"Did it?"
"My next doctor's appointment, they were amazed. It was half the size. And the next visit, it was gone."
"How long ago was that?"
"About a year ago."
"And now?"
"I'm cancer-free."
I almost touched her. She seemed filled with a strange light. Her blue eyes held a sparkling translucence. "You believe Doreen healed you?"
Trina's smile made tears start in my eyes. "She says she didn't. She says I healed myself, with help from the Divine. The Divine can be God, or gods, or angels. It doesn't matter what you call it, because it's all love." Trina smiled at my skeptical look. "Doreen said I had a contract with the Divine. It was his choice to heal me, but I opened myself to the possibility. I'll tell you, I changed my life. I started taking riding lessons for police work. I'd ridden all my life on the farm, but I'm small. I never thought I could get a job with the police force. But Doreen thought of the mounted unit. Now I have my job, my horse, and Michael. Since that day when Doreen touched me, my life has steadily gotten better and better."
"Would you mind if I spoke with your doctors at Oschner's?"
Her laughter rang against the marble tombs. "Help yourself. In fact, when I get back to the District, I'll call Dr. Walsh and tell him to cooperate with you in every way."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it." She circled around and we started back to the gate. The funeral procession was leaving. All of the joy that the band had created was gone. Women were softly weeping as they slowly walked through the tombs.
"Who died?"
"Able Macon. He was a fine trumpet player."
We reached the gate in silence. Instinctively I turned to offer Trina a leg up. She was short and the horse was big.
"I've got it," she said, hiking her left foot almost to her chin to put it in the stirrup. With a smooth motion she vaulted onto the saddle. "I have to be able to mount on my own. Police regulations!" Her smile slowly faded. "Can you help Doreen?"
"I hope so," I said. "Just out of curiosity, what time did you and Michael go to sleep?"
She thought a moment. "We had dinner at Port-O-Call, and we went back to his place."
"Where is Michael's place?" I asked.
"He's down on Barren Street, almost at the end."
I calculated the distance in my head. It could be walked in twenty minutes, jogged in ten.
"I guess we went to sleep around ten. I have to be at work at seven, so I'm not a night owl." She gave a soft chuckle. "Too many years of living on a farm, I guess."
"And you slept through the night."
"It was the best night's sleep I've had in months. Once I was out, I didn't wake until the alarm went off at six."
"And Michael?"
"He was right beside me."
"He's a sound sleeper, too, huh?"
"Like the dead. I'm normally the one who wakes up all through the night."
"So you would have awakened if he got up?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything, Trina. I just have to check out every angle."
"Why would Michael hurt Rebekah? He loved her. He loves Doreen. He'd never do anything to hurt either of them."
Trina wasn't privy to Michael's affair with Doreen, or the fact that he might be Rebekah's father. I wasn't about to tell her, either. I gave a crooked smile. "I'm only doing my job."
Her eyes narrowed, lightning flashing in the depths. "Maybe Doreen needs a local PI. Sister Mary Magdalen may not be the best person to pick out a detective."
"Trina, I'm only doing my job. Don't take it personally."
"I'll talk to Doreen myself," she said, closing her legs on the horse. She trotted out of the cemetery and down the street.
I'd hurt her, and from her point of view, it was without cause.
My cell phone rang and I dug it out of my purse with a sense of relief. Tinkie's timing was perfect.
"Tinkle!" I said.
"Miss Sarah Booth?"
The voice was older and confused. It took me a moment to recognize Mollie.
"It's me," I said. "Are you okay?"
"More than okay. But I need you back in Zinnia. I can't go any further on the dress until you try it on."
"You need me now?"
"Right this minute. The hem on this dress is a mile long and it's gonna take some fine hand-stitching."
I could hear Mollie's excitement. The dress was going to be a knockout!
"I'll try to get home this evening," I said. "I'll give you a call when I get to Zinnia."
"Hurry up, girl. This is gonna be the dress that gets you a husband." She hung up before I could argue with her.
