A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  “How did you find him?” Guy interrupted to ask Spike.

  “Neighbor on the opposite side of the lane called in because her neighbor’s dog was raising the dead. Her words, not mine.”

  “She didn’t say she heard shots?”

  Spike shook his head and moved out of the way of a technician. “Nothin’. I’ve got a deputy with her now. She fell apart when she heard what happened.”

  “Silencer,” Guy said. “Most people don’t identify the sounds they make.”

  “That’s what I reckon.”

  “Why would he come here?” Jilly said. “Maybe he tried to reach me at home and when he couldn’t, he came over here.”

  “That doesn’t really make sense,” Guy said. “He must have known you were going to Edwards Place.”

  “They shot him in the face,” Spike said. “There’s no sign of a struggle. Way I see it, he walked toward the killer because he knew him.”

  “Or her,” Jilly said.

  “Could have been a woman,” Guy said. “There’s no identification at all?”

  “Nothin’. I guess we inform the Prestons. They should know who his next of kin are.” Spike peered around. A woman wearing green scrubs and a white coat passed by. She was dragging a body bag, and she had another camera. “Looks like they’re gettin’ closer to moving him out,” Spike said, watching the woman take the bag to the gurney.

  “He saved Edith’s life,” Jilly said, with a lump in her throat.

  “Mrs. Preston was in an accident?” Spike’s back stiffened.

  “She’s all right.”

  “She’s going to be fine,” Guy said rapidly. “Just a little slip.”

  Jilly looked at him curiously. “That’s right,” she said. “Thanks to Caruthers Rathburn. I think he was a good person.” If Guy wanted to keep quiet about Edith’s mishap, so be it.

  “Maybe he was decent,” Guy said. “Could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he interrupted a burglar.”

  “Did I say it looks like Rathburn was walking into the yard when he was killed?” Spike said. “If we’re right it probably means the murderer was already here.”

  Jilly put her hand in Guy’s. Let him push her away if he wanted to, but she needed human warmth, his warmth. “I want to go inside the shop,” she said. “Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “We were going to have you unlock it for us,” Spike said. “Didn’t want to mess anythin’ up. It would be easier for you to walk around to the front. Too much equipment to get past on this side. And you’d get in the way,” he added, not unkindly.

  Guy held her hand firmly and it felt so good.

  “We’ll let you know if we find something interestin’,” he said to Spike. Jilly taking his hand like that was all it took to tighten his heart. “Hey, Nat?”

  “If the sheriff agrees, I’d like to hang around a bit,” Nat said. “I’ll get back with you later.”

  Spike wasn’t the kind of guy who got his feathers in a fluff when an officer from another jurisdiction showed interest in a case. “Sure,” he said.

  To save time, Guy and Jilly drove to the front of All Tarted Up, crossed the deserted oncoming lane and parked facing the wrong direction. They also faced a Hummer that looked as out of place on one of Toussaint’s streets as a tank would.

  “Fancy new wheels, you think?” Guy asked. He could be wrong but the thing looked…pink?

  “Not mine,” Jilly said, leaning forward to get a better look. “I never saw one of those in Toussaint before. Guy, it looks pink.”

  “Uh-huh. To match the front door to the café, maybe?”

  She leaned to the right and squinted down the side of the vehicle. Something had been painted there, but she couldn’t read it.

  “You’ve got to be wiped out,” Guy said. “Why don’t I call Spike and tell him I’m takin’ you home. I’ll come back and let him in—you don’t have to be here.”

  Jilly sighed. “I don’t want to be, but I do have to.” She got out and went straight ahead to the Hummer. The closer she got, the pinker it looked. “Will you look at this?” Jilly heard her own voice rise.

  He was right behind her and didn’t know if he should crack up or get mad as hell. “You didn’t order this?”

  “Of course I didn’t. How could you even wonder if I did? And even if I did like ugly things, where would I get the kind of money these things cost?”

  “You got a gift, then. And it’s only a coincidence it came the day the Beetle got flattened. You don’t order up somethin’ like this in half a day.”

