A Gift of Bones--A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery

by Carolyn Haines

  “You didn’t give her a chance to say no,” Tinkie said.

  “Which was the point.”

  Because the sheriff was still at Dara’s house, we went to the ob-gyn clinic where Dr. Milford Warren worked. Tinkie intimidated his nurse into bringing him to speak to us in a small office. He was a middle-aged man who carried a stack of charts and scratched his neck in frustration at being interrupted in his office visits.

  “Whatever you ladies are selling, I’m not interested.”

  He thought we were drug reps. I’d wondered why the nurse even let us speak with him. “Dara Peterson. We need to find her.”

  It took him a moment to connect the dots, but when he did, anger flared behind his glasses. “Get out. I’m not at liberty to discuss anything about my patients with you.”

  “We’re private investigators,” Tinkie said. “Dara might be involved in the abduction of a young pregnant woman. Or she might be in serious trouble herself. There’s blood all over her house. When is she due to deliver?”

  That blast of information set him back on his heels. “Dara had her baby two months ago.” He frowned. “Is the child still alive?”

  “What?”

  He realized his mistake, then shrugged. “The baby had a genetic disorder. Dara and her husband didn’t have insurance. I got them an appointment at a children’s hospital in the hopes they’d qualify for financial help, but I don’t know if they fell under the purview of the hospital’s treatment.”

  “When was the last time you saw Dara?”

  “When I delivered her baby, about two months ago. She didn’t show up for her post-birth check.” He sighed. “I should have had the nurse call her. I knew Dara had financial issues. I told her it didn’t matter. I would help her. But her whole focus was the baby. Not her own health.”

  Then the blood in her kitchen wasn’t part of a delivery—unless it was Eve’s delivery. Had Eve and her child been abducted to replace Dara’s sick baby? Oh, that was a really bad thought. Women who stole other women’s babies seldom had a need to keep the birth mother alive once the baby was born.

  “What was wrong with the baby?” Tinkie asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “I’ve said more than I should have. But understand that Dara wouldn’t harm a pregnant woman or her baby. I simply can’t believe that. If she’s involved in this, it isn’t willingly.”

  “What about the husband?” I asked.

  “Never met him. Which told me a lot. These men who aren’t involved in the wife’s pregnancy, it’s not a good sign. Used to be that men weren’t really allowed to participate. They were given orders to wait while the doctor took charge. Then once the baby was born, the child became the woman’s province. But it’s healthier for the husband to be involved throughout the pregnancy. When the child comes, he already has a connection.”

  “Dr. Warren, was Dara’s life in any medical danger? There was so much blood…” Tinkie trailed off.

  “She delivered without a hitch. Two months have passed. She should have been healed. There’s nothing I could think of resulting from her pregnancy and delivery. That still leaves a lot of things that could have happened, but I won’t speculate. Now, I have patients waiting and one in delivery at the hospital.”

  Tinkie nodded, and I could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She was so tenderhearted. “Thanks, Dr. Warren.”

  We took our leave, and I was glad to vacate the doctor’s office. Even though I adored Doc Sawyer, who’d taken care of me and Tinkie since we were as big as butterbeans, I still got the heebie-jeebies in any medical facility.

  “Back to Dara’s house?” Tinkie asked.

  “Yep.”

  We were in luck because the sheriff had gone by the time we arrived. The front door was blocked with crime scene tape, but I went in a window and returned with a baby onesie and a woman’s blouse. Just for good measure, I also took a man’s long-sleeve flannel shirt. Presumably, the shirt belonged to the missing husband of Dara Peterson. The caller wanting the ransom had probably been male. It was a scenario I could work with, as far as pinpointing a villain. But I had no proof Dara and Eve were connected in any way.

  When I got back to the car, which Tinkie had turned around and kept running in case we needed to make a quick getaway, I tossed the clothing into the backseat and jumped in the passenger seat. Tinkie took off, giving me a smile. “I love your mama’s car,” she said. “It may be old, but it is the perfect car for you, Sarah Booth.”

