Rock-a-Bye Bones (13 page)

“Tally McNair would be the best person. She encouraged Pleasant. She has to know.”

He was dead right. Pleasant had no one else to talk with. Tally had stonewalled me. And she'd sent me to Marcia as Pleasant's best friend. But why?

“Thanks, Frankie. Would you mind giving a DNA sample?”

“Why?”

“Because I think you're the baby's father. And I'm curious why you won't just say so.”

“You can't say that! You can't. I won't be a chain for her.”

He was in love with Pleasant. If the baby was his, he'd surely claim her, but there was no point pressing this issue now. “Since I've found Pleasant's mother, I need to tell her about the baby. The infant is in good hands, but I'm sure Mrs. Smith will want to take custody of her. Do me a favor, don't mention anything about the baby until I have a chance to tell Charity in person. The infant is being well taken care of, I promise.”

Frankie looked unsure. “Mrs. Smith has her hands full. Pleasant was so worried if her music career didn't take off that she and her baby would be one more burden on her mom. I won't say anything. But tell her soon. She has to know her grandchild was born safely.”

My heart leaped at the possibility Tinkie would be allowed to keep Libby—at least until Pleasant was found. Frankie wasn't going to press his rights, at least at the moment. No matter what Charity Smith decided, I had to tell her about the baby. Or Coleman would—as soon as I told him what I'd learned.

*   *   *

Nothing had changed at the trailer park, except the younger children were under the charge of a different teenager. The families in the park were chipping in to help each other so that the mothers could work. The hardship was carried by the teens, who offered daily child care—and missed school. Pleasant had managed to miss classes and keep her grades up. It would cost some of them greatly, though.

Charity held a fussing baby Sapphire when she came to the door and invited me in. This was going to be tough, and I should have done it as soon as I realized she was the grandmother. Though she offered coffee, I declined. Once I confessed, she might not be so hospitable.

“A baby was left on my porch. I think it's your grandchild.”

Shock and then hope washed over her. “The baby is healthy? Where is Pleasant?”

“The baby is healthy and is being well cared for. I'm searching for Pleasant, and I won't quit until she's found.”

The one emotion Charity Smith didn't register was anger. “How did you find the baby?”

I told her the whole story. “My partner, Tinkie Richmond, and her husband, Oscar, are caring for the baby. They call her Libby.”

“Libby?” She looked blank, as if the name were the most important information I'd revealed.

“That was my mother's name. Since she was left on my front porch, Tinkie thought…” What did it matter what we'd thought? “I had to be sure you were the family before I told you about the child. I'm certain she's your grandbaby. I can take you to her or bring her to you.”

Charity looked around her trailer. Though it was neat, everything in it was dated and decrepit. “I want to see her.”

“Absolutely. I can take you right now. And bring you back with her.”

“Your partner, is she able to care for the child?”

“Yes. The Richmonds have already made plans to take Libby to Boston Children's Hospital for examination of the extra digit on her foot.”

“They would do that for a child who isn't their own?”

“They
will
provide health care for the child and Pleasant. And Oscar is setting up a college fund for Libby.”

“Why?” Charity asked. “Why would they do such a generous thing for a child who isn't blood?”

“Because that's who they are. They love Libby. I can assure you, Libby and Pleasant have two champions now.”

Sapphire, who'd finally settled into sleep, began to cry and Charity picked her up. She offered a bottle, which the baby drank greedily. I held my breath. Charity seemed to be in a fog. She wasn't angry, which surprised me.

“Take me to see my grandchild,” she said, at last. “I'll make arrangements for someone to care for Sapphire if you can give me a few minutes.”

“I need to go by the Riverview Motel. Maybe someone there can give me a lead to find Pleasant. I'll pick you up on my way back and take you to the baby.”

“Pleasant was a good girl. She cleaned rooms at that motel. And played her music sometimes. Nothing else. She did get pregnant and I don't know who the father is, but she wasn't a girl who slept around.”