  “The Beetle’s not flattened. Don’t be so mean. It’s a bit bent is all. It’ll be just fine when they get through with it.”

  “You could be right,” he told her. And you could be wrong.

  Emblazoned in burgundy across the doors of the Hummer was the name of Jilly’s shop, All Tarted Up. Underneath read, Flakiest Pastry in Town, and a big, shiny picture of Jilly’s face smiled out from the dot at the bottom of an oversize exclamation point.

  Bemused—and embarrassed—Jilly went to the other side and found the identical layout.

  “Somethin’ tells me Mr. Preston sent you a present,” Guy said, seething. “He must have been plannin’ on givin’ it to you. Couldn’t come at a more fortuitous time.”

  Jilly stood directly in front of him and stared into his face. “Could you put your dislike of Mr. Preston and Edith behind you? At least for now? How do you think I’m feelin’? I don’t want this thing. I won’t have it. It’s a joke. You’re probably right about Mr. Preston arrangin’ it, but he’s only bein’ kind and tryin’ to show an interest in me.”

  “You can say that again.” Now, that comment had been a mistake. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said in a hurry, but the look on her face let him know he was too late to get out of jail free.

  “What did you mean by that?” Jilly said.

  “What?”

  “Guy, you were suggesting something nasty about Mr. Preston.”

  “You wouldn’t jump to that conclusion if you hadn’t felt somethin’ weird about the way he is around you.” He watched her look down. “Be honest with yourself. He can’t keep his hands off you. You should stay away from him. Meet Edith somewhere in town—if you have to meet her.”

  “You’re jealous.” She said it in such a small voice he barely heard. “This is what you’ve been hoping for, a reason for me to brush off the closest thing to family I’m likely to have—other than Joe and Ellie. Why should you care, anyway? You’ve been pushing me away for months.”

  He didn’t know why he did it. He sure didn’t plan it, but he grabbed Jilly and hugged her, wrapped her so tightly against him, he shuddered. “You think I don’t understand needin’ to be needed? Or wantin’ to love without being afraid you’ll do someone harm just by gettin’ close to them?”

  She hung on to his shirt. The tears that started were filled with struggling hope—and with confusion. Was it in her hands at all to influence what happened to them? “I made a terrible mistake this afternoon.”

  “Yesterday afternoon now,” he corrected her. “And you didn’t make a mistake. How could you?”

  “Because I did, that’s why. It was unthinkable and unforgivable. I didn’t control myself and I’m not like that.” Exhausted, she rested her face at the open neck of his shirt. “The only chance we have is to forget about it and start over.”

  He pushed a hand beneath her hair to stroke her neck. “You want us to get amnesia? Sorry—I’m not forgettin’ one second of it.”

  She thought for minutes. “Okay, so what does that mean? We don’t even get along most of the time.”

  “Only because I’m prickly. I could work on that.”

  “Guy. I—”

  His mouth cut her off. He kissed her deeply, probing her mouth, sucking, turning her head from side to side with the intensity of his wanting her. Jilly made some tentative attempts to meet his tongue with her own before she grew more confident and stoo
d on tiptoe to get leverage. Guy drew back and looked down into her eyes, reading her. He kissed her nose, then covered her lips with his own and pulled gently.

  She fell against him. “Our timin’ isn’t the best.”

  “So what—it’s working.”

  “With a murder victim on the other side of this buildin’ and a swarm of cops waitin’ for us to let them into the café?”

  “Look at me,” he told her. “It may be late, but when the time comes I’m takin’ you home. You need to sleep, then we need to talk. I’m ready for that.”

  “So am I.”

  An unearthly moan sounded behind Jilly. They both looked at the shop—and didn’t see anything unusual.

  “Give me the keys,” Guy said.

  Jilly went to the door herself. A letter slot below the window clacked and rattled. She turned to Guy. “I think there’s someone hurt in there. We’ve got to be careful how we open the door.”

  Guy took the keys from her, unlocked the door and pressed it carefully, inch by inch, inward. He met no resistance. “Please get back, Jilly,” he whispered. “You understand why.”

  She stepped away at once, but not very far.

