“There was evidence. The knife.” I had it safely tucked away with the full intention of getting it right to Budgie and DeWayne. It would have been better if Cece had left it at the mound but, on the other hand, anyone could have stumbled on it and taken it.
“So was the knife left there for Peter to find or left there by Peter?” Cece was piecing it together.
“What do you think?” My gut was telling me one thing, but I wanted to know what Cece felt.
“Go with me a minute. What if he really was following a lead? What if he was tricked, too? What if the killer lured him up there, meant to kill me and disable Peter, and somehow blame him for my death, too? It would be the perfect setup. Also, Peter has strange connections with Bella Devareaux, and he has a link to voodoo practices. He’s the perfect scapegoat. Think about it.”
“So now you think he was telling you the truth and trying to solve the murders? But you said—”
“I know what I said, but I don’t know. That’s one problem. But I have an even bigger problem.”
“What’s that?”
“There is someone lurking around those mounds. Both Winterville and Mound Salla.”
She said it with such certainty that it gave me goose bumps. “Someone like a killer?”
She looked straight out the window. “There’s an element of this case that … is not natural. I know how crazy that sounds, Sarah Booth, but the events that have happened don’t make sense in a logical world.”
* * *
We drove into Zinnia, and I was amazed to see the normal activities of the town. I felt as if everything had changed, and yet there was Oscar walking into the bank. The shops along Main Street were open and the parking lot at Millie’s Café was full. I turned into the residential area where Cece and Jaytee lived in a beautiful old clapboard house with a curved front porch and Victorian turrets.
“Need a lift to your car?” I asked her.
“Could you take me to the newspaper? Jaytee is asleep, I’m sure. I’d like to talk to Ed and get this over with.” She looked only a little green. Ed Oakes cared about his employees, and Cece had worried him, too.
“Sure.” I drove her the several blocks to the paper on Main Street.
“You good?” I idled in front of the newspaper.
“I am.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for rescuing me, even if I didn’t need it.”
“Yeah, I just love spend-the-night parties with people I don’t know.” I patted her hand and gave it a big squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay. What are your plans?”
“I have a few leads to check. And I need to talk to Peter. I owe him an explanation and his car keys.”
“Don’t go anywhere without telling us.”
“Scout’s honor.”
I had my own fish to fry, so I didn’t press her. I drove straight to the hospital and Coleman’s room. He was dressed in a clean uniform, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked like he’d been waiting for a long time.
I breezed into the room like nothing was amiss. “You’ll be glad to know Cece is safe. She’s at the paper right now. Did Doc say you could go home?”
Coleman lifted both eyebrows. “I said I could go home.”
“I see.” I faced his annoyance and kissed his cheek before I sat beside him. “Flesh wound. Doc says you’ll be good as new in a week. We have to be sure the wound doesn’t reopen. Do you feel up to something to eat at Millie’s?”
“Look, I need a ride to the sheriff’s office. Budgie and DeWayne aren’t answering their phones.”
I eased closer to him. “Where’s Doc?”
“Around here somewhere. I sent the nurse to get him a dozen times and he’s ignoring me. I’m leaving here, with or without his approval.”
I put a hand on his knee. “Coleman, if our places were reversed, what would you do? Would you be glad Doc and my friends made certain I had good medical care? Or would you be mad at people because they forced me to take care of myself for a change?”
He put his arm around me. “I hear you, and I’m not mad. I just want to get back to work. We had a shootout at a Native American burial mound in a county where I have no jurisdiction. I was wounded. Elton Cade was bashed in the head. Cece disappeared. And the person behind all of it got away. You go off to Memphis and find Cece, who’s been playing coy with us for a whole day. I’m frustrated.”
He was indeed. I heard it clearly in his voice. But he hadn’t counted that I would be frustrated, too. “I know. I want to wring her neck, but Cece is sorry. She thought she was following a lead with Peter. And she did find a knife at the Winterville Mound. It could be the murder weapon.” I held up a hand to stop his complaint. “It’s wrapped in some kind of sacred cloth and no one touched it. Cece thinks it may have been left there to kill her and set Peter Deerstalker up as the killer.”
