve been hired to find out who did it. Ever hear any talk at school about the prank?”

  “Everyone was shocked. Downright appalled.” Lord Darcy could barely contain his amusement. “I mean, who would want that scabby-looking doll.” He crossed his eyes in imitation of the doll’s disfigurement.

  The boys knew exactly what had happened to the doll, and they were so full of themselves they didn’t even try to hide it.

  “My boys wouldn’t touch a doll,” Marjorie insisted. “Now why don’t you jump in your car and drive on out of here. Oh, and you can tell Theodora that she’s not going to put my boys out of the pageant no matter what she tries. Now beat it.”

  I was more than happy to oblige. There was nothing else I could accomplish—I had warned Theodora that it was futile to take this on—and I wanted a drink and the rousing company of my friends. We had garlands to make and fruitcakes to bake.

  * * *

  I awoke to the sound of “Jingle Bell Rock,” and I had to admit, Jitty sounded exactly like Brenda Lee. Before I realized it, my toes were tapping. Joining in on the chorus, I jumped out of bed and hurried down to the kitchen to make coffee. The smell of cedar filled Dahlia House, and a million wonderful memories of childhood teased me. If I closed my eyes, I could visualize my parents decorating a tall cedar tree in the parlor, singing and laughing. They had made each holiday special and fun.

  This day wasn’t earmarked for old memories, though. It was time to make new ones. As I sipped my coffee I chopped pecans for bourbon balls, divinity, date loaf, and other Christmas goodies. I was going to bake the day away.

  “Jitty?” I called out for my haint. I wanted to sing “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,” but I needed Jitty’s excellent vocal chords. I was a little on the froggy side.

  “Jitty?”

  Wherever she’d gone, she wasn’t answering my summons to a singathon. It was just like her to be ornery and bossy. No matter, I could sing on my own.

  When the phone rang, I was surprised to see Coleman Peters, the sheriff of Sunflower County, on caller I.D. “Happy holidays,” I greeted him.

  “Sarah Booth, DeWayne and I are out on the road. Your horses are on the right of way and I’m not having a lot of luck catching them.”

  “My horses?” My gates were securely locked. How had they gotten out? But technicalities didn’t matter. “I’m on the way.”

  I pulled a coat and boots on over my flannel Betty Boop pj’s and headed to the barn. With halters, ropes, and a bucket of feed, Sweetie Pie and I tore down the driveway in my car and immediately saw two patrol cars, lights flashing, blocking traffic while Reveler, Miss Scrapiron, and Lucifer leaped back and forth over the ditch, toying with Coleman and his deputy, DeWayne Dattilo.

  One rattle of the feed bucket—and a little help from my herding hound—and I had all three horses haltered and in hand. “I don’t know how they got out of the pasture, but I’ll sure find out.”

  “It won’t take much sleuthing.” Coleman pointed to the wooden fence where several sections had been knocked down. “That was done deliberately, Sarah Booth. Someone turned your horses out on the road.”

  Once the angry knot in my throat passed, I could talk. “It’s the Rush boys. I went over there yesterday to question them about the stolen baby doll from the church crèche last year. This is retaliation.”

  “Those boys belong in a juvenile offender facility. The problem is their mama has bought them out of all the trouble they get into. They have no respect for anyone, least of all her.”

  “They’re going to learn some hard lessons.” It was one thing to mess with me, but endangering my animals was something else entirely.

  “Remember, they have no appreciation for consequences. That makes them very dangerous.” Coleman pushed his hat back. “I’ll do what I can to prove they did this, but”—he shook his head—“without an eyewitness or physical evidence, I can’t charge them.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Be careful, Sarah Booth. They’re juveniles, and their mother defends everything they do.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “We need to find some time to talk over the holidays.”

  Coleman’s determined look gave me pause. “About what?”

  “There’s unresolved business between us, Sarah Booth. I respected your choice with Graf, but everything is changed. This is fair warning that I intend to press my case.” He gave my shoulder a little squeeze to back up his words. “Now what can I bring to the dinner party?”

  A fire extinguisher? He’d actually flustered me. “Just yourself. Millie is helping me cook, and everyone is help
ing me decorate. It’s a collaborative effort.”

  “Looking forward to it. Friday at eleven, after the pageant. I still can’t believe you talked everyone into attending the Final Harvest Christmas pageant.”

  “I think it’ll be the event of the year.”

  “I’ll drive your car home if you want to walk the horses.”