  Once the door stood open a little, a yipping, jumping Goldilocks forced her way out and flung herself on Guy, almost knocking him over. She stood on her hind legs with her front paws on his chest and did what came naturally; she leaned on him.

  “How can she be here?” Jilly asked. “This is so creepy.” She joined Guy to help calm the animal down. Goldilocks licked them both madly and rested her head on Guy’s shoulder. She gave a huge sigh.

  “She was locked in at your place,” Guy said. “Every window was locked—I checked—and the dead bolts were on.”

  “So someone broke in.”

  “Looks that way.” He patted the dog and disengaged from her. He turned and she tripped over the heel of one of his boots.

  Guy trod on something hard. On the floor, right where they must have been pushed through the letter slot, lay a set of keys, and Guy picked them up, already knowing what they were. Rathburn came here to deliver the Hummer for Preston. Guy didn’t intend to tell Jilly that. Spike was the one who needed to know.

  “Guy.” Jilly put an arm around his waist and sounded nervous. “Do you think Caruthers drove the Hummer over here for me? That would be the type of thing Mr. Preston would have him do. And it would explain why that poor man didn’t have a vehicle anywhere around.”

  So much for keeping her in the dark. “I’m goin’ to let Spike in.”

  “So you agree with me?”

  He felt vaguely peeved. “It’s obvious.” Now he felt petty. “What we don’t know is whether someone followed to take him home afterward.”

  Jilly nodded. She wasn’t keeping score. “I want to know what’s happened at my house. It isn’t obvious to me how the dog got here—or why.”

  “Spike will send someone over there immediately.”

  Goldilocks leaned on his leg.

  “She’s fallen for you,” Jilly said. “Look how she loves you.”

  He scratched between the dog’s ears. “It’s too bad I can’t keep her.”

  He was being difficult, but Jilly intended to find a way around that.

  Guy closed and locked the front door then followed Jilly past the tables and chairs, and the long, L-shaped counter he’d never seen empty before, through the kitchen and to the back door. She opened the door and peered into the yard.

  Outside the activity had grown intense again. A woman was bagging the victim’s bloodstained hands and Reb O’Brien Girard had arrived. A very pregnant Reb, whose husband, Marc Girard, stood a short distance away watching his doctor wife with a concerned crease between his brows. They were expecting their second child, but Marc was as edgy as he’d been the first time around.

  Marc held the family poodle, Gaston, under his arm, and the dog leaped away and executed a graceful, rapid track to the kitchen door, where he pushed inside.

  “Oh, no,” Jill said. “He sensed there was another dog here.”

  She needn’t have worried. Goldilocks, many times bigger than Gaston, lay on her back with her tongue lolling out of her mouth while Gaston investigated all points. Goldilocks got to her haunches for some face-to-face. Then they dropped down, side by side, and rested their heads on their paws—and closed their eyes.

  “We’ve got a lot to learn from dogs,” Jilly said. “We’d better get outside.”

  “You can lie naked on the floor for me anytime,” Guy said. “And—”

  “Outside, pervert,” Jilly said.

  Reb O’Brien Girard didn’t even glance up from what she was doing with Caruthers’s brains. Her thick red hair slid from a knot atop her head to hang in curly strands around her face.

  At her side crouched Spike, who did see Guy. He got up and Nat took his place beside Reb while Spike skirted the canopy over the body. Marc came, too. A head taller than most men present, he followed the route Spike took.

  “How does it look in there?” Spike asked, leaning through the door.

  “Fine, except someone took Guy’s dog from my place and locked her in the shop,” Jilly said. “Gaston’s keeping her company.”

  Spike swiveled back. “Turner. Take your partner and go to Jilly’s house. Know where it is?”

  A deputy called, “Yessir.”

  “Check for forced entry and watch out for anyone who doesn’t belong there. Radio me.”

  “Someone could have gone in for a look around,” Guy said. “Let the dog out and she ran here. It’s not far.”

  Jilly looked unimpressed. “So how did she get inside?”

  “Through the kitchen window.” He inclined his head and sure enough a window was open.

