Authors: Carolyn Haines
"It's that sheriff." He looked around as if Coleman
might jump out from behind the sofa.
"Partly" I wasn't going to lie, either.
"I can't believe this!" He put his hands over his face as
if he literally couldn't look at me.
"Do you want a drink?"
His hands dropped. "Sure. Scotch would be great"
His moment of high drama had failed, but that was no
reason to turn down a drink. I fixed his Scotch and freshened my Jack. Curling in a wing chair, I pointed to the
sofa. "I need to talk to you about Renata"
"It was over between us a long time ago" He sighed. "It was the damn play. We had to work together each
night. You can't imagine the hell it was"
He was wrong; I could. Renata would have punished
him each night because their love had died. I wasn't interested in Graf's love life, though. I had to be certain he
didn't know anything about her death.
"Graf, did she ever mention anyone who might want to
hurt her?"
"Other than the crazy dog woman, and Bobbe Renshaw, and Keith and Sir Alfred, because she was outshining
him, of course, and me, for the same reason, and the sound
system guy. And the lighting guy. Oh, yeah, the head caterer
in Reno" He put his drink down and threw up his hands.
"Renata thought everyone was out to get her."
I sipped my drink. "Someone went to a lot of trouble
to set me up" I told him about the person who'd gone to
the feed store to buy poison.
"Someone impersonating you?" He leaned forward,
concern etched into his forehead. "That really makes you
look guilty, you know."
"So guilty that if I don't find out who did this, I won't
be going to Hollywood. I'll be going to the women's
prison for a long, long time. I don't think they'll let me
out to do films."
"What can I do?"
He looked so genuinely worried that I felt a pang
where my heart cracked just a little more. Coleman
should be sitting here with me, worry on his face. My
heart might snap and pop, but with each new pain, it was
hardening toward Coleman. Soon, he wouldn't have the
power to hurt me anymore.
"You were ... close to Renata once," I prompted. "Someone must really have hated her to poison her. I don't think
it was someone from Zinnia. No one here knew her ex cept as a famous actress. The killer had to come from her
past."
He swirled the ice in his glass as he thought. "That
sounds logical, but I honestly can't think of anyone. The
technical people on the show have come and gone. Renata was hard on them. She was demanding and ungrateful and difficult. They'd quit and move on to less stressful
jobs. None of them would come to Zinnia to kill her."
"What about ... romantic partners?"
He stood up and went to the fireplace. His face was
blocked from my view. "In the last year, Renata changed.
She simply wasn't interested in romance. It was like a
switch flipped." He turned, his face in shadow and the fire
crackling behind him. "It was overnight. I never understood what happened"
Graf was vain and preoccupied with himself, but I
could see Renata had hurt him. I knew what it felt like
when someone grew suddenly cold-like a switch had
been flipped. That was the exact description of Coleman's
behavior toward me.
"I'm sorry. You really loved her, didn't you?"
He cleared his throat. "I loved her talent and her passion for the stage. There were times I didn't like her at all.
Beneath that, though, she was professional and extremely
talented. I did love that"
"After you two broke up, there wasn't anyone else?"
"Not to my knowledge. And I assure you, Renata
would have rubbed my nose in it good and hard" He
drained his glass and walked to the sideboard. His hands
were elegant as he made the drink. I couldn't help but admire how each movement was clean, defined. He was
made for the stage. Or the screen.
Yet I had the sense he was hiding something from me.
"Did you have other involvements?"
He didn't look up. "Yes"
I hadn't expected such honesty.
He picked up his drink and faced me. "I was hurt, and
I lashed out by picking up women. I let Renata know that
I wasn't alone and wouldn't ever be. Here in Zinnia, she
kept throwing your name up at me, taunting me with innuendos."
I was more curious as to why he'd told me the truth, so
I asked. "Why are you being so honest?"
"Once the finger of blame moves from you, it might
swing in my direction. If I have to hire you to take my
case, I don't want to start off with a lie."
And I'd vainly thought it was because he didn't want
us to start up a relationship on a lie. Would I never learn?
"Was there any reason you'd want Renata dead?"
"Absolutely not"
There was the sound of tapping at the front door. Tinkle. What in the world would bring her out this late after
the schedule she was keeping at The Club and trying to
help me solve the case?
I excused myself and opened the front door. Tinkie
was huddled in her fake leopard fur, hopping from foot to
foot. "Let me in, I'm freezing," she said as she brushed
past me. "I know Graf is here and I don't care if I'm interrupting something."
She went to the parlor and straight to the sideboard. I
heard ice tinkle into a glass. "The olives are in the refrigerator," I said.
"Thanks" She hurried through the dining room and
into the kitchen and returned with the jar of jalapeho
stuffed olives and proceeded to make a vodka martini.
She took a long swallow and blew out her breath.
"That's much better." She looked from Graf to me. "Planning your film debut?"
I shook my head. "We're talking about Renata. About
her past, and anyone who might have hated her enough to
kill her."
"Have you heard from Coleman?" she asked.
I shook my head, wondering why she'd bring him up in
front of Graf. One minute she was throwing me at Graf
and the next she was tossing Coleman between us.
"I spoke with Gordon" Her voice was quiet, my first
hint that something was seriously wrong.
"And?"
"They operated on Connie. The tumor was larger than
they anticipated."
My mouth and throat went numb. "How bad?"
"She hasn't regained consciousness. Coleman is staying with her tonight in the hopes that she'll wake up ""
"What's the prognosis?"
"The doctors really don't know. The tumor isn't malignant. It's a matter of how much damage was done before
it was caught"
"How is Coleman holding up?" I glanced at Graf, who
had the good sense to remain silent.
