A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  She smiled at him, a wobbly smile, but sipped at the coffee.

  “Now we can get back to it,” Guy said, coming into the kitchen.

  Whatever had passed between him and Jilly hadn’t made him a happy man, Cyrus thought. Guy seemed on autopilot, plowing ahead with no thought for anyone’s feelings, only the issue of getting information he wanted.

  Trudy-Evangeline spread marmalade on her toast and took a bite. She chewed slowly and looked straight ahead.

  Guy’s mouth became a thin line. He turned to Cyrus and said, “There’s a match to one of Zinnia Sedge’s scooter tires. They found it in that graveyard. In the Garden District.”

  “You mean where—”

  “No, no,” Guy said quickly, stopping Cyrus from mentioning how Jilly had followed someone into a graveyard. “I wonder why she would park in there and what she was doing in that area at night.” He avoided looking at Trudy-Evangeline.

  She had stopped eating and sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes large and turned on Guy. “When did they find it?” she asked.

  “A few nights ago.”

  “I don’t know why she’d be there unless she was seeing a client. She did go to a bride’s house sometimes if they wanted to pay the price.”

  “Why would she park in a graveyard?” Guy said. “To avoid paid parking?”

  “You’re not amusin’ me,” Trudy-Evangeline said. “If you want me scared, be happy ’cause I am. But don’t treat me like a fool.”

  Cyrus hid a smile.

  Guy seemed unfazed. “Have more of your coffee. I think I’ll pour myself a cup.” When he looked at Cyrus his eyes were expressionless.

  With a mug of coffee in hand he went to sit across from Trudy-Evangeline at the table. Cyrus decided to remain standing.

  “Damn, I’m tired,” Guy said, rubbing his eyes.

  “You young ones think you don’t need any sleep,” Trudy-Evangeline said. “This is the way it is, so listen up. If someone thinks I know somethin’ they don’t want me to, they’ll figure a way to get rid of me. And it’ll be on your head.”

  Guy didn’t try to defend himself. “How many people know you’re here?”

  “Not a one far as I know,” she said. “Ain’t even let my sister know and don’t intend to. She’s got a big mouth. Father Payne here says he’ll hide me.”

  Cyrus frowned. “I’m going to give you sanctuary,” he told the woman.

  “Did you know Pip Sedge?” Guy asked. He’d produced a notebook and pen.

  “Of course I did,” the woman said. “I used to work for him—till he lost everythin’ with his gamblin’ and schemes and things. He owned the building I live in, the one where Zinnia lives—lived. And other properties. I’ll tell you one thing, he really loved Zinnia. There wouldn’t have been no divorce if he’d had his way.”

  Guy and Cyrus glanced at each other.

  “Did Zinnia own the flat she was in?”

  “I don’t think so. She didn’t spell it out but I got the impression there was some arrangement about it with the new owners.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know. And it was a lot of years ago so I don’t expect to find out now.”

  Guy drummed his fingers and Cyrus prepared to step in if he got carried away again.

  “I’ll tell you one thing I thought was a real shame,” Trudy-Evangeline said. “There was a really nice man who was good to Zinnia—Bob Fleet. He was a policeman, too. They met when he was looking into that terrible thing that happened to Zinnia’s daughter. Some people never have any luck. Zinnia and Pip were separated. So were the Fleets. But that Bob Fleet died before they could work things out.”

  Guy leaned across the table. “Bob Fleet? You’re sure?”

  “I don’t forget names. See, Zinnia’s daughter, Paula, was murdered, too. It was horrible.”

  “Paula Hemp,” Guy said quietly.

  “That’s right,” Trudy-Evangeline said. “Hemp was Zinnia’s name before she married Pip.”

  32

  Her house felt familiar again and, with Guy there, Jilly was glad to be home.

  She was even happy, if she didn’t think about how long she had with him before he told her he had to return to his old life.

  He stood in front of the sitting room window, his cell phone to his ear, talking to Nat Archer. “We should probably get in to see him as soon as possible,” he said. “I don’t have any idea what to expect, do you?”