  Jilly screwed up her eyes. “How could I have forgotten to close that?”

  Guy told the story of the Hummer keys and the theory that Rathburn may well have brought the gift from Mr. Preston.

  “Yeah.” Spike and Marc looked puzzled at that.

  Jilly looked away and Guy didn’t want to pursue the topic. “Come and look at the vehicle with me. Could be a clue there.”

  Spike followed him with Marc bringing up the rear and Guy sighed his relief when Jilly didn’t come with them. They went to the front sidewalk but didn’t attempt to open up the Hummer.

  “What is it?” Spike asked.

  “Just now you looked as if you were about to say something about the Prestons.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “You know what,” Guy said.

  Spike leaned his slim rump against one of the tables Jilly kept on the sidewalk. “Does it seem to you like Preston might be involved in somethin’ here?”

  “For obvious reasons I want to be cautious goin’ in that direction,” Guy said. “It’s touchy business with Jilly.”

  “Of course it is,” Spike said. “More likely to be an interrupted breakin, anyway.”

  “But the Preston setup doesn’t seem quite right, does it?” Guy said. “I also think that man’s tryin’ to get his hands on Jilly.” He wished he hadn’t said that.

  Marc muttered something negative. He made a slow circle of the Hummer.

  Guy got a quizzical look from Spike. “When are you going to do something about you and Jilly?” he asked. “Now you’re cookin’ up stories about her stepfather being some sort of sexual predator. I think you see threats to her in every direction, and because you can’t make up your mind to quit being her buddy and start taking her to bed, you’re paranoid.”

  “Nice of you to pick your words so carefully.”

  “I think you can take it. Let’s get back to the yard. Look how the dog follows you. She’s a good-lookin’ animal.”

  Only for Jilly’s sake, Guy didn’t tell Spike the dog was still a homeless stray.

  “Take it from me,” Marc announced, picking up Gaston again. “Once you want the woman, waiting to seal the deal can be dangerous.”

  What, Guy wondered, would they say if
they knew he and Jilly had already come together like a pair of wild animals? He smiled slightly. “You could be right,” he told Marc.

  “I’m goin’ to have to follow up on Preston,” Spike said.

  “Join Cyrus and me in New Orleans tomorrow. We’ve got some useful connections through Cyrus. His sister’s married to a man who saw his father and mother murdered in their pool by the local mob. The dad was one of them, then said he was getting out of the rackets.”

  “I’ve met the Charbonnets. Nice people,” Spike said. “Helluva story, Jack has. Gettin’ away from the mob usually means being dead.”

  “I know,” Guy agreed. “I don’t know how much information you’ve got on Preston. He has a prestigious antiques firm and he’s stinkin’ rich.”

  “He’s the one who uses a helicopter to get back and forth from New Orleans?” Marc asked.

  “That would be the one.”

  Guy leaned against the Hummer and crossed his arms. “Jilly’s house was locked up tight when we left,” he said.

  “Turner will call if he turns anythin’ up,” Spike said. “When I can get away I’ll go over and take a look myself. I doubt I’ll be able to take any time off for the next several days—unfortunately. Keep me in the picture.” He went back into All Tarted Up and they all tromped through to the yard.

  Guy wrestled with how much he should say to Spike about Edith Preston’s injury. There was a lot of wisdom in the idea of not mixing business and pleasure. It made things messy.

  “Reb looks great,” Spike said, stepping outside again. “How much longer?”

  “Six weeks or so,” Marc said, glancing at Guy. “Soon enough that I don’t want her out here, or anywhere else, alone. She did deliver the first one late, but the doctor says that doesn’t mean it’ll be the same this time around.”

  “I don’t blame you for staying close,” Spike said, but his face hardened. A few months earlier he and his wife, Vivian, had lost a baby. The couple continued to mourn, even though they tried to put a cheerful face on their tragedy. It was rumored that another pregnancy might not be able to happen.

  Jilly wandered in their direction and Guy found it harder to concentrate.

  “I saw Wendy with Homer,” Marc said, and glanced heavenward. None of them knew what to say or not to say around the Devols these days.