Game of Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  “You don’t know, do you?” She was amused. “You look like a seal about to be whacked. Do you know or don’t you know?”

  “Actually, I don’t.” The whole farce of a singing telegram had outlived its usefulness. I was in Cissy’s house, so I didn’t need to pretend to be some kind of singing gift to gain admittance. The next step was the problem. I didn’t know how best to wrangle her into helping me. I decided to go for the gold ring. “I’m looking for Cece Dee Falcon. Where is she?”

  “And I should know, why?”

  “You were the last person to talk to her before she disappeared.”

  “Oh, really. Can you prove that?”

  “Where is she?” I was exhausted, and my patience was even shorter than usual.

  “No clue. Now take off before I have you arrested.”

  “My friend is missing and you’re somehow involved. Peter Deerstalker. Did you speak with him?”

  “What is this, Twenty Questions? I don’t have to answer you. I’m indulging you because you have a set of brass ones, coming here and pretending to deliver a singing telegram. I’m impressed.”

  “I don’t give a hot damn if you’re impressed or not. I want to find my friend.” I expected she would throw me out. Instead she laughed.

  “Calm down. Don’t be stupid. Have a drink with me. I just got off work and now I’ve finished my workout. I need to wind down.” She did a big stretch. “I want to talk, so you indulge me and I might answer your questions. Unless you’d like to go another round of Tai Chi with me. That felt really good and now I’m warmed up.” She smiled, but her eyes warned me that she was in control. If I wanted to learn anything, I would play her game.

  “Isn’t Tai Chi supposed to like … ground you or center you or something? Connect you with nature?” None of that seemed possible in stilettos with that music blaring.

  “There’s no one more centered than I am. So what’s your point?”

  “Doesn’t the loud soundtrack kind of get in the way? I mean, I was thinking wind flutes or chimes or something calming.”

  “That’s probably necessary if you have the concentration of a gnat. Look, you want information from me, I want something from you. Now tell me who sent the singing telegram.” She motioned me into a club chair while she made drinks at a wet bar. “I need a good martini to unwind. Name your poison.”

  “Martini is fine.” I wasn’t going to leave until I had some answers and I was still starving. A drink wasn’t food, but one martini to sip wouldn’t hurt and it would tide me over. Sweetie Pie moaned softly at my feet. “My hound is quite a talent. Maybe we could sing a few bars—” I was merely delaying the inevitable, when I would have to confess that no one sent a telegram and lose my chance to grill the reporter.

  She handed me a martini in a beautiful glass. “I like dogs. What about the cat? What does he do in your act?”

  “He does Chilean sea bass, if you happen to have some available.”

  She actually laughed. “I like you. I think you’re probably insane, but you really do have chutzpah. You come in here pretending to have a singing telegram for me and then demand sea bass for the cat.” She nodded. “I’ll get something for Sweetie Pie and Pluto. You just hang here, Sarah Booth.”

  The fact I’d been made was a slap in the face. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Raily, the production guy, had a camera on you the whole time. I recognized you instantly. I was just in Zinnia, remember? I’m a quick study. Everyone in town knows the local private dick and her clutch of critters.”

  She was smart. Smarter even than I’d anticipated. “So why did you give me your address?”

  “I want to talk to you, silly. I’m a reporter, and I need a good source. I gather the whole singing telegram was a ploy. Poor Raily. He said you made his ears bleed. Anyway, you want information and I do, too. What do you know about those murders in Sunflower County?”

  “What do you know about Cece Dee Falcon?” I countered.

  “Your reporter friend. She’s got a lot between her ears and her facts are accurate. That’s what I know.”

  “Where is she?”

  She lifted her head slightly and stared at me hard. “What are you asking? Is she missing?”

  “She came here to talk to you?”

  Cissy regarded me. “That’s peculiar. I haven’t seen her. What makes you think she came to Memphis to talk to me?”

  Sweetie Pie had come up beside Cissy and was giving her the hound-dog death stare. “I have a source who said Cece called you and was headed here.”

  “Oh, that.” Cissy waved a hand. She plucked an olive from her martini and ate it with relish. “I love olives. Never get enough of them.”

  I waited. I’d learned that saying nothing was sometimes the most effective method of questioning. She seemed to be casting about for a reply. What she came up with would be telling. Especially since Pluto was flanking her other side. My critters were partial to Cece, and even if they didn’t understand the finer points of this discussion, they could read emotions.

  “Cece did call me. She was at the Winterville Mound waiting to find some evidence that an informant left behind which was supposed to clear Peter Deerstalker.”

  That matched what Peter had said. “Did she make it here?”

  “No. She never arrived. When I saw you at the television station, I thought maybe you were delivering a message from her. I know you’re friends.”

  “You didn’t see her, but you did talk to her?” I had to be sure. What had happened to Cece after she left Winterville Mound? And how did she leave? She had no vehicle.

  “I did. She said she was coming to Memphis, but she never showed up. I was … out on assignment until late. But Raily would have let her into the office. She didn’t make it.”

  Cece was still in the wind, and no one had seen her. My worry grew, but I had other questions, too. “How did Bella Devareaux get your press badge?”