"Stoic. You know Coleman."
I'd offered to be there with him. I should be there with
him, but he'd made it clear I wasn't part of his life.
"I'm going to Jackson," Tinkie said. "I stopped by to
tell you. Someone needs to be with him now, and I don't
know that he has anyone"
"I'll get my coat" I was already moving across the
room when her words stopped me.
"You can't, Sarah Booth. You can't be with him. You
can't leave Sunflower County. You can't jeopardize his
reputation by showing up at the hospital where his wife
may be dying."
Tinkie didn't mean to be cruel, but her words were like
a slap. I was momentarily stunned.
Tinkie drained her glass, put it on the sideboard, and
came to put her arm around my waist. "I'll call you as
soon as I know something. I'll tell him you wanted to be
there ""
She stood on tiptoe, kissed my cheek, and hurried into
the cold, trailing the rich fragrance of Opium.
omewhere along the line, Graf had learned patience.
-I He kissed my cheek and left on Tinkie's heels. I was
alone, and this time I didn't want to talk to Jitty.
I paced the parlor, prowled the kitchen, scuttled around
the upstairs, and finally dressed and went outside in the
cold. Reveler called a greeting as he caught sight of me
and cantered up. I gave him the carrots I'd brought and
led him out of the barn. The moon was full-the light
plenty bright to see as long as I stayed to roads I knew
and kept a sensible pace. It would be bitter at first, but
we'd all warm up in a matter of no time.
Sweetie bayed and barked and otherwise signaled her
pleasure as I mounted. I wanted a look at my home in the
silvery light of the moon, while I pondered my debt to the
land.
The current trend was a lack of attachment to land.
I'd seen families who'd farmed the same acreage for
eight generations sell out and end up with asphalt for a super store covering the soil that had once sustained
them.
The Delta had few enough trees left in places, but a
shady oak or a loaded pecan was nothing to a developer.
If I moved away from Zinnia, what would become of
Dahlia House?
Maybe a garden club would turn it into a historic
home, like the beautiful places in Natchez. The problem
with that is tourism was nonexistent in Zinnia. Preservation is a costly hobby.
I could keep the estate and hire workers to maintain
it-as Graf suggested. An empty home on empty land.
My fingers tightened on the reins.
Now the fields were barren, the last crop turned under.
Soon the huge machines would crawl across the acreage
with fertilizer-another whole issue to worry about. But
the land grew things like no other land. It was made to
grow. So what if I allowed it to return to a natural state.
Dahlia House would slowly decay among the tangle of
vines, a sad but dignified death.
All of that on the condition that I'd make enough
money to pay off the mortgage on Dahlia House. If I didn't
get the murder charge removed and get back to work, the
bank would own Dahlia House and I'd have no say whatsoever in her future.
Tired of my morbid behavior, Reveler picked up the
pace. We'd come upon a clear, sandy path that went all
around the cotton fields. The weather had been dry, and
the footing was excellent as we trotted through the bright
winter night, turning back at last to Dahlia House, where
the front lights bid me welcome.
By the time I got Reveler untacked and rubbed down,
it was nearly three A.M. Sweetie had gone in and out of her doggy door a dozen times, letting me know that she'd
worked up an appetite. She could eat her weight in groceries and never gain an ounce.
Reveler was good and cooled out when I gave him a
small portion of grain, and I went inside to scavenge for
me and my hound.
The answering machine was bare of calls, so I knew
Tinkie had no news on Connie. I made a peanut butter
and jelly sandwich and hot chocolate for myself and gave
Sweetie some leftover roasted chicken. We settled in the
kitchen for our feast, and I'd just taken a huge bite when
the phone rang.
"Hello," I mumbled.
"Connie just woke up," Tinkie said. "She recognized
Coleman, so that's a good sign."
"That's good" I fought the peanut butter that stuck to
the roof of my mouth.
"Are you crying?" Tinkie asked.
"Uh-uh. Peanut butter."
"It's four A.M.!" Tinkle was outraged. "What are you
doing eating peanut butter at this time of morning? Keep
it up, and you won't fit into your mother's clothes for the
rest of the play."
I looked at the sandwich. Peanut butter was a good
source of protein. It wasn't so bad. I took another, small
bite. "Okay, I'll throw it away."
"Good. Now let me tell you about Coleman. He looks
like death warmed over. I'm really worried about him,
Sarah Booth. He acts like a zombie."
I thought my heart had grown hard toward the man
who'd broken it, but Tinkie was making me feel bad for
Coleman. "I'm hurting, too," I pointed out.
"You're eating PB and J. Coleman looks like he hasn't
eaten in a week."
Oh, poor him. "Look, I'm not in the mood to hear how
hard Coleman has it."
There was a long silence. "That's good, because he's
transferring Connie to the hospital in Zinnia so he can return to his duties. Since you don't care about him anymore, that shouldn't bother you a bit."
"Right. He and Connie can do whatever they want"
"And you and Graf are tripping off to Hollywood, right?"
"Maybe" She was making me mad and pushing me
into a corner where I didn't want to go. If she kept it up,
I'd be packed and gone by Sunday morning.
"Well, good then"
I could hear the hurt in her voice. "Hold on a minute.
I'm not certain what I'll do, but I'm not doing anything
with a murder charge hanging over my head"
"If it weren't for that, you'd go, wouldn't you?"
For all that Tinkie wanted me to have my dream, she
was feeling a little abandoned. Finding Graf at Dahlia
House had brought it all home for her. "I honestly don't
know. I don't know what to do"
"I don't want to stop you, Sarah Booth, but I don't
want you to go!" She was almost wailing.