Read Online Hallowed Bones by Carolyn Haines - Free Book Online Page A

Dahlia House. Only a few years later, they'd watched as their home was nearly destroyed by a war that cost them both their husbands and the futures they'd dreamed of.
    Jitty was a ghost with a mind of her own, but she wasn't going to
New Orleans
with me.
    "Where we stayin'?" she asked.
    "The Monteleone."
    She nodded approval. "That's a hotel for nice women. They'll take care of you there. Knowin' you, I was afraid you'd stay in some fly-by-night flophouse. Tinkie musta found the rooms."
    I gave her a sour frown. "Why don't you haunt Tinkie, since you think she's so much more refined?"
    Jitty grinned. " 'Cause you the one who needs me. You're mine, Sarah Booth. Like it or not, you and I are bound together."
    "Where are you headed?" I wanted to change the topic.
    "A little speakeasy that just opened up." She grinned.
    I never could tell when Jitty was pulling my leg or when she was serious. Her remarks and adventures were almost always thematic--aimed at telling me something I needed to know.
    "You take so much for granted, Sarah Booth. You can pack to go to
New Orleans
without a husband or a father. There was a time that wasn't so for women."
    "I know." Jitty had a point. I had inherited a lot of rights and privileges because someone else paid the price for me to have them.
    "It'll do you good to get away from Zinnia. You keep seeing that sheriff every day, that fire you stomped out is gonna recombust."
    I didn't bother to deny it. Seeing Coleman every day was like living in a candy store. The temptation was ever present and always hard to resist.
    "Let me call Lee and make arrangements for the pets," I said, picking up the phone. It hadn't even rung yet, but there was someone on the other end. A very excited someone.
    "Guess what, dahling?" Cece said, her drawl put to the test by her eagerness.
    "What?"
    "You're going to the famous Black and Orange Ball!"
    We both squealed. Then I frowned. "What's the Black and
Orange
Ball?" I asked.
    "Only the most fabulous Halloween ball in the entire world. It's held every year at the Bogata home in the Garden District. It is the ball of the year. And we're all going. Me, you, and Tinkie. Since you're going to be in
New Orleans
anyway, you simply have to say yes."
    "How did you arrange this?" I asked. Cece must have pulled some mighty big strings.
    "I simply said I couldn't attend because I had guests. The hostess graciously extended the invitation to you and Tinkie. And Oscar," she added without a lot of enthusiasm. "I wish it was just us girls."
    "Oscar can dance with us," I said. He was a terrific dancer for a man who looked as stiff as cardboard.
    "Now, you have to have a gown. It has to be black and orange only. Understand?"
    "A new gown?" I was torn between economic pettiness and joy at the prospect of a ball gown.
    "Black and orange. I've seen photos of some of the dresses and they are incredible. We only have a short time to pull this together. Tinkie is going to
Memphis
with me this afternoon to shop. Do you want to come along?"
    I did, but I had a far better idea--and one I wasn't sharing. When it comes to having the best ball gown for a big society event, a girl can become quite competitive, even with her best friends.
    "No, I have something I have to do. Then I have to pack. You girls have fun."
    "What are you up to, Sarah Booth?"
    Cece was nobody's fool. She knew I had an ace up my sleeve.
    "Cece, I'm in the middle of a case," I said, trying to sound mildly injured. "I'm working."
    "If you come up at the last minute with some excuse that you don't have a gown, Tinkie and I are going to wrap you in black garbage bags, tie an orange bow on you, and drag you to this ball anyway."
    "I get the picture," I said, smiling. I had a far better plan than garbage bags.
    Mollie Jacks was the finest seamstress in the state of
Mississippi
, or she had been until arthritis crippled her hands. But her husband, Bernard, had told me that Mollie still sewed for a few special people, and I