A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  “I saw her the day before yesterday. She had on her yellow jacket over the black pants and shirt—she always wears black—and she said she was going shopping.”

  “You haven’t seen her since?” Guy persisted.

  “No.” Trudy-Evangeline led the way from the bedroom to a closet behind the door into the shop. “Yellow coat still gone, and her purse. She always keeps her purse here when she’s home.”

  “She could have come home and gone out again,” Cyrus said mildly.

  “But she hasn’t.” The woman’s voice rang with something close to triumph. “She keeps that Vespa of hers in the courtyard. Pulled back under the gallery and chained up. She took off on it that day but I haven’t seen it since—or Zinnia.”

  “That was the night Rathburn died,” Cyrus commented.

  “Rathburn?” Trudy-Evangeline said.

  Guy frowned at Cyrus. “Let’s get Nat.” And he would figure out how to remove Jilly from the Prestons’ clutches.

  “Are you a real priest?” Trudy-Evangeline asked Cyrus.

  “I am. My parish is in Toussaint.”

  She opened a window a crack and flicked out her cigarette butt. “Could you hear my confession before you go, Father? It’s been thirty-seven years since I made my last one.”

  14

  Wearing a pale pink satin robe and matching slippers, Edith sat on a chaise covered with rose-patterned fabric fringed around the bottom with a skirt of dark red beads.

  Heavy velvet draperies in a shade of ashes-of-roses had been drawn since Jilly arrived and she felt closed-in.

  “It’s getting late,” she said. “You didn’t touch lunch or dinner. Let me call the kitchen and ask Michael to bring you something.” Mr. Preston had taken Jilly aside and asked her not to leave Edith alone while he visited some clients.

  Edith sighed and rolled her face toward Jilly. “I’ll eat somethin’ shortly, darlin’. Just havin’ you here with me is all I need to feel good.”

  Jilly smiled and tried not to fidget. For long periods, Edith didn’t talk, only stared as if at something Jilly couldn’t see. The slightest noise from outside made the woman jump.

  “The tonic—or whatever it was—seemed to help you. The one Ken and Jolene made. I could get some more for you.”

  “Maybe. How’s that nice young man of yours?”

  The question took Jilly by surprise. “Guy? He’s fine. What made you think of him suddenly?” They’d been in the room together for hours.

  “He wants you.”

  The feelin’ is mutual. “How do you know that?”

  “When I see that darkening in a man’s eyes when he looks at a woman, I know. Dark and hungry—and confused sometimes—that’s how it looks to me. But only confused if the man wants somethin’ more than sex from the woman.”

  Jilly laughed at that. “You do know men, Edith. I’d say that a man who felt somethin’ more than lust for a female could be terminally confused.”

  “Did he ask you to marry him yet?”

  “No!”

  “Well, you don’t have to sound so horrified. Marriage does have a way of followin’ the other stages.”

  “That may never happen for Guy and me.”

  Edith let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Jilly’s heart beat uncomfortably.

  “If Caruthers hadn’t rescued me, I’d have died already. Bled to death. I wish he was here right now.”

  “He was faithful to you,” Jilly said. “It meant a great deal for him to make sure you were happy.”

  Edith turned her eyes to Jilly’s face again. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Not exactly.” She should know. “It’s been a bit crazy for me. I’ll call Reb. She examined him at the crime scene. She’ll know where he was taken after the morgue. Were you and Mr. Preston able to help them contact Caruthers’s family?”

  “He doesn’t have a family.” Edith opened her mouth wide and her eyes fixed.

  “Are you okay?” Jilly asked, taking one of Edith’s hands in hers. An icy hand. “Say something.”

  A scream started, first as a shrill and whispery sound, then gradually building until Jilly surged to her feet and leaned over to take Edith in her arms. She smoothed her hair, looked into her face and tried to talk to her.

  On and on, the scream went until it cracked and became a gurgling moan.

  “Please,” Jilly said. “Please talk to me. Tell me what made you scream.”

  Edith fell back in the chaise. “When?” she said.

