Greedy Bones Part 21

"Tell me why I should answer another question, Sarah Booth. What's in this for me?"

I wanted to say that if he gave me something worthwhile I wouldn't bother smashing his face, but such threats were ridiculous. "Oscar Richmond is very ill, and I'm on the case. I'm sure Mr. Bellcase at the Zinnia bank would want you to cooperate."

Five houses in Toke's neighborhood were up for foreclosure. Despite his claims of managerial genius, he required credit. One word from Mr. Bellcase and Toke's credit line might disconnect.

Toke wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Luther introduced me to Jimmy. He'd arranged a dove hunting party last winter and Janks was there. Talk about a fool with a gun. He almost pulled a Cheney on one of the men. We took Janks's sh.e.l.ls away from him."

"Didn't you go to school with him?"

Toke laughed. "I don't think so."

"Not even for a semester?"

"What's with you, Sarah Booth? I said no."

Toke, even though he was a lazy lout, had the inside scoop on Delta entrepreneurs. "Where does Janks get his money?"

He sat up. "At last, you ask something interesting? I've wondered exactly the same thing. He blew in here with a line of credit that none of us can understand, especially when credit's tighter than d.i.c.k's hat band."

"So what did you find out?" Toke would have pursued it. One thing about a birthright Buddy Clubber--he knew how to track the money source.

Toke tossed down the rest of his drink and swung his legs off the chaise. "Jimmy Janks has big wealth in his grasp. His line of credit is unbelievable. And it comes from a source outside this country. That's all I could find. Offsh.o.r.e banks in the Caymans."

So Janks's development project was bankrolled by foreigners. A foreign money source, genetically altered cotton, mutated weevils, a strange illness that would be fatal without intensive medical care but one that was also contained to a specific location. When I added those things together, I got something frightening.

"Thanks, Toke." I trudged back across his lawn.

"Don't mention it, Sarah Booth."

As I got in my car, I heard him yell out to his wife to bring him another gin rickey.

The small strip mall where Janks had an office was totally deserted when I pa.s.sed by. A more perfect opportunity might never be found.

I U-turned and parked so that my vehicle was blocked from sight by a Dumpster. The front door was plate gla.s.s, but a regular steel door closed the back. Picking locks wasn't my expertise, but I'd made up my mind to take a shot at it.

Before I tried my hand at B&E, I called Erin Carlisle. Her home number was listed, but she didn't answer. She wasn't at the studio--no surprise there. I left messages in both places, then walked over to the back door of Janks's office.

I rattled the k.n.o.b for good measure. To my surprise, it turned easily and the door opened as if a magic spell had been cast. Which disturbed me.

Nonetheless, I stepped into the inky void of a storage room, giving my eyes time to adjust. The room was empty except for a half-dozen cardboard boxes.

A m.u.f.fled crash came from the front office, followed by a curse.

No wonder the back door was open--someone had entered before I did. Moving quietly toward the sound, I wished for a gun. Tinkie had given me a canister of pepper spray that I had clipped to my key ring. I gripped it at the ready.

If Janks was in the office, I had to detain him.

Something else tumbled over. Whoever was up front was ransacking the office pretty thoroughly, or so it sounded.

Step by step, I made my way out of the storage room and into the hallway. The sounds were clearer now. Someone else had come to search through Janks's records.

With the pepper spray held in front of me at arm's length, I left the safety of the hallway and entered the main office.

Joe Downs, on his knees, yanked files from a drawer. Chaos reigned in the office. Papers floated everywhere. Drawers had been dumped, the contents strewn all over the floor. Downs might call this searching, but to me it looked like rampant vandalism.

He clutched a fistful of files and threw them behind him onto the floor. His hand closed on another batch.

"Stop," I ordered him.

His reaction surprised me. Instead of yelling or being startled, he calmly lowered his hand. "Miss Delaney," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"Looking for evidence. What about you?"

"The same."

"It would seem you're more intent on destroying evidence than finding it." Was it possible Downs was in cahoots with Janks? Even to the point of killing his friend and employee Lester Ballard?

"Janks sent those cotton seeds to Lester. I know he did. I intend to prove it. I'll sue that developer for everything he owns. I'll get the CDC, the EPA, the FFA, the FBI, the CIA, and the KGB after him if that's what it takes."

"An impressive list of alphabet agencies." I held the canister at the ready. "Move away from the papers and call the sheriff's office."

"Surely you don't intend to bring the law into this." He wasn't scared, just annoyed. "You entered illegally, as I did."

"Good point. Doesn't make a d.a.m.n." I motioned to the phone. "Call the sheriff's office now." I gave him the number.

When Dewayne was on the line, I took the phone. Joe Downs made no effort to stop me. He eased to his feet, perched on the edge of the desk, and waited quietly.

"Is Coleman back?" I asked Dewayne.

"Miss Bonnie Louise called and he took off. Something I can do for you?"

Downs reached into his pocket and brought out a sheet of paper. He held it toward me. "You're wasting valuable time," he said. "I'm trying to help."

"Sarah Booth, are you okay?" Dewayne asked.

"I'm fine." Right or wrong, I came to a decision about Downs. "Dewayne, could you ask the Jackson police to make sure Erin Carlisle is okay? It's possible she was with Cece when Cece was attacked in Jackson. She might be a witness. Or she might be a partic.i.p.ant in the beating."

"I'm on it right now, Sarah Booth."

"Thanks, Dewayne." I replaced the phone and pointed to the paper that Downs still held toward me. "What is that?"

"Read it for yourself." He pa.s.sed it to me. "I found it here."

I scanned the description of the life cycle of the boll weevil. Written in hand at the bottom was a notation for a particular strand of cotton.

