Greedy Bones Part 12

"There's nothing to add, Ms. Delaney. My connection to the Mississippi Delta is a cash flow from a bank. That's all."

Night had blanketed the street when I walked to the waiting cab. My cell phone rang as the driver took off for the hotel.

"h.e.l.lo, dahling," Cece said. "I wanted to give you an update. Jimmy Baby is taking me to Memphis for dinner."

"How's Oscar?" I'd been away less than a day, but in my absence anything could have happened.

"The same. Oscar and Gordon have stabilized, but there's no improvement. The two realtor ladies have improved, but only marginally."

Thoughts of Tinkie made my head throb. "I'll be home tomorrow on the first flight out."

"Find anything of value?"

"Sonja Kessler is getting a nice cut of the Carlisle pie, which Luther is doling out per Gregory's dictates. She claims she doesn't want any more than she's getting."

"And when will she be canonized?" Cece's tone was dry.

"My sentiments exactly. But so far, there's nothing to contradict what she said. She says she hasn't filed any claim."

"Well, you may have chased that rabbit into a hole, but I've got a lead."

"What?"

"Jimmy Janks is not who he pretends to be. And don't say what you're thinking--that neither am I."

"I wasn't thinking that at all. But what did you find out?"

"He's not from Mobile, and he doesn't come from old money." She laughed. "In fact, dahling, he's about the worst imposter in the world. He knows enough about Mobile to get himself into trouble talking about it."

Cece had spent several summers visiting relatives in the oak-shaded lanes of Spring Hill, the zip code destination of that port city.

In the 1800s, Spring Hill was the place to survive yellow fever epidemics that raged along Southern waterfront towns like Mobile and New Orleans. The wealthy moved out of town and into the higher elevations, while the poor died of mosquito bites down in the flatlands along the Mobile River and Mobile Bay.

"I'm sorry, Cece, I know he struck your fancy."

"I'm a journalist first and a burning love machine second," Cece said. "The first time I went out with Jimmy, I realized he was a pretender to the throne of Junior League date material."

"Tell me." Chicago whisked past the cab window.

"Dahling," Cece continued, "he held his fork like a savage. I sat there thinking, has he adopted the Continental style for some reason? Then I realized he had no style at all. He clutched his flatware as if readying to attack his plate."

I couldn't help but laugh. There were more important things than proper table etiquette in Cece's life, but not many. "I'm surprised you didn't rap his knuckles with your bread knife."

"I considered it, but I knew if I chastised him for lack of upbringing, I'd never extract any information."

"And did you?"

"Enough to know he bears further research. In fact, that's why I'm calling. While you're in Chicago maybe you can track down his background."

"Here? In Chicago?"

"Yes, that would be the Windy City located in Illinois. Look around you."

"Save your sarcasm for your witty newspaper articles. I'm just shocked. Did he say he was from here?"

"He's not quite that dumb. The give-away was the fifteen-minute dissertation on the glories of the Chicago Bears, not to mention his intimate knowledge of the places Jimmy Hoffa might be buried. He knows Chicago and he doesn't know Mobile. Ergo, he might be from Chicago."

"Did you find anything on him? Something to help me get started?" Hunting down the background of someone in Zinnia was a different case than in Chicago. In Zinnia, I could most often turn up someone who knew everything, or most everything. In a city like Chicago, it was impersonal. While facts were concrete, they seldom told the whole truth.

"Preliminary Internet research showed nothing. The only thing I could find on Jimmy was his company and a list of the development projects he's done."

"College degree?"

"He never attended Ole Miss. I checked that out but didn't get any further. I would say Jimmy is definitely public school. That doesn't help much, I know."

"Could it be coincidence that he's from the same place as Gregory's illegitimate daughter?" How bizarre was that?

"You know what they say about coincidence, Sarah Booth. Look, I've got to go. He'll be here any minute."

The cab driver took a corner sharply, and my stomach lurched. The sensation did nothing to alleviate my concerns for my reporter friend. "Be careful with him, Cece. He may simply be a liar and con man or he could be dangerous."

"I'm on the double-alert. And I'll pump him as much as I can, and I don't mean in a s.e.xual way."

"Behave, and don't put yourself in danger," I said. "Promise me you'll call Coleman and fill him in." We'd pulled up in front of my hotel and I rummaged through my purse for the fare. The minute my feet touched the pavement, my stomach settled.

"Will do. By the way, Sarah Booth, you're a d.a.m.n determined investigator and a better friend," she said. "Tinkie should count herself lucky."

"No, I'm the lucky one. Don't take any risks," I warned her. "When I get home, we can tackle Jimmy together."

"Tackle . . . humm. That's an image I like. Ciao, baby."

"Cece!" But she was gone. It wasn't a good sign when she started using Italian phrases.

I paid the driver and gave her a fat tip. "Where are the public school records kept in Chicago?" I asked.

"It's a central location, not too far from here."

I asked her to meet me outside the hotel at eight in the morning. Before I left town, I wanted to pursue Jimmy Janks and his upbringing.

The night had grown downright cold, and I hurried into the lobby. The elevator lifted me twenty-two floors to my room. As tired and worried as I'd been, I still noticed the hotel decor, the strategic lighting, and the plush carpeting. There was even a spa service, if it wasn't too late for a facial or ma.s.sage. A stay in a luxury hotel could do wonders for a girl's weary spirits.

When I unlocked the door, I froze. Something was wrong. The fresh, masculine scent of aftershave teased my senses. Someone had dimmed the lights, and a room service cart with a single red rose and covered platters for two commanded the center of the room.