I put a hand on her arm. “Maybe someone noticed undue interest in her. I'm not suggesting…” But then I did have to suggest that Pleasant might not be the good girl her mother thought her to be. “I have to ask. Was Pleasant doing drugs?”

“No. And if you think you can take my grandchild from me by tarring Pleasant with gossip, it won't happen.”

At last the grandmother in her came out. “That isn't my intention. I promise. I want to find Pleasant. Some of the high school kids said Pleasant was involved with drugs.”

“Marcia Colburn, right? I told Pleasant not to feel sorry for that girl and let her hang around. Trouble. Marcia is describing her own life, not Pleasant's.” She got up and went to a small table holding a Christmas cactus and a blooming peace lily. From a drawer she brought out a stack of papers. “Here's her report cards. All A's. Comments from teachers talking about her maturity and intelligence. She kept the kids around here one day a week and still made straight A's. Does that sound like a druggie to you?”

“No.”

She calmed down. “I know you're just doing your job, but those girls were so jealous of my daughter. Now, when she's missing, they try to slander her. It's just wrong.”

“Teenagers can be malicious and often heartless.”

“Yes, they can.”

“I'll pick you up on my way back to Zinnia, after I stop by the motel. I hope I find a lead.”

“I'll be ready.” Her fire had dampened beneath her grief. “It's not right. Pleasant should be with her baby.”

“I couldn't agree more, and I haven't given up on finding her. I'll be back as soon as I can.” This would give me time to alert Tinkie. She would at least have a chance to adjust to the fact that Libby's grandmother had been found.

 

10

When I was parked by the office of the Riverview Motel, I called Tinkie. The short drive had given me an opportunity to carefully plan how I would tell her that Charity wanted to see Libby. Lucky for me, Oscar answered the phone.

“This has to be done,” I told him after I'd brought him up to speed.

“I know.” He sounded totally defeated.

“She's a very nice woman. She was impressed that you and Tinkie had scheduled an appointment for Libby at the children's hospital.”

“I hope she lets us take her. The foot is delicate. A botched removal could plague Libby for years to come.”

“Look, Charity is a sensible woman. Let's see what she says.”

“Do you want to relay this information to Tinkie?”

That question let me know how much Oscar dreaded telling his wife that Libby's grandmother had been found and was coming to call. “No.” I was his equal in cowardice. “I can't tell her. I can't.”

“It's okay. It's my place.” He sounded like a man walking to his death. “I'll pack up her things and have them ready. The one thing we don't want to do is upset Mrs. Smith. Maybe she'll let us visit with Libby.”

“She seems like that kind of person.” I tried to keep emotion out of my voice. This was hard enough for Oscar. Me playing the role of Weeping Wanda wouldn't help. “I should be there in an hour, maybe ninety minutes.”

I hung up and composed myself as I went to the hotel's office. The young woman behind the counter looked bored, until I asked about Pleasant.

“Where is that girl?” She pushed her dyed black bangs out of her eyes and snapped her gum. “She missed a gig four weeks ago and I haven't heard from her since. I thought she was responsible.”

“A gig?”

“Have you heard her play her guitar and sing? She had a following. Some young folks came down from Memphis and up from Vicksburg just to hear her. She had the motel full on the Friday nights she sang.”

“Where?” The Riverside Motel didn't have a lounge or a lobby.

“Parking lot,” the woman said. Folks would sit in their cars, like the old drive-in theaters. It was something. Each weekend, it was a bigger crowd.” She snapped her gum. “I told the owner he should pay her, but he's such a cheapskate.”

“She was performing for free?”

The young woman wasn't much older than Pleasant, but she'd seen a lot of life. “Bastard took advantage of her. In the long run, it's gonna cost him 'cause now she's gone.”

“Actually, she's missing, which is why I'm here.”

She snapped her gum three times. “Missing? As in … taken?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out. I'm a private investigator and I've been hired to find Pleasant. Was there anyone here in the motel who showed an interest in her or her music?”