  For a moment Jilly blinked at her, then she knew with horrifying clarity that she had just broken the news of Caruthers’s death to Edith. Preston hadn’t told her. Laura knew, but that poor woman was in an impossible position. She would have been warned not to tell Edith. How could Preston have forgotten to tell Jilly that Edith didn’t know?

  The door opened and Preston strode in. “What’s goin’ on in here?” he said. “What are you screamin’ at, Edith? For God’s sake get a hold of yourself or you’ll drive Jilly away. Most people can’t stand your carryin’ on.”

  “It’s nothing, Daddy,” Edith said before Jilly could gather her wits to make a comment. “Just some fool child outside with a horn or somethin’. Whatever made you think I might be screamin’? Why, the very idea.”

  She had laced her fingers together in her lap and they turned white where she gripped so hard. But she tilted her head at Preston and smiled girlishly.

  “Just children,” Jilly said. She wanted to protect Edith—from Preston—although the reason was only something she felt, like a bad premonition. He treated his wife with affection most of the time and didn’t hide his concern for her.

  Still frowning, he went to Edith and kissed her mouth. “I understand you haven’t eaten a thing all day, sugar. You won’t get strong that way. I’ve got to go out again for an hour or so, but I’ve arranged for the two of you to eat in here. Jilly, make sure your mother eats. We’ve got to get her built up. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m plannin’ a surprise.”

  Edith looked away, but not before Jilly saw fear in her eyes.

  “I’m takin’ you on a cruise,” Preston said. “A long cruise. I haven’t decided where for sure, not yet, but I’m narrowin’ it down. Just you and me and beautiful surroundings. We’ll call it a second honeymoon.”

  The tight feeling in the bottom of Jilly’s stomach had everything to do with the way Edith breathed through her mouth and closed her eyes before she said, “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She looked at Preston and the tortured expression was gone, replaced with another smile.

  “There’s my beautiful, smilin’ girl again,” Preston said. He turned to Jilly. “I may be a bit late. When Edith’s ready, would you help her get settled in the bedroom? You’re next door so you won’t have far to go when I get back.”

  Jilly wished she hadn’t agreed to spend the night. “We’ll be fine,” she told him, wondering how she would break it that she wasn’t taking the Hummer back to Toussaint.

  “I want you to marry Guy,” Edith said from the heavily carved bed where she and Preston slept. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw how it was with you two so I’m not tellin’ you to do anythin’ you don’t already want to do. If you don’t want to get married at once, then live together.”

  Not one word came to Jilly. She looked at Edith, who had showered and changed into a lilac peignoir set trimmed with swansdown.

  “It’ll make everythin’ so much easier, don’t you think?”

  “You’re in shock about Caruthers. That’s what all this is. You were asking me where he was because you expected him to come back and I thought you already knew he was dead.”

  “I can’t talk about it yet. Daddy shouldn’t have tried to protect me from the ugliness. He never did want me to see or hear anythin’ ugly.” She rubbed her face and retied the lavender ribbon that held her hair back. “You’ll only have to ask Guy to move in once and he’ll
be there.”

  “Edith,” Jilly said. “I can’t believe you’re saying these things.”

  “I’m practical. I see things clearly and—”

  “This isn’t something you have to decide,” Jilly said. “Whatever happens between Guy and me is up to us.”

  “I’ll live in that little basement apartment you don’t use for anything and look after everything for both of you. After all, you’ll both be busy workin’. And when you have a baby, you’ll need me to help even more. It’ll be perfect.”

  Jilly took a large swallow of the merlot Michael had brought earlier and put the glass on a table beside her chair. The room was as masculine as the one Edith had in Toussaint was feminine.

  “Jilly?” Edith’s voice rose. “It will be perfect, won’t it?”

  She couldn’t even imagine making the suggestion to Guy—or telling him the rest of Edith’s idea. “You’ve hardly spoken since Mr. Preston left the house and now this sudden, strange outpouring.”

  “Hearing about Caruthers’s death did shock me. I couldn’t think about anythin’ else afterward—until I got settled up here. I think better here.”

