Crossed Bones by Carolyn Haines 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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Fahrenheit. I was still shivering when I got behind the wheel of the roadster and headed toward The Grove. I wanted to talk to my high school friend, Tammy Odom, better known these days as Madame Tomeeka, psychic. Tammy and I went back a long way, and I knew I could count on her to tell me how the black community was reacting to Scott and the two goodwill ambassadors from Scott's prison past. There was also the little matter of my dream. Tammy had no formal training in dream analysis, but she had something better. She had a gift.
There was a big Expedition in Tammy's front yard, so I parked half a block down the street and waited. In less than ten minutes, Vergie Caswell came out of Tammy's, her face hidden by a huge golf umbrella that sported the logo of The Club. She peeped out from under the umbrella, casting glances left and right, then scurried into her SUV and tore off down the street like the Hound of the Baskervilles was in hot pursuit.
I hustled up to Tammy's door and gave it a knock. She was frowning when she opened it, but her lips did a reversal and ended up in a smile as soon as she saw me.
"I didn't have another appointment today, and I was pissed off that someone just dropped by. Folks think they can come in whenever they take a notion." She held the screen open for me to enter. I caught a whiff of something good cooking, and I almost ran over Tammy as she led the way to the kitchen.
"What is that?" I asked, sniffing. My acute olfactory abilities led me straight to the oven.
"Sarah Booth, you know good and well I'm baking a roast." She was getting plates and silverware out as she talked. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"
"Oh, I don't want to be a bother."
She threw a dishtowel at me. "Sit down. Or better yet, make us a couple of glasses of iced tea."
I did as she instructed, and in a few moments, we were seated across from each other, plates heaped with food and big glasses of iced tea sweating in front of us.
"I saw Vergie hightailing it out of here." I was dying of curiosity. Vergie Caswell was four years older than me, but she'd been a prominent figure in my development. In her senior year, she'd been drum majorette, class beauty, campus queen, most popular, cutest, and most likely to succeed. That left friendliest and most athletic for the rest of the female population to thrash it out over. Vergie had married a landed Buddy Clubber and they were raising hounds, horses, and hoodlums about five miles west of town.
"She looked better as a brunette," Tammy allowed. She lifted a piece of tender roast to her mouth.
"Tobias junior isn't in trouble again, is he?" Last I'd heard, the fourteen-year-old hellion had hot-wired the SUV, driven across the Delta to
Mississippi
State
University
at
Starkville
, broken into the university's experimental agricultural station, and stolen ten top-grade marijuana plants with a potential street value of close to twenty-five thousand dollars. When he was captured, he'd only said that for a cow college, State grew damn good dope.
"Would you pass the butter?" Tammy said.
"Vergie looked upset. I hope it isn't her health."
Tammy pointed to the salt and pepper. "I should have put just a little more garlic on the roast, don't you think?"
I sighed. Tammy was worse than a priest. She never talked about her clients. I was wasting my breath. "I need some advice," I said, handing over the condiments to her.
"As long as it's about your business and not someone else's." She smiled, but she was dead serious.
"My business. And Ida Mae Keys'."
The smile slipped off her face. "I was so sorry to hear about Ivory. He was a good man."
I nodded. "Everyone seems to think so."
"I know you make your living investigating cases, but this is one I wish you'd stay out of."
"That's not an original opinion," I noted.
"So what do you want to know?"
"How the black community feels toward Scott. I--"
"Angry. Folks are angry. They feel Scott stabbed Ivory in the back. Literally and
There was a big Expedition in Tammy's front yard, so I parked half a block down the street and waited. In less than ten minutes, Vergie Caswell came out of Tammy's, her face hidden by a huge golf umbrella that sported the logo of The Club. She peeped out from under the umbrella, casting glances left and right, then scurried into her SUV and tore off down the street like the Hound of the Baskervilles was in hot pursuit.
I hustled up to Tammy's door and gave it a knock. She was frowning when she opened it, but her lips did a reversal and ended up in a smile as soon as she saw me.
"I didn't have another appointment today, and I was pissed off that someone just dropped by. Folks think they can come in whenever they take a notion." She held the screen open for me to enter. I caught a whiff of something good cooking, and I almost ran over Tammy as she led the way to the kitchen.
"What is that?" I asked, sniffing. My acute olfactory abilities led me straight to the oven.
"Sarah Booth, you know good and well I'm baking a roast." She was getting plates and silverware out as she talked. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"
"Oh, I don't want to be a bother."
She threw a dishtowel at me. "Sit down. Or better yet, make us a couple of glasses of iced tea."
I did as she instructed, and in a few moments, we were seated across from each other, plates heaped with food and big glasses of iced tea sweating in front of us.
"I saw Vergie hightailing it out of here." I was dying of curiosity. Vergie Caswell was four years older than me, but she'd been a prominent figure in my development. In her senior year, she'd been drum majorette, class beauty, campus queen, most popular, cutest, and most likely to succeed. That left friendliest and most athletic for the rest of the female population to thrash it out over. Vergie had married a landed Buddy Clubber and they were raising hounds, horses, and hoodlums about five miles west of town.
"She looked better as a brunette," Tammy allowed. She lifted a piece of tender roast to her mouth.
"Tobias junior isn't in trouble again, is he?" Last I'd heard, the fourteen-year-old hellion had hot-wired the SUV, driven across the Delta to
Mississippi
State
University
at
Starkville
, broken into the university's experimental agricultural station, and stolen ten top-grade marijuana plants with a potential street value of close to twenty-five thousand dollars. When he was captured, he'd only said that for a cow college, State grew damn good dope.
"Would you pass the butter?" Tammy said.
"Vergie looked upset. I hope it isn't her health."
Tammy pointed to the salt and pepper. "I should have put just a little more garlic on the roast, don't you think?"
I sighed. Tammy was worse than a priest. She never talked about her clients. I was wasting my breath. "I need some advice," I said, handing over the condiments to her.
"As long as it's about your business and not someone else's." She smiled, but she was dead serious.
"My business. And Ida Mae Keys'."
The smile slipped off her face. "I was so sorry to hear about Ivory. He was a good man."
I nodded. "Everyone seems to think so."
"I know you make your living investigating cases, but this is one I wish you'd stay out of."
"That's not an original opinion," I noted.
"So what do you want to know?"
"How the black community feels toward Scott. I--"
"Angry. Folks are angry. They feel Scott stabbed Ivory in the back. Literally and
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