  The old Mercedes Roadster was listed as an antique, but it ran like a top. “I know. Sometimes I dream about riding in the car with my mother driving, the wind blowing her hair, and her laugh.” I’d loved those sunny afternoons when I had my mother to myself. We had all kinds of adventures in the woods and fields and creeks. She’d taken me for horseback riding lessons from an old farmer who had ridden in the US Cavalry. He took no sass, and he gave me confidence as a rider and a real understanding of the bond between human and equine.

  “Good memories,” Tinkie said. “My mother would never have a convertible because it mussed her hair.”

  Tinkie’s mom wasn’t nearly as much fun as mine, but she loved Tinkie in her own way. Ever since Tinkie had married Oscar and he’d taken over the day-to-day operation of the bank, the Bellcases often traveled. They were in Rome at the moment. They loved the Italian sunshine in the winter, and I didn’t blame them, but Tinkie had grown up feeling like the odd girl out in her parents’ marriage. They were the couple, and she’d often been left with hired help. Excellent hired help, but not family.

  “I remember the Christmas party your mother hosted for you when you were ten. It was a lovely tea, and I can still see all the decorations in your home. When your mother came down the stairs in the beautiful ball gown as the Wish Fairy, I was in awe. It was so magical.

  “And you had ghost stories and a sleepover party.” She smiled at the memory. “You had fun. I had … elegance.”

  “Love is love. We each give what we know how to give. Elegance was how your mom shared her love.” I patted her shoulder. “Now you can have any kind of party you want. And a husband who’s willing to bail your friends out of trouble. That’s a lot, Tinkie.”

  “Yes, each gift we receive is precious.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Sarah Booth, I have a special Christmas wish this year.”

  “Sounds like Oscar is a lucky man, but no, I won’t videotape any of your bedroom hijinks.” I wasn’t sure where she was heading, but I wanted to keep it lighthearted if I could. Tinkie didn’t whine, but I knew the one thing she wanted more than anything else was a baby. That’s why this case troubled me so. It opened an old wound for Tinkie. In a most recent case she’d been certain that three witches who’d opened a boarding school in Sunflower County had worked a potion or spell or something that would allow her to overcome scarred Fallopian tubes to conceive. The months had passed without incident or pregnancy and I’d hoped she’d put that dream behind her. Now here we were, back at babies again. Almost as if the universe wanted to rub her nose in it.

  “When we finish here, I want a nice drink. How about we stop at Odell’s Roadhouse? They have a Christmas band. Maybe we’ll karaoke.”

  “Sounds good.” Tinkie’s request was unexpected, but upbeat. I was in for a drink. Odell’s had been a high school hangout down a tiny dirt road in the backwoods of Fortis Landing, but I hadn’t been inside in years. It was naughty behavior to slip into the roadhouse when I was in high school and the laws for selling booze to minors were a lot more laxly enforced. None of my group really drank—maybe a beer or Jack and coke. Pretty much pantywaist drinking. But we’d thought we were bold and badass. “We’ll call Cece and the gang to meet us. Until Jaytee gets home, she doesn’t need to be alone.”

  “Good thinking.” A snuffling noise in the backseat made me turn around. Sweetie Pie and Chablis were sniffing and snorting at the flannel shirt I’d taken from Dara’s house. “What’s with them?” I asked.

  Tin
kie checked them out in the rearview mirror. “If only they could talk. They must like the way Dara smells.”

  I called the Tallahatchie hospital to check on any accident victims or pregnant women being admitted and came up empty. The new laws dictating patient privacy were hard to get around, but I had a good story prepared—I was looking for my niece and I feared she was in an automobile accident. I believed the receptionist when she said that no accidents had been reported. Wherever the blood had come from, neither Dara nor Eve had been taken to the hospital.

