The lobby was empty. It was still relatively early—for some people. The clerk didn’t have a room in Delane’s name, which was telling, so Tinkie and I started knocking on doors. I wasn’t shocked when a large number of the students were still in bed. And I didn’t want to know the romantic combos. I just wanted to talk to Delane, who was a bit aggravated that I woke her up in a room registered to Amber Johnson, the girl who’d gone home for appendix surgery. I was honestly surprised she wasn’t with Frank at the Prince Albert.
When we finally roused her, I asked, “Where’s Frank?”
“He’s gone,” she said, yawning. “Be back tomorrow.”
“He wasn’t supposed to leave Sunflower County.” Coleman was going to be sore. He didn’t detain Frank in jail because of the dig and the need for speed. But the professor had been warned to stay in town.
“Tell it to Frank. He does what he wants.”
“Where’d he go?” I asked.
She scoffed. “To give the memorial for Sandra Wells at Ann Arbor. He was asked to do so. He couldn’t very well refuse.”
“I thought they hated each other,” Tinkie said.
Delane shrugged. “University politics make strange bedfellows, you know. She was a colleague.”
Maybe he talked to Coleman and got permission. Right now Delane was my focus. I didn’t want to jump into the chase for Cece or Cooley, so I started with some basic questions to loosen her up. “Did you ever see a private investigator on the dig site? Female.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“A simple yes or no will work a lot better.” Tinkie was impatient. Behind her, Chablis was wiggling to get into Delane’s room. The grad student kept the door at a tight crack, unwilling to step into the hall because she said she wasn’t dressed.
“Yes, I saw a private investigator at the dig. About six days back.”
“What was she looking into?”
She sighed. “Can we do this later? I can still get another hour of sleep and I’m tired.”
“You can do it down at the courthouse. I’ll let the sheriff know.” Tinkie put her hands on her hips and all but stamped her foot. She’d had enough of Delane. “Now you can talk to us here or a patrol car will be by in about fifteen minutes to get you.”
Delane’s sigh was jam-packed with exasperation. “The PI was asking about some folklore about the burial mound being protected by a curse. She said she’d been hired by someone to check into a series of misfortunes that happened to people who came to the mound. Accidents, tragedies, that kind of stuff. She was creepy as all get out. I sent her over to talk to the other kook who dealt in charms and spells.”
“Kawania.”
“That’s the one.” She yawned. “Now can I go back to sleep?”
I was about to relent, but Pluto slipped through the crack in the door, followed by Chablis. My cat gave an ear-rending screech that was followed by the sound of a male in anguish. “What the hell?” I pushed the door open. Delane fell back and I stepped into a room of empty booze bottles and Frank Hafner wrapped in a sheet and dancing like some animated ghost as Pluto clawed his toes. Chablis merrily barked. Only Sweetie Pie maintained any decorum. She went into the room and flopped down, sighed, and closed her eyes.
Tinkie looked at Frank and then Delane and arched her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize Frank could teleport. Must come in handy.”
“What do you want?” Frank asked. “You’re supposed to be working for me, not against me.”
“You’re your own worst enemy, Frank,” I said. “There are two dead women and you’re in a motel with a student.”
“She isn’t my student.”
“Like that makes it okay?” Tinkie was disturbed.
Delane was at least twenty. She was plenty old enough to decide what actions she took. But the situation did smack of an older man taking advantage of a young woman, a man who could influence her grade or college career, except she worked for his adversary, Dr. Sandra Wells, the dead woman.
“I’ve done nothing illegal or immoral.” Frank was trying to rear up on his hind legs, but Pluto was still going after those toes, making him dance. He lost a lot of his indignation. “Delane and I are single, free to make our own decisions.” He shot her an apologetic look. “You don’t understand.”