I dialed Tinkie's number and counted five rings before she answered. "Meet me for lunch at Jonathan's," she said. "I have news."
I had news, too, but when Tinkie heard I was going to abandon her in New Orleans, she wasn't going to be happy.
I opted for a house salad with vinegar and a touch of oil. Tinkie had gumbo. We'd both come close to damaging ourselves at breakfast.
"I found Starla," Tinkie said as the waiter spread her napkin in her lap. "She heard someone in the courtyard the night Rebekah was killed."
This was good news. "Did she tell the police?"
Tinkie put her spoon down and slowly shook her head. "Because everyone thought Rebekah's death was accidental, the police never questioned Starla."
Detective LeMont's face jumped into my mind. He was so sure Doreen killed her baby. Why? "LeMont did a half-assed investigation."
"I know. And so does Doreen."
"Tinkie, I need to go back to Zinnia."
Her expression shifted to puzzlement. "Why?"
"I just have to."
"You're homesick, aren't you?"
I couldn't help but smile. "Just a little. I need to check on a few things."
"You aren't going to see Coleman, are you?"
I was surprised at the jolt of recognition. Tinkie knew me better than I knew myself. "I have something I need to see about."
"Sarah Booth, I wish I could change things for you."
"I know."
"Bring Cece back with you. She's all aflutter about the Black and Orange Ball. She swears she has a surprise for you that's going to make your panties hit the floor."
"Probably another guide to self-satisfaction," I said with a hint of fear.
Tinkie only laughed. "When will you be back?"
"Tomorrow, before lunch."
"Just drive safely."
"What are you going to do?" I felt as if I were abandoning Tinkie.
"Don't worry. I'm meeting Michael to talk about the books, and I need to talk to Doreen." A shadow crossed her face.
"Tinkie, don't put your faith—"
"It's my faith to put, Sarah Booth. Just because you don't believe, don't push that off on me."
"Tinkie, I believe Doreen's a good woman, but can—a lump isn't something to mess with."
Her face had paled at my near mention of the dreaded word. "I'll be fine, Sarah Booth," she said, her normally full mouth a thin, hard line. "I'll be just fine if you don't push it too hard."
She stood up, dropped her napkin on the table, and walked out of the restaurant.
14
Pulling into the driveway of Dahlia House, I was greeted by Reveler's welcoming whinny. Sweetie Pie, too, got in on the action. She flew down the steps with so much speed that she nearly knocked me off my feet when she slammed into me. Her drumming tail beat a welcome on my knees as she reared up to lick my face. Lee and Kip had done a good job caring for my pets, but I had been missed.
A drape in the parlor fluttered, and I ran up the steps to say hello to Jitty. I opened the front door, expecting a greeting, but the parlor was empty. The undulating sheers were the result of wind blowing through a crack in the window.
"Jitty!" I'd actually missed the haint.
"Sarah Booth."
I whirled to find her standing in the door. Loungin
g, actually. She held a cigarette in a long black holder, but it wasn't lit.
"I'm only home for the night," I explained. "I had to get my dress fitted."
"The Black and Orange Ball," Jitty said. "Sounds exciting." Her dress was short, the material threaded with gold.
"You look like you're getting ready to go to your own ball. You look beautiful." She was always elegant, but this dress was particularly flattering.
She lifted the cigarette holder. "You look sad."
I frowned. "I do have a lot on my mind. I don't know if I can help Doreen."
"And you don't believe that Doreen can help Tinkie."
"I wish I did." I slumped onto the horsehair sofa. "I feel like I'm failing Tinkie as a friend because I can't believe."
Jitty stepped, or slinked would be a more accurate description, to the sofa and sat on the arm. "If Tinkie truly believes, nothin' you do will shake her faith."
I sighed and flopped back so I was gazing at the ceiling. "I wish I could believe."
I felt a chill slip over my body. When Jitty didn't answer, I lifted my head. She was standing by the mantel, a painting of Great-great-grandfather Delaney hanging above her. He was Alice's husband. He went to war and never returned, leaving Jitty and Grandmother Alice to save the plantation. And they did.
