I grabbed Carol Beth’s shoulders and shook her, forcing her to look at me. “Are you sure it was Kip?” Maybe there was a mistake.
“It was her.” Carol Beth twisted free of me. “It was her, all right.”
“How did the fire start?” I asked.
“The sprinkler system was turned off. Some bastard did this deliberately,” she said. “May his soul burn in hell for all eternity.” A broken sob escaped her.
I felt a hand on my arm, and Lillian pulled me out of the way as another fire truck arrived.
“What happened?” I asked her.
“I was outside on the patio. I saw the fire.” She turned to look at the flames. “I told Bud, and he ran down here while I called the fire department. Everyone came down to help, but it was too late. The whole barn was engulfed. I’m afraid they’re dead.”
20
Lillian was still standing beside me when Krystal walked up. Her dress and makeup remained perfect, but her eyes were glazed from what could have been alcohol or shock.
“I can’t find Mike,” she said in a flat tone. “I’ve hunted and hunted.” She looked beyond me at the barn. “Where in the hell is he?”
“I haven’t seen him all evening,” Lillian said. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere, though.”
The fire trucks were bringing the flames under control, but there wasn’t going to be much of anything left standing, except the huge support beams.
“Krystal!” Mike came out of the darkness, his white shirt stained with black soot and his eyes and hair wild. He put his arm around his wife. “I was worried sick. I looked for you everywhere.”
“Where’ve you been?” she asked him in a sharp, accusing tone.
Mike’s arm tightened around his wife. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.” He kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear as his arm tightened around her.
“Bud Lynch is in that barn,” Krystal said, shrugging away from him.
Mike made a sound of disbelief. “I heard. Can you imagine that stupid bastard running into a burning barn to save a horse? To save a horse! The damn thing was insured.”
Krystal stepped away from him. “You can be such an ass,” she said, stalking away.
Mike looked at us and shrugged. “Temperamental artist.” He went after her.
I felt as if I were swimming deep beneath the ocean. The fire was a roar in my head, a primal sound like surf. The people around me moved in slow motion. I heard and saw everything, but it was as if some layer of clear, pure water surrounded me, protecting me from the nightmare of the burning barn.
I listened for the sounds of dying horses and heard nothing, thank God. I also listened for the cries of a teenager and the shouts of a grown man. Nothing. The fire had worked its destruction, and all that remained was the charring of the bones.
Another volunteer fire truck arrived. The worst was over. The worst of the flames, that is.
It would be many hours before investigators could begin to sort through the ashes to recover those who’d perished. My God, who was going to tell Lee? She’d lost everything of any value to her.
I walked over to an old oak shrouded in darkness so thick that the flames didn’t penetrate it. I needed something to lean against, something solid and permanent to shelter under. The party-goers slowly began to leave. With the flames dying, there was nothing else for them to do.
Carol Beth lingered, her stance somehow defiant and defeated as she stared at the smoldering timbers. At last, Harold appeared at her side and led her away. He was disheveled and filthy, too.
Only the firemen and Coleman remained. He was walking the perimeter, talking with Ory Jones, the Zinnia fire chief.
“Miss Sarah Booth?”
The voice that called me was soft, worn by time. I turned to find old Roscoe standing behind the tree. “Are you okay?” I asked. I hadn’t even thought to wonder if he was safe.
He nodded. “I was asleep in one of the other barns. I got the foals out just in case. They got it under control now.”
“And Avenger?” When the old man didn’t respond, I had my answer.
“I saw Kip. In the barn,” he whispered.
How could a name so perky belong to a dead girl?
“She was with Avenger,” he added. “She was saddling him up to take him for a ride.”
“How did the fire start?” I asked.
He looked around, as if he expected someone to be listening. “In the hayloft. I smelled it first. Then I went to check and saw the flames. It was in the hay. Someone lit it.”
“You’re positive the fire was deliberate?”
He looked around again. “I smelled gasoline.”