“Uh-huh.” Tinkie rolled her eyes. “You should be ashamed.” She picked Pluto up. “Enough there, Pluto.” She handed the cat to me, but I just let him loose. I liked watching Frank dance around the room. “Why lie about your little rendezvous if you’re all so sure it’s aboveboard?”
“I’m under suspicion for murder and everything I do reflects back on Delane. I was trying not to sully her reputation.”
I choked trying not to laugh. “Good job! Look, we don’t care about your sex lives. We want to know about the Devareaux woman and what she was looking into.” I sat down in the only chair in the room. “And we’re not leaving until we hear the truth.”
Frank sat down on the bed. “That woman came poking around on a bull-crap excuse. She said she’d been hired to do an investigation of the dig in relation to some missing women in Louisiana. She never made it clear how that was related to the dig. But she said that Mound Salla was cursed and that tragedy would befall the dig because we were violating the sacred burial site of tribal elders. I’ve had enough trouble with the students being afraid of the dark, seeing things that aren’t there, thinking any minute Leatherface is going to jump out of the woods. I didn’t need more drama. I told her to get lost. I threatened to call the sheriff to have her removed if she didn’t go voluntarily. So she left. That’s what I know.”
“Did she talk to anyone but you?”
He shrugged one shoulder in dismissal. “She talked to some of the students. And Sandra, who pissed her off. Sandra was good at that.”
“About what?” I asked.
“She asked Sandra if anything unusual had occurred. Sandra fed her a bunch of hokum about the haunted Bailey house and the spirits of the dead Native Americans roaming around. Not what I needed. The students already think there’s something in the woods.”
“Who was Devareaux working for?” I asked.
Frank frowned. “Not me. I asked but she said it was confidential. I didn’t press. I was so intent on getting into the mound and finding something that would shut Sandra up and keep my investors happy.”
“What is it you thought you’d find?” I asked.
Frank hesitated, and I wondered if he was going to lie. “Pottery, bones, I’m hoping some details on the belief systems of the people buried in this particular mound. If my dating is correct, this mound was developed at a time when the world was changing for the Tunica tribe. They were being pushed farther and farther west. In many ways, this mound was the last holdout of a culture. It could have immense importance.”
“Pottery and bones?” I had a sudden realization that something far more valuable had to be at stake for Frank and Sandra to sink so much money into one dig. This wasn’t a pyramid or a Pharaoh’s grave. There would be no gold or jewels. Those things were of little interest to the Tunica tribe. The Mound Salla site was interesting because it was so far removed from the Mississippi River, where the mound builders had originally lived and died. But there was nothing about the site to warrant such excitement or expense. As far as I knew.
“I’m a professor of archeology,” Frank said. Since the cat had quit making him do his Fred Astaire routine, he’d gathered his composure—and his cloak of charm—around him. “While some archeologists are looking for great wealth or treasure or Biblical relics, which are quite valuable, I’ve focused on the United States sites and the history that has little real wealth but the ultimate value of knowledge. What we learn here tells us many things about the way the planet is developed and our concerns for the future. These mounds show water levels, flooding, so much more, even the more recent ravages of climate pollution.”
I almost believed him. Tinkie was looking at him in wide-eyed wonder. Then she g
lanced at me behind his back and winked. “I can see how much this means to you, Frank,” she said. “I’ve heard there might be a City of Gold somewhere along the Mississippi. De Soto thought so, from what I’ve read.”
“There was always the hope, but I believe the Spanish and French explorers quickly came to understand that the value of the land here was not in metals or jewels, but in furs and colonies.”
Perhaps he was telling the truth, but I didn’t buy it completely. I realized that I didn’t fully trust my client. He could sell sincerity or a snowball in Hell—he had that ability. I turned to Delane.
“What was Devareaux looking for?” I asked.
“Just what we said. She had a tip of some kind that there was an evil spirit attached to the dig. That the ancestors didn’t want their bones disturbed. She said it might play into her case of missing women in Louisiana. That’s what she was looking into.”
“She was tracking down a ghost story?” I found that hard to believe.