  “I assumed Mr. Preston would have told you about what happened. The police talked to him because they hoped he could help them with next of kin.” She knew at once that she shouldn’t have said that. “Mr. Preston must have been so shocked he’s closed it up inside him.”

  Settle on one excuse for his behavior and stick with it, Jilly.

  “Caruthers was my husband’s most trusted man,” Edith said. “That’s why he sent him to Toussaint. Daddy worries so much about me and he likes to know I’m being looked out for.”

  “Of course he does,” Jilly said, grateful for a reprieve from the topic of cohabiting with Guy…with Edith living in the basement. “You look tired. Get some sleep now. I’ll curl up in this big old chair and rest.”

  Edith wriggled until she could prop her head and look at Jilly. “Honey, you aren’t takin’ me serious. It won’t be any problem to explain to everyone how you and I want a chance to know each other better—so we decided to spend quality time at your place—alone.”

  The kind of panicky feeling Jilly remembered from being moved to yet another foster home came like a physical blow. Edith couldn’t come and live with her. She didn’t want her to.

  “I can be useful at the bakery, too,” Edith said, her voice breathy, her words rapid. “When I left Toussaint, I worked in kitchens and served up plenty of meals. I can be an asset to you.”

  “This is bizarre,” Jilly said, sitting up straight and planting her feet on the floor. “You know Mr. Preston and the rest of them won’t stand by while you move in with me. He thinks the world of you. Anyway, how would we be alone if you got your way about Guy? You’re not makin’ much sense.”

  Edith closed her eyes and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Women shouldn’t be on their own. They need a man around to keep them safe. Guy would do that for us. I wouldn’t intrude on the two of you.”

  “But why?” She was so grateful she’d never felt she needed a man around all the time—until Guy. Jilly smiled a little.

  “I’m frightened,” Edith said, wiping at her cheeks. “I don’t even know if I can explain it too well, but I’ve got this feelin’ someone’s puttin’ somethin’ over on Daddy and one of these days—if I stay where I am—they’ll hurt me.”

  Jilly looked at her hands, then, surreptitiously at Edith’s left arm. Where she’d propped her head, the swansdown had slid to her elbow, showing skin that matched the whiteness of the soft trim. “How is your arm?” she said, not quite sure why she had decided to mention it.

  A little pink flooded Edith’s face. “It’s gettin’ better. You want to see?”

  If she didn’t look, Guy had better never find out the offer had been made. “Sure. Were you shaving your legs on the bed or in the shower?”

  Edith peeled back a thick, white plaster and Jilly barely stopped herself from shuddering at the sight of a dark, jagged cut where a few widely spaced sutures still remained. “It’s healing,” she managed to say.

  “Yes. It happened in the shower and I fell. That’s what Caruthers heard and he rescued me. I passed out. I don’t remember a thing. They told me there was blood everywhere.” She wrinkled her nose. “I do know I’d had some drinks that night—Laura reminded me. And I didn’t eat.” Either she lied deliberately, or she didn’t remember a thing and believed what someone had told her.

  “The pudding you had for dinner tonight wasn’t exactly a meal,” Jilly pointed out gently. “We need to build you up.”

  “Yes,” Edith said, covering the wound again. “If I’m with you I’ll want to do that. Jilly, I’m wonderin’ if I took my sleepin’ pills before I got in that shower. That could make it hard for me to hold steady while I did my legs. Why don’t I remember?”

  “I guess we’ll never know for sure,” Jilly said. Maybe she was some kind of coward, but she couldn’t say what Edith wanted her to say—not without a lot of thought and some advice from a person she trusted.

  Guy. With her brother Joe away, Guy was the only one she could turn to.

  Well, there was Cyrus, but he would probably go to Spike for his opinion and there could be all kinds of trouble. For Edith’s sake, Jilly had to keep quiet until she’d figured things out. She glanced at Edith, whose eyes were closed again. There was Reb. Reb O’Brien Girard knew about keeping confidences, and Jilly could ask an offhand question about losing a lot of blood possibly leading to a patient feeling persecuted and not making much sense.

