A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  “I’m not dressed for—”

  “You look great,” Wes said. “This is a very different place but I’m not tellin’ you another word about it. I want you to be surprised. How come you decided to go lookin’ for Daddy?” Some of the good humor left him.

  “I wanted to talk to him,” she said. There was no reason to avoid the truth. “You know things have been strained between us. I can’t follow your advice and just stay away because that would mean stayin’ away from Edith.”

  “Edith stayed away from you for most of your life,” Wes said. “I don’t want to salt the wound but it’s true. Why do you care about her now?”

  She couldn’t begin to tell him how complicated her feelings were for Edith. “She wants to make up for lost time. If I can help her get over the guilt she feels—and she does feel guilty—then why not? I know all about the past but it is past and I believe in moving on.”

  “St. Jillian.”

  She ignored the dig but wished she hadn’t let him talk her into coming with him.

  “So what do you intend to say to Daddy?”

  “I’ll know when I talk to him.”

  Wes gave a short laugh. “In other words, back off?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” Jilly agreed. “You’ve been kind to me, more kind than you had to be. Let’s not argue about something we disagree about.”

  Wes shot her one of his brilliant smiles. “You’re a wise woman.”

  He had driven down a one-way backstreet. Jilly had been too engrossed in their conversation to notice the route they’d taken, but they were still in the Quarter. “I don’t recall this street,” she said.

  Wes reached a wrought-iron gate on the right-hand side and stopped. “I don’t know what it’s called,” he said, watching while a man appeared inside the gate and swung it wide open. “I’ve been coming here so long, I’ve forgotten, but that’s ridiculous. I’ll ask.”

  He drove into a courtyard built up on three sides and without landscaping. Jilly looked back in time to see the man who let them in close himself outside the gate and leave.

  Wes hit an overhead button and a garage opened. He drove inside and got out of the car and Jilly did the same before he could open her door. Why would he have controls to a garage at some restaurant? She pushed her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see them tremble.

  “I’ve been comin’ here since I was a kid,” he said. “Daddy and the owner are old friends. You’re going to croak when you see the way the place is set up.”

  They were closed inside the garage now—with several other expensive cars—and Wes went directly to punch a button for an elevator. They stood there, faces raised, listening to the car descend.

  She shouldn’t have gone to the antiques shop, but above all she shouldn’t have come here. It didn’t feel right and she was plain scared.

  “After you,” Wes said, when stainless-steel doors opened.

  In they went and up they went, coming to a smooth halt and stepping into a bamboo-paneled hallway with fitted green carpet on the floor. Wes took her by the arm and walked purposefully to stained-glass doors where tropical flowers were scattered between fern fronds and palm leaves. The doors hung on runners and Wes pushed one aside. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  This was no restaurant.

  Jilly kept an appreciative smile on her face and walked into an oblong room where wide silk streamers in bright hues looped the ceiling. Divans of carved dark wood, upholstered in silk to blend with the streamers, surrounded the room, a circle of them with nothing in the middle but a continuation of the green carpet.

  “They haven’t set up,” Wes said, and Jilly thought his expression fixed. “They didn’t know when I’d show and it only takes a moment. Try one of the divans. You won’t believe how comfortable they are. I’ll get things under way.” He looked at her a moment. “You’ll be okay here on your own?”

  She chuckled. “I’m a big girl, Wes. Of course I will.”

  For the first time she was aware of him sizing her up, and the look in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything but sexual interest. “Right,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  She gave him sixty seconds by her watch, then trod quickly and quietly toward the door. First she listened and when she heard no voices or movement, dared a peek outside. The corridor was empty.

  Even a country girl could sense danger and there was something very wrong in this place. This could be her only chance to get away.

  Hitching the strap of her purse high on her shoulder she slipped swiftly out of the room and to the elevator, where she pressed the button. Her best hope was to go out by the route she’d come in—at least she knew it. She prayed she’d be able to open the garage door, and the gate out of the courtyard.

  A sound from above almost weakened her knees with relief. The elevator was coming. Jilly looked around but she was still safely alone and very little time had passed since Wes left her.

  The slightest of bumps came and the door slid open. Her head felt light and her stomach burned.

  Jilly almost stepped inside. Before her second foot joined the first, two strong hands took her by the arms and spun her out of the elevator. Dangling above the floor, she looked back at Wes Preston, who regarded her with no particular expression.

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “Why are you trying to leave?”

