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"They want to build what? A planned community?"
"A staged subdivision and a shopping center. Ultimately there'll be close to five thousands homes and all the stores necessary to support it. Jimmy Janks is certain this area's about to grow. Lots of foreign interests are rebuilding the downtowns of Clarksdale and Greenwood. There's talk of some big corporations moving industry here and training a workforce. The Delta's going to shine again."
"That's less than a fifth-acre per home." I wasn't a math whiz but I was good at figuring out the economics of land rape.
"Folks don't want a lawn to maintain." He jerked his head to indicate the trailer park behind him. "No one here has time to mow or tend a lawn. I figure all of that into the lot rental fee. Why should folks spend all that time and energy on a lawn? When was the last time you saw a kid outside playing?"
He had a point. Where I'd grown up blazing trails and concocting adventures in the woods and fields, kids today were wired to computers and televisions. "Did your sister agree to the sale?"
"Erin won't agree to anything, but she's not here dealing with it. I filed in court, and when I get that doc.u.ment, the sale will go through and her share of the money will be banked."
Luther Carlisle was a bit on the defensive side. And well he should be if he intended to sell the land out from under his sister. From what I'd learned, Erin Carlisle hadn't been seen in Sunflower County in years, but to force a sale was extreme.
"Has Erin left the States?" I lobbed out a test.
Outside, a pickup truck, radio blaring, eased past. "No."
"Did you hire someone to look for her?"
"No."
"Do you have any idea where she might be?" He didn't want to find her.
"My lawyer's taking care of all these details. Far as I know, she may be dead."
"I need to speak with her. Where is she?"
He took a breath, and I could tell he was weighing his response. "She doesn't answer her mail or return my calls. My lawyer says I can file to move forward on the land sale. It'll be settled in the courts. I'm not doing anything illegal."
I crossed a leg. It wasn't the first time one sibling tried to roll over another where land or money was involved. But if Erin truly wanted to know what Luther was up to, she could easily find out. "How old was Erin when she left your parents' home?"
"She'd graduated high school. My parents were devastated by the whole ugly mess. Erin never thought of anyone but herself."
He was more than willing to talk about old family scandals--if it painted his sister in a bad light--and I was ready to listen. "What was the problem with Erin?"
"For one thing, she refused a full scholarship to Ole Miss. She was a heritage Zeta Zeta Phi, and she told Mother she'd rather live on the streets than pledge to that sorority. Or any sorority."
"That hardly sounds like a reason for a family split."
"It broke Mother's heart. She gave up her home and family to live here in Sunflower County. Zeta Zeta was her sisterhood, and Erin acted like it was some kind of cult."
I had personal experience in this area. "Maybe she simply wasn't a sorority girl. Surely that's not a reason to disown a daughter."
He watched me carefully. "Oh, the sorority thing was the proverbial straw. The real trouble came when she told Mother that Father was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the maid." His mouth compressed into a thin line, and anger sparked in his eyes. "She inflicted a lot of pain on the family. She destroyed us." He cleared his throat. "They both threw her out and told her never to come back."
"Was your father having an affair?"
He looked out the window as another vehicle pa.s.sed. "I never asked. Wasn't my business to meddle in my parents' marriage. All I know is what Erin did hurt them both."
The story was odd six ways from Sunday. Although the rumors of murder and mishap were still floating around the Carlisle family years after the fact, Luther expressed disinterest in a possible love triangle, the accusation of which he said had destroyed his family. Tinkie, when she woke up, would be a better guide into the crazed conduct of high society. She could explain how a woman would toss out her daughter instead of her cheating husband.
"This developer you're working with. Jimmy Janks. He isn't local, is he?" I knew most of the builders around Sunflower County, but a project this big would require some high-dollar funding.
"Janks Development is an Alabama concern. Did a lot of the building along the Gulf Coast. Condos, malls, that kind of thing. Jimmy Janks is highly qualified."
That remained to be seen. I changed directions, hoping to throw him off. "Why don't you live at the plantation, Luther?"
