I thought about it. “I have a list of suspects, but no solid evidence. When you talk to Goode about Clarissa, get the latest on the search for Kathleen, please. That’s a murder, though not one Clarissa wants us to investigate. She’s interested only in herself.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.” Coleman took off toward the driveway.
“You want me to call a ride for you?”
“Not necessary” were his final words as he disappeared behind some hedges.
“What are you up to, Coleman Peters?” I asked the Bissonnette House’s empty patio. I was just glad he was working with me instead of against me.
24
I didn’t have time to fret about Coleman’s disappearance. When I went back inside, Tinkie was in Darla’s office on the computer. Cece, Millie, Harold, Oscar, and Jaytee were in the parlor playing a raucous game of poker. I was glad to see that Darla had allowed Gumbo to join them. The little black, orange, and white kitty was perched on the arm of a sofa watching the humans with what could only be described as superior tolerance.
Watching Gumbo, I felt a pang for Pluto and a wave of homesickness. I’d be back in Sunflower County in no time at all, and until then, I needed to find out who was playing deadly games in Columbus.
I played five-card draw for a few minutes—until I realized I was outclassed by everyone at the table. Amidst good-natured teasing, I left the card table. I made a call to Coleman and got his voicemail.
I went to Darla’s office to catch up with Tinkie. “Hey, Tinkie,” I called out.
“Hey, Sarah Booth,” she said back, laughing at me. “What?”
“Coleman should have some updates about Kathleen, but he isn’t answering.” I paused. “I’m going to call Jerry Goode.”
“We shouldn’t tip our hand and let him know we’re onto his affair with Clarissa.”
Tinkie was right about that—if we were on the nose about the affair. Coleman had made me question that assumption. I dialed Goode’s number, and he answered on the third ring, sounding as if he were coming out of a deep sleep.
“Hi, Officer Goode. I’m looking for Coleman Peters.”
“Why are you calling me?”
Coleman had had plenty of time to get to the officer. “He went to talk to you.”
“Never made it here.”
“Are you messing with me?”
“I am not.” Goode was suddenly wide-awake sounding. “Where was he going to look for me? I’ve been home, dead asleep.”
If he’d been with Clarissa, he probably needed to sleep a lot to allow his blood supply to recharge, bloodsucking vampire that she was.
“He may have been on his way to the river.” I didn’t know where else he might have gone.
“Meet you there.” Goode hung up.
“I need to go to the river to look for Coleman,” I told Tinkie.
“I’m right behind you.” She slipped into her coat while I called for a ride. Dallas didn’t answer, so we chose another Uber, and by the time we walked outside, our ride was there. We were about to step into the car when my phone rang.
Coleman was calling, but there was only the sound of heavy breathing. “Coleman? Coleman? Are you there?” The line went dead.
Tinkie was watching me as she ordered the driver to the site on the river where the search had been organized.
As the car took off, I dialed Officer Goode again. The phone rang and rang. No one answered and it never went to voicemail.
“What’s going on?” Tinkie asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you drive faster?” Tinkie asked the driver as I tried again to call Coleman and Goode. Neither man answered.
The driver’s response was to press the gas pedal and the car sped into the night.
We arrived at the river to find that the search was basically shut down. The tent on the dock was still in place, but no one manned it. The tables and chairs where volunteers had organized grid searches were abandoned. And there was no sign of Coleman.
Just to be sure, Tinkie and I split up and searched the area. She took the dock and I edged around the bank of the river. I didn’t go far enough to find alligators—there was no reason for Coleman to be wading around in marsh grass. Since we’d put flashlights in our purses, we also had the benefit of good light and I could keep track of where Tinkie was. After ten minutes, it was clear Coleman had never made it here.
“Where could he be?”
Our ride was still waiting for us, so we jumped in and headed back to the Bissonnette House. As we were pulling up, a man staggering along the edge of the road was highlighted by the car’s headlights. “Stop!” I yelled. I was halfway out of the car before it came to a complete stop.
I recognized the man stumbling toward the B and B. It was Coleman. In the lights from the car, I saw that blood was trickling down the side of his face from a blow to the head.
“Are you okay?” I grabbed his arm to steady him. Tinkie arrived to shore up his other side.
“I think so,” Coleman said, wobbling a little.
“What happened?”
“Someone came out of the darkness and hit me while I was waiting for a ride. I tried to call you, but I was too fuzzy to say anything.”
“Let’s go to the hospital,” Tinkie said. The Uber was still waiting. “Come on, just get in the front seat.” She was leading us both toward the waiting car.
“No.” Coleman stopped, and he was rooted like an old oak. “I’m okay.”
“What would it hurt to get it checked out?” Tinkie insisted. “Don’t be a hardhead.”
“I’m really okay. I was caught by surprise.”
I waved the Uber on because I knew Coleman well enough to know he wasn’t going to cooperate with Tinkie’s plan. With me on one side and Tinkie on the other, we made the forty-yard walk up the sidewalk to the front door. Before we went in, Coleman stopped us.
“Don’t say anything to