She leaned on the counter that separated us and frowned. “There were boys, of course. Pleasant was a beautiful girl. Couple of kids from Vicksburg.” Her face brightened. “They called yesterday, asking when she'd be back singing. Left a number for me to call.”

She retrieved the number before I even asked.

“Anyone else show an interest?”

“Kids loved her music, and a lot of the older folks, too, but I don't remember seeing anything upsetting. Pleasant handled herself like a pro. She never mentioned trouble.”

“Did you ever see anyone who looked like this hanging around?” I showed her the picture of Alfred Uxall on my phone. He looked enough like Rudy for an ID.

“Nope. That's a big fella. I would have remembered someone like him.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Let me know when you find her. She's due to have that baby any minute.”

“Will do.” Now it was time to pick up Charity and face Tinkie.

*   *   *

When I turned down the drive to Hilltop, Charity sat forward. “This is some place,” she said.

“Yes, the Richmonds are lucky people.”

Her unease grew when I stopped and got out. She followed suit, but her steps were slow as we went to the front door. Oscar answered as soon as I knocked. The first thing I noticed was Tinkie standing behind him, Libby in her arms. Beside her were five pieces of pink luggage and a Pack'n Play, all ready to go.

“We took the liberty of buying a car seat for her,” Oscar said.

Tinkie blinked back tears. “She's a wonderful baby.”

Charity stepped past me and went straight to Tinkie, who yielded the baby and then turned away to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“She is a beautiful girl,” Charity said, awed by the baby. “I wonder if Pleasant ever saw her.”

Her statement almost opened my floodgates, but Oscar and I both maintained. If we started wailing, Tinkie would lose it completely.

“We've booked an appointment for Libby…” He looked at me as he hesitated. “For the baby in Boston tomorrow. Just a preliminary examination. We'd like to pay for the surgery, if that's what you decide.”

“You want to take my grandchild to Boston to the doctor for possible surgery?” Charity smoothed the baby's red hair as she talked.

“Yes, we do.” Oscar held his ground. “She needs this. It will make a difference in her life.”

“And if I don't want to do that, I'll just walk out with her?” Charity, too, had taken in the luggage. “With all of these things you've bought her?”

“Of course,” Oscar said. “They're Lib … hers.”

“You can call her Libby. I like that name. That's who she can be, until Pleasant gets back to name her.”

Tinkie finally met Charity's gaze. “Thank you. We've grown so attached to Libby. We hoped all along that her birth family would be found. She is such a special baby.”

“She puts me in mind of Pleasant, when she was born. She had a sweet disposition just like this baby.”

To my utter astonishment, Charity held the baby out to Tinkie. “My daughter is still missing. I've got my niece, Sapphire, at the house, and she's more than I can keep up with. I think Libby would be better here—but just until Pleasant is found.”

Tinkie reached for the child and cradled Libby against her chest. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Charity held up a trembling hand. “This is temporary. I can see you've fallen in love, and you know it can't be permanent. But for the time being, it would be good for the baby to be here. You took her in when she had no one else. I can see it's hurtin' you to give her up, but you're willing to do it.”

“We would never try to take your grandchild,” Tinkie said. “May we still take her to Boston?”

Charity nodded. “That would be a wonderful thing for her. My mama had an extra toe, and later in life, it gave her a lot of pain.” She stepped back toward the door. “Now I have to get home to my niece. A neighbor was kind enough to look after her for me, but babies require a lot of attention and work.” She smiled. “You'll find that out.”

“And we thank you for that opportunity,” Oscar said. He put his arm around Tinkie and pulled her and the baby close. “We'll call with the results from the doctor's visit.”

“That would be good.” Charity edged toward the door. I was still gob-smacked at the turn of events. “Ms. Delaney, if you could take me home.”

“Sure. Sure thing.” I walked out of the house into the sunshine. When I looked back, Tinkie and Oscar were framed in the doorway holding Libby and each other. They were the perfect family—who'd just escaped a tragic parting.