I put my arm around her and gave her a hug. I knew how hard it was to want to help a loved one and not be able to. “We’ll do everything we can. And as soon as we know anything, we’ll be in touch. Now would you mind if we went through her cottage? Maybe there’s a clue as to where she’s gone.”
“Just leave the key under the doormat,” Myrtle said, handing us a key painted bright red.
5
Eve’s cottage was a pleasant contrast to Myrtle’s home. The interior had been updated with a brand-new kitchen and laundry with all the latest gadgets—and a delightful nursery, painted lavender and with cartoon characters all over the walls. It was a room set up for a happy childhood.
Tinkie fingered a mobile of the planets and stars that hung over a bassinet layered in tulle and lace. The melody from “Dreamer’s Holiday” began as the mobile turned. Stuffed toys lined one shelf, and below that was a large collection of Little Golden Books, the joy of my early years.
“We have to find her,” Tinkie said as she touched a soft lavender blanket folded in the crib.
I nudged her with my hip. “We will. Now get busy looking for clues.” I couldn’t let her dwell too long on what might have happened. My friend was brilliant, but sometimes too tender.
“Do you think it’s a sign that this baby is due on Christmas Eve?” Tinkie asked.
I knew exactly what she meant, but I wasn’t stepping into that trap. “What kind of sign?”
“You know, a miracle. The baby is a miracle.”
“All babies are miracles.” I felt like I was being pulled deep into the ocean by an undertow. Tinkie was investing way too much in Eve’s unborn child. She was beginning to think of it as a messiah or some kind of divine message. Which would be fine if the baby was cooing and gurgling in front of us. But the baby was missing, and I didn’t want Tinkie imbuing the child with some kind of mystical importance. What if the child was hurt?
“I know what you’re doing, Sarah Booth. Stop it.”
Tinkie had an ability to suss out my motives, so I didn’t bother denying it. “Please check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”
She disappeared into the bathroom and I went into Eve’s bedroom and started searching through her dresser drawers. I found all the normal things—and one thing extra. A photograph.
I studied the old and fading photo of two babies. The woman holding them was visible just from the torso and she looked to be wearing a hospital gown, as if she’d just delivered. Her head hadn’t been included in the photo. Just two little babies, one in each arm, swaddled tightly. Newborns. Clutched among the infants were a rattler, a pacifier on a ribbon that could be pinned to a blanket, a baby’s hairbrush, and, at the bottom of it all, a baby doll. It was almost buried in blankets and babies, but from what I could see it was exceptionally ugly. The blue glass eyes stared out blankly. The eyebrows had been drawn on. It was not only ugly but a little frightening. Then again, I’d never had a thing for dolls.
I wondered who the infants were and why Eve had this photo. As bad as I felt, I slipped the picture in my pocket. I would return it when we’d found Eve, but Cece might know who these babies were and if they somehow related to the case.
“There’s nothing in the bathroom,” Tinkie called out. “Not even a cobweb. Eve was a good housekeeper. She seemed to put a lot of love into this cottage.”
I met Tinkie in the kitchen. When I pulled the photo from my pocket, she took it and studied it. “Who are the babies?” She flipped it over but the back was blank. I’d already looked.
“I don’t know. I guess I think it may be relevant somehow.”
Tinkie took the photo to the window. “This photo was cheaply processed. Back when everyone used color film, the big developing companies would run the film through in batches and then print at a standard exposure. This photo wasn’t left in the fix long enough. See how it’s fading.”
She was right. “How do you know so much about film development?”
“One summer at Ole Miss I worked as an apprentice for a wedding consultant. My job was hiring photographers for the high-end weddings. I had to be sure the photographer used the best processing standards.”
“Getting that Mrs. Degree did pay off,” I teased her.
“You’re just jealous.”
I laughed out loud, because I was. A tiny little bit. Oscar and Tinkie had a great love. They’d overcome hardship and disappointment. They were forged in fire. My heart belonged to Coleman, but we hadn’t been tested. Would we endure, or would we break? I had only hope and no answers.