  “Thanks, Coleman.” My heart did a little flutter when he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

  “Love the pajamas,” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck. “Betty was always the sexiest cartoon around. And even with your hair standing out at all angles, dough on the point of your chin, and mismatched boots, you are one sexy Christmas delight.”

  * * *

  Candy and cookies could wait. Coleman’s teasing whisper had ignited a fire under me and I needed action, not baking. I would call Tinkie and we’d employ the divide-and-conquer tactic. She bird-dogged Heathcliff while I shadowed Lord Darcy. The hellion was obviously out for a little Christmas shopping, and I had no choice but to discreetly follow along.

  Forty minutes later, I had Lord Darcy cornered in a dressing room at the Casual Corner, a boutique that catered to wealthy socialites and their men. I’d caught the foxy little boy red-handed, shoplifting a jade necklace. I had my phone with the video footage to prove it. After I’d forced him to return the necklace to the display, we’d ducked into a dressing room for privacy.

  “So what?” he bluffed. “I didn’t actually steal it.”

  “Because I made you put it back. This is a serious crime. That necklace was worth a couple thousand dollars, which translates into grand larceny. You’ll do time for this.”

  “Mom will buy any jury. She’ll get me out of it.”

  “Do you know Judge Bingham?” I could see he did. “She’ll hear the case. Not a jury. I seem to recall that you and Heathcliff slashed her car tires as a prank.”

  “What do you want?” He was nobody’s fool. I had him by the short hairs and he knew it. Negotiation was the smart alternative.

  “I want to know where the crèche doll is, and I want you and Heathcliff to withdraw from the Christmas pageant.”

  He frowned as he calculated his best option. “The doll is nailed to the wall in our tree house. And okay, we don’t want to be in the stupid pageant anyway. Mom made us. She hates Theodora.” I dialed Theodora and handed him my phone. “Heathcliff and I withdraw from your stupid pageant.” He disconnected and handed the phone back to me.

  “You’re smarter than you look, Lord Darcy.”

  “Bite me.”

  I didn’t care that he was totally unrepentant. My case was solved with only three hours of work, the hour it would take to recover the doll and write a report. It was time to celebrate.

  * * *

  “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.…” I sang the words with all my heart, even though my friends looked on with amusement. “I love Christmas songs,” I said for the hundredth time. “I wish I could sing.”

  “And oh, lord, so do we,” Harold said, causing everyone to laugh. We sipped the nutmegy eggnog in the parlor—Tinkie and Oscar, Cece and Jaytee, Millie, Harold, and me. The house twinkled with lights and candles, and fresh cedar spiced the air. A number of wrapped gifts had magically appeared under the tree, thanks to my friends. Even the cat was in the mood. Pluto found a jingle bell bow and batted it around the floor while Sweetie and Chablis chewed the bones Millie had brought from her café.

  We’d gathered at Dahlia House for a pre-pageant toast. The llama had been the draw when I’d convinced my friends we had to see the Final Harvest pageant. Then we’d return to Dahlia House for a midnight dinner. I missed my former fiancé, Graf Milieu. And I missed blues wunderkind Scott Hampton, who was away on business. Coleman and DeWayne would join us for dinner, but they’d gone to help supervise parking at the church. Showtime at the church was two hours away, so I poured another round of eggnog and went to put the pitcher in the refrigerator.

  The sound of jingle bells came to me and I turned around. Jitty, all decked out in a red velvet mini-frock with a white collar and cuffs, sashayed toward me. “Girl, I have to hand it to you, you did an excellent job. Your mama couldn’t have done any better.”

  I would have put my hand on her forehead to check for a fever, but it would go right through her. She seldom complimented me. “Are you sick?”

  “Sick with pleasure at seein’ you surrounded by friends.” She sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Your time here is a short road, Sarah Booth. It is for all of us. If I could make every day just like this one, I would do it.”

  “You make every day better, that’s for sure.” Normally we sniped at each other, but Christmas was a time to tell those you loved your deepest feelings.

  “Lord, the Christmas spirit has jumped on both of us.”

  “You won’t ever leave me, will you?” The thought of Jitty moving on was too much to bear.

  “I’ll be here as long as you need me. Count on it. But don’t count on me being so nice.” With a laugh and a little jiggle of the bells on her shoes, she was gone.

  The kitchen door opened and Cece entered. “You need some help?”