"Faith is something each person comes to on her own," Jitty said. The cigarette holder was gone from her hand, and it seemed that even the gold threads in her dress had lost some of their glitter. In fact, Jitty was less substantial.
"I know that, Jitty. I just don't know how to get faith."
She shook her head. "Seek it."
"That sounds like a hocus-pocus answer." I was a little aggravated. I remembered Trina's face and the soft glow of belief that had made her seem youthful and innocent. How was it that everyone could find faith but me?
"The act of searching is a journey, Sarah Booth. It's individual. I wish I could help, but I can't."
"I don't even know where to look!" I stood up and went to the bar. I needed a stiff Jack Daniel's, not a lot of new-age foolishness.
"I wish your mama was here."
"I do, too." My tone was a little snappy, so I softened it. "Did Mama believe?"
"Not like the Baptists or the Methodists or the Catholics, but she believed." Jitty laughed softly. "She believed in herself, Sarah Booth. And she believed in her husband and in you."
"I can believe in people. That's not so hard," I said, realizing the moment the words left my lips that I was lying. It was very difficult to believe in another person.
"Do you believe in yourself?" Jitty asked.
"Sometimes."
She smiled, but her dark eyes were shadowed with sadness. "That's not good enough."
The ice bucket was empty so I poured a finger of Jack into a highball glass. I held it up, admiring the play of light in the amber liquor and the cut glass.
"You have to believe in yourself before you can believe in anyone else," Jitty said. She wasn't lecturing; she was trying to help.
"I don't know how to do that," I told her.
"Look into the eyes of your friends. See what reflection you see." She came back to the sofa and sat beside me.
Sweetie joined us, too. She sat on top of my feet, her soulful eyes gazing up at me.
"The day you were born," Jitty said, "your mama lifted you up right into a shaft of light that came through the window. Your mama said, 'This is my baby girl, a gift to me and the world.' That's what she thought of you."
My Aunt LouLane had told me that same story when my parents were killed. I hadn't thought of it in years.
"Your friends see you as a gift, Sarah Booth. That's how you've got to see yourself." She arched her handsome eyebrows. "But that doesn't mean you won't trip and wallow in the hog shit ever' now and then."
"Thank goodness you said something mean. I was beginning to thing you'd become some kind of fairy godmother while I was away." That would have really worried me.
"Don't go getting any ideas that fairy tales come true. Just remember, your foot's too big for any glass slipper. What size you wear? A ten?"
I took my first sip of the Jack and let out a sigh. I was home. It might be a sign of mental illness, but I'd missed Jitty's harangues and I'd missed my hound and my horse.
"Then again, it might take a fairy godmother to get you a man." Jitty stood up and began pacing in front of the sofa. "I bet you're home to call that lawman."
I shifted my weight.
"Quit squirmin'. That's a sure sign I've hit on the truth. You're back in Zinnia so you can tempt that sheriff."
"You like Coleman," I pointed out.
"He's married."
"Unhappily."
"Sarah Booth," Jitty said with a warning note in her voice, "don't go triflin' with another woman's man. That's white-trashy behavior."
"I have no intention of trifling with Coleman. Or anyone else."
Jitty's lips pursed as she studied me. "You might not do it, but you want to."
"What I want doesn't matter. Coleman is married, and his wife is pregnant."
"She may be terminally dumb, but at least she trapped a sperm."
"Jitty!" I'd had enough. "I'm going to get my dress fitted." I didn't give her a chance to dog me more. I hurried out the front door and headed to Mollie's.
Sweetie Pie met me at the car, and I motioned to her to jump in. I put on her black sunglasses and tied a scarf around her ears to keep the wind from blowing them. We blasted down the driveway, scattering sycamore leaves in our backwind.
I drove through town, noticing for the first time the Bradford pear trees changing color in front of the bank. The oaks on the courthouse square were bare of leaves, and the statue of Johnny Reb looked more worn and tarnished. I passed Deputy Dewayne Dattilo parking at Millie's, tooted my horn, and continued out County Road 42.