  Evidently Nat said he didn’t. “That’s what I thought,” Guy said. “We do have one advantage—if he does know about Bob Fleet and Zinnia and we drop it on him cold, he’ll react in some way.”

  So, with no sleep in two days, a head of frustration making him short-tempered and in a downpour beginning to resemble a monsoon, Guy intended to get back in his car and drive to New Orleans.

  Jilly made up her mind and picked up her phone. She called Edwards Place and Laura answered in the middle of the first ring. “Laura Preston.”

  “It’s Jilly. If I make it over today it won’t be until late, possibly real late. Let me talk to Edith.”

  “She’s resting. I’ll tell her.”

  “I want to tell her myself. I know you’re used to looking after her, but maybe she needs to stand on her own feet a bit more. It’s not healthy for her to let other people take away her control.”

  Silence followed and Jilly recognized that she had been more honest than might have been a good idea. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Laura. It’s just that I worry about her. I worry about you, too. You spend more of your life looking after Edith than you do with anything else.”

  “You’re saying that because you’ve seen the way Wes treats me sometimes,” Laura snapped. “Well, he’s given you the wrong impression. He gives everyone the wrong impression. We’re very tight, in every possible way.”

  “Of course you are, I—”

  “I hear Edith moving around now. She’s coming downstairs so you can talk to her yourself.”

  “Don’t be angry,” Jilly said. There was nothing to gain from being on bad terms with Laura.

  “Let’s forget it. Here’s Edith.”

  Jilly heard Laura say, “This is Jilly for you, Edith. I’ll be in the salon reading.”

  “Hello, darlin’,” Edith said. “I’m so excited to talk to you. Everything’s going to be wonderful. We’ll put all the doubts behind us—Sam said so.”

  “Good,” Jilly said while goose bumps shot out on her skin. What else could she say? “I’m not sure I can get over today. If I do make it I’ll be late. Forgive me.”

  “Why, I’d forgive you anythin’, cher—except if you don’t come at all. Just come when you can, doesn’t matter how late.”

  Jilly gritted her teeth. “If I can, I will.” She had decided what she wanted to do, and when, for too long to accept limitations now. “I’m goin’ into New Orleans. I’ll see how I feel when I get back.”

  “Of course, dear, but I’ve just got to tell you somethin’. I can’t wait a minute longer. Daddy and I had a lovely talk. Sometimes I marvel that little old ordinary me caught the attention of a man like him. He’s good through and through, Jilly. Good to the heart and bone.”

  “That’s nice.” She made a face and looked at Guy. He wasn’t on the phone anymore and sat on the couch with Goldilocks sprawled at his feet.

  “Guess what Daddy’s goin’ to do,” Edith said.

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, get on. Try.”

  Jilly met Guy’s dark eyes and took a deep breath. What was he thinking? “You’re just going to have to tell me, Edith, because I’m no good at guessing.”

  “He’s going to make you a member of the family! There, what do you think of that?”

  Jilly’s attention was divided. Guy stared at her, a half smile on his lips. A member of the family. “What family?” she said.

  “Our family, you goose. The papers are goin’ to be drawn up. Oh, Jilly, I’ve never been so happy in my life. Y
ou never had a real father. I know, I know, that man was your father in the biblical sense but never as a man. My dear Daddy is goin’ to be that for you. We’ll all be one big happy family.”

  “Er.” Jilly sat down in the nearest chair and rubbed her temple, trying to come up with a response that wouldn’t cut Edith to the quick.

  “I want you to enjoy thinkin’ about it for a while,” Edith said, her voice giggly. “Jilly, darlin’, you’re goin’ to be in the will! Oh, I can hardly believe it. Daddy insists you become his daughter in every way. And he’s goin’ to make a settlement on you right now so you don’t have to want for anythin’ ever again. Can’t you come over right now? Please?”

  She covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “They’ve gone mad over there. They want to adopt me.”

  Guy grinned.

  Jilly frowned and shook her head.

