Jingle Bones by Carolyn Haines Page B

leaned forward. “They’re downright gleeful about the mayhem those kids generate. Marjorie and her absentee husband think concocting mischief shows intelligence. That’s what I’m up against. Now will you take the case or not?”
    â€œI’m not sure I can prove they stole a baby doll from the Christmas crèche a full twelve months ago. I’m afraid it would be wasting your money.”
    â€œYou take the case and let me worry about my money.” She pulled a roll of greenbacks held by a rubber band from her purse and tossed them at me. “Just don’t tell Perry what I’m doing. He says the church is the best place for those kids. He believes he can work some godly influence on those unevolved monkeys.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I say Hell is where they need to be. Not in the middle of my pageant. Thanks for your help, Sarah Booth. Maybe this will be a mark in your favor when the day of judgment is upon you. Based on your church attendance, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
    She sped off in her expensive car and I was left holding a wad of money big enough to choke my horse. Okay, then, my Christmas gala was in the black, and I was on the trail of a missing baby doll. From twelve months before. This might be the first case I couldn’t solve.
    *   *   *
    Once Reveler was untacked, groomed, and all three horses slurping a hot bran mash, I started across the lawn to the house. The last sliver of the sun sank beneath the horizon, and Dahlia House beckoned with warmth and light as the blue hour settled over me. Clear as a bell, I heard a sultry voice belting out, “Merry Christmas, baby, I heard you was doin’ fine.”
    I recognized a version of the Hop Wilson song that turned me inside out. Jitty, the resident haint of Dahlia House, was singing the blues. But who was that on harmonica? Jitty was free to invite whomever she wished to visit, but mostly the dead weren’t all that eager to socialize with me. Jitty was the exception, sent by my dead parents to watch over me—and boss me as much as possible.
    When I opened the front door, I halted in my tracks. Cece and her boyfriend Jaytee were stringing popcorn and cranberries and singing away. “Wow, Cece, you can belt that song.” My friend never ceased to amaze me.
    â€œJaytee and I thought we’d perform at your Christmas bash. If you want us to.”
    â€œI would love it.” Jaytee played with Bad to the Bone, Scott Hampton’s house band at the blues club located at the crossroads. “Have you seen Tinkie?”
    â€œShe’s in the office.” Cece waved me toward another wing of the house where Delaney Detective Agency had desks, files, phones, computers, and the many things necessary to man a small office.
    â€œThanks. Carry on with the rehearsal, please.” I left them to it and sauntered forward to share the new case with my partner. Tinkie wouldn’t be thrilled, but she was pragmatic enough to know cash in the hand was a great incentive.
    I was halfway to the office when I heard, “Pssssst!”
    Jitty, in the cutest elf suit I’d ever seen, accosted me. She was the only person I knew who could make green fishnet hose look sexy. “Already dressed for the holidays?” I teased her.
    â€œThis house is so full of your friends I can’t find a minute to tell you somethin’.”
    â€œJust think how it would be if I had children.” Jitty was forever gigging me to get married and spawn. She wanted an heir to haunt and so far, I was the last of the Delaneys.
    â€œIf it was my young’uns, it wouldn’t bother me a lick.”
    What was mine was Jitty’s and what was Jitty’s was Jitty’s. Waste of breath to point that out. “What do you have to tell me?”
    â€œDon’t tie yourself up with Theodora Prince. That woman’s got a bad Christmas