  We breezed into Fortis Landing as the early winter dusk was falling. The community itself was several miles from the actual boat landing, and it was a one-block village more than a town. Main Street was fronted with buildings that gave the silhouette of an old west town. I could visualize the place with mule teams and well-tired horses tied to the hitch rail in front of the handful of stores. The old general merchandise store was now a pawn shop, and the locals shopped at the Get and Go for milk, bread, cigarettes, and beer. There was a beauty parlor and a chiropractic office, two insurance offices, propane gas, and an electric power office. The big chain grocery and the strip malls were twenty miles down the road.

  In the gloaming, the street was empty. Sadness seemed to steal over the little community as the emptiness became acute. As we slowed to take in the stillness of the night, the Christmas lights popped on. Little Fortis Landing had the old lights that had been strung along power lines with silver tinsel. I hadn’t seen them in years. The bigger cities had gone to the easier pole lights or even lighted shrubbery planted around town. I loved the old tinsel and lights and because I was a passenger, I could tilt my head back and let the lights pass in a blur as Tinkie drove the convertible.

  “Most of the houses are along the river,” Tinkie said. “It’s another ten minutes.”

  “Hit it!” This wasn’t a lead likely to turn up any new information, but it was one that had to be marked off the list. And we didn’t have much time. We needed to be home and dressed for the Christmas Pageant. I had a lot of worries, but I didn’t want to share them with Tinkie, who looked depressed enough on her own. “I really like being driven.” It was a true fact.

  “Don’t get comfy. We’re at the river.”

  The road abruptly ended in the Tallahatchie River. “What did Billie Joe McAllister throw off the Tallahatchie Bridge?” I asked in a terrible imitation of Bobbie Gentry’s famous song.

  “I sure as hell hope it wasn’t a baby, and let me just add that if you’re going to sing a cappella, I need earplugs.”

  “Clever, Tinkie. Really clever.” But even Sweetie Pie was shaking her head and flapping her ears as if they hurt her. “Let’s do a door-to-door and get this over with.”

  We parked at the end of the paved road where the river flowed swiftly by. A pig trail veered right along the riverbank. We set off on foot with the dogs leading the way and Pluto bringing up the rear.

  The river lapped gently against the banks, shushing into the tallgrass that grew in the shallows. It was a cold winter night, almost Christmas, and we had two missing mothers and two missing babies and a room that had too much blood spread around in it. I tried to beat those thoughts back as Tinkie and I trudged along.

  “These boots aren’t really made for walking,” Tinkie said as she stopped to kick some clots of river mud from the bottom of her high-dollar dress boots. “If we’re going to stomp around the river bottoms, I need some paddock boots like yours.”

  “Maybe we should go shopping. I could get you boots for Christmas.” I knew Tinkie would view my offer more as threat than treat. No one trusted my shopping skills.

  “Uh, some coffee beans would be a lovely gift.” Tinkie sidestepped a puddle with a dainty leap. “Or just your company.”

  I’d already found the perfect Tinkie gift—a sequined scarf from a little shop on Rodeo Drive. I did have my upscale gift sources when I needed them. But I liked to torment her. “I saw some cowgirl boots that would be perfect for you, Tinkie. You could get a little denim miniskirt with studs and bedazzling all over the butt and we could go dancing.”

  She hurried ahead of me. “No, I don’t think dancing is a good idea. Let’s stop in at this cabin.”

  The place she indicated was up on stilts, as were all the homes along the river. Lights burned in the front room, and we could hear the soft twang of a guitar as we climbed the steps. The dogs dropped back and let Tinkie lead. She knocked on the door. When it opened, she took a step back so she could fully take in the nearly seven-foot-tall young man who answered.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re searching for a missing young woman,” Tinkie said. “Have you seen her?” She offered the photo of Eve that Cece had obtained from an internet search.

  The young man frowned. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe you’ve seen her or maybe you haven’t?” Tinkie asked.

  “Maybe.” He grinned. “Why are you looking for her?”

  “She’s missing.” Tinkie was about to lose patience. “Her relative is worried about her. She’s very pregnant.”

  The grin left his face. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to step on your worry. I haven’t seen the young woman. At least I can’t be certain. There was a young woman here a couple of days ago. Staying down the river, I think. She was pregnant, but I didn’t get a good look at her.”