“And who would do that?” Coleman asked, watching me carefully.
“The person who would have access to this kind of knife is Frank Hafner who, by the way, hasn’t checked in with me in a while. Did you give him permission to leave town?”
“He hasn’t been charged yet.”
“We’ll drop the knife off at the sheriff’s office when we leave here.” I wanted him to feel progress was being made in the case, even if he was sidelined for a day or two.
“I want to see Cece.”
I nodded. “That I can arrange. She can come to Dahlia House to talk to you, as long as you promise to remain calm.”
“Don’t try to manage me.” Coleman’s forehead looked like a thundercloud.
I put on the most serious face I could muster. “You would really aggravate me, except for one thing. I look at you and I see me. I act just like you, and now I know why everyone wants to chain me to the bed.”
Before he could stop himself, Coleman laughed. “That’s a helluva thing to say.”
I felt a burden lift. Coleman was going to be reasonable. “Let’s go home.”
“Did you talk to Doc?”
“He’s waiting for us at the back exit.”
Coleman gave me a look. “You knew this and were just waiting until—”
“Until you got over your pique.” I kissed him before he could say anything else. When we broke the kiss he shook his head.
“Sarah Booth—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. Tinkie sailed into the room. “Will you two get out here? Doc is waiting and I need Sarah Booth to help me.”
“Help you with what?” Coleman was all over it.
Tinkie rolled her eyes. “She’s going to hate it, but I’m hosting the Young Women of Refinement luncheon today and Sarah Booth volunteered to bartend.”
I almost choked. I had done no such thing, and Tinkie knew I wasn’t going to spend most of my day serving froufrou drinks to the difficult mothers of bitchy high school girls. I didn’t have the temperament for these events.
When Coleman lasered me with a blue gaze, I shrugged. “Cece normally does it. I agreed to fill in. But Cece is back in town. Can’t she—?”
“Ed Oakes has her foot nailed to her office floor. I just got off the phone with her. She won’t be leaving the newsroom for the rest of the week. Sarah Booth, you promised. I’m in a pinch. Jaytee would do it, but he’s already committed to helping Scott with some new wiring at the club. You did promise.”
I did not, but I wasn’t going to argue in front of Coleman. “Let me get my guy settled at Dahlia House.”
“Perfect. I had Marnie send over a ham, potato salad, and fresh rolls. You’re set for food. And Harold sent some wine and Jack. You should have everything you need to make sure Coleman heals quickly. But for today, I need you to help me with this luncheon.”
There was no easy way out of it. “You can count on me,” I said, wondering what in the hell Tinkie was up to. Marnie was the young woman who catered a lot of Tinkie’s gatherings and parties. And now she was catering to my injured man. I’d find out what Tinkie was planning when we were alone.
&
nbsp; The three of us walked down the hall together. Coleman seemed steady on his feet, though a little ouchy. Doc met us and I waylaid him while Tinkie helped Coleman to the waiting patrol car. DeWayne had shown up to drive him to Dahlia House. That, more than anything, told me how worried everyone had been. Coleman was a huge part of my life, but he was also a big part of the town and community. A lot of people relied on him to be safe and do his job.
“Is he really okay?” I asked Doc. We both stood at the back door, watching Coleman progress gingerly across the parking lot. Tinkie joined our conversation.
“He’s good, Sarah Booth, but only because he’s lucky,” Doc said. “The bullet was a millimeter away from a large artery. He could have easily bled to death. Just a fraction more. It worries me.”
“Me, too.”
“Who’s the shooter?” Doc asked.
“We thought it was Peter, but he was already gone from the site. We don’t know. Elton didn’t see who hit him, either. Washington County is in charge of the crime scene.” I was sure DeWayne was on top of that, but I had to check.
