Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [40]
After we took our seats, I filled Cece in on the ghost of Madeline, a young woman and mistress of the tavern owner, Richard King. Madeline was a beautiful girl, and local legend said she was murdered by King’s wife and bricked into the fireplace. A female skeleton, along with two males, had been found there along with a jeweled dagger. The identity of the two male skeletons was never resolved.
“I’m sure Madeline is still around.” Cece waved a hand, mocking the story. “She’s probably lurking in some creepy corner, waiting to give you a whispery touch.”
“The bed upstairs does have a warm place where it’s said she slept. And some staffers have seen footprints appear on a freshly mopped floor.” I laid out the evidence, but I didn’t try to convince Cece of ghosts. Some lessons can only be learned, not taught.
Cece put her napkin on her lap and sighed. “I know you’re trying to divert me from the fact Barclay is very attractive.”
The possibility of spirits couldn’t compete with a big hunk of manly corporeal flesh. “He is. He’s also a liar with anger issues.”
Cece heard me; she just wasn’t interested in my observations. “He didn’t appear to know about Monica’s abduction.”
“Like I said, he’s a liar. And he’s not stupid. One thing I failed to ask is how he makes a living. But I think we both know. He sponges off women.”
“A gigolo.” Cece straightened the flatware on the table, though it was perfectly aligned.
“That would be my guess.”
“Gigolos can be a lot of fun.” Her focus stayed riveted on the table.
“As long as you accept what he is and don’t expect more. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Cece was smitten. I’d known Barclay would intrigue her, but I never thought she’d fall so hard and so fast. I felt responsible.
“What would you be like, Sarah Booth, if your parents hadn’t loved you? If your mother had run away and disappeared? If your family made it clear they had no use for you?”
“I can’t answer that. I agree Barclay has a right to be angry but not to steal or kidnap.”
“Do you have proof he’s responsible for either act?”
Her defensiveness told me how deep she was already in. Cece had embarked on a kamikaze mission of love. “I don’t. And I hope I don’t find evidence he’s involved. Believe it or not, Cece, I like Barclay. He is … charismatic, to say the least. But if he’s a criminal, he’ll have to pay the price.”
She nodded. “And if he isn’t, then he deserves to be acknowledged as a legitimate Levert heir.”
“And that’s something neither of us can guarantee.”
A hush fell over the restaurant. Kissie walked onstage with a stool and an acoustic guitar. She perched on the stool and adjusted a microphone.
“Welcome to King’s Tavern,” she said. “My name is Kissie McClain, and I’m performing some songs I wrote. Tonight, I’m happy to say I’ll have some help. Please welcome Marty Diamond.”
Polite applause spread around the restaurant. I shifted my chair for a better view and then nearly fell out of it when the stranger from Bennator’s sauntered on the stage with a microphone.
Kissie strummed her guitar and they started a duet about the Mississippi River and a star-crossed love. The song was beautiful, but my attention was fixed on Marty Diamond. He was a handsome man, though a bit sullen for my taste.
His dark hair was professionally cut to look untended. His piercing gray eyes and a chiseled jawline said if his singing career failed, he could model. Not much worry there, the man had a lovely voice, a perfect accompaniment to Kissie and the love ballad she’d composed.
Cece leaned close. “Do you think Barclay has been sleeping with Kissie?”
And I knew then where Barclay had spent his first three weeks in Natchez. Cece hit the nail on the head. A lot of things clicked in my brain. Kissie knew Briarcliff in and out. The house, the grounds, the sisters’ routine. Where the necklace was kept. Yet Kissie hadn’t known Monica was