Game of Bones by Carolyn Haines : A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery Mass Market Paperback – April 28, 2020
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.3 MB
A native of Mississippi, Carolyn Haines lives in Southern Alabama on a farm with horses, dogs, and cats. She has been honored with an Alabama State Council on the Arts literary fellowship for her writing, a family with enough idiosyncrasies to give her material for the rest of her life, and a bevy of terrific friends. She is a former photojournalist.
PI Sarah Booth Delaney comes to the rescue in a short mystery set in Zinnia, Mississippi, that will delight fans and new readers alike.A lost little girl is just about the last thing Private Investigator Sarah Booth Delaney expects to see while horseback riding one evening in the woods, and her concern deepens when she reads the note pinned to the girl’s outfit: it says she is cursed, and has consequently been abandoned.Filled with concern for the child, Sarah Booth gets to work tracing her origins. The quest takes her and her partner, Tinkie, to a small nomadic community on the Mississippi River, where the answers to their questions lie. Sarah Booth must tread carefully, however, for danger awaits her there as well.
Miss Scrapiron clopped down the driveway with a trot that was easy to post, and I hung up so I could unsaddle and hurry to meet Tinkie. My single desire was to grab a cup of coffee and slap some makeup on my face, more to avoid getting chapped in the windy sunshine than for glamour reasons. When Miss Scrapiron was running free in the pasture with her buddies, I hurried to the back door. Someone stood in my kitchen window.
I stopped dead in my tracks to study the strong profile of the woman in my kitchen. She wore her hair braided and pulled back in a deerskin sheath decorated with beads. Her blouse was of woven fabric. Whoever she was, she was striking and fearsome.
In the back of my mind, I suspected that Jitty was at work, and I had to wonder about my dream of the masked person and the sudden murder at a dig excavating a Native American burial area. Now a bronzed warrior goddess was standing in my kitchen.
When I opened the back door, she turned to face me and I heard the rattle of a snake and the low, throaty tones of a Native American flute.
“There is danger around you.” She lifted one hand, palm outward, and made a motion that seemed to encompass the space around me. “The grandfathers are unhappy. The grandmothers weep at the destruction of their rest.”
“Who are you?” I asked. I knew it was Jitty, taking on the persona of someone who had come to give me a warning.
“I am Lozen, warrior, medicine woman, and prophet of the Cheyenne Chiricahua Apache. I am the right hand of my brother, Chief Victorio. We shield our people in battle. We protect our right to ride free. Though we are gone now, even our resting places are destroyed for the greed of some.”
“Is this about the archeological dig?”
“This is about your need to be strong. You will be tested. You, too, must stand and fight for what you believe in.”
A premonition touched me. Jitty was forever deviling me with half-cocked theories and advice that would land me in prison for twenty years. But this was something different. This was chilling and had the feel of ancient wisdom brought to me from the Great Beyond.
“Don’t talk in riddles. Please just tell me.”
She lifted a small earthen bowl she held in her right hand. She dipped the fingers of her left hand in the bowl and drew three red marks on each cheek. “Chiricahua for the Red People. For the red clay that is our home. For the right to ride free.”
“Jitty.” I whispered her name, almost a plea. Lozen was a fierce warrior and she had scared me so badly I found it hard to draw in a full breath.
The face of the warrior began to shift and meld, modeling into the softer features of my beloved haint. “Jitty!” I was so glad to see her I wanted to hug her, but I would clasp only empty air.
When I saw the eye roll that was so typical of my sassy ghost, I exhaled a long sigh. “What in the hell are you trying to do to me? I’m not fond of your impersonations, but sometimes they’re at least entertaining. That was downright unpleasant.”