  “Do you know who she was staying with?” I asked.

  “Look, there’re a lot of people here who don’t want folks prying into their business. I try hard to keep my nose on my side of the property line.”

  “It’s a simple question,” Tinkie said. “Have you seen her?” Her voice broke at the end, and I think that was what brought the tall man around.

  “I’m pretty sure it was her. She left in a boat with a couple. Headed upriver. I don’t know who they were or where they were going. I was on my way to the bar for a burger and beer.”

  “But you saw her!” Tinkie was so relieved.

  “I’m pretty sure I did. It was dark.”

  “She was walking on her own?”

  “She was sitting in the boat.” He stepped out on the porch and pointed to the boat landing, which was a good fifty yards away. “I came out here a couple of nights ago and stopped to smoke a cigarette. That’s when I looked down at the pier. A middle-aged couple was getting in the boat with a younger woman. She looked big, like bundled up but also pregnant. They headed toward me, and I looked closer when they passed me as I was walking to the bar. She looked at me for a moment, then away. I think it was that girl you’re looking for.”

  It wasn’t the best identification I’d ever heard, and eyewitnesses were often unreliable, but it gave Tinkie hope.

  “Did you know the couple she was with?”

  He inhaled. “If I see her again, how about I call you?”

  He wasn’t going to answer Tinkie’s question, which told me he likely knew the people. Societies that sprang up around rivers were often closed to outsiders. They looked after their own, and they didn’t like rats or snitches. I pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “We only care if Eve is okay. Eve Falcon, that’s her name. No one wants to make any trouble. Her cousin, Cece Falcon, is worried about her. She has no intention of involving the law or anything. We just want to know she’s safe.”

  “She looked safe to me,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

  “Thank you.” Tinkie reached up and tapped his chest where his heart would be found. “Thank you. That helps more than you’ll ever know.”

  I was a little shocked at my friend. She normally wasn’t touchy-feely with strangers. We headed down the steps and back to the road. I was ready to go to the car and call Cece, but Tinkie put a hand on my arm. “He’s lying through his teeth.”

  “What?” I’d bought her whole gratitude routine completely.

  “He’s lying.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, but I know he’s not telling the truth. He may have seen
her, but he knows more than he’s saying. He just wanted to get rid of us. Move the car and I’ll stay here and watch. I’m wondering if he won’t get in touch with someone or maybe even go to them.”

  Tinkie was brilliant, which made me even more brilliant to have taken her on as my partner. “Good thinking!”

  “Go,” she said. “Move the car up to the bar and then come back.”

  “Should I call Cece to join us?”

  “No. Let’s see how this plays out. We can call her later.”

  “Good plan.”

  10

  I left Sweetie Pie, Chablis, and Pluto with Tinkie—she needed someone to keep an eye on her—while I drove my car up to Odell’s and left it in the lot with thirty other vehicles. I found what I hoped was a secluded place where most people wouldn’t see the old Roadster. Tinkie and I needed less conspicuous vehicles when we were working.

  As I left the car, I heard Garth Brooks on the jukebox inside. “Friends in Low Places” was the tune. I was fortunate in my friends, and that was the best Christmas miracle ever. The next song up was Burl Ives singing “Holly Jolly Christmas.” Whoever was feeding quarters into the jukebox needed to be physically restrained.

  The gravel crunched beneath my sensible boots as I made my way back to the river and down the dirt road to the place where I’d left Tinkie. Which was completely empty. No Tinkie. No dogs. No cat. Just the flashing red and green lights on the house set back from the road.

  “Tinkie!” I whisper-hissed her name. “Tinkie! Where are you?”

  The night had no answers for me. Not even the dogs made a sound. I moved down the road, glad I’d been smart enough to bring a flashlight and my gun, though I was reluctant to turn the torch on for fear of alerting folks to my presence. Lights pricked the total darkness through the thick growth of trees. This was a river community, and many people would not welcome a stranger knocking at their door. So where was Tinkie? Had something happened to her?