Bones to Pick (28 page)

"No, Miss Carrington. She stopped by to say good-bye. She said she had to get back to the school, that she'd gotten some calls and was needed at home."

"That's the big news?" My temper sizzled. What a deceptive move.

"There's more. I'd like to deliver it in person."

"The only thing you're ever going to deliver in person to me might be a pizza. What's the big news?"

"Testy, testy." He laughed. "Call your source at the hospital. Umbria Clark's husband, Rutherford, was taken in by ambulance about half an hour ago. He'd been stabbed in the chest, and I heard he was singing like a bird, telling all
of
Umbria
's dirty little secrets."

I was surprised; it was a great lead. "Thanks, Humphrey."

"How about a date?" he asked.

"You can't be serious."

"Very. We could stage a kinky little scene where you find a necklace of kryptonite and bring me to my knees, if you get my meaning."

I didn't bother to respond. I hung up and ran out the door. I didn't care if Gordon followed me to the hospital.

Doc Sawyer's gaze pierced me as he sat behind his desk and waited. "Now tell me the truth. No foolishness."

"Tinkie is missing."

"I thought as much."

Doc had a million sources--far more than I did--but I was curious about this one. "How did you know?"

"Harold called about an hour ago and asked me to call in something to calm Oscar. In all of my years of treating the Richmonds, I've never known Oscar to need a sedative. I knew it had to be bad. How long has she been missing?"

It wasn't jeopardizing the case to talk to Doc. He'd taken care of both me and Tinkie when we were children. "More than twenty-four hours."

He didn't have to say that the longer she was gone, the less likely it was that she'd come back alive. "So what are you looking for here at the hospital?" he asked.

There were ethics and laws, and I was going to ask Doc to violate a bunch of them. "Rutherford Clark was brought in here. I heard he was stabbed and that he was talking a lot."

"All of that is true."

"Did you hear what he said?"

Doc considered. He got up and poured a cup of his terrible coffee. "I heard a good bit of it. I was the attending physician in the emergency room."

Thank goodness. Now all I had to do was pry the information out of him. "Doc, if Umbria McGee Clark is the killer, she may be holding Tinkie alive. What did
Rutherford
say?"

"A lot of things." He paced the small office. "You've put me in a spot, Sarah Booth."

"I know."

"I could lose my license."

"I could lose my partner. I'm not being melodramatic."

He sat back in his chair and looked out the small window onto the emergency room parking lot. One scraggly pine grew by the potholed tarmac. It wasn't much of a view for a man who'd dedicated fifty years to medicine, but it was his view. I was asking him to put all those years in question.

"
Rutherford
was stabbed in the chest. The knife penetrated to the scapula, but I'd say it wasn't a serious attempt on his life. In fact, he's saying he fell on the knife."

"Could he have?"

Doc chuckled. "No, he was stabbed. Most likely by
Umbria
."

My pulse increased.
Umbria
had become a very good suspect, in my book. "What did he say?"

"Only that
Umbria
had threatened to divorce him. He was rambling, cursing, bemoaning his fate for marrying an heiress who would never inherit, that kind of stuff."

"Why did
Umbria
stab him?"

"I'm not clear about that. It was a heated argument. There was an issue about
Rutherford
having other girlfriends."

"I'll say. He has a lust for bimbos." I thought about my bar fight with his lady friends. "But surely
Umbria
has known about the girlfriends for years. He didn't exactly make a secret of it."

Doc shook his head. "I was in there when
Umbria
came in. It was one of the strangest things I've ever witnessed."

"Tell me."

"She bent over him on the table, and I think her hand slipped up between his legs. I couldn't be sure, you understand. I was across the room. But something was going on. Anyway, the strangest look passed over his face--a combination of terror and awe."

"What did she say?" I didn't know if this would help my case, but I was just flat curious.

"She told him that if he did one more thing to cause her public shame, she would rip off his testicles and serve them to him for supper."

"Yow-zer!"

"Exactly what I thought."

"I guess she's had enough." I didn't blame her. I would have done worse than threaten my husband if he'd gone around with women he bought with my money.

"I guess the thing that caught my attention was that
Umbria
was more afraid than angry." Doc dropped his Styrofoam coffee cup into the trash. "
Umbria
was afraid of something."

"Do you know what?"

He shook his head. "She left after that. She didn't stay to see how
Rutherford
was going to be, and she didn't ask. I got the impression she didn't care if he died."

Again, I understood that emotion, but I didn't say anything. Doc was worried about something. "How is
Rutherford
doing?"

"He's too stupid to die." He sighed. "He wants his cell phone so he can call his women to come play cards with him."

"He isn't very bright. I wonder why
Umbria
married him."

"Now that would be the question of the week." "It just became a burning issue." I didn't have any other lead to pursue, so I picked up my purse, kissed Doc on the cheek, and headed to The Gardens. If
Umbria
was still in town, that's where she'd be staying.

21

"I guess I'm going to have to call the exterminator. The bugs have come crawling back," Gertrude Stromm said as I paused in front of the desk.