A tall, dark stranger, a shadow in the minimal illumination, came out of the bathroom. "Your wish is my desire." His accent was vaguely Eastern European. Like Count Dracula. In the dimness, I couldn't get a clear look at him.

"I don't know who you are, buddy, but you'd best take your cart of food and beat it." I wasn't in the mood for some hotel gigolo. My concern turned to annoyance. I'd have the hotel manager's head on a pike for this. A secure room was the least they could provide.

I pointed to the hallway. "Get out now, before I kick your a.s.s six ways from Sunday."

His response was a warm, s.e.xy chuckle. The sound touched nerves at the base of my reptilian brain. I knew that laugh! I knew that aftershave!

"Graf!" I hurled myself at him. After a kiss that took my breath away, I smacked his arm. "You are vile. Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Chicago?"

"And spoil the joy of your warm reception? You were about to put me out on my ear."

"d.a.m.n straight." My heart was thundering with joy, but I played it tough.

"Aren't you even a little glad to see me?" He slipped the rose from the vase and lightly touched my neck with the soft petals. "Just a tiny bit? I had to track Cece down to find out where you were staying."

I conceded the game with a small moan as I kissed him. I wanted nothing more than to hold him tightly against me, to feel the lean muscles of his body pressed against me, his lips on mine.

He kissed me back with heat. "My G.o.d, I've missed you."

I hadn't acknowledged, even to myself, how much I'd missed him. Or how much I needed him to hold me in just this way. For the luxury of a long moment, I allowed myself to lean on him, to surrender to the support of his arms and his strong body.

He drew the kiss to a sweet close, then held me back and scrutinized me. "I ordered dinner for us," he said softly. "You look thin and tired. Cece--"

"She's been tattling on me."

"She's worried about you. And for good cause. Sarah Booth, you look . . . delicate."

While I might look delicate, something savage and wild was building inside me. I had no appet.i.te for food or the bottle of champagne. I wanted Graf. I wanted to feel his skin and his touch.

I began to unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt.

His hands covered mine. "No man could want you more, Sarah Booth. My strongest desire is to throw you down on that bed and make love to your for the next two hours. But I came to take care of you."

"Then do it, Graf. Take care of me." I freed my hands and s.n.a.t.c.hed his s.h.i.+rt. b.u.t.tons flew around the room. "Stop talking and kiss me."

12.

"Open wide."

I obliged, and Graf put the piece of steak in my mouth. "I feel like a baby," I told him as I chewed. He held the gla.s.s for me to sip the champagne.

"I hope I don't have to stay in Zinnia just to make you eat." He cut another piece of the cold steak. It was three in the morning. We'd made love with hot abandon, sating ourselves, only to start over for another session, this one tender and caring. With one appet.i.te satisfied, another had risen to the forefront. I was starving.

"How about I call room service for some hot breakfast?" he asked.

"No, the steak is perfect." I didn't want to order breakfast. I didn't want the night to be over. Morning would bring a parting that I dreaded. My heart's desire was for Graf to come home to Zinnia with me, but I couldn't ask, because he'd put my wishes ahead of his dream. I'd never ask that.

He fed me another bite and took one for himself. As he turned to cut the steak, I took joy in his lean, beautiful torso. "You could model for an artist," I said.

"Flattery will get you everything you want--but in an hour or two. You've drained me."

"You are beautiful." I traced a finger over his thigh. "Handsome doesn't cover it."

"You're not so shabby yourself." He ran a hand gently down my hip. "But you've lost weight."

"I eat all the time."

"Sarah Booth, there's a bad virus or something in Sunflower County. I'm worried. You're in and out of the hospital and you aren't taking care of yourself."

He was right. "I'll get Doc to prescribe some super vitamins." I chewed and swallowed the steak he offered. "This isn't contagious, Graf. It's contained to four people, all of whom were on a particular piece of land. At first it looked like it could be a widespread matter, but now it appears to be limited. You don't have to worry about me on that count."

He cut another portion and fed me. "As soon as Oscar recovers, you'll come back to Los Angeles, won't you?"

I didn't know the answer until that moment. "Yes. I'll never leave Zinnia, but I'll be with you while you finish the film."

"We can make this work, Sarah Booth."

"We can do anything, Graf." I turned away to hide my sudden tears, but I wasn't fast enough. His hand captured my chin and slowly brought my gaze back to his.

"What's wrong?"

"My life is perfect. Everything I've ever wanted is mine for the taking. And Tinkie is losing everything."

He kissed me softly. "She hasn't lost everything. She still has you as a friend, and that's a big thing."

I inhaled, trying to pull my erratic emotions back into line. "I have to fix this."

"If anyone can, it's you." He got up and pushed the food away. "I brought you something."

"What?" I was naturally leery of surprises. Once burned, twice shy was my motto. I thought of Aunt Loulane and her fondness for adages and proverbs. My high school years had been lived by her cross-st.i.tched samplers of sage sayings.

Graf removed a red-bound script from his bag. "Federico Marquez, your favorite director, asked me to give this to you."

Excitement made my skin tingle. "Have you read it?"

"I have." He handed it to me. Crimson Swan.

"What's it about?"

"A vampire enforcer who tracks down a serial killer in a small Mississippi town. They can film in Zinnia."

The script's weight was real and tangible. Graf offered another shot at my dream after the fiasco of my last film.

"Thank you."

"I'm merely the messenger. Federico sent it. It's based on a book by a Mississippi gal, Jeannie Holmes."

"Is there a part for you?"