“That’s right,” Delane said. Her face brightened. “She did talk to Kawania. Maybe that’s who was pumping her full of stories about spirits or ghosts or curses. I don’t know. I try to stamp that kind of talk out in the other students. It makes for discontent when we have to work late at night. And she was talking with Cooley, and they weren’t that happy with each other. It looked personal.” Delane stepped closer to Frank.
“Full disclosure,” Frank said, “I did take the PI out to the dig late one evening. It was the night before she left to return to Marksville. She was interested in being out there at night to see if there was some kind of ghost.”
I perked up at this. Frank had a weakness for women. And he indulged himself whenever he found an attractive woman. “You were out at the dig alone with her?”
Frank had the grace to look a little ashamed when Delane cut him with a glare. “We didn’t see anything untoward, no ghostly sightings or signs of spirit activity. She said she was going home to Louisiana.”
“Did you leave her at the site?”
“Heavens no! I drove her back to town and left her out here, at the Budget Inn, where she had her room and a car. I went on to the Prince Albert. Delane can vouch for me.”
“I was waiting in his room at the Prince Albert. He did come in about midnight, but he didn’t tell me what he’d been doing. Now I’ve got things to do.” Delane was miffed and I didn’t blame her.
“You haven’t seen Cece Falcon this morning, have you?” Tinkie asked. She kept it casual. “She said she was coming to talk to you, Delane.” She also lied with perfect ease.
“No, I—” Frank didn’t get a chance to finish. Delane cut him short.
“Ms. Falcon was here. Earlier this morning.”
My hopes rose. “Where did she go?”
Delane shook her head. “I don’t know. She looked upset. She kept looking back at the parking lot as she knocked on the doors of some of the students. It wasn’t my business and I was tired so I just came back in the room and went to sleep.”
“Why were you outside?” I asked.
“I smoke, if you must know. I was having a cig. Frank doesn’t like it when I smoke so I sneak around. He was asleep so I went outside and saw your reporter friend. She didn’t look right.”
“How not right?” I asked.
“She was nervous. Jittery. Kept looking over her shoulder.”
“Was she alone?” Tinkie asked.
“I don’t know. She kept looking back at the parking lot, but I was sitting on the janitor’s stool by the ice machine and didn’t have a view.”
“And this was about eight? Did you see what kind of car she was in?”
“Yes, she was here about eight, beating on the door of Kawania’s room, but she didn’t get an answer. At least not while I finished my cigarette. I went back inside and crawled back in bed. I never saw the car.”
“Does Cooley have a room here with the other students?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Frank said. “He was hired by Sandra, not me. He wasn’t booked in as one of mine.”
Delane shrugged. “I didn’t book him a room. He wasn’t on Dr. Wells’ list, but she didn’t always go through the proper channels. Now leave us alone.” She edged the door closed.
There didn’t seem to be a lot more I could pull out of her at the moment. At least we knew Cece had made it to the Budget Inn in her own car. I suspected Cece had been looking for the same person I wanted to talk to. Cooley Marsh.
14
Tinkie called Coleman the minute we were in the car. While I idled in the parking lot, she put the phone on speaker so I could hear, too. Coleman had an update on his search for Peter. The trail had been hot. Leaving the Prince Albert at seven-thirty, Peter had gotten his car out of parking, and that was the last anyone had seen or heard from him. At least we knew he was okay earlier this morning and he was in his own vehicle. Coleman had called the tribal headquarters but no one there had any knowledge of Peter’s whereabouts.
I told him about Cece pounding at the door of Kawania’s room. I felt certain Cece was with Peter, but I couldn’t explain her weird behavior. She would know we were worried about her, and she was generally considerate of her friends.
“We’re far behind Cece or Deerstalker,” Coleman said. “At least we know she’s alive and she has some freedom of movement. Whatever is going on, she could have screamed for help or tried to run—but she didn’t do either. That indicates she’s not being held against her will. Have you spoken with Jaytee?”