“Who started it? Did you see?”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t see anyone. But I have something for Miss Lee. Will you give it to her?”
“Sure.”
He held out his hand in a fist. I held mine out, palm open. The thing he dropped into my hand was light, and he closed my fingers around it. When he turned my hand loose, I opened it. Examining the thing by feel, I recognized it instantly. It was a butterfly hair clip that Kip had worn a lot.
“Give it to Miss Lee. It’ll mean a lot to her.”
“I will,” I said.
He backed away. “Come see me tomorrow. Come by yourself.”
He disappeared into the night.
I found Tinkie sitting on the front steps of the house. She held a damp washcloth that someone had given her clenched in her hand as the tears slipped down her face.
“Oh, Sarah Booth,” she said. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I sat down beside her. I heard footsteps behind us and looked back to see Oscar, her husband. He was as disheveled as everyone else. Concern for Tinkie was evident in his eyes, but he nodded to me and went back inside the house. Like I could offer comfort to anyone.
“How did Kip get here?” Tinkie asked.
“She stole a car from the Winslows. She went over there to spend the night with Amy.” I was miserable. “That’s it, down by the show barn.” It was easy to see since all the other vehicles were gone.
“They said she walked right back into that burning barn.” Tinkie was in shock.
“I’m sure she was trying to save Avenger.” I thought of Tony LaCoco and his cruel threat to Kip. I wanted my shot at him before Coleman got there.
“Who would burn a barn?” Tinkie asked. “Especially a barn with a horse in it. As awful as it is, it’s lucky only Avenger was stabled there.”
Tinkie daubed at her eyes and held the cloth out for me. I wiped my face and gave it back to her. “Did you see anyone here who might be capable of doing this?”
Tinkie drew in a deep, ragged breath. “No. I was keeping an eye on Carol Beth. I thought she might try to kill Bud.” Tinkie sighed. “It’s like we were all playing some kind of stupid parlor game while real danger was waiting just outside the door.”
“I know.” I still held Kip’s hair clip in my hand, and I pressed it deep into my flesh, imprinting it in my palm. The job of telling Lee was one I couldn’t begin to imagine.
“Are they sure the fire was deliberately started?” Tinkie asked.
“I believe someone did it deliberately. Carol Beth said the sprinkler system was turned off. Someone meant to kill Avenger. Bud and Kip just got caught up in it. They were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Why kill a horse? Who could hate Lee that much?”
I knew the answer to that, and I suddenly knew where to start looking for the culprit. “Because Avenger was insured,” I said, slowly rising to my feet. “That horse was insured, and I’ll bet it was for a considerable sum of money. That’s what that creep Tony LaCoco was saying. If the horse died, there would be money to pay Kemper’s debts.”
“What are you going to do?” Tinkie asked, rising also.
“Tell Coleman. Tell him some things I should have told him long before now.”
When I got back to the place whe
re Coleman had parked the patrol car, I found that he had left me and Sweetie Pie in Harold’s care. Coleman was gone, headed into the night to do God knew what.
Harold had found a piece of rope and was using it as a leash to keep Sweetie Pie from trying to hurl herself into the still-burning remains of the barn. He pushed my hair back from my face and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I’d offer you a drink, but I think a hot bath would be more helpful.”
“Harold, how much money would it take to pull Swift Level out of the red?” I asked.
Even in the unreliable light from the fire I could see that my question had startled him.
“I don’t think Lee can make it without Avenger. I don’t think she’ll want to try without Kip. My God, this is awful, Sarah Booth. It’s going to kill Lee.”
I simply could not allow myself to think about Kip or Bud or I would start to cry. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop. “What about another one of the horses? One of Avenger’s sons?” I asked.
Harold seemed to understand my need to veer away from the horror of the deaths. “I’m not sure. Lillian’s right over there. Ask her.”
