I’d had a few nightmares that had driven me to rash action. And if I wanted to have the pants scared off me, all I had to do was listen to Madame Tomeeka’s dreams, which were often prophetic—if I could decipher them. I had great sympathy for the panic Darla must have felt, realizing that her friend’s little kitty was alone and confused about where Kathleen must have gone.
“We’ll check on the kitty soon,” I promised her. “But we have some questions about Kathleen.”
“Questions? Can’t you wait until they find her?”
I didn’t want to say she wouldn’t likely be able to answer questions when her body was found, so I ignored it. “Just basic things.”
“Like what?”
“Did Tulla Tarbutton have it in for Kathleen?”
“She did, and as it turned out, the eyewitness who saw Kathleen pull Clarissa over the side of the boat—well, that was none other than Tulla Tarbutton. She was on another boat because I wouldn’t let her on mine. And she claims she saw the whole thing. I don’t know why those women had it in for Kathleen. She never bothered them or ran in their circles. Now they’re determined to pretend that Kathleen was trying to knock Clarissa into the river.”
“But Kathleen did have a crush on Bart Crenshaw, didn’t she?”
“So what? Bart wouldn’t give her the time of day. She didn’t have enough money to be attractive to him. And besides that, she was a decent, caring woman who would have wanted a bond, not a one-night fling. Kathleen may have thought Bart handsome, but she’d never have acted on any crush she had. She’s smarter than that.”
Darla had calmed down considerably, and I was concerned for the cat. My cat, Pluto, had a sixth sense when something was up. I suspected that Kathleen’s kitty was also perceptive. “Why don’t we go with you to check on Kathleen’s cat?”
Darla stood up. “I’ll go. There’s no need for you to spend your time tracking down a cat. I’m perfectly fine now and I’m not certain the cat will take to strangers. You know how fickle cats can be.”
I did, but Kathleen’s cat was a sweetheart. I couldn’t say that, though. “Don’t forget the litter box and litter,” I said.
“Good thinking.” Darla appeared to be a little rattled still. “Yes, I’ll get those things and the food.”
“Maybe Kathleen will be found,” Tinkie said.
Darla’s eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears. “Yes. That’s what we’re all hoping for. Now let me get Gumbo before any more time passes.”
“Darla, do you know anyone who’d deliberately hurt Kathleen?” I asked.
She stopped and thought for a full minute. “Kathleen was kind of a loner, except for our friendship. I don’t know why anyone would want to harm her.”
“Why did she move to Columbus?” Tinkie asked. “She doesn’t have family here.”
“I never pressed Kathleen about her past. She was shy, and reluctant to expose herself in anyway. I believe she came here because of a man.”
This piqued our interest. “Bart?”
“No, not him. I don’t know who it was. She never said a name. But she said something about a poet. Maybe a songwriter. Someone she’d met because those were also interests of hers. Whoever it was, she never introduced him to me. Once she was here, she liked Columbus, and she was here to stay.”
“She’s such a pretty woman and so sweet-tempered,” Tinkie said. “Seems like any guy would be crazy to be with her.”
“You would think,” Darla said with a bitter laugh. “You would think. But sadly, a kind heart and pretty face aren’t the coin a lot of men trade in.”
“The right men do,” Tinkie said stoutly. “There are good guys out there. I promise you, when we find Kathleen, I’ll make it a point to introduce her to some of them.”
At last Darla smiled. “I know you will, Tinkie. Thank you. Now I have to go.”
After the front door closed, it took Tinkie and me several minutes to pull ourselves out of a funk to get busy with our case. I came to the surface with one question for my partner. “Do you think Darla could be involved in all of this?”
Tinkie bit her bottom lip. “Of course she could. But why would she? She’s got a successful business and the goodwill of the town. I’m leaning more toward Sunny Crenshaw.”
Tinkie was correct there. Sunny had a lot of motive and so far she’d dodged our calls. I still had her number, so I called from the Bissonette House phone. Eureka! She answered.
All face-to-face meetings were nixed, but she did tell us something very interesting. “Bart’s a fool,” she said. “But he is a money-making machine. I don’t really care what he does as long as he keeps the money coming in.” With that, she hung up.
Tinkie looked at me. “We have to keep her on the list, but Sunny Crenshaw, despite the slap she gave Bart at the restaurant, stikes me as someone far too pragmatic to be driven to murder.”
Tinkie made perfect sense to me.
Darla’s offer to use her computer was coming in handy. Though I was curious about the journal we’d found, we first went to look up Kathleen’s tenure in Columbus. There wasn’t much to find. Her name was mentioned in a few Columbus social columns, mostly as attending or as cohosting with Darla. I put the other names we had through the same procedure—Tulla, Bricey, Sunny and Bart Crenshaw, Clarissa Olson. The results were the same. Gardening or historical awards, community service notices, hosts of gala events, and serving on planning commissions and various government agencies like the zoning board.
“Both Clarissa and Bart are on the zoning commission,” Tinkie said. “Strange.”
“It’s probably a lot
