If there were young people in the building, I saw no sign of them as I slipped past the last segment of dormitory and on to Virgie's house, which was lit up like a fairy mansion with its leaded-glass windows. In a word, magnificent.
The house had been built with a three-foot crawl space beneath it, which put the first-floor windows beyond my ability to see inside. Sweetie pranced beside me, oblivious to the danger we faced. I saw an old magnolia tree beside the house and decided that was the best vantage point to view the western side. "Stay," I whispered to Sweetie, who lay down at the base of the tree.
I began the torturous job of hauling myself up the tree. As a child, I'd loved to climb trees. I'd spent many an afternoon climbing the tallest oaks around our house, daring the boys to climb as high as I could. What had been wrong with me?
By the time I got fifteen feet up the tree, I was trembling with exhaustion. Somewhere in the intervening years from childhood, I'd developed a real discomfort around heights. Luckily, I was still going up and had no need to look down. A problem would arise when it would become necessary to reverse my efforts.
I had a clear view of a sitting room, which was empty; a library, which seemed empty; a music room, also empty; the kitchen, which was empty; and part of a huge solarium. I focused my attention there. This room was unlit, and it took a lot of eyestrain to detect wicker furniture, a swing, what looked like a Ping-Pong table, and a lone figure, hands pressed against the glass.
Tinkie! She was alive! She wasn't dead! I'd refused to even think of her as hurt, and there she stood, seemingly okay.
"She's there. Tinkie's in the house," I whispered softly to my hound. But Sweetie wasn't there. To my horror, I saw her loping across the lawn to the back entrance.
"Sweetie!" I was afraid to call her loudly. "Sweetie!"
In typical fashion, she completely ignored me and dashed to the back steps that led to the solarium. She bayed loudly, demanding entrance.
I saw the figure press against the glass. Sweetie had given herself away, but she'd also let Tinkie know that help was on the way. Tinkie looked up and scanned what she could see of the yard, looking for me. This time, I was the cavalry.
A front light snapped on, and Virgie Carrington stepped out on the porch. "What is all that commotion?" she called into the darkness. In one hand was a flashlight, and in the other a gun.
My heart rose in my throat as I watched Sweetie bound around the house and head for the front steps. The dog would never expect anyone to hurt her. She had free rein at Dahlia House and Hilltop, and expected it everywhere she went.
She flew up the steps and directly at Virgie. Virgie pointed the gun, but before she could fire, Sweetie ran right over her, knocking her to the ground. Sweetie rushed into the house, barking and baying.
Quick as a flash, Virgie was on her feet. She hurried back inside. The front door slammed closed.
Now she had my partner and my dog.
22
I had pinpointed where Virgie was holding Tinkie, which was important to any rescue attempt. What I couldn't begin to say was what she'd done with my hound. Virgie didn't strike me as the kind of person who would be agreeable to the idea of dog hair in her home.
I clambered down from the tree, happy to feel terra firma beneath my feet. I didn't have time to bend and kiss the earth; I had to distract Virgie. And the best plan was simply to knock on her door and try to worm my way into her home. She couldn't hurt Tinkie or the dog if I was there to stop her.
My car was down the driveway, which would alert Coleman and Oscar when they arrived. I walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell, bold as you please.
The door opened wide, and Virgie smiled at me. "Sarah Booth Delaney, what are you doing here? Don't you know it's rude to pay unexpected calls on people? A little sophistication would make your life so much easier."
I couldn't be certain, but I thought I detected a certain tightness of the skin around her eyes. "I do know it's rude, Virgie, and I apologize. I need your help."
Her smile widened. "Come right in."
I stepped into the foyer and heard the door slam and lock behind me. Virgie was a bit overly conscientious about her safety. She stepped in front of me and led the way to a parlor on the other side of the house. There was no sign of Sweetie Pie anywhere.
"This has been an interesting night," she remarked as she showed me into a wing chair. "I was planning on reading a novel and going to bed early. So what brings you to my school?"
