Jingle Bones by Carolyn Haines Page A

expensive, like a Jaguar. Who the heck was coming to visit me? When I finally recognized the driver, I was more than a bit surprised.
    I met Theodora Prince at the front of the house. As I jumped from the saddle, I couldn’t wait to hear why she had called. As far as I knew, Theodora was of the mindset that I was headed straight to hell. Merely being in my presence put her squeaky clean little soul at risk.
    â€œSarah Booth,” she said, getting out of the car. Theodora was a beautiful woman, but somewhere along the line she had decided that dressing to emphasize her looks insulted the man upstairs. Her long black hair was pulled into a ponytail so tight it lifted her eyebrows almost to her hairline. If the rubber band popped, her face might shoot to Texas.
    â€œTheodora, what can I do for you?” We’d gone to high school together, and when I left for Ole Miss, Theodora had gone to a place that trained women to be good wives and mothers. She had certainly gone forth and multiplied, with six kids to her credit. Her husband, Perry Prince, was the minister of the Final Harvest Church, a place I’d never visited. The name, so Stephen Kingish, was enough to keep me away. Another reason I was destined to burn in the fiery lake.
    â€œI’m desperate or I wouldn’t come to you.”
    No news there. “So what can I help you with?”
    â€œIt’s the Christmas pageant. There are forces at work to make a mockery of it. I want you to stop them.”
    I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly, so I slowed down the conversation. “We’re talking about a Christmas pageant with the birth of baby Jesus, where all the Wise Men wear bathrobes and mumble their lines?”
    â€œExactly. Under my direction, Final Harvest’s pageant will be the best in the state. We have real farm animals, and this year we’ve rented a llama.” She was triumphant. “A camel is just too big, but the llama works perfectly and lends a real Bethlehem aura to the pageant. The other churches will be envious.”
    The only thing I knew about llamas was that they could spit a really long distance. And it was stinky, slimy spit. I side stepped her envious comment. “What can I do?”
    â€œMarjorie Rush is determined that her children participate in the pageant this year. Those children are heathens. They’re too old and completely out of control. Heck, they may be cannibals for all I know.”
    Okay. Cannibals. I hadn’t expected that. “So what is it you think I can do? You’re the pageant director. Kick them out.”
    â€œI can’t. Not without cause. My husband won’t allow it. I want you to investigate the Rush family. Last year, someone stole the baby Jesus from the crèche, and I know it was those Rush hellions. If I can prove they did it, I can ban them from the pageant. It’s my only hope. Perry says it’s unchristian to prevent children from participating in the birth story of baby Jesus.”
    â€œThis sounds like something you should take up with your husband.”
    Theodora looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “The Rushes are the biggest tithers in the church. Perry is naïve. He has no idea what those two little bas … boys can do. Last year, one of them had a whoopee cushion and every time the Angel of the Lord tried to speak, the little monster made this horrific farting sound. It tore up the whole pageant. Mary started crying and the angel got so frustrated she cursed in the church!”
    I patted Reveler’s shoulder to keep from laughing. When the spasm passed, I said, “Theodora, don’t you think hiring a private investigator is a little extreme? They’re kids. It’s one night. Wouldn’t you really prefer to just dig in and get through it?”
    â€œThose children are possessed. They’ll ruin everything and their half-wit parents won’t lift a finger to stop it.” She