Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [55]
“But along with partying, I did have time to make a few phone calls.” Tinkie grinned. “John Hightower does have a book contract. With a major publisher.”
“How did you find that out?” I never underestimated Tinkie, but sometimes she surprised even me.
“Harold’s cousin is a respected literary agent. She checked into it for him. She didn’t divulge the details, but apparently John Hightower will deliver a book that blazes a trail through the South more devastating than Sherman’s march.”
Harold Erkwell worked for Oscar. He had old society and money connections. More than once he’d helped us with a case. “The Leverts are just a part of it? Not the main focus?” The author had not left me with that impression.
“His proposal was broad. Heaven knows what he’s actually written.”
“I’m amazed the little pantywaist can write.”
“Might make an interesting feature story for the newspaper,” Cece said. “I’ll see what I can find out. I doubt he’ll put it together immediately the three of us are friends. Maybe he’ll let something slip.”
“Capital idea!” I pronounced. Without my friends, what would I do?
When Cece took her leave—after eliciting numerous promises to be careful—Tinkie and I got down to plotting our strategy.
“Do you think Sweetie could pick up the scent of the man in the stables?” Tinkie asked.
The obviousness of her question stunned me. We had the best tool possible in our hands, the nose of a noble hound, and I’d failed to think of it. “You are brilliant!” Before I could go any further, her cell phone rang.
I could hear a woman’s voice, but I couldn’t make out the conversation. Judging from Tinkie’s expression, it wasn’t good.
“I’ll be right there,” she said soothingly. “We’ll figure this out, Eleanor.”
She put the phone down. “We have to go.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The bank refused to cash the insurance check. It’s in both sisters’ names. They need both signatures. Eleanor is very upset.”
This was going to be a rough afternoon. “Can you handle Eleanor?” Tinkie was the more diplomatic of the two of us.
“What are you going to do?”
“I want to see if I can find any riding tack at Jerome’s cottage. The man in the barn was big, strong. The hands of a worker. It could be Barclay, but no one has more opportunity than Jerome. And if Monica played him false, damaged his ego, treated him as poorly as she’s been known to treat her other conquests—”
“He might be tempted to soothe his ego with a large amount of ransom.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
We pushed open the restaurant door and stepped into the hot summer day. Summer in Mississippi was a physical slap. The humidity after the rain was thick as wool.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tinkie asked. “You’re looking a little owlish.”
“Thanks, I think. I’m fine.” I shook off the heat. “Let’s get back to Briarcliff.”
“How will you get Jerome out of his cottage?”
“If he thinks Sweetie and Chablis are lost, he’ll help me hunt them.”
Tinkie took two steps to every one of mine. “You’re one clever woman.”
“And you have impeccable taste in friends.”
* * *
As it turned out, sending Sweetie and Chablis on a romp was easier said than done. The pups circled my legs and nipped at my heels instead of dashing for the woods. The storm was building to the south—once it got close enough, the dogs would head straight for the house. I figured I had at least an hour.
Tinkie had her hands full with a desperate Eleanor. She was near the breaking point, and Tinkie took her inside. The plan was to call Oscar to intervene with cashing the insurance check. It was Eleanor’s only chance to have the ransom money.
Having a banker husband was at times very helpful in the thick of a case.
At last, with much urging on my part, Sweetie caught the scent of something and she took off, her sorrowful baying