“Remember the arrow that nicked your ear.” Tinkie pointed to the ear Clarissa had covered with her longer hair. “You’ve sincerely pissed someone off.”
“Who?” Clarissa asked. “That’s what I paid you to find out. So far you’ve been about as useless as teats on a boar hog.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Well, I hope you find something before I’m a dead woman, since you’ve convinced me I’m a target. Maybe I shouldn’t lead the parade this year.”
“You’re Santa Claus?” Tinkie asked.
“Of course not. I’m the hot elf that stands on the back of the lead convertible and sets the parade in motion. Kind of the drum majorette elf.”
I had no doubt. “Clarissa, did you find Kathleen’s stocking cap when you were diving in the bottom of the river?”
It was almost as if I’d punched her in the gut. “Absolutely not!”
“You did, and you left it at the Bissonnette House for Darla to find.”
She had the grace to look down, but her shame was short-lived. “I didn’t. But what if I did? Darla came to town all better than us. We did invite her to join us, but she didn’t want to. She said she was a romantic and believed in true love and that we were the antithesis of everything she believed.”
That pretty much summed it up, to my way of thinking. “So you thought you’d just leave something from her dead friend. A little memento that might indicate Kathleen was alive?”
“That’s really cruel,” Tinkie threw in.
“Oh, grow up. I didn’t do it, but I see the humor in it.”
“I don’t. That isn’t funny at all, and it had to be you. You were diving. The only one diving other than the police department volunteers.” I shook my head. “I’ll find out who’s after you, and then Tinkie and I are done with you and your group of friends. I don’t want to be standing by you when karma finally decides to roll up in your front yard.”
“Piddle posh. There’s no such thing as karma. That belief, like all other religious superstitions, is a sop to make the poor feel better about their pathetic lives.”
I decided to try another tactic. “Who was the police officer whose clothes were scattered around your place?”
“Have you never heard of role playing?” Her mouth opened. “Oh, you saw the uniform and thought it was…” She laughed. “You’re too easily fooled to be detectives. I was just having a little law-and-order fun before you so rudely interrupted, but it certainly wasn’t with a real police officer.”
One mystery solved. It was time to move on. “Clarissa, I’d forget riding exposed in the parade tonight.”
“I’ve given that some thought. Nope, I’m doing it. It’s my night to shine. No one is going to cheat me out of it.”
“Fine.” Tinkie and I gathered our coats. “See you tonight. We hope to have an answer for you.”
Before we went back to the B and B, we stopped by Sunny Crenshaw’s house. It was in the same neighborhood as Rook’s Nest. The Italianate design was beautiful, but out of place in the older antebellum neighborhood. Sunny was home and invited us in, but we didn’t make it past the foyer before she blocked us. She took her stand in the doorway before I could even ask a question.
“You’re wasting your time here. I’m not involved with Clarissa and her games. I don’t care what Bart does as long as he doesn’t publicly embarrass me—hence the slap you saw me give Bart when I caught him with Tulla. He’s on a short leash now. If he steps out on me in public again, I’ll divorce him. Believe me, that will hurt him a lot more than it will hurt me.”
If Sunny was pretending, she was very practiced at not giving a damn about what her husband did.
“Bart could have been killed in that fall.”
“And?” She arched her eyebrows and waited.
“You really don’t care,” Tinkie said. “You really don’t. Why not divorce him?”
For a moment she looked away and I could see that she was tired. “Bart’s a habit. And sometimes he’s really funny and good company. I’ve thought of divorcing him, but before I file the papers, I always relent. It’s just too much work to find another partner, and I admit I’m a woman who needs a man.”
“Do you need him enough to try to kill the competition?” Tinkie asked.
She laughed. “Not that much. I’d rather find a new husband than do a stretch in prison.”
I could imagine that under different circumstances, I might actually like Sunny Crenshaw. “Who do you think is behind all of the mayhem? You know it was your husband’s crossbow used to shoot at Clarissa.”
“I told Bart not to buy that thing. He’s never even shot it. He was going hunting with some local men, but Bart doesn’t care for the woods or hiding in the bushes. When it came time for the big hunting trip, he found a convenient excuse not to go. Frankly, anyone could have taken the bow from the garage. Or any number of useless things he’s purchased in pursuit of a recreational activity. I honestly don’t know what happened to it. I wasn’t even aware it was missing. Neither was Bart. He was shocked when the police came to question him about it. Look, Bart has his … hobbies, but he isn’t a cruel man. And he’s not desperate enough to harm anyone. Neither am I. Whatever is going on can be traced squarely back to Clarissa. I don’t know what she’s done, but someone means to make her pay.”
I had the strongest feeling that Sunny was telling the truth. She was a beautiful woman, accomplished, and loaded. Why she would tolerate a husband who had such different values was not a question I could answer. But I didn’t believe she was trying to kill the female swingers to protect her marriage.
“I have an appointment in town,” she said. “I have to go.” She reached over to a table and