  “Thanks to my friends, I have help whenever I need it.” I hugged her impulsively. “I’m so happy for you. I really like Jaytee.”

  The doorbell rang and Cece took over the eggnog service while I answered it. Maybe it would be carolers! The perfect thing!

  Perry Price, dapper as ever, stood at the door. “Is Sheriff Peters here? I was told I could find him here. Theodora is missing. I felt I should report it.”

  “Isn’t she at the church?” I asked.

  “No. And the pageant starts in two hours. I fear she’s been abducted. There was a note.”

  The lined notebook paper he pushed at me sent up a red alert. Cancel the pageant or Mrs. Prince dies. The handwriting was youthful. “The Rush boys?”

  Perry nodded. “I believe so.”

  “Come in. I’ll call Coleman.” Calling in the law qualified as smart. I doubted Theodora was in serious trouble from two pint-size gangsters, but the Rush boys were also smart and didn’t care about consequences.

  As soon as the law officers arrived, Perry handed Coleman the ransom note. I watched him struggle not to laugh. I, too, had to turn away until Tinkie kicked me in the ankle bone hard enough to straighten me up.

  “When was the last time you saw Theodora?” I asked.

  “About an hour ago. She was going out to Jackson Farm to supervise the transport of the farm animals. Mr. Jackson said she never arrived.”

  Somewhere between the church and the farm, which was about twenty minutes away, the Rush boys had waylaid the pageant director. How did two preteen boys mastermind a kidnapping? Especially of someone like Theodora, who could peel the bark off a cedar tree with one glare.

  “Sarah Booth, could you head out to Jackson Farm and see what you can learn?” Coleman asked. “DeWayne and I will talk to Marjorie Rush.”

  “Better take a warrant. Marjorie isn’t cooperative.”

  “Theodora can’t be far, Perry.” Tinkie was all consoling kindness. “We’ll find her.”

  Perry cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes. “Uh, maybe it would be best if you didn’t.”

  Coleman’s eyes widened. “You don’t want me to search for her?”

  “If I don’t search for her and something terrible happens, will I be criminally liable?”

  Tinkie and I held our breath, waiting for the sheriff’s answer. “Not as long as you weren’t involved in the abduction. No one can make you search for a missing spouse.”

  “You don’t want to find your wife?” Tinkie asked.

  It was my turn to kick her ankle.

  Perry held her gaze. “I don’t. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, but I really don’t want her to be found and returned to me. She’s a good woman, but she wields her goodness like a club. Nobody can live up to her expectations. She only
sees the flaws in others. Maybe I’m ready for a little bit of badness in my life. I’d like to try a bite of the apple before I die.”

  From the dining room the clear sound of a bell ringing echoed through the house. Pluto and his jingle-bow had interjected himself into the case. The bell rang again.

  “An angel just got his wings,” Tinkie said.

  “Holy Christmas,” I whispered. “And I thought we had made some easy money for once.”

  * * *

  Jackson Farm was a well-manicured petting and teaching facility. The animals were tame and friendly, and I had great memories of grammar school field trips. The same couple, Vannessia and Huey Jackson, still ran the facility.

  “Have you seen Theodora Prince?” Tinkie asked Vannessia after we’d gotten out of the Roadster. I’d chosen to take my car. Both dogs and Pluto sat primly in the backseat. The animals loved it, but Tinkie was right—the convertible was a lot more fun in the warmer months.

  “I’ve been waiting for over an hour for her to arrive. We’re going to have to load up without her.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “She called an hour ago and said she was on the way.” Vannessia frowned. “Nothing after that. Now I’m happy to talk to you, but I really have to put the animals in the trailer.”

  The array of animals haltered and ready to load included three sheep, two donkeys, a llama, and a large black-and-white pig who did not look like a happy camper.

  Tinkie nudged me. “There’s no pig in the Bible story.”

  I’d been thinking exactly the same thing. “What’s with Porky?” I asked Vannessia.

  “Oh, Elmo,” she pointed at the llama, “won’t go anywhere without Petunia. They’re bonded. Petunia will wait in the trailer during the pageant. It’s the only way I can get Elmo to load.”

  As soon as Petunia got on board, Elmo followed. Vannessia climbed behind the wheel. “Look around all you’d like. Huey’s in the back pasture, but Theodora isn’t here. When you find her, tell her to meet me at the church.”

  “Dead end,” Tinkie said, stepping back from the dust kicked up by the dually. We were both still dressed for dinner and church. “What now?”