  Guy frowned and shook his head, too, only the grin kept coming back.

  “Edith,” Jilly said, removing her hand. “We’ve got a lot to talk about and I wish I could come now but I can’t. Like I said, I’m going to New Orleans.”

  Guy’s grin disappeared and stayed gone. He had finally registered that she might mean what she said.

  “Wonderful,” Jilly said. “Yes, Edith. You have a good day and we’ll visit soon. Bye.” She hung up fast.

  “You’re not going to New Orleans,” Guy said.

  “Excuse me while I make another call.” And while she gave herself time to think before she spoke. Being sweet to him would get her further than telling him she’d do what she pleased. Too many rings later someone picked up the phone at Mortie’s Body Shop. “Yeah?”

  She asked about the Beetle.

  “What color would that car be, ma’am?”

  “Is Mortie there?” she said, out of patience already.

  Mortie came on the phone. “That you, Jilly Gable? It’s nice to hear your voice again. I need to hear a lovely lady’s voice at least once a day. What can I do for you now?”

  Guy took his hat and started to get up. The slime-ball intended to get away while she was busy. “I’m hoping my Beetle is ready to be picked up, Mortie.” She tented her fingers in the middle of Guy’s chest and jabbed. When it didn’t bother him—even if he made a horrible face—she jabbed again, hard, and again, until he raised his palms and flopped down again.

  Mortie wasn’t saying anything.

  Guy made extravagant hand signals, indicating the dog, pointing at her, then at Jilly. She had no idea what he meant but she shook her head no.

  “Mortie, you still there?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid you changed your mind too late. Your friend called. The car was stripped and picked up for scrap yesterday—just like he said you wanted. It’ll be metal mush by now.”

  33

  Sam Preston held very still and lowered his eyelids, pretending to sleep. He didn’t like the house in Toussaint but it served its purpose by giving him a place to stash Edith and keep her out of his way when he had important business to attend to. He felt warm inside. Important business came in a variety of shapes and sizes, it even came in meetings with the people he sold fine, fabulously expensive antiques to, or loaned money to, and in the army that worked for him.

  Yessir, he had plenty of business to attend to. Wasn’t that what had made him one of the wealthiest men in America, attending to business? But part of the reward was getting his pick of women in their various shapes and sizes, all of them particularly succulent.

  Laura had come into the upstairs study he’d designated for his own private use, apparently unaware that he was there. Bitch. She’d played hard to get for months, ever since the lovely Jilly had come on the scene. He and Laura had enjoyed their own particular entertainments before that and he missed them.

  He heard rustling and opened his eyes a fraction. She had her back to him and was replacing a book in one of the cases that lined every wall in the room.

  “Laura,” he whispered, and got pleasure out of seeing he’d startled her.

  She twirled around with a hand on her breasts. “Daddy. I didn’t see you there.”

  “What were you reading?”

  “Just a little somethin’ to broaden my knowledge of things that interest me. You do have quite the collection in here.”

  “And who does this room belong to, and these books?”

  “You, of course.” She smiled and dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Am I in trouble for comin’ in here without an invitation?”

  Don’t be too eager.

  “Maybe not. Do you have a few moments to talk?” When she said she did, he told her to close the door. She did, and locked it.

  He pretended not to notice that she’d shut them in but his privates hardened. Could be just habit so he’d better keep his head.

  “What d’you want to talk about?” She looked serious. It was midmorning but she wasn’t dressed. Her brilliant hair had been brushed until it glowed and she wore makeup, or at least a coat of shiny lipstick, but a red silk robe with green dragons, one opening its mouth over each breast, and a third curling over her back, parted occasionally and just enough to show bare legs. He wondered what, if anything, she had on under the robe.

  “Edith and I have been talkin’,” he said. “I want to be the one to tell you what’s been decided, and to put your mind at rest that it doesn’t change a thing for you.”