"My partner has gone missing, and I'm worried about her."
"Tinkie? Missing?"
I had to hand it to her, she was a good actress. She seemed genuinely concerned. "She disappeared yesterday, after I got a note warning me about my nosiness."
Her face furrowed into a frown. "That's terrible. Did Tinkie get a note, too?"
"I'm not certain." The old fox was trying to figure out how much I'd put together. "I was hoping maybe you'd talked to her before you left Zinnia. She was at The Gardens, talking to Umbria."
"Umbria!" She threw up her hands in disgust. "What a waste of time and money she's turned out to be."
"Did you hear that someone stabbed Rutherford?"
A smile touched her face. "Oh, really? Is he dead?"
"It wasn't a fatal wound. He's going to recover, but word on the street is that Umbria plied the knife, and he's too afraid of her to rat her out."
Virgie's expression was one of sorrow. "I never understood why Umbria married him. She could have had her pick of decent men."
"She was one of your most promising students, wasn't she?" I had to keep her talking. Coleman and Oscar would arrive soon. All I had to do was occupy her until they did.
"Umbria had such potential. She understood how powerful she could be as the woman behind the man." She paced back and forth behind the sofa. "She got it! But she could never apply it. She always found these worthless men. If Rutherford Clark had one ounce of honest ambition, he could be governor of the state, with Umbria at his side."
"I've only met Rutherford once, and it was another 'p' word that seemed to occupy all of his attention." I had to find out how stable she was. If she was, indeed, killing people over social infractions, how would she react to a little verbal vulgarity?
She didn't hesitate to show her disapproval. "No lady ever alludes to that word. Sarah Booth, I'd always heard that your mother raised you as a heathen, but surely she taught you that when you belittle the female gender with crass and vulgar references, you lessen all women."
"Sorry." I tried to look contrite. She was hanging on pretty well. I didn't think she was going to flip out and come at me with a knife. Then again . . . "Would it be possible for me to use your ladies' room?" I rose.
Momentary annoyance flitted across her face. "This way."
I followed her to a bathroom off the hallway. I had no doubt she'd stand guard while I did my business. I flushed the toilet, ran the water, went through the motions, the whole time trying to frame the layout of the house in my mind.
When I left the bathroom, Virgie was waiting in the hall, her black skirt and pale pink blouse perfectly crisp. "Your home is lovely, Virgie. Might I have a tour?" I smiled.
"Another time. I'm truly not prepared for a guest. Now that you've refreshed yourself for travel, I think it best that you leave."
I hadn't expected this turn of events. Proper ladies were supposed to be gracious above all else. I frowned. "I'm sorry. Might I have a glass of water before I go?"
"Are you deliberately delaying your departure?"
She hadn't moved, but there was a change in her posture. I had to remember that she'd lured Quentin McGee into a cotton field and killed her, not to mention starting a landslide. She was physically competent.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that I'm thirsty, and I thought well-bred ladies always offered a guest refreshments. Even an unexpected guest."
"Of course, you may have a glass of water. I'll bring it to you in the parlor."
I could almost hear her teeth grinding as she led me to the parlor door. I walked inside and took a seat until her footsteps faded down the hall.
I had a minute, maybe two. Even though I'd listened closely, I was distressed that I hadn't heard a whine from my hound. Sweetie had gone into the house and seemingly disappeared. What had Virgie done with her?
I tiptoed across the hallway and through the formal dining room into a back stairwell. The temptation to run up the stairs was great, but I was afraid if Virgie knew I was loose in her home, she'd hurt Tinkie.
"Sweetie," I called softly. "Sweetie." Dogs have hearing six times more sensitive than humans. Of course, that doesn't mean they come when they're called.
I didn't even hear a toenail click on the wooden floor. Damn. I unlocked a window in the dining room, tiptoed back across the hall, and was seated in my chair when Virgie returned with a glass of water on a silver tray. There was a napkin and nothing else. She was going to perform the ritual, but with a minimalist approach.
I took the glass and thanked her, sipping daintily. "Are you on a well?"
