Read Online Crossed Bones by Carolyn Haines - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Haines
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Women Private Investigators, Crimes against, Mississippi, Delaney; Sarah Booth (Fictitious Character), Women Private Investigators - Mississippi, Women Plantation Owners, African American Musicians, African American Musicians - Crimes Against
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like him. Women do it all the time, and that just makes them look like a Kleenex tissue--something to be used and tossed away. A man like Bridge likes to pursue. Or at least think that he's pursuing. That's the whole art--to run just fast enough to keep him thinkin' you can't be caught."
"Yes, lesson forty-nine in the Daddy's Girl book of 'How to Catch a Man,'" I said with a heaping dose of sarcasm.
"You may not want to admit it, but there's a lot of truth in the things our mamas taught us." She gave me a long look. "Well, maybe not your mama. She was a little different."
"Bridge was a lot of fun," I said, tired of deviling her. "I had a good time. We're going out Friday night."
That was all it took. She shot me a million-watt smile that made me just a little ashamed. Tinkie really wanted good things for me, and she put herself out quite a lot to see that they happened.
"Now, about this bluesperson." The smile was gone. "Sarah Booth, everyone in town thinks he's guilty as sin. Marshall Harrison is just the tip of the iceberg for what's going to happen. Is Scott Hampton really worth this?"
I wanted to argue in Scott's defense, but I couldn't. "I tried to quit the case. Really. Ida Mae made me feel guiltier for trying to quit than everyone else makes me feel for taking the case." That was the crux of the matter.
"I talked to Oscar this morning before he left for work." Her lips turned up at the corners as a memory struck her full force. "This detecting business has inspired me. I don't think Oscar ever enjoyed a shower quite so much."
Tinkie was one helluva partner. "What did you get? Aside from the obvious."
Ignoring the flush that touched her cheeks, Tinkie cleared her throat. "Playin' the Bones has been in dire financial straits for the past five years-- except for the last six months." She reached in her purse and pulled out a notepad. "Ivory borrowed fifty thousand to refurbish the club and get it up and running. Now that was 1998. In the next three years, he missed two notes and was late on six more. Then in 2002, he nearly lost it back to the bank. But things changed in the last six months. He's been making double payments and putting money in two other accounts. The club has become very profitable." She saw I was holding up an egg. "Over-light this morning, please."
I cracked the eggs in the skillet. Tinkie's information was exactly what I expected to hear. Scott Hampton had begun to pull in a crowd, and gain a national reputation. He was the ticket to good times for Ivory. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Playin' the Bones, at least in Scott's opinion, might have gone from life raft to prison.
Watching Tinkie pull away from the front of Dahlia House, I could only marvel at modern technology. The air conditioner in her Caddy was so powerful, Chablis' shag-cut ears were blown straight back from her head. In contrast, Tinkie's perfectly sweptback "do" didn't even quiver. She knew every secret of hair spray in the book. Emanuel Keys, her next assignment, would be putty in her hands.
I, on the other hand, had Coleman to confront. A strange churning began in my gut. I tried to pinpoint whether it was anxiety, anticipation, dread, or relief. Or perhaps none of the above. I bathed, dressed, and headed to town.
I parked as close as possible to the courthouse, while still claiming a bit of shade, and started walking the half block to the north door of the building. The beautiful flowers of spring had given way to lush greenery and an occasional crepe myrtle. These hardy trees with their strange, smooth bark erupted in clusterlike swags of fuchsia, lavender, watermelon, white, and a deep purple that was my favorite. They were the only blooms tough enough to withstand the August heat, and the tiny flowers littered the ground in places.
Once, when I was seven, my mother and I had gone hunting for wild grape vines called scuppernongs. Her goal was to make wine, while I loved to suck the pulp out of the
"Yes, lesson forty-nine in the Daddy's Girl book of 'How to Catch a Man,'" I said with a heaping dose of sarcasm.
"You may not want to admit it, but there's a lot of truth in the things our mamas taught us." She gave me a long look. "Well, maybe not your mama. She was a little different."
"Bridge was a lot of fun," I said, tired of deviling her. "I had a good time. We're going out Friday night."
That was all it took. She shot me a million-watt smile that made me just a little ashamed. Tinkie really wanted good things for me, and she put herself out quite a lot to see that they happened.
"Now, about this bluesperson." The smile was gone. "Sarah Booth, everyone in town thinks he's guilty as sin. Marshall Harrison is just the tip of the iceberg for what's going to happen. Is Scott Hampton really worth this?"
I wanted to argue in Scott's defense, but I couldn't. "I tried to quit the case. Really. Ida Mae made me feel guiltier for trying to quit than everyone else makes me feel for taking the case." That was the crux of the matter.
"I talked to Oscar this morning before he left for work." Her lips turned up at the corners as a memory struck her full force. "This detecting business has inspired me. I don't think Oscar ever enjoyed a shower quite so much."
Tinkie was one helluva partner. "What did you get? Aside from the obvious."
Ignoring the flush that touched her cheeks, Tinkie cleared her throat. "Playin' the Bones has been in dire financial straits for the past five years-- except for the last six months." She reached in her purse and pulled out a notepad. "Ivory borrowed fifty thousand to refurbish the club and get it up and running. Now that was 1998. In the next three years, he missed two notes and was late on six more. Then in 2002, he nearly lost it back to the bank. But things changed in the last six months. He's been making double payments and putting money in two other accounts. The club has become very profitable." She saw I was holding up an egg. "Over-light this morning, please."
I cracked the eggs in the skillet. Tinkie's information was exactly what I expected to hear. Scott Hampton had begun to pull in a crowd, and gain a national reputation. He was the ticket to good times for Ivory. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Playin' the Bones, at least in Scott's opinion, might have gone from life raft to prison.
Watching Tinkie pull away from the front of Dahlia House, I could only marvel at modern technology. The air conditioner in her Caddy was so powerful, Chablis' shag-cut ears were blown straight back from her head. In contrast, Tinkie's perfectly sweptback "do" didn't even quiver. She knew every secret of hair spray in the book. Emanuel Keys, her next assignment, would be putty in her hands.
I, on the other hand, had Coleman to confront. A strange churning began in my gut. I tried to pinpoint whether it was anxiety, anticipation, dread, or relief. Or perhaps none of the above. I bathed, dressed, and headed to town.
I parked as close as possible to the courthouse, while still claiming a bit of shade, and started walking the half block to the north door of the building. The beautiful flowers of spring had given way to lush greenery and an occasional crepe myrtle. These hardy trees with their strange, smooth bark erupted in clusterlike swags of fuchsia, lavender, watermelon, white, and a deep purple that was my favorite. They were the only blooms tough enough to withstand the August heat, and the tiny flowers littered the ground in places.
Once, when I was seven, my mother and I had gone hunting for wild grape vines called scuppernongs. Her goal was to make wine, while I loved to suck the pulp out of the
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