Downs pointed at the paper. "I've grown cotton in this area all my life. That's not a type of cotton MAT has ever planted. I'm telling you, Janks is responsible for all of this. Now do you believe me?"

"This doesn't prove anything." It didn't. But it painted Janks a darker shade of guilty.

Downs let his hands fall to his lap. "I spoke with the sheriff about an hour ago. He was able to match the blood on the carpet in Janks's hotel room with Lester Ballard's blood. Lester's hand had a cut on it. Any fool can see they got into an argument and Janks murdered my friend. If I have to go to jail to prove it, I'm ready to do so."

Downs was only trying to do the same thing I was. I clipped the pepper spray back onto my key chain. "Let's take this place apart," I said.

20.

Though Joe Downs and I turned Janks's office inside out, we found nothing else. I wasn't certain I trusted that Downs had found the paper on the weevils and cotton at the scene. It was possible, in his need to avenge his friend's death, he'd brought it to the office himself. On the bright side, Tinkie was diving into Janks's investment background and Tammy Odom, a high school friend known as Madame Tomeeka, was sitting watch with the patients. Tammy had some serious psychic ability, and she never turned down a friend.

I returned to the hospital to finish my conversation with Cece. When I found her dozing, I considered waking her, but a phone call from Dewayne side-tracked me.

"Jackson PD got in touch with Erin Carlisle's receptionist. Erin hasn't been at work for two days. The receptionist didn't know what to do, so she never filed a missing persons report."

"Thanks, Dewayne." This was not good news.

When I peeked into Cece's room again, she was still asleep, so I took the opportunity to speak to Tammy. Perhaps she'd had a dream or vision or message. I'd take help from any source available.

Tammy had not only come to sit, she brought a plate of food big enough to feed three starving timbermen. Pork roast, greens, cornbread, and sweet potatoes. Before anything else, Tammy insisted that I eat something. I took the plate to Cece's room and watched as the delicious aromas worked their magic.

Her eyes blinked open and one side of her mouth moved into a smile. "What smells so good?"

I listed the menu items. "Want a bite?" The oxygen tube had been removed, and though she'd suffered broken ribs, some internal bruising, and a broken nose, she was on the mend.

She opened her mouth, and I gave her a taste of the sweet potatoes, which she didn't have to chew. Corn bread with fresh b.u.t.ter was next. We shared the plate in companionable silence.

"I haven't even tasted it, but I've heard hospital food sucks, dahling," she said.

I laughed, mostly with relief. There was just a hint of "society Cece" in that statement. What I had to tell her, though, might be upsetting. I waited until she'd eaten her fill before I broached the subject. With Cece, it was best to jump right in. She wasn't much for p.u.s.s.y-footing around. "Erin Carlisle is missing. She hasn't been at work since the night you were beaten."

Cece's breathing was loud in the room. "She said some one had been following her." The damage to her face made her words short and irregular.

A million questions flooded my brain, but I took it slow. Cece was fragile. Though she liked to present the image of being tough as nails, she had her breaking point too, and being battered into a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp had to be close to the edge. "You went to Memphis with Jimmy. He took you home?"

"He did. We had a tiff about the Carlisle land. I told him I was going to interview Erin." She took a moment to breathe again.

"Was he angry when he took you home?"

"Not angry. Unsettled."

"You obviously got in touch with Erin, and she agreed to meet you at Image Photography."

"That's right. You're a virtual telepath, dahling."

I rolled my eyes. "Did you talk to her?"

She shook her head. "We arrived at the parking lot at the same time, and we were walking to her studio when a car flew across the asphalt. We both dove out of the way. Before I could get up, someone hit me with a club or something. I think Erin screamed. Then I blacked out."

"Can you say whether Erin was attacked or abducted?"

"No."

d.a.m.n it. Cece was normally sharp and remembered details, but she'd been clocked from behind.

"Do you have any idea where Erin might be?"

"She said she was catching a flight to Chicago. She said she was going to meet her sister."

"Erin knows about Sonja Kessler?" This was unexpected.

"Didn't say her name. Just her sister."

"Think, Cece. Can you remember anything about the car that almost ran you down?"

"It was big. Dark. Maybe navy or black." She closed her eyes. "It happened so fast."

Jimmy Janks drove a big, dark SUV.

A nurse came into the room with a syringe. She injected the contents into the drip that fed into Cece's arms. Within seconds, Cece's eyelids fluttered.

"Thank you, Cece. You've been a big help." The search for Erin now had to be extended into the Windy City.

"Tomorrow." Cece's voice was a mere wisp of sound.

I kissed her forehead. "Is only a day away," I whispered in her ear. "Tomorrow you'll feel like h.e.l.l, but all of your friends will be here to torment you."

"Cheerful b.i.t.c.h," she replied before she gave herself to sleep.

I stopped by to talk with Tammy and found her staring at Oscar, her face filled with that same determination Tinkie always showed.

"Don't give up hope, Sarah Booth," she said when she heard my footsteps and faced me.

"I'm too tired to hope or give up." The idea of walking to my car exhausted me. In fact, the cot in the hallway looked pretty d.a.m.n good.

"I'll stay the night," Tammy offered.

"I promised Tinkie I would do it." It was a matter of honor that I support Tinkie in her battle against death.

"She'll be fine if I stand guard. You need to sleep. Both of you. I won't let any of them slip away in the dark hours."

Tammy had a better grip on things of the spirit than I ever would. My only connection with the other side was Jitty, and somehow I didn't think she was a reliable source of information or inspiration. I felt hollow and drained, with just a vague twinge of nausea. Sleep was much needed.

"Will you call me if anything changes?" I asked.

"I will." She patted my shoulder. "Sarah Booth, I've had a few dreams about you."