Sarah Booth Delaney

by Sarah Booth Delaney 01-06 (lit)

  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 where 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 encouraged 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."

  "What are you still doing in town?"

  "I got a gig over at Smokin' Blues, out on the highway. I played there Friday night, and I'm doin' a brunch this mornin' at Playin' the Bones."

  The porch light wasn't on, and I still couldn't see him. "Where's your mother?"

  "She went on back to Greenwood. She doesn't care for the nightclub scene. I guess she freaked you out a little, huh?"

  "Maybe just a little." I was too tired to lie. "She was lovely, though."

  He came forward and took a seat on the steps. For some reason that made me feel better, and I relaxed beside him, arms folded on my knees.

  "You look like you lost your best friend, ran over your own dog, and got gut-shot by the revenuers."

  "Thanks, you have a way with compliments."

  He chuckled. "I couldn't help but overhear some of what was goin' on tonight. You ever find the kid?"

  Tears burned in the back of my throat, but I managed not to cry. "There was a fire. One of the barns burned. Kip went in to save a horse. No one saw her come out."

  J.B. put a hand on my shoulder and began a slow, easy massage. "I heard all the sirens and wondered what was going on. That's sort of why I'm here. I talked to her a few minutes at the motel. She was hangin' out at the Coke machine by the office, tryin' to get up her nerve to see that gangster. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined. She was a gritty little thing."

  " 'Gritty' is a good word for her. Did she say what she was doing with LaCoco?"

  "Not in any detail. She said she was stayin' with you, and that she was the one who'd put your profile on the Internet. She was tryin' to help, you know."

  I nodded, fighting a lump in my throat. "I know. What else did she say about LaCoco?"

  "She had the idea that he was going to try and hurt her horse. She said she'd tried to pay him so he'd leave town, but that something had gone wrong. Then
she said she'd fixed everything so her mother would be set free." He sighed. "I guess it didn't work out the way she planned."

  "She didn't say what she'd fixed?"

  "No. But when I came up on her, she and that little guy were talkin'. He'd really pissed her off."

  J.B. kept working the knots in my shoulders. "What little guy?"

  "The one in the neat suits. Some kind of deal-maker. He's staying at the motel. Likes to talk loud on the telephone."

  "Nathaniel Walz?"

  "I'm not sure of his name." John chuckled. "He's so lazy he won't walk over to talk to anyone else in the motel. He calls them on the phone. Can you believe that?"

  Knowing that Walz was the kind of man who looked to destroy the past to profit from the future, I wasn't surprised at any aberrant behavior. "Did you hear what they were saying?"

  "The kid just told him to go to hell. That's all I heard from her, but I've heard other things. Those walls are thin."

  "Like what?"

  "He found a place for that singer to move to. She wants to put in a sound studio and things like that. He found an old house that's cheap, something that has the space for everything she wants. I'm a blues man, but she's got the look of a country star. I wouldn't mind playin' some backup for her."

  "You're talking about Krystal Brook?"

  "Yeah, Krystal. She's pretty nice, too. Anyway, that Nat guy talked to her and her husband. I'll bet he's turnin' a pretty penny on that deal. He was talkin' to that gangster, too, and some other folks. I couldn't always hear too good. Somethin' about a piece of property that would come on the market soon at a really cheap price, due to some kind of economic screwup."

  John was a wealth of interesting information. "You came here to tell me all of this? Why?"

  "I saw you and the sheriff go in LaCoco's room tonight. I figured it was about the girl. I don't really know much, but I thought I'd come tell you what I know. I thought it might bear on your case. Like I told you, being a detective was always a fantasy of mine."

  I had not treated this man with any measure of fairness, and yet he'd come to my home to tell me something he thought might be useful.

  "Thank you, J.B."

  "No thanks necessary. I hate it about the kid. If you need some cheerin' up, come by Playin' the Bones about eleven. I'll play a song just for you."