  Well, not exactly like that, but in a more general way.

  Edith slid deeper into the bed and her breathing gradually became regular. She’d drifted asleep and Jilly let out a silent, relieved whistle.

  On one side of the room French doors opened onto a gallery at the back of the three-story house. In the wall opposite the bed, four bay windows stretched from ceiling to floor. Jilly got up, turned out all but one small light in the room and peeked through the draperies covering the French doors. A blue-white moon shone bright, shading the sky with its shiny halo. She heard the trees rustling and creaking. A wind had picked up.

  She’d like to go out onto the gallery but couldn’t risk waking Edith. Slipping behind the curtains over one of the other windows, she stood in heavy, stifling darkness and looked down on one side of the house. A silvery car was parked there, in front of a closed building without windows. Probably a garage. Or it could be a stable, she supposed. It had a loft.

  Headlights swung around from the front driveway and a dark town car slid in beside the other vehicle. Mr. Preston had returned, and as much as she wished she didn’t have to see him again, at least she was closer to getting some sleep and, in the morning, leaving for home.

  Once she was in her room she would call Guy. She had turned her own cell off to make sure he didn’t call her when she couldn’t talk.

  Preston opened the driver’s door and swung his legs out. She should get away from the window before he got out. If he looked up, he might be able to see her.

  He climbed out, locked the car and approached the house. But he stopped and swung around. To Jilly’s horror, he held a gun and crept back toward the car. He opened the door behind the driver’s seat and leaned into the back of the vehicle. Jilly couldn’t hear a thing, but the man hauled someone out, someone who had evidently been hiding in the backseat.

  A woman in dark clothing, small and anonymous from Jilly’s viewpoint, struggled against Preston’s grip. Jilly pressed a shaking fist against her mouth. Preston pocketed his weapon and shook the woman. When he let her go, she fell backward but quickly scrambled to her feet. Preston turned from her and disappeared from Jilly’s view, leaving the woman where she was.

  He’s coming here. And he carried a gun. The woman below huddled with her arms wrapped around her. At first she moved slowly toward the front of the house, but suddenly she ran, her hair streaming behind her, until she was also out of sigh
t.

  An urge to run, too, to do some hiding of her own until she could escape the house and make it to safety, overwhelmed Jilly. Preston was sick—or, more likely, involved in something illegal. She wondered who the woman could have been, other than someone who wanted to speak to him privately. He’d soon showed her he didn’t appreciate being sneaked up on.

  Jilly’s skin heated, but a chill attacked her shaky muscles. If she tried to leave, she was as likely to run into Preston as to get away. She returned to the chair, curled up and pretended to be dozing.

  Seeing Preston with another woman shouldn’t surprise her. Everything about him suggested he could be a really sexual man. But to drive to this house with that woman—even if she had hidden in the car—then send her on her way in the dark?

  He was dangerous.

  She closed her eyes and let her arms trail over the arms of the chair.

  Preston entered the room without a sound. Jilly smelled his cologne and her stomach met her diaphragm. She was ready to “wake up” when he leaned over her. She felt his heavy presence, his proximity, and struggled to keep her breathing even.

  With the pads of his fingers, he touched her face lightly and withdrew again. Jilly curled up inside but she held still. He was too close and if she moved she might collide with him.

  Preston was so near his breath met her ear. He didn’t move. Neither did she. Please let him go away. A scream started up her throat.

  The faintest caress, a slight pause for an almost imperceptible squeeze, and he went from her breast to her shoulder and shook her gently. “Jilly,” he whispered, “time to get ready for bed, sleepyhead.”

  A shudder shook her, there was no way to stop it. But rather than look up at him, she leaned forward and rubbed her face, hoping he’d mistake her reaction for something she normally did when she woke up. “Sorry I fell asleep. Edith’s already drifted off.” She yawned and couldn’t remember ever having a stronger urge to leap to her feet and run as far and as fast as possible from a place.

  Totally sure of himself, he took her by the hand and pulled her up. “C’mon, let’s make sure you’ve got everything you need.”