“Sarah Booth, I’m getting too old to go running out to shootings. You and Coleman need to cut this out. You’ll cause me to have a heart episode and then what will Sunflower County do for a coroner?”
He was only half-kidding, and I heard the seriousness. “I’m sorry for the worry we cause, Doc. Just tell me he’s going to be okay.”
“If he takes care of himself. I’m putting you in charge, Sarah Booth. Sit on him if you have to, but keep him at Dahlia House for the rest of the week. He can talk on the phone, interview people while you’re there to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. Do whatever you have to do until that wound heals. In a week he can go back to the office. In two weeks he can go on full duty. Remind him that this wound will affect his ability to shoot accurately for some time to come. Those chest muscles come into play and will affect his aim.”
The list Doc was running down made me want to cry, but I didn’t. Coleman had escaped death. He’d come close, but the shadow had only brushed over him. He and Tinkie and Cece had to play it safe—at least until the Crow Moon was past. Tinkie rejoined us with a happy grin.
“Tinkie, I’m not putting all of this on Sarah Booth. I’m expecting you to help with this. When she needs to be somewhere, you sit on Coleman. You’re small but you have great power.”
“Coleman isn’t as easy to manipulate as some men.” Tinkie pursed her lips. “He doesn’t fall for flattery or helplessness or the things that generally bring a man to heel. But I have another whole repertoire of talents.” She winked at me. “I learned them from Sarah Booth. When she wants a man to do something, she just asks and reasons it out with him. It never works, but if I have to, I’ll give it a try.”
Doc chuckled. “It’ll take the two of you to corral that lawman. See that you do it. I’m counting on you. Now get out of here and I don’t want to see any of you until Coleman comes in for a recheck. You hear?”
“Yes, sir!” We almost saluted as we beat it out the door to the patrol car where Coleman waited impatiently.
25
After a quick confab, DeWayne took the knife for processing and agreed to take Coleman and the critters to Dahlia House. I would stop by the sheriff’s office and pick up all pertinent information about the case and take it to Coleman. That would give me a moment to find out what Tinkie needed me to do. It wasn’t mixing mimosas for her society gathering—that much I was willing to bet on.
Tinkie signaled me into Doc’s private office in the emergency room so we could talk. “What gives?” I asked.
“First, don’t ever go off by yourself like that again.”
She had a point, so I didn’t protest or explain. “Okay.”
“The Washington County sheriff’s department dusted the rifle they found at the mound for prints and it was wiped clean.”
“Any registration?”
“None. They’re working to trace it but it looks like it was reported stolen from a local gun show. That’s one of the many tricks to selling a weapon without leaving a paper trail. What’s interesting is the scope. It’s a FLIR Systems RS64.”
“Cut the gobbledygook and say it plain.”
“It’s a military-grade weapon scope that images the thermal heat of whatever you’re hunting. Costs upward of six grand.”
“What? None of those college kids could afford anything like that.” Which meant our killer had access to some moolah.
“Right. Unless someone was backing their actions.”
Tinkie had just opened the possibility that I’d failed to consider. “What is going on? Is this about the dig, jealousies among the crews, or something we haven’t even thought about?” I remembered what Cece had said about apparitions at the dig, of her story of a dead person stumbling about in the woods. I’d seen something too, in the woods at Mound Salla. Not likely a zombie, but it could be someone pretending to be a spirit. Someone with a lot of money for weapons. Someone who wanted to scare away other people.
“Washington County ran a check on the students. There’s only one with any connection to a background of that kind of weaponry.”
“Cooley Marsh.” I knew it. “Where is he?”
“He’s gone from the motel. He told Delane he quit and was going back to Michigan. He checked out of the hotel, said he would find his own ride back to the school.”
I knew the answer before I asked. “Is he at the university in Michigan?”
“No. He hasn’t shown up at his apartment there or at the school. In point of fact, he isn’t registered at the school.”
Now that was a bombshell. “Anyone else missing from the student workers?”