  “Look, I gave Bella that identification. She wanted to get on the site of the excavation and she figured a press pass would carry a lot more weight than a PI badge. Everyone knew what a glory hog Dr. Sandra Wells was. Bella was pretty green as a private dick, but she had grit. And she was correct in thinking a press badge can open a lot of doors. I shouldn’t have done it, but she agreed to share any leads she obtained with me. My success as a reporter is in having good and reliable sources. I saw Bella as just that.”

  Cissy was an ambitious journalist. She didn’t give Bella that identification out of the goodness of her heart. “And what did Bella give you?”

  She sighed. “I see my reputation precedes me.” She poured herself another martini and offered to top off my glass, but I declined. I really was tired and I had a long drive ahead of me. “Wells and Hafner hated each other’s guts.” She rolled her eyes. “One of the worst-kept secrets in history was their torrid and tawdry affair. They were hot and heavy for each other about a year ago. Met at a conference, jumped each other and couldn’t get enough. One day they woke up, looked at each other, and screamed in terror at what they saw.”

  I had to fight the smile that wanted to creep up my face. Cissy had an irreverent way of looking at life, but she faced it head-on. She was definitely a shark. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a shark. She didn’t delude herself and she wasn’t kind to people who failed to face the truth. “Go on.”

  “I’d hoped that Bella had uncovered evidence that Hafner had killed his partner/competitor. But I didn’t get that. As far as I can tell, Hafner is a Lothario but he isn’t a killer. And, to be honest, I’m not so certain about his reputation for an aggressive sexual appetite. Men who try that hard generally have something to prove.”

  I couldn’t dispute her theory. “So what did Bella give you?”

  Cissy shrugged. “Cece already knows this, so it’s not like I’m giving away a story. Bella had that weird tattoo. And so did Sandra Wells.”

  “Right.” I kept my mouth shut about Sister Grace. That was C
ece’s scoop, if she was still alive when I finally found her.

  “That symbol is an original, but it has similarities with some ancient beliefs.”

  I sipped my martini and fought back true weariness. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “Bella said there was something ancient at the site. Something other than old bones and history, pottery shards, and artifacts.”

  “And do you have proof of this?” I asked.

  “That’s what Bella believed. And that was what Cece was working on.”

  “Did Bella say what it was that was so … old and valuable?”

  Cissy settled on the arm of a big overstuffed chair. “She didn’t get a chance. I gave her the press pass, and then she disappeared. I was pretty chapped about it. I thought she’d played me. It never occurred to me that she was dead.”

  “Who killed her?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Not any more than I know who killed Sandra Wells. It all has something to do with that burial site, and it’s about a lot more than the history of the Native Americans. I will say Bella had some tight connection with someone on the dig site. One of the students, I think.”

  “Any clue which one? Delane? Kawania?”

  “She knew them both, but I had a sense it was someone else.” She shrugged. “I would have gotten it out of her but I didn’t get a chance.”

  Bella had been arguing with Cooley Marsh, but I was under no obligation to tell Cissy that. “Did Bella say anything about the three missing women in Louisiana?”

  Cissy put her drink down and stood up. “That was a ruse, as far as I know. That whole business of missing women was just an excuse for Bella to investigate the dig site,” Cissy said.

  “So who killed Bella?”

  Cissy offered another martini but I declined. “I really don’t know. I don’t think it was Frank or Peter. The question to ask is what had Bella found before she was killed?”

  Her question was right on target. “What had she found, other than the trapdoor to the basement of the Bailey home? Had something significant been in the basement and the killer removed it? Her body was found there, but there was no blood. The blood was either collected and removed or it could indicate she was killed somewhere else.”

  Cissy kicked off her heels and fell into a chair. “I think there’s something else going on at that dig. Something sinister. I’m not sure it has anything to do with digging up ancient bones.”

  “What lead are you following?”

  She examined me with a cool eye. “I need a guarantee. I know you’re best friends with Cece, but we have completely different markets. If you find something, you share with me. Deal?”

  I nodded. “I will share everything I can, without betraying Cece. That will have to be good enough.”

  “Don’t sandbag me.”

  I nodded. “Did you ever talk to Sandra Wells?” It felt like a bargain with the devil, but Cissy was good at her job and would gain leads. There was plenty she and Cece could share without stepping on each other’s toes. And Cece herself had been talking to Cissy. They’d obviously worked out an arrangement.

  “I did, but I didn’t get a chance to push her as hard as I wanted. Sandra was so focused on her own needs, she never considered that other people needed things, too. She blabbed all the time about everyone on the dig. She lusted for the fame of her own television show. Everyone knew that. I should have pressed her when I had the chance.” Cissy sipped her drink. “I wanted to stay in Zinnia and dig some more, but I had to run back to Memphis for an interview with the head of a tech company who’s moving his headquarters here. Big money for Memphis, and while business growth isn’t as sexy as a serial killer, we are a local station. What I do know is that whatever Sandra was after, it was something worth a lot more than becoming a footnote in history. As to who killed her, I wouldn’t even hazard a guess. Lots of possibilities, but I’m sure you know that. I’d put good money on Delane Goggans. I did my best to break her, but she gave me nothing. She’s a tough customer and she hated Wells.”