"Yes, we're on a deep well." If she hadn't been such a lady, her leg would have swung in annoyance.
"The well at Dahlia House is over two hundred feet deep, and the water is pure, like this."
Virgie perched on the edge of the sofa and watched the level of the liquid in my glass. She wanted me gone, but she couldn't tell me to hurry. She was biding her time.
I put the glass on the napkin on the side table. "I can see you have a lot to do, so let me get right to the point."
"What point?"
At last I had her attention, "I wanted to talk to you about the murders."
"Murders? Plural? Who else has been killed?"
"You haven't heard!" I leaned forward in perfect gossip mode. "It's been discovered that several women received threatening notes and then later met with foul play. Well, it wasn't actually ruled as foul play until I put it all together." My intention was to take the focus off Tinkie and put it on me. Virgie would have a hard time overpowering me.
"Why, Sarah Booth, I didn't realize you were such a good detective. Tell me everything you discovered. Would you care for some coffee and some homemade fruitcake?"
I'd turned the tide. She was eager to hear what I'd found out. I smiled. "Fruitcake would be lovely. You know, as soon as I find Tinkie, I'm going home to Dahlia House to make my traditional fruitcakes. All of this detective business has gone too far."
"You're quitting?"
"Indeed. Cece is running a story on my 'retirement' tomorrow. To be honest, I may have jeopardized Tinkie's life with my desire to solve cases. At least, that's what the note I received implied."
"And you're just going to give it up?"
"When it comes to a choice between Tinkie and a career, it's easy to pick Tink. It's not even a choice."
"Let me get that coffee." She was up and across the room before I could blink. I figured I had five minutes and took off for the staircase. I hurried through the upper floor but didn't see or hear a trace of Sweetie. She had to be on the first level, maybe with my partner.
I hurried silently back down the stairs, pausing to look at the family portraits that lined the wall of the dining room. The Carringtons were a very proper family, but a smile wouldn't have broken any rules of etiquette that I knew.
I was back in my chair when she brought in a bigger silver tray, this one laden with goodies. I had to hand it to Virgie: she had all the accoutrements for a proper Southern lady—silver, china, linen napkins, the whole deal. "Please, help yourself," she said as she poured coffee for each of us from a silver pot.
The fruitcake was laden with bright green and red cherries. Fruitcake is one of my favorites, but I hadn't just fallen off a turnip truck. I suspected Virgie of being a serial killer. I wasn't about to eat her fruitcake. I took a slice and pretended to nibble as I tucked it in the folds of my napkin. "Delicious."
"I'll share my recipe with you. You know, Sarah Booth, if you worked on your homemaker skills just a little, you could probably find a man who could keep you in style."
I forced a smile before I sipped the hot coffee. "I guess that's something I'll have to consider now that I've retired as a private investigator."
"So tell me what you learned."
This was where I'd have to tread carefully. I didn't want to reveal too much, but I wanted to string her along. And where the hell were Coleman and Oscar? I'd been in the house at least twenty minutes. They should have arrived by now. I was counting on Coleman's big fist hammering on the front door.
"Marilyn Jenkins's mother, Karla, received a note warning her of her bad conduct before she was killed." I pretended to nibble a bit more fruitcake. She'd laced it with bourbon, and it did make my mouth water. Instead, I finished my coffee.
"Karla Jenkins died in a freak landslide. I read it in the newspaper." Virgie was watching me closely.
"The death was ruled accidental." I didn't want to put her on the defensive by telling her the case was going to be reopened.
"What else?" She poured me another cup and topped hers off.
"Genevieve Reynolds's mother died in another freak accident. There was a note involved there, too."
"Have you linked the notes with the deaths, or is it just a coincidence?"
"I don't know. I suppose it's none of my business anymore." The room spun, and I shook my head. I was exhausted. I downed the last of my coffee. "Of course, I don't have a clue what the sheriff will do."
She smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Oh, I don't suspect he'll do much of anything."