“No, they’re all accounted for.” Tinkie put a hand on my arm. “There is someone else with gun expertise.”
“And that is?”
“Our client. Frank Hafner is a sharpshooter. Not trained in the military, but he’s a celebrated marksman. I did some background research on him and discovered he’s a distinguished expert in the National Rifle Association.”
That did not look good for Hafner. The person who’d shot at Cece’s phone had been a good marksman, because I’d come to believe they never intended to hit me. Only to run me off the case. Same for the shoot ’em up at Mound Salla when Tinkie and I were there. An average marksman could have easily killed us. And Coleman, too. Coleman’s wound was serious, but not deadly. And it could have been. “Is Hafner back from his funeral duties? I have some questions for him, and maybe Coleman can get an APB out for Cooley Marsh.”
“Hafner checked out of the Prince Albert this morning and took off.”
“Are you kidding?” I was fed up with people running hither and yon.
“I’m trying to track him down using credit cards. I don’t know, Sarah Booth. There’s something definitely not right about our client. He’s involved in something, even if it isn’t murder.”
“Don’t tell Coleman that Hafner’s out of pocket.”
“Of course I’m not going to tell Coleman. Do I look like an idiot?” She held up a hand. “Say it and I will punch a hole in the top of your foot with my stiletto.”
I didn’t doubt she could do it. “Whatever we do, let’s get busy. I can’t leave Coleman alone for long.”
“Oh, he won’t be alone.” Tinkie grinned wickedly. “I hired the girls from the hair salon to go over and pretend to be candy stripers. They’re offering a haircut and shave, sponge bath, mani-pedi, facial, skin peel, you name it.”
I thought of the bevy of good-looking women who cut hair at the Glitz and Glamour. “Cancel that sponge bath,” I said.
She only laughed. “They’ll trim his hair and wash it, buff his nails, massage his feet. They’ll feed him the food I sent over. He’ll be occupied.”
Coleman was going to kill her. And I had to say, it gave me a bit of wicked pleasure. Oh, yes, this was good. I high-fived her. “You are incredible.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Tinkie said,
performing a little curtsey. “Now, let’s solve this case.”
“My car is your chariot.”
“Let’s go over to Washington County. We’ll get DeWayne to call over and say we’re picking up the reports for the Sunflower County SO. Unless they have a deputy under thirty they’ll never think that they could email them.” Few of the rural Mississippi sheriff’s offices had the personnel or resources to wade too deeply into the Information Age. Even Coleman was guilty of going old-school, but Budgie was changing all of that.
“You are a genius!” I meant it. “Let’s solve this.” Cece was back at the newspaper. Coleman was healing. All of the distractions were gone. Now I needed to get to work and clean up this mess of a case.
I stepped out of the hospital into the sunshine. It was a gorgeous March day. A perfect day of bright new green unfurling on the gray trees and a sky deep blue without a cloud. We got in the car and I turned the radio to a blues station out of Arkansas.
“Get ready to howl,” the announcer said. “The crops are planted and the full moon comes up at five fifty-two. It’s going to be a big moon, a moon for spoonin’, so get ready for it.”
“What’s wrong?” Tinkie asked.
I tried to shift my expression because I knew my face reflected dismay. “Full moon.”
“Yes, that happens once a month. On rare occasions, twice. And that turned you into an imitation of the painting The Scream, why?”
I was going to level with Tinkie. Not about Jitty, but as close as I could get. “That bad dream I mentioned … It was a full moon, and something was after you. All of my friends were in danger. I tried and tried to help you but you kept running away, and the thing was chasing you.”
To my surprise, Tinkie looked suitably concerned. “You really dreamt this?”
I was lying, but I couldn’t tell her more. That would take me too close to revealing the truth about my resident haint. “I don’t remember the exact details. It was upsetting, though, because I knew you were in danger. All of you.”
Tinkie considered for a moment. “Let’s find this killer before you start going to New Orleans to find a conjure woman to ward off evil.”
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