  In the role of Dr. Wells’ graduate assistant, Delane had the means of going through the professor’s notes, of snooping on her private conversations. If there was an ulterior motive or goal, Delane would likely know. The pretty graduate student was also sleeping with Frank Hafner, and while she seemed genuinely fond of him, he didn’t seem to consider her feelings. It was hard to keep up with who was sharing whose bed. Maybe it was working all day with the dead that made the archeologists want to suck all the juice out of life while they could. Or maybe they just had poor impulse control. I wasn’t going to judge.

  “Look.” Cissy swung her legs up over the arm of the big stuffed chair. “I don’t know where your friend is. I’d tell you if I did.”

  “But you were talking to her—you were the last person to talk to her.”

  “Maybe.” She stretched, arching her back. She was very limber.

  “And Peter Deerstalker said he came up here to talk to you.”

  “Never talked to him, either. He called. I’m not in the business of giving out information. I’m supposed to be gathering it.”

  Cissy was all about the story. “Why are you still in the Memphis market?” I’d seen her on the news. She was a great interviewer, she could think on her feet, she asked the hard questions. And she was able to wrap the story up in a neat package and spoon-feed it to the viewer. She had national correspondent or anchor written all over her.

  “I like Memphis right now,” she said, looking out the window into the night. “It’s a sweet town, great music. I’m building a repertoire of stories. And I’m not in a rush. Once you’re in that big market, you have a limited time to make your play to be top dog. If you don’t succeed, you’re gone in two years. It’s awful hard to come back to a regional market once you’ve been national. Maybe it’s smarter just to be top of the region.” She smiled.

  I knew she was lying then. Not because Sweetie Pie watched her with such distrust. Or because Pluto had settled on the pillow above her head and waited for a cue to pounce, if it should become necessary. She was lying because a shark didn’t settle for a human finger when it could eat a whole body. Cissy was intelligent and ruthless, and those qualities told me her snow job was false.

  “I can see your point,” I said. “The competition for those top anchor jobs must be keen.”

  “Brutal. And it’s still weighted toward the male anchor.”

  That I did believe. I knew then she was waiting for a particular job that was perfect for a female. One where she’d have some job security—a Barbara Walters situation. “A clever woman can surely turn those odds in her favor.” I sipped the last of my drink and leaned back into the sofa. If she put down her guard, maybe she’d give something away.

  “Look, Sarah Booth, why don’t you stay the night here?” Cissy stood up and stretched. Before I could even blink, she’d done two cartwheels and one back bend. She was like a rubber toy. She reminded me of … I thought before I could put my finger on it. The politician’s wife in another case. Susan Simpson! She’d been pregnant and a contortionist. She almost snapped her cheating husband’s head off with the power of her thighs. Cissy had that same crazy flexibility.

  “I’d better hit the road. I have a lot of reasons to be home in the morning.” I stood up and even in my very flat and stable shoes, I stumbled.

  “Sarah Booth!” Cissy shook my arm. “You’re too tired to drive. I insist that you stay here until you’ve caught forty winks. You can’t drive home in that condition. At least take a nap. It’s not worth killing yourself over to get back to Zinnia in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “But—”

  “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

  It was a rhetorical question, but I knew the answer—almost thirty-six hours. “I really need to get home.”

  “It’s too dangerous for you to be on the road as tired as you are. And I have another incentive. I haven’t told you the complete truth. I do know where Cece i
s.”

  “What?” I thought I’d misheard her. All this time she could have told me where my friend was.

  “Cece is here in Memphis. It’s a long story and she can tell you in the morning. She’ll be here bright and early.”

  “That’s a lowdown stunt, leaving me to worry about my friend, when you knew where she was.”

  “I was hoping she’d show up and tell you what she was up to herself. She’ll definitely be here in the morning. It’s only six hours. Grab some shut-eye and you can drive her back to Zinnia.”

  “I can’t believe you two are working together.”

  “Journalism and politics made strange bedfellows. I’ll get Neville to show you to a room. The dog and cat can stay with you.”

  She spoke into her phone and in a moment a tall, muscular man came in and helped me to my feet. I didn’t really need assistance, but he maneuvered me like I weighed nothing.

  “Put her in the green room, with those animals,” Cissy said.

  Without a word, Neville took me deeper into the house. Not even my annoyance with Cece and Cissy for their secrecy could keep me awake. The last thing I remember was the click of Sweetie Pie’s toenails on the beautiful hardwood floors. The takeaway was that Cece was safe and in Memphis. The relief I felt at knowing that took the last bit of starch out of my spine. I could sort through the rest of it in the morning as I drove home to check on Coleman. I gave myself to the Land of Nod.

  23

  I awoke with Sweetie Pie licking my face. She had the distinctive scent of steak sauce on her breath and I rolled away, disturbing Pluto, who yawned and stretched. Amazingly, I was clearheaded, refreshed—and very anxious to get the day rolling. Of all times to end up sleeping over in a strange city at a strange person’s house, this was the worst. Coleman was waiting for me. Once I collected Cece we’d get on the road home.