October had brought the first dry weather since last April, and I slowed the car to look at the cotton fields that stretched for miles on either side of the road. The cotton bolls had split wide, the huge white tufts exploding. Some of the fields had already been picked, and in the distance I could see one of the huge combines at work. It moved across the land, sucking the cotton off the plants and leaving behind black, empty stalks. The machine harvested seven rows at a time. It was a monster of efficiency.
With the dry spell, the cotton farmers were busy, as were the hay farmers over near Blue Eve. The October moon was the Hunter's Moon, but harvest was the true theme.
In the distance I saw the gray monuments that marked the cemetery where Lillith was buried. Even though I was pressed for time, I pulled into the cemetery and stopped. The angel in the blaze of fire was easy to spot. I walked over to her. It was the most artistically impressive monument I'd ever seen.
I read the troubling inscription once again. "Born of fire, she perished in flame."
The lilies that had been fresh a few days ago had wilted and died. I picked them up and carried them away with me.
Mollie's house was a short drive from the cemetery, and when I pulled up in the yard, she stepped out on the porch to greet me.
"Hurry up, Sarah Booth," she said. "I'm itching to hem this dress."
I almost sprinted up the steps and into the house, but in the doorway I stopped in my tracks. The dress was facing me on a dressmaker's dummy. Orange material swirled over the left breast and black over the right. A diamond-shaped placket of orange and black sequins joined the material just below the breasts. The skirt, tea length in front and floor length in back, was a flowing mixture of orange and black swags of chiffon.
"It's magnificent," I said, walking around to view the bare back. "Mollie, it's incredible."
"There's a lot of skirt there, Sarah Booth. Slip it on so I can start the hem."
I wasn't wearing the appropriate undergarments, but it didn't matter. The dress slipped on like a second skin.
"Here." Mollie handed me a mask, one side orange sequins and the other black. I slippe
d it on. "It's the best, Mollie." I hugged her tightly.
"I knew it would suit. I made a lot of clothes for your mama, Sarah Booth. This is a dress she would have loved."
I blinked back the tears and smiled. "I'm going to be the belle of the ball."
"You'd be that in a flour sack." Mollie led me to a small dais as she spoke. "Now stand up here so I can work on the hem. You've got some sexy shoes, right?"
"Some black heels," I said, going up on tiptoe. "They're wonderful. Nothing but straps."
"That's good. Now hold still." She knelt at my feet and started the tedious work of pinning up the hem.
"How's Bernard?"
"Fine. He's up at The Club. There's a party there tonight." There was the rustle of the pins. "Tammy was by here this morning. She's worried about you."
"Tammy?" I was surprised. Tammy Odom, known in town as Madame Tomeeka, was a longtime friend. "Why?"
"She had a dream about you."
"And?"
"She said you were in a white room with sheer white curtains dancing in the breeze. She said the room was bare, except for you and a black wolf and a lion."
"Great. I'm destined to be lunch."
Mollie wasn't going to be distracted from her story. "She said you held out a hand to each of the wild beasts. They both came up to you. You rested your hand on their heads. And then you had to choose. One or the other."
My stomach had knotted to the point that I thought I was going to be sick.
"It's only a dream." I forced the words out in a light tone.
"Tammy was crying." Mollie spoke softly. "She's worried about you. She said it wasn't a fair choice."
"A wolf or a lion." I visualized both animals. They were both powerful. Both predators.
"I'll give Tammy a call," I said as Mollie motioned me down from the dais. She'd worked quickly.
"Do that, Sarah Booth. And watch out for choices. Some of them are all bad."
I kissed her and slipped back into my clothes. My stomach was still knotted as I headed home.
Instead of going through Zinnia, I took a back road. I was only a mile from Dahlia House when I saw the blue lights in my mirror and heard the siren. I braked and pulled over. I hadn't been speeding or violating any traffic laws. I wasn't being apprehended for a traffic violation. It was much worse.
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