“Did you find anything relevant to the case?” I asked.
“Her toothbrush and toiletries are in the bathroom. It doesn’t look like she intended to go anywhere. I think she was snatched either on the way to work or while running an errand in the morning before work.”
“That makes sense. There’s a cereal bowl in the sink, like she had breakfast and then left home. She put out dog food at some point.” I indicated the open bag of kibble against the wall.
We were at least establishing a timeline of her actions. On the morning she’d disappeared, she’d eaten cereal and then vanished. She hadn’t shown up for work that morning, so somewhere between breakfast in this cottage and the bank, she’d been taken. There was nothing in the cottage to indicate that she’d struggled, and there was no footage of anyone assaulting her in the yard. Where had she gone after she left here?
“We don’t have a clue what happened to her,” Tinkie admitted. And she was right.
* * *
On the way back to Zinnia, Tinkie and I tossed out ideas that ranged from a gypsy abduction to aliens to a jealous boyfriend. Nothing seemed to fit Eve’s disappearance. She’d been in Cleveland, headed to work on a normal day, and then she was gone. Her car had also disappeared.
“Maybe she was carjacked and they just took her,” Tinkie said.
“A pregnant woman could be an impediment.” We talked all around the idea that if Eve was too bothersome they might just kill her.
“What are you wearing to Harold’s big dinner party?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want Tinkie falling down the baby well again.
“I have a really pretty white cocktail dress with pearls and crystals. I think I look a bit like a wedding cake in it, but Oscar picked it out. He says I look like a winter princess.” She cast a knowing eye at me. “And you? What are you wearing?”
“Ummmm, red velveteen top with black jeans. And heels.” I threw the last in as an attempt to save myself. I hated heels and dresses. After I’d been caught at one dinner party in a long skirt and had had to wade through cotton fields dragging that heavy wet skirt behind me, I’d vowed never to leave my more accommodating pants behind.
“You have to wear a dress, Sarah Booth. It’s a cocktail party.” She said it as if the rules of cocktail-party wear were inscribed in the Ten Commandments. And probably there were Daddy’s Girls commandments of attire for every social occasion under the sun. I, though, had refuted the cult of the DG. I didn’t have to abide by their dress code or any other rules. I would wear my red blouse and celebrate the holiday.
“Sarah Booth, don’t bring any of those fruitcakes you soak in Jack Daniel’s.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Those things are potent and Oscar is like an addict. Once he tastes them he can’t stop himself.”
“Which is the point of fruitcake, isn’t it?”
“I’d like him sober enough for a little private celebration, if you get my drift.”
I did but I wasn’t going there. “Do you think Cece will come? Since Jaytee and the band are out of the country? I know she’s worried.”
“She has to attend. The kidnapper warned her to act normal.”
That was true.
“But the real question is—can you behave naturally around Coleman?” Tinkie asked with a spark in her eyes.
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” I kept it light, though deep in my heart I was worr
ied about Eve and her baby. And I knew Tinkie was, too. Funny how we’d ended up playing roles in an effort to do as Cece asked. It would take all of my acting skills to cover my worry, but I would give the performance of my life.
Once Tinkie departed, eager to get into her party duds, I started up the stairs. I was reluctant to think about finding appropriate wear for the gala. I’d missed the dress-up gene that so many of my friends had.
“Come and play with my dolls!”
I stopped in my tracks. The voice came from my bedroom—the voice of a child. I’d never played with dolls. In fact, they scared me. They always seemed on the verge of … coming to life. Chucky had cured me of ever keeping a doll in my house. I approached my room with caution. At the doorway I stopped in my tracks.
Shelves of dolls lined my room. Toys were scattered about the floor, and a pretty young girl sat cross-legged, playing a game of jacks. “Please, come and play. You can have any doll you want. It’s almost Christmas and I’m sure to get something special.”