His face showed no emotion. "I prefer it here."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Too many hard memories, Miss Delaney. Imagine living in a place where your mother fell to her death and your father hanged himself." What ever he felt, he didn't show any emotion. "Perhaps you were out of Sunflower County at the time of Mother's death. Some people thought my father pushed her down the stairs. They felt that guilt drove him to suicide. There's not a room in that house that doesn't hold some painful reminder of the way things used to be and how they ended up. Who wants to live with that?"
I could sympathize, but the whole thing didn't smell right. "Do you have sentimental attachment to the place?"
"I miss the house," he continued. "I miss those crisp mornings when Cook served us all breakfast together. Erin was young then. My parents were happy. I loved the farm and going out with Father to make sure the fields were in good shape and the crops coming along. I still dream about those days. But they're gone. Trying to cling to a fading memory won't change what's happening all around us, Miss Delaney. Progress can't be stopped. You can't run fast enough to stay ahead of it. Try, and you'll be crushed. This development deal is good for me and for Erin. Taxes are going up, the cost of farming is out the roof. It's time to let go of the past and step into the future. This is best for Erin, too, whether she agrees or not."
My cell phone rang, producing a ripple of relief. Luther was not a scary man, but his worldview was pessimistic to the extreme. I was about ready for a drink and it wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning.
"Oscar's headed back to the room," Doc said.
"Did you find anything?" A glimmer of hope would be welcomed.
"No." Doc's voice said it all.
"I'm on my way." I hung up and moved to my last question. "The cotton on your land is unusually mature. What do you know about that?"
"Nothing. As I said, Mississippi Agri-Team manages the crops on it. You got a question about that, take it up with them."
I thanked Luther for his time and lead-footed it to the hospital.
4.
Tinkie and her father showed up late that afternoon. At first she was too angry to speak to me for sending the chemical sandman to visit, but when she realized that Oscar was no worse--and the nurses told her how I'd stood at the window, willing Oscar to heal--her anger broke.
"He's better, isn't he, Daddy?" Tinkie looked up at her father, and I could imagine her through the years of her childhood turning to him in that same way, asking for his rea.s.surance. Tinkie loved her mom, but Mr. Bell-case was the end-all of her childhood universe.
"Oscar's a strong-willed man." Avery Bellcase patted Tinkie's hand. "He has every reason to live. He has you. No man in his right mind would leave that behind."
Tinkie at last included me in the conversation. "What did the tests show?"
"Doc hasn't said anything specific. He was waiting for you to return." For all that she'd gotten furious at me for tricking her, she looked better. The sleep had taken the gray tones out of her skin.
"Have you found out what this illness is?" She'd pinned her hopes on me and my investigative skills, and I felt the weight on my shoulders increase. Tinkie had saved me more times than I could count. I had to find an answer.
"A few things." I didn't want to mislead her. "We'll talk when I have a chance to check them out."
She grasped my shoulders. "Promise me you won't go to the Carlisle place. If that's the source of this illness, it's too dangerous."
"Someone has to look." I meant to be logical, not argumentative.
"The CDC will bring hazmat suits. Let them go, Sarah Booth. Promise me."
I couldn't imagine that stepping on a piece of property could bring personal destruction, but the Carlisle place did appear to be the epicenter of this disaster. "I won't take any unnecessary risks. I promise."
Mr. Bellcase watched the scene play out. With a tilt of his head, he indicated that he wanted to speak with me.
"I have to meet with Coleman and the CDC," I told her.
Mr. Bellcase kissed Tinkie's cheek. "And I'm needed at the bank. Your mother will take over for a few hours. Remember, you gave your word you'd leave."
Tinkie nodded, the facade of the obedient daughter perfectly in place. "I will, Daddy."
"I love you, Tinkie," he said.
"Me too."
I fell into step beside him as we walked down the sterile corridor.
"I've never approved of Tinkie's work with you," he said, "but she believes you can resolve this."
The problem was that I wasn't certain I could without Tinkie's help. We were truly partners--in the P.I. agency and in so many other ways. We worked as a team. Tinkie had a skill-set I didn't. Our cases often required both of our abilities.
"I'll do my best, sir."
"I know you walked away from a Hollywood career to be here with her." He faced me. "That won't be forgotten."
"Tinkie is my friend. She'd do the same for me, sir."
