Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [11]
“Guess again,” she said.
Jitty seldom left Dahlia House. I’d learned she could travel wherever she chose, but she liked to be close to home, which in her case was the Delaney family cemetery on the grounds of my ancestral home. Jitty was there, along with Aunt Loulane, my parents, and a number of other deceased relatives.
“Dahlia House was boring without me? You had no one to torment?”
“What’s the story with the stolen necklace?” Jitty was good at answering a question with a question on a totally different topic.
“Looks like the Levert sisters were careless and someone who knows the layout of the house and their habits broke in and swiped the jewelry.” I didn’t tell her I was puzzled by the fact that someone broke in again today, in broad daylight—and apparently took nothing.
She glanced around the room. “Nice digs. I can see why you decided on a vacation night.”
“We’re going home tomorrow.” The most recent burglary was not in our purview. We’d do our report, maybe a nice lunch in town, then book it back to Zinnia.
“Good.” Jitty strolled across the room. I couldn’t help but admire her posture and carriage. Either her dress came with a corset that could make a limp noodle stand tall or Jitty was playing the role of Queen to the hilt. “Graf won’t like it when he figures out—”
“Stop!” I put up a hand. “Stop now. Graf doesn’t own me nor does he tell me what to do.”
“Can you say pigheaded?” Jitty reverted to a Delta drawl. “Girl, you are determined to ruin this, aren’t you?”
“I’ve learned one thing, Jitty. I have to set my boundaries early. If I concede and go along with Graf’s whims, that’s tantamount to lying.”
“Lyin’ might be the best mode here. If he ever sees how hardheaded you truly are, he’s gone run for the hills.”
“Better sooner than later.”
“Sarah Booth, haven’t you ever heard of a honeymoon period? Even the president of the United States gets cut a little slack when he first goes into office. You need to ease Graf into your personality. Hide the thorns, prickles, and warts until you got that golden band on your finger. Every Delta girl worth her salt knows this.”
“My mother wouldn’t agree.”
Jitty sighed. “Your daddy was a man in a million. James Franklin took pride in your mama’s spunk. Most men don’t want a woman with a personality like a cactus. He could handle your mama and her ways, but that bond doesn’t come along every day.”
“I don’t deserve less. I think you’re selling Graf short.”
Jitty peered through the window at the quiet Natchez street. It was a weekday, and with the shops closed, the town had settled into a late-summer snooze. “Consider his fears and concerns, Sarah Booth. That ain’t sellin’ out your personality, it’s showing regard for someone who loves you.”
I couldn’t argue that. “Okay.”
“Then get your butt home tomorrow.”
I could see the downtown lights through her. She was fading, but she wasn’t pulling one of her famous quick-draw disappearances. She wavered and blinked and finally dissolved on a low, sweet laugh.
“See you at Dahlia House,” I said to the empty room.
* * *
My sleep was troubled by dreams of a darkly handsome man. He stayed in the shadows, watching me, gliding in and out of a thick fog that weighed down my arms and legs like quicksand. I struggled, and he made no offer to help me.
I awoke sweating and breathing hard to the ringing of the telephone on the nightstand. I answered automatically, still confused by my surroundings and oppressed by the sense of danger and helplessness from the dream.
“Ms. Delaney, it’s Eleanor Levert.” Her voice was breathy with panic.
The bedside clock showed nearly three a.m. “What’s wrong?”
“Monica is missing. Has been for hours. The police won’t do anything.” She started to cry.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” The words were rote, merely what someone says in such a situation. “Maybe she had a date.” The Levert sisters were extremely