  She walked a little closer, her backless, high-heeled mules slapping the bottoms of her feet with each step. “Daddy,” she said seriously. “You have always been considerate to me and I’m grateful. I don’t think I’m as good to you as I should be. At least not lately. I guess I’ve been in a mood and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Well, well, how very nice. He shifted in an attempt to relieve the pressure building against his zipper. “There’s nothin’ to forgive you for, baby girl. Never could be. You’re about the best thing that ever happened to this family.” Wes had told him Laura was the perfect wife: kinky as hell but scared enough about losing what she’d got to keep her mouth shut when her husband had other fish to fry. Sam could have told Wes a thing or two about Laura’s talents.

  “We both know Jilly has made an impact on our household,” he said, pleased with himself for taking an almost honest approach. “But she’s only part of our lives because she’s Edith’s daughter and I like my wife to be happy. Jilly makes her happy. I don’t have to tell you that girl is a pale shadow of you. Why, she disappears if the two of you are in the same room.”

  Laura arranged herself gracefully on a black damask chaise. She made the thing look as if it had been made for her. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out her legs, folded the robe demurely over them, but promptly bent the knee closest to the back of the chaise. She wore tap pants the same color as the dragons on the robe.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been preoccupied with business,” he told her.

  “I’m sorry, too, Daddy. Sorry because I’ve missed you.” She propped an elbow and cradled her head so she could look into his face. “Let’s not drift apart again.”

  His cock leaped and he rocked his hips to one side. He burned.

  “Let’s not,” he told her.

  She lowered her eyelashes. “I know what you like, what you’ve always liked. But maybe you’re not in the mood.”

  “Try me.” He had only so much control.

  Laura ran one fingernail from her knee to her groin, parting the robe all the way to her waist. The pants were nothing more than a green scrap that didn’t quite cover her pubic hair. “Relax,” she told him. “I like to do everything. You know that.”

  And he liked her to do everything—especially when everything was enough to leave him exhausted but ready for more. “I know that,” he told her gruffly. “I’m your slave, ma’am. What you want, you get.”

  She ran her pointed tongue around her shiny lips and smiled softly. Then she blew him a kiss and slipped the robe sash undone. One side slid away at once. So she’d had a little boob help fr
om a good doctor, the result squeezed his balls. The breast revealed overflowed a matching green bra made to be a platform not a cover. Her big nipple perched in full view. Laura looked down and tweaked the tip between finger and thumb.

  Sam’s hips lifted from his chair and he readjusted his crotch.

  Laura arched her back over the arm of the chaise and pulled on both of her nipples until she tossed her head from side to side.

  This ability to pleasure herself as if she were alone shortened his breathing and turned his body rock hard. She made him feel young, not that he was old. He was in great shape and could keep up with any woman.

  Sam got up and walked to stand by Laura. Her flat belly sucked in deep and she pressed her legs together tight. Carefully, he bent over and licked her fingers away from a nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Laura smiled almost sleepily up at him but she didn’t give him long before she swung around him and knelt on the floor. She pointed to the chair he’d vacated and Sam returned there, even if it did hurt him to sit down again.

  Kneeling up, her back still slightly arched, Laura let the robe drop away. She moved closer to him and pushed three fingers of her right hand between his lips. When they were wet, she slid them down her stomach, under the pants and between her legs. She parted her knees and flexed her thighs.

  “Do it,” he told her. He’d swear she hadn’t been getting enough. Everything about her cried out for release.

  Laura went to work, stroking back and forth, dipping inside herself for more lubrication, rubbing harder and faster until her body jerked and her mouth hung open. She paused to tear off her bra and watch her breasts when they jounced with the violent racking, with the bouncing of her bottom up and down on her heels.

  She screamed, but kept pumping her hips for a long time. Then, slowly, she fell back onto the carpet, moaning and rocking her drawn-up knees.

  “Sam,” she whispered. “That was good, but not good enough. Could I sit on Daddy’s lap?”

  She turned her head to see his face and he held his arms out to her. It had been much too long.

  Laura came to him, undressed him, licked and nibbled his body and groaned with pleasure. She was the best of them all.