"What room is Umbria Clark staying in?" I ignored her rudeness. I'd deal with her later, when I had Tinkie to help me.

"I don't give out that information to busybodies."

I took a deep breath. "Gertrude, please tell me."

"Why should I?"

I leaned very close to her face. "Please don't make me do something we'll both regret. Just tell me the room number."

Her gaze shifted to her little pigeonhole desktop. Room 22 was missing. I ran down the hall to the room, passing the open door to Virgie Carrington's empty room. I didn't blame her for heading back home. Things in Zinnia were getting deadly.

I tapped politely on
Umbria
's door. She yanked it open with a growl. "What do you want now? I'm not stealing your towels!"

Her face changed from annoyance to downright anger when she saw me. "Get away from me. You're working for that woman who killed my sister."

Stepping into the room, I forced her back, closed the door, and leaned against it. "Tell me,
Umbria
, do you really believe Allison killed Quentin?"

Her face told the story. Though she recovered quickly, I saw the truth. She knew Allison was innocent, yet she was willing to let her stew in jail because Allison had inherited the spoils that
Umbria
coveted. Not all of Miss Carrington's carefully applied polish could change what
Umbria
was.

"You know she's innocent!" I moved in for the kill. "The question is,
how
do you know she's innocent?"

"Get out of my room before I call the sheriff."

"Coleman will be delighted to talk to you." I took a seat on the trunk at the foot of the bed. "Who stood to inherit if Quentin died before she reached the age of twenty-five?"

Her gaze darted around the room, and I knew she was looking for an escape route. I was too close to the only door. She could run and lock herself in the bathroom, but she couldn't escape.

"You were the one who stood to gain everything, weren't you?"

"What difference does it make? Quentin inherited, and she left every dime to that little tramp Allison." Her face shifted to a sneer. "Maybe all that money will buy her a nice cell at the Mississippi State Penitentiary, or wherever they cage women felons."

"You know she's innocent,
Umbria
. How can you let an innocent person go to prison?" I knew it was because she was a greedy, heartless bitch, but I wanted to hear her say it.

"Why should I care what happens to her? She doesn't care anything about me."

Now that was an interesting statement. "Why should she care about you?"

She turned away. "Quentin has always hated me. That hate just rubbed off on Allison. They both spent all of their time figuring out ways to screw me out of what was rightfully mine."

I saw it then, the mentally ill way in which everything revolved around
Umbria
. Everything was constructed to appease or torment her--at least in her own mind. Quentin wouldn't have been able to order eggs for breakfast without
Umbria
assuming it was to somehow prevent
Umbria
from having eggs.

"Where is Tinkie?" I didn't care about tricking a confession out of
Umbria
. I didn't care about any of it. I'd been remiss in not pursuing
Umbria
as a suspect. I'd known all along about her philandering husband, the inheritance, her place as favored child. All of that, plus her paranoid complex, made her the perfect killer.

"Why should I know where Tinkie is? I'm not her keeper. She's nothing to me."

"
Umbria
, I'm going to ask one more time." I kept my voice level, but I rose to my feet. "What have you done with Tinkie?"

"Done?" She frowned at me. "Are you insane? I haven't done anything with Tinkie Richmond. You've deliberately misconstrued everything to somehow blame me, and I don't even know for what."

"When was the last time you saw Tinkie?"

"Yesterday morning." She grabbed her suitcase from against the wall. "I'm going to start packing, if you don't mind. I have to get on my way back to
Greenwood
. I have an appointment with my masseuse."

"Where did you see Tinkie?" I watched her closely, expecting her to pull a knife from amongst her undies.

"Here, at The Gardens. I'd just received a very upsetting note, and she bought me a drink."

A chill swept over me. "An upsetting note?"

"What, are you going deaf now? That's what I said. I got this threatening note about
Rutherford
, and I told Tinkie about it over a drink."

"Do you still have the note?" I could barely swallow.

"Here!" She reached into the suitcase and pulled out a sheet of the now familiar paper. The typewritten note said:
Control and decorum are the wife's duties. Your husband's deeds reflect on you.

"Is this why you stabbed
Rutherford
?"

"It has yet to be determined that anyone stabbed
Rutherford
. The last I heard, he fell on a knife. But I take the note to mean his behavior reflects poorly on me and my family."

"So you put a stop to it."

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it? But I did scatter that little covey of quail." She grinned wickedly. "I took a shotgun filled with rock salt and peppered their asses. My daddy taught me to be an excellent shot. I don't think those girls will be back."

Rock salt wouldn't kill them, but it would burn and sting. I hated to admit it, but I had a moment of admiration for
Umbria
. "When did you receive the note?"

"The day after Quentin's funeral. It was in my mailbox here at The Gardens. I knew it was directed at
Rutherford
, and I knew if I didn't act on it, something terrible would happen."

"How did you know that?"

She frowned. "You ask a lot of nosey questions, Sarah Booth. I'm surprised you haven't gotten a note."

I must have looked like a gaffed fish because she nodded. "You did get one, didn't you? Well, you'd better fix whatever the note talks about. Back in school, several of the girls got notes."