I knew the child from the story of “The Nutcracker,” who was leaned against the wall, his jaw a very sad mess. “Marie?” I asked.
“Masha, Clara, Marie,” she shrugged. “I don’t care what you call me if you’ll just play with me. I’m not ready for bed and no one believes my dreams.” She held up her bandaged arm. “But what I dream is real.”
I struggled to recall the details of the story that I hadn’t thought of in years. Why Jitty had decided to devil me with characters from a ballet, I’d never know. Jitty was wicked like that.
“Is it true love that brings the Nutcracker to life?” I asked Clara, aka Jitty.
“True love is the only magic that’s real.” The little girl began to grow and change until it was Jitty sitting on the floor. “I’m on fours. Come play.”
I hadn’t played jacks in decades, but I sat on the floor. Anything was better than getting duded up for a party. I scattered the jacks and started with one at a time, bouncing the ball and catching it until all the jacks were collected. I moved on to twos as she watched.
“I didn’t think you were coordinated enough to play jacks,” Jitty said.
“Surprise, surprise.” I grinned. It was good to keep her on her toes. Sometimes she took me for granted.
“What does ‘The Nutcracker’ mean to you?” she asked when I missed and handed the ball over to her.
“It’s a Christmas story for children. The ballet is lovely.” I’d seen it in Jackson when the Imperial Russian Ballet was in town. “I love the idea that we can all escape our destinies to become something magical and loved.”
“So you still have a bit of the romantic in you.” Jitty stood up, done with the jacks and the floor. “You’d better get ready for that party. Your date will be here in twenty minutes to pick you up.”
An hour had flown by. Time had passed so swiftly—it was incomprehensible. Ten minutes before, it had been dusk. Now, it was almost time to depart for Harold’s. I stood up and headed to my closet for clean black jeans and my fancy red top.
“Stop!” Jitty was suddenly barring the closet door. “You are not wearing pants to this shindig.”
“I haven’t had a chance to go shopping.” It was a dodge and the truth. I hated shopping, so I hadn’t gone.
“Which is why I look out for you. Check to the left in the closet.” She moved aside and curiosity prompted me to push the coat hangers around until I saw the dress. It was tomato red with sparkly fringe like a flapper’s dress. I recognized it instantly. My mother had worn it to a holiday party when I was eleven. I’d thought she was a movie star.
“Where did you find it?” I asked.
“In the Great Beyond, we know things,” Jitty said. “And your mama knew you’d try to wear some awful outfit so she put me on the case.”
I might want to fight Jitty, but I couldn’t go against the wishes of my dead mother. I pulled the dress out and felt a thrill of anticipation. I’d never in a million years buy a dress like this. My mother had panache and style. She would rock this look, but could I?
“Put it on and give it a chance,” Jitty said. “Your mama would never lead you astray.”
She was right. I slipped out of my clothes and into the dress. With the addition of some pretty high heels, which looked like new because I never wore them, I chanced a look in the mirror. For an instant, my heart stopped because my mother looked back at me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d grown to look like her.
“Beautiful,” Jitty said. “Now fix that mop of hair.”
Mop was overly optimistic, but it was getting there. I’d had an unfortunate accident, but my hair had almost grown back out. I’d had it shaped and styled, and with a curling iron and a bit of care, I’d be party ready.
And just in time.
The front door opened and Coleman came into Dahlia House, calling my name.
“Give me three minutes,” I said, hurrying to put the finishing touches on makeup and hair. As I rushed to the stairs, I felt a fluttery kiss on my cheek, but when I turned, Jitty wasn’t there. I wondered if it might have been my mother.
“Merry Christmas,” Coleman said when he saw me. “My god, Sarah Booth, you are stunning. I think I just got my present.”
And I had also gotten something I’d wanted very badly—a few minutes with my mom, even if it was just her prodding me to wear a party dress. I glanced back at the empty landing. “Thanks,” I whispered to my mama and Jitty. And I was down the stairs and in Coleman’s arms.