I tried to focus on Virgie, but she kept moving around the room. My stomach was suddenly queasy. Something was wrong, very wrong. I tried to stand and heard the sound of breaking glass. I took one step toward Virgie and was surrounded by darkness.
The sound of footsteps awakened me. Someone was walking back and forth, back and forth. I came around slowly, wondering where I was and who was with me. I was lying on a cold, uncomfortable wooden surface. When I tried to move, I moaned.
"Sarah Booth!" Tinkie touched my forehead. "You're okay! I was afraid the old bat had poisoned you."
"Tinkie?" Something about Tinkie was coming back to me. She was in danger. I was supposed to save her. I took a breath and forced myself into a sitting position. I had messed up bad.
"Did she hurt you?"
'You ate the fruitcake, didn't you?" Tinkie asked. "We are the only two people in the world who could be poisoned by fruitcake. No one else would eat it."
"I didn't eat it. I knew better. But I did drink the coffee. Who puts drugs in coffee?" I did my best to gather my wits. "Are you hurt?"
"She wouldn't dare hurt me. As soon as she comes back in here, we'll jump her." She bit her lip. "There's a small problem, though. She has a stun gun."
"Did she use it on Sweetie?" A blast from a Taser could kill a hound.
She shook her head. "I saw Sweetie outside. That's how I knew you'd come to rescue me. I waited and waited, but I never saw or heard anything until Virgie dragged you in the door and dumped you. What happened to Sweetie?"
"The wicked witch lured her into the gingerbread house and has probably put her in the oven." How could I have been so stupid as to drink something from a known murderer? I needed to hang up my license.
"She probably fed her some of that Seconal-laced fruitcake, and Sweetie is snoozing away in one of the back rooms."
One thing about Tinkie, even in the direst situations, she always thought of the best possible outcome. "I can only hope she's okay. I shouldn't have brought her, but she did track you down. She went straight to the back steps."
"She's a great dog." Tinkie sank onto the floor beside me. "We'll get out of this."
"Coleman and Oscar should arrive any minute." I'd been thinking that for the last forty minutes. Where were they?
"They know I'm here?"
I nodded. "We were a little behind you, Tink, but we finally figured it out. Virgie
was the common factor in all of the deaths. The women were her pupils. I guess she decided if she couldn't teach them how to behave properly, she'd just bump them off."
"Except for us. We were never her students."
"Which may be the only reason we're both still alive. She's not responsible for our behavior. We aren't her failures. She simply wanted us to leave her alone."
"She's still going to kill us. She can't afford to let us go."
Although Tinkie looked on the bright side of things, she was a realist. We were dead meat.
I heard a slow step, slide. Step, slide. I thought of every horror movie in which the malformed monster steps out of the darkness. That was my talent—to remember every terrifying event of a spooky show. Tinkie's fingers dug into my arm, and we quaked together. The steps passed our door and continued on.
"Who was that?"
I rose to my feet. "I think that was Virgie dragging my dog." Fury replaced the fear that had gripped me. "We need to get out of here."
"We need a gun or a knife or a tool of violence." She stood up, too. "I never thought I could hit an old lady on the head, but I'm telling you, I could give her a headache that would last until next June."
I understood completely. Searching the solarium for a weapon, I suddenly remembered Tammy's dream about Tinkie. I thought it was worth at least a mention, so I told her about it.
"That's so strange. For the first few hours I was here, I could see girls leaving the school. Only a few of them, in their black skirts and white blouses. I beat on the windows and tried to get their attention, but they couldn't hear me. I had the distinct impression that I was in a glass of some type."
"That's how Tammy described it."
"Sometimes she's just plain creepy with her gift," Tinkie said as she gave a small cry of joy. "Here's a pen."
"Now there's a deadly weapon if ever I saw one."
"Be sarcastic, but if wielded with enough force, I could puncture her lung."
"Or give her a small ink tattoo." I put my arm around Tinkie. "I'm only kidding. The pen is the best weapon we have so far. Let's keep looking."
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