Lillian was sitting in the open door of Cece’s car, her feet still on the ground and her head bowed. It seemed only her indomitable will kept her from falling over.
“Lillian.” I spoke softly so as not to startle her.
She slowly looked up. “I thought when Father had to sell our farm that that was the worst thing I’d ever face. Maybe time has dulled the horror of it, because this is surely more awful.” She brushed a tear away. “Kip and Bud. Avenger. It’s just too hard.”
My own eyes were filling with tears, and I struggled to maintain control.
Harold put a hand on Lillian’s shoulder, giving her a sympathetic rub. “With Avenger gone, can Lee reorganize and build on one of Avenger’s sons? I’m sure she must have some colts by him.”
Lillian looked out toward the dark pastures. “It all depends on the horse,” she said. “The problem is the time. She’s spent nine years promoting Avenger’s reputation in the ring, buying the right mares, breeding them, raising those foals, getting them in the right position to show that his traits have been passed on. It would be like starting over, almost. It would take years, and hundreds of thousands of dollars.” She made a derisive noise. “It wouldn’t matter if she had Trigger, Silver, and Black Beauty. Without Kip, Lee won’t last a week out here. This is the end of Swift Level.”
“Would you like me to take you home?” Harold asked her.
“No,” Lillian said. “I’m waiting on Cece. She’s got that awful man, Nathaniel Walz, with her. I wonder if it’s too late to throw him into the fire.”
“Lillian!” Harold said with feigned shock. “What has poor Nathaniel done to earn your ire?”
“He breathes,” Lillian said, pushing herself up onto her swollen feet. “He breathes, and there’s a horrible chance he might reproduce. At least that won’t happen with Cece.”
“Cece is smitten with him?” I asked, remembering the day he’d come into her office looking for publicity. He’d certainly played to her sense of power.
“They’re thick as thieves,” Lillian said, visibly making an effort to pull herself together. Though her voice was still shaking, she continued. “Cece’s been busy driving him around the area, introducing him to people who might want to invest in one of his developments.”
I knew Lillian’s attitude toward developments. It ran a close parallel to mine. We were antiprogressives, lovers of the soil instead of asphalt. We were troglodytes.
“What exactly does he want to develop?” I asked.
“Quaint inns, bed-and-breakfasts, culturally stimulating things such as a working plantation, maybe a racetrack. To hear Cece talk, Nathaniel is popping with ideas. Like a big fat bloodsucking tick.”
Harold kissed Lillian’s cheek. “It does me good to hear you so riled up. Otherwise, I’d be worried about you. I’m going to take Sarah Booth home. Last chance to ride with us.”
“I’m staying,” Lillian said. “I’d better go look for them. Nathaniel’s probably staking out the burning barn as a great locale for an ice-skating rink surrounded by discount shopping stores.”
Harold stood beside me as we watched her move slowly into the night.
“Come on, I’ll give you ladies a ride home.” Harold still had Sweetie on the rope. He grasped my elbow with his free hand and led me toward his car. He put Sweetie in the back and me in the front, and he walked around and got behind the wheel. He drove very carefully away from Swift Level.
“Coleman went to tell Lee, didn’t he?” I asked.
Harold hesitated. “Yes. He thought it would be best if he could tell her alone.” He drove for a few moments before he spoke again. “Listening to Lillian was very interesting. I should tell you that Nathaniel Walz came by the bank a couple of days ago. He was asking about Dahlia House.”
I had thought I was numb, incapable of feeling any emotion. I was wrong. A bolus of fear and anger zoomed through me. “Asking what about Dahlia House?” I’d come so close to losing my family home only the year before. At that time, a developer had been interested in the land for a strip mall. The idea of seeing Dahlia House razed and leveled, the rich soil entombed beneath asphalt, still haunted me. Harold had tapped into the main line of my fears.
“Asking if you might sell it.”
“I’m not behind in any of my notes. How dare—”
“I told him that Dahlia House was not, under any circumstances, up for sale.”