* * *
Harold’s house was ablaze with white fairy lights wrapped around the oak trees that stood sentinel along his curved driveway and lawn. Harold gave the most elegant parties on the planet. He had a flair for decorating and making each occasion special. He loved entertaining, and he was good at it.
Coleman reached across the seat of his private pickup truck and found my hand. “This is our first official party as a couple.”
“I know.” I kissed his hand and squeezed it. I couldn’t help feeling like a cad. I sat beside him in the truck, going to a party as his partner, and I was lying to him. A lie of omission was still a lie. But I had promised Cece. As each hour passed, though, I questioned my decision to keep Eve’s disappearance to myself. Especially as her due date drew closer. Where was she? Did she have medical care? My gut churned.
“Is something wrong?” Coleman asked.
“Yes.” One lie was enough. “But I can’t talk about it now.”
“This sounds ominous.” He parked under a low-hanging oak branch that glittered with white lights as though it had been sprinkled with fairy dust. He shifted so that he faced me, his knee on the seat between us. “Are you in trouble?”
“No, and I can’t tell you any more. I promised. But I’m not in danger.”
He nodded, and his hand touched my face. “Thank you for telling me this much.”
I felt an irrational urge to cry. “I’m trying to convince my friend to tell you.”
“That’s all you can do,” he said. “Now let’s see what new delight Harold has in store for us.”
We walked up the sidewalk together, his arm around me. The house was bright with lights. Christmas music and laughter filtered out to us. There was magic in the air. Coleman stopped me on the porch. “I remember a certain night when we shared a kiss on this porch.”
I remembered, from the top of my head to my toes. Coleman had truly rung my jingle bells that evening with his kiss. “I think I’ve forgotten. Could I have a reminder?” I played coy to the hilt.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He swept me into his arms and kissed me with jet-fueled passion. I couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t necessary. All that mattered were his lips and arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and twisted my fingers in his hair, holding on for dear life. I held nothing back.
The front door opened and I heard laughter, but I didn’t care. Let them look and laugh! I was in heaven.
“Sarah Booth, come inside before that man gnaws y
our face off,” Madame Tomeeka said. More laughter erupted, and Coleman eased back.
“Thanks, Tammy.” I called her by her given name. “I was in the middle of something very important, in case you missed it.”
“Lord help us, Sarah Booth, we couldn’t miss it. If I’d stepped any closer I’d have been swept up into the vortex of that kiss and might have ended up in a black hole of the universe.”
Now a crowd had gathered on the porch and everyone was laughing. Harold came to our rescue with two flutes of champagne. “Drink, Sarah Booth. That way you can blame your socially unacceptable behavior on the booze.”
I drained the glass and turned back to Coleman. “I’ll have another of those kisses, please.”
And he obliged without a second’s hesitation.
By the time we went inside to the party, everyone had resumed chattering, drinking, and sampling the fabulous hors d’oeuvres. Harold had a battalion of caterers working, but he’d also made some of the fancy appetizers. And they were yummy.
Tinkie and Cece were huddled in the corner, and when they saw me, they waved me over.
“Glad to see you still have some lips left on your face,” Cece said.
“Think of all the extra tooth care you’d have to do without lips,” Tinkie agreed, baring her teeth. “Lips shouldn’t be abused, Sarah Booth. They’re important.”
“Back off, wise guys.” I didn’t mind the teasing, but enough was enough. “I was reliving my past.”
“My god, when she gets to the future she and that lawman might have enough friction to catch on fire.” Tinkie was beside herself.
“What’s the latest with Eve?” I asked. “Have they called about the ransom drop?”
“Nothing.” Cece was suddenly serious, and I was sorry I’d brought up the subject of her cousin. “Not another word. Have you found anything?”
I’d kept the photo of the two babies, and I brought it out of my purse. “Does this mean anything to you? It really was the only photo in Eve’s cottage. There was no other evidence of her past.”
A Gift of Bones--A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery Page 6