Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. “Sarah Booth, are you decent?” Tinkie was tap, tap, tapping at my door. I’d forgotten this aggravating habit of hers.
“Come in.” Coleman was laughing as he spoke.
“We’re ready to go to town and find some lunch. I have a list of places we should eat. We’re going to have to eat five times a day to hit all of them.”
Tinkie was enjoying pregnancy, and she was like a tapeworm on steroids. “And Darla is down in the parlor. I want everyone to meet her. She’s been so helpful in planning our itinerary.”
Coleman spun me around, gave me another swift, passionate kiss, and then led me to the door to follow Tinkie down the hallway and staircases to the first floor. An elegant woman in her mid-thirties was waiting for us.
Tinkie made the introductions between Darla Lofton and the Zinnia crew. Darla’s hair was as perfectly glitzed and styled as Tinkie’s. If they’d been horses, they would have been a matched pair fit for pulling a royal’s carriage. They would have been high-steppers, too.
“I’m thrilled to have the Delaney Detective Agency staying in my home,” Darla said. “And a representation of law enforcement, banking, and the music world, not to mention one of the finest eateries in the state, and, last but not least, a well-known journalist. I hope you’re planning on writing some stories about the Christmas festivities in Columbus,” Darla said, winking at Cece.
“I am working—just a little,” Cece said. “Zinnia has a parade and storefront window competitions, but we need to up our game. Columbus has given me some ideas.”
“There are so many wonderful traditions and customs in the Delta, but here on the other side of the state we have some fun activities, too. Mumming is our latest addition. I do so love to dress up in a costume!”
Darla and Tinkie were twins! Sisters by another mother. The only thing missing from Darla was a cute little moppet dog. Chablis was the perfect accoutrement to any of Tinkie’s outfits.
The front doorbell chimed, and before anyone could move to answer it, a pretty redhead came in. “Darla, I hope I’m not interrupting. I wanted to meet your Zinnia guests.” She held out her hand to each of us. “Kathleen Beesley, pleased to meet you.” Kathleen had pixie features and an impish smile. Her auburn hair was an incredible shade that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and green eyes.
“I knew you wouldn’t last an hour once you knew everyone was here.” Darla was chiding her gently, and with a smile. “Kathleen is a busybody,” she told us. “She has no malice, but she has to know everything going on. The good thing is she doesn’t gossip.”
“Columbus is a small town, really. When something is happening, I don’t want to miss it.” Kathleen was unapologetic about her curiosity bone. “I should write for the newspaper because I am into everything. But it isn’t malicious.”
It was impossible not to like the two women. They were fun and shameless about their nosiness. Something I understood perfectly.
“Where should we go for lunch?” Tinkie asked.
“The Green Parrot Bar and Grill.” Darla checked her watch. “And they’re hosting a karaoke Christmas party this afternoon. A lot of the banks and businesses have closed for a half day of shopping for Christmas. And the karaoke competition is always highly competitive and fun. Some of these people make total fools of themselves, but it’s for a good cause. They’re raising money for an orphanage in town.”
“We can’t turn that down,” Harold said. “Besides, Cece and Jaytee can actually sing.” He looked at me. “Sarah Booth, promise us you won’t try.”
“Hey,” Coleman said, my knight in shining armor coming to my rescue. “Let her sing if she wants to. If anyone’s ears start bleeding, we can stop her.”
So much for a rescue from my man. “I’m going to sing ‘Silver Bells’ and do all the ting-a-linging by myself!”
Everyone was laughing as we headed out to the limo for a run into Columbus.
3
The downtown area of Columbus was bustling with activity as we made our way to the Green Parrot. The restaurant, which was perfectly set up for karaoke, offered an American menu, great drinks, and rowdy customers packed around tables as they cheered or harassed the singing talent.
We found a table near the stage while a cute young girl sang “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Because we’d already been drinking champagne, we continued with glasses of bubbly while we waited for our food orders.
Tinkie and Oscar were poring over the karaoke songbook while Coleman was fondling my knee beneath the table. Christmas karaoke obviously made him naughty. “Santa won’t bring you anything unless you straighten up,” I cautioned him in a whisper.
“I’ve already got everything I want,” he said, attempting to inch his fingertips up my thigh.
“I’ll scream,” I said.
He only laughed, but leaned back in his chair. “Why are you looking at the songbook?” he asked with a wary note in his voice.
“I don’t really need it. I already know what I’m going to sing.” I’d been thinking about this for days.
Coleman deadpanned it. “Let us eat first, so if we have to run out screaming, at least we won’t be hungry.”
Oscar joined in the teasing. “I thought Tinkie had a signed contract with you guaranteeing you’d never, ever sing in public.”
“Keep it up.” I grinned.
When the young girl finished, Tinkie grabbed Oscar’s hand and dragged him up on the stage. I was impressed with their rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” It was one of my holiday favorites, and it was clear to see the pleasure they took in each other. And they both could sing.
I was about to go onstage when a slender brunette in a terrific Christmas sweater and leggings jumped on the stage and grabbed the microphone. The emcee introduced her as