The pressure inside my skull eased, allowing for some brain function. I’d been about to jump down Harold’s throat, and he was protecting me.
“Sorry. Hot button.”
His chuckle was amused. “Sarah Booth, I always thought it was your thumb that was your hot button.”
If I had ever doubted that he knew what effect he’d had on me the night he’d seduced my thumb, I now knew the truth. I was struck simultaneously by a weak throb in my thumb and a hot flush in my face.
I decided that I would fall back on some Daddy’s Girl training and ignore the gauntlet that Harold had thrown down. “I wonder how Nathaniel knew to ask about Dahlia House.” Cece would never, never divulge my financial difficulties, not even if Nathaniel Walz were the last man alive.
“He knew a great deal about a lot of property in this area. Inside information. I asked him where he got it, and he only laughed. He said it was his business to know these things.”
“But you let him know Dahlia House wasn’t in any danger?” I needed the reassurance of repetition.
“I did.” Harold reached over and brushed my hair from my face. “Sarah Booth, as hard as you’ve worked to save your home, I couldn’t let you lose it.”
Once again, tears threatened. My emotions were raw, my thoughts jumbled. Out of the clear blue, Harold had made an offer so generous that I couldn’t begin to thank him. But I had to try.
“I can’t tell you what it means for you to say that.” He picked up my hand and brought it slowly to his lips. “Sarah Booth, you’ve won my admiration and respect. Be careful, or you’re going to have to decline another marriage proposal from me.”
“I’ll think about being careful,” I answered.
We were almost to Dahlia House when I spoke again. “Why did you invite Carol Beth to the dance?”
Harold thought for a moment. “The finances at Swift Level are of interest to Coleman. He has never believed Lee’s confession, and he believes that Kemper’s death was because of financial difficulties. He asked me to keep an eye on Carol Beth, to see what her interests were at Swift Level. She isn’t a client of mine, so whatever she told me in social conversation could be passed on. Taking her to the dance gave me a reason to call on her. For all the good it did.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“She was determined to have that horse. ‘Obsessed’ may be a better word. I won’t say she set Kemper up to lose money gambling, but I know she encoura
ged it. She loaned him money, which only put him deeper in the hole. When he was in over his head, she cut off his funds and demanded Avenger. Kemper’s ace up his sleeve was Tony LaCoco, or so Kemper thought. LaCoco is a businessman with only one business: high-interest loans. Carol Beth wasn’t above dealing with LaCoco if she thought it would help her get Avenger.” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Carol Beth can’t seem to see the difference between taking something from someone else and building something of her own.”
“She lost a lot tonight. At least financially. It looks like her husband is going to divorce her.”
“She put Bud Lynch in a corner, and he jammed her back. I have to say Bud gave her fair warning, repeatedly.”
“I told Coleman about the check Kip wrote.”
He patted my hand. “I know. He was upset with me, but in time he’ll get over it.”
“In time, will I?”
Harold pulled up in front of the house. Reaching back, he opened the door and let Sweetie Pie out. “You have no choice, Sarah Booth. You’ll either recover or die. And dying isn’t as easy as you might believe.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Good night, Sarah Booth. Drink some whiskey and try to sleep.”
Instead of going inside, I sat on the front steps and watched Harold’s red taillights disappear. I didn’t have the heart or the energy to go inside. Sweetie had undoubtedly gone to the back and gained entrance through her own personal doggy door.
I heard the sound of footsteps coming across the wooden boards, and I was glad Jitty had decided to stay home and wait for me.
“Sarah Booth, are you okay?”
The voice was unexpected—masculine, yet full of warm Mississippi nights. In the darkness, I couldn’t see the man’s features.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Chill, it’s me, J.B.”
“J.B.?” I was on guard. The night had left my nerves a ragged jangle, and this man had nearly scared my dress right off my back. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you at the motel earlier tonight. I saw you go into that gangster’s room with the sheriff.”
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