Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [33]
“Goddess of War, pregnant women, the hunt. One’s as good as the other.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “’Cept both of them goddesses were virgins, and I sure can’t say the same for you.”
I’d had her at my mercy for less than five minutes and she’d already turned the tables. “Go back to Dahlia House. I’m not about to do anything stupid. And I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“How you gone get home? You don’t have a car.”
Excellent point. “I’ll call Cece.”
“Done and done.” She was gone without a trace as the phone began to ring.
Cece was on the other end, and I wondered for the thousandth time exactly how far Jitty’s powers might reach.
“I’ve just gotten off the horn with Tinkie,” Cece said. “She thinks I should drive to Natchez to keep you company.”
“Keep me out of trouble, you mean.” I was on to my friends, but I could only be grateful that they cared about me.
“Natchez-Under-the-Hill has been known to lure more than a few damsels into unsavory circumstances. Drinking. Dancing. Fornicating.”
“In other words, you want to go juking and use me as an excuse.” An evening with Cece was always fun, and Natchez was a town where we could play.
Her laughter was warm and bright. “Tinkie told me about Don Cipriano. All I can say is, ‘yum-yum.’”
Cece was a tough gal, but I wasn’t certain I’d throw her in front of that train. “I get the sense there’s more to him than he’s letting on.”
“I think you’re right. Don Cipriano is the name of a character in a D. H. Lawrence novel. A Heathcliff figure. He’s using an alias, and an obvious one for any student of literature.”
“I knew that. Sort of.” I was only a little indignant. “But who would think to reference that character in a novel? He could have picked Heathcliff—the name suits him perfectly. Dark and brooding.” I rummaged through my suitcase for a blouse. “He’s just too clever for his own good.” And too interested in the Levert sisters. Had he warned me about them because he was involved in the scheme to rob them and abduct Monica? I wouldn’t put it past him. Thank goodness I hadn’t revealed any of my business to him.
“I thought it might be fun to figure out who he really is,” Cece said.
“Excellent plan.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can sneak out of the newspaper office.”
Knowing Cece, that wouldn’t take long. While I waited for her, I decided to track down Kissie McClain and see what she might know about Monica’s disappearance.
* * *
A guitar’s plaintive twang drifted from the beautiful old home where Kissie McClain rented an apartment. By looking at the mailboxes and reading the names of the occupants, I deduced that the house had been broken up into five different residences. Kissie rented 3-C in the back.
A female voice, low and resonant, accompanied the guitar. The song led me down a winding gravel drive that ended in a small car park at the rear of the house. The singing originated from a second-floor gallery.
“Miss McClain,” I called.
The music stopped.
“Kissie McClain,” I called again.
“Who wants to know?”
I identified myself, and she invited me up without hesitation. The back door opened onto a narrow hallway that cut through the center of the house. A broad staircase took me upstairs, and I found 3-C without difficulty.
Kissie McClain wasn’t what I expected. She could have been a throwback to the 70s with her tie-dyed T-shirt, long chestnut hair, and tight hip-hugger jeans. My first thought was that I hoped Jitty would not see the outfit. Jitty had a serious love affair with the fashions of the 70s and was prone to showing up as a hippie-child.
“What do you want?” Kissie asked, but there wasn’t aggression in her tone.
“To ask some questions about the Levert sisters.”
Her dark eyebrows, angled to begin with, arched even more. “I don’t talk about my employers.” She started to shut the door.
Using my foot and my