"If you need our help, the bank's resources are at your disposal."
"I need to find Erin Carlisle. The bank must have some address on her. It would be quicker than trying a computer search."
"Harold will get that information. Call him."
"Thank you."
We parted in the parking lot, and I watched Mr. Bellcase drive away. He was in the worst position possible--forced to watch his daughter suffer and unable to do a thing to stop it.
Coleman's office door was open, and a new dispatcher greeted me with a smile. "He's been waiting for you," she said, ushering me through the main office. It was strange not to see Gordon sitting at his desk.
"Sarah Booth."
Coleman's deep voice drew my attention to the far corner of his office, where he stood beside a man who was a twin for Omar Sharif in his younger days. "This is Peyton Fidellas, an expert in airborne diseases and chemical reactions--"
"I've heard about your investigations and your film," Peyton said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Coleman motioned to a woman on the far side of the man. "And Bonnie Louise McRae, whose specialty is parasitic life-cycle development. They're with the Epidemic Intelligence Services of the Centers for Disease Control. Sarah Booth is--"
"I know Sarah Booth," the woman said. "She was always in trouble for skipping school and running wild."
I hadn't really noticed her, a serious oversight on my part. Where Peyton was darkly handsome, European exotic, and charming, Bonnie was California blond with a sharp arrogance and a body any starlet would kill to possess. She was walking va-va-voom. I looked her up and down. "Sorry, but I'm sure I'd recognize you if we'd met before."
"Try high school. Freshman year. I didn't graduate in Sunflower County. I decided an education was important."
I was beginning to think I'd forgotten Bonnie Louise McRae on purpose. "I'm sorry, Miss McRae, I don't remember you."
"Not a surprise. I wasn't in the popular set. My family farmed six hundred acres up in the north of the county." She stared at me as if I should instantly be able to conjure a map and pinpoint the axis of her birth, life, and departure.
Coleman cleared his throat. "Peyton and Ms. McRae will investigate the Carlisle place, which is ground zero for our investigation. Did you learn anything new from Tinkie?"
"No." I started to tell him about Luther, but for some reason I was reluctant to talk in front of the EIS agents. Maybe it was because they were government and I had an inherent distrust of federal agencies. Maybe coming back to Sunflower County after a stint in Hollywood, I wanted to close the borders and exclude all outsiders. Or maybe it was because Bonnie Louise McRae came across as a b.i.t.c.h on wheels. What ever the reason, I kept my lip zipped. I didn't have my partner to back me up if the situation deteriorated to a good old-fashioned hair-pulling.
"Is there an office we can use?" Bonnie asked Coleman.
"The county health department will let you have the back half of their building. It's beside the hospital, so that should prove convenient, I hope."
"Isn't there some place closer to the sheriff's office?" Bonnie asked.
"There's always the jail." Karo syrup had nothing on me. "That s.p.a.ce would serve perfectly."
"Four people's lives are on the line here." Coleman cast me a warning glance. "Doc Sawyer is waiting at the hospital to talk with you," he told the EIS agents. "I'll be there in half an hour. I need to check on something."
As Coleman left the room, Bonnie Louise fell into step beside him. She linked her arm through his and simpered up at him, batting her eyelashes and swinging her b.u.t.t like she'd broken a hitch in her get-along.
It was inevitable that Coleman would find another girl, especially in light of his impending divorce. But plainly put, Bonnie Louise McRae set my teeth on edge. Any involvement with her would be a repeat of his calamitous marriage to Connie.
My cell phone buzzed, and I answered it as I followed Peyton out.
"Sarah Booth, it's Harold Erkwell."
I would have recognized the banker's cultured voice, but Harold didn't play telephone-guessing games. "How are you doing, Harold?"
"Worried. I've been at the bank a long time, and I don't ever recall Oscar missing a day of work. We're all in shock here."
"Me too."
"Mr. Bellcase is beside himself. He rushes into the bank, spins around, and runs out. Oscar's like a son to him, and he's terrified for Tinkie."
"I know." My mood sank a little lower.
"I have an address on Erin Carlisle. She's a photographer. A pretty good one, from all accounts. Does the carriage trade in portraits and photographs of important people."