“He hasn’t heard a word, but I didn’t tell him she was missing. There didn’t seem to be a point in upsetting him.”
“I agree. Sarah Booth, I don’t think Cece is a captive, but I also don’t think she has the freedom to call you and let you know she’s okay. She’s not the kind of person to worry you so she must be with someone or somewhere that she can’t risk a text or call.”
He was right that Cece wouldn’t deliberately worry us, but I couldn’t concoct a scenario where she wasn’t a hostage and also couldn’t call. “What about the missing women over there?”
“It’s complex. I’ll explain when I get home. I’m going to do some more checking on Deerstalker and the dead private eye. There’s something wrong with all of this, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’ll see you this evening for sure.”
“You bet.” I’d almost said, “I love you,” but I’d managed to bite back the words. Our feelings for each other were still new and tender. My reward was a knowing grin from Tinkie as I put my phone away.
We were about to pull out of the lot when I saw Kawania step out of the door of her motel room. She looked left and right and then hurried to a vehicle. I didn’t even have to suggest it. Tinkie nodded. We would follow her.
“Somehow, this girl is right in the middle of what’s going on,” Tinkie said.
“I agree.” I didn’t have time to say more because Kawania drove like a bat out of hell and I had my hands full following her without being obvious.
“Where do you think she’s going?” Tinkie asked as we crossed the Sunflower River and headed toward the Mississippi River.
“I don’t have a clue, but she’s making a beeline for somewhere.”
Tinkie dialed the sheriff’s office again. “DeWayne, Sarah Booth and I are tailing a student from the dig, Kawania Laveau. We’re hoping she’ll lead us to a clue that leads to Cece.” She gave our location and direction.
“We never found Cooley Marsh. He wasn’t at the dig site but we have feelers out for him. You keep checking in,” DeWayne said. “Coleman just called with an update and he told me to keep you in my sights. If anything happens to you, he said he’d skin me. He wanted you to know he’s at Peter’s residence, checking to see if there’s anything there to indicate what his game is. He’s also going to talk with some of Deerstalker’s associates in his law firm. Peter has a thriving law practice, and from what Coleman said, he was due in court this morning on a case. He could be in big trouble with the judge f
or his no-show.”
That didn’t sound good. No lawyer voluntarily ruined his reputation with such antics. “You keep us informed, and we’ll keep you updated on what we’re up to,” I said.
“Budgie is doing more research on that pendant your dog found,” DeWayne said. “All of this talk about ghosts and spirits roaming the dig location and then those tattoos on the two dead women that look like that pendant got him to thinking. He’s waiting on a call from someone in Arizona. He’ll let me know if he has anything interesting.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at Tinkie as she clicked off the phone. “We’re lucky that local law enforcement works with us.”
“And they’re lucky to have us,” Tinkie said.
Both statements were true.
* * *
We trailed Kawania for about ten miles, drawing ever closer to the Mississippi River, when she ditched us. We went through a small forested bit of road and when we came back out of the tunnel of trees and were in the open fields again, there was no sign of Kawania or her vehicle. It was like she’d been swallowed whole by the earth.
“Where is she?” Tinkie asked.
“She pulled off into some side road back in those woods, and by now she’s reversed and left us behind.” I was annoyed with myself for falling for her tactics. It was basic “how to dump a tail.” We’d been bested by a college student. “Damn!” I smacked the steering wheel.
“It’s not like you were in a city with a lot of traffic and distractions. She made us because we’d been following her for miles. Heck, we’ve been the only two cars on the road for fifteen minutes. It was bound to happen. Not your fault.”
Tinkie made me feel better. “What now?” I said.
“Looks like she was heading for the Mississippi. I wonder why?”
“She’s not going to tell us even if we could run her down and ask.”
“Nope, but let’s just follow the road and see where we end up.”
Game of Bones Page 12