  “I… I don’t have as much time as I thought I did. I was going to get your cell number from Edith and call you just as soon as I could.”

  “Liar.” He sneered and without putting her down took her back to the room with the divans. She landed on one of them with enough force to jar her back. “Don’t move from there.”

  Her heart beat so loud she could scarcely hear. Wes took hold of her purse strap and pulled it from her. She fought to hold on but was no match for him.

  Jilly tried to stand up but he made sure she stayed where she was, this time by slapping the side of her head and grinning as she fell.

  From her purse he took her cell phone. This he slipped into one of his own pockets. He searched through her possessions and, apparently satisfied they were no threat to him, tossed the purse down on top of her.

  Why didn’t I think to call Guy? “Listen to me very carefully,” Wes said. “Do as you’re told and nothing will happen to you. I wouldn’t have done what I just did if you hadn’t made me mad by behaving as if you were afraid of this place and of me.”

  I am.

  “Daddy’s on his way here,” Wes said. “He can entertain you while I make a few necessary arrangements. One or two warnings—In Daddy’s eyes I can do no wrong. It could go badly for you if you start lyin’ and suggestin’ I told you to get away from him. He’s so touched you wanted to meet up with him, he’ll be very generous to you and to all of us.” His expression darkened. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut and do whatever Daddy tells you to.”

  37

  Wazoo and Lee were still in Spike’s office. Lee jumped at every footstep and every ring of the phone. Spike was on the phone now but he felt her eyes on his face.

  “Guy says they can’t find Jilly,” Spike said once he had hung up. “If I didn’t know him I’d say he was holding up real well.”

  “But he’s fallin’ apart,” Wazoo said. “He got Nat with him, though, and that’s the man you want when things look bad.”

  Cyrus walked in. “I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening,” he said, and Spike filled him in.

  “In other words things haven’t really changed,” Lee said. “We just don’t know anything.” Her knuckles would be raw later.

  Each one of them tried to give the impression they were in no way overly concerned for Jilly. Spike figured “terrified” about summed up what they were really feeling. If Cyrus’s checking his fingernails repeatedly was supposed to look nonchalant, he needed to practice his acting skills.

  The door shot open, yet again, and Vivian Devol came in with C
harlotte and Homer. “Somethin’ awful’s goin’ on, isn’t it?” she said, looking at Lee O’Brien. “Seein’ your interview, then findin’ out everyone’s lookin’ for Jilly’s put us all on edge. I tried to call you but they were keeping all your lines free. What’s goin’ on? And don’t you try coddlin’ my feelings, Spike Devol, or you’ll be in big trouble.”

  Spike saw his father struggle not to grin.

  Wazoo had not sat down since she arrived and that had been several hours earlier. She faced the room and said, “Lee was just doin’ her job. She wouldn’t hurt Jilly for anythin’.”

  “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t said that thing about Jilly and her NOPD friends lookin’ for a link between the murder at All Tarted Up and organized crime in New Orleans. That’s more or less what you said.” Vivian’s voice shook, and if they’d been alone, Spike would have found a way to calm his wife down. “What would make you do a thing like that? You must have called the TV people yourself.”

  “I’m not going to spell it all out but I have sources,” Lee said in a shaky voice. “Simon for one, and newspapers from a good few years. That murder at Jilly’s didn’t make any sense—it didn’t fit. And how often has a crazy in this town caused a car accident to get rid of someone?”

  “You don’t know that’s what happened,” Cyrus said. “Whatever was wrong with Jilly’s car probably happened during the accident.”

  “Sure it did,” Lee said. “That’s why someone told Mortie to scrap the car—right at the time when we just found out about the brakes.”

  “Okay.” Spike raised his voice a notch and stood up. “I know Jilly will be touched when she finds out how you were all so concerned for her, but you can’t do her any good hangin’ around here arguin’.”

  “Charlotte!” Wazoo said. “You show me that finger of yours.”

  “Oh, this isn’t a good time,” Charlotte said. “We’ll talk about it another time.”

  Wazoo marched over and took Charlotte’s left hand in her own. “Look at this. Hoo mama, this is some ring.” She looked over Charlotte’s head at Homer, who had stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his attention to the pictures on the walls.

  The others crowded around to ooh and aah over a very white heart-shaped diamond set in a pavé-diamond band. Spike took a peek and said, “Whoa, how many millions of green stamps did that take?”

  “Green stamps?” Homer swung around and loped over to join the group. Then he caught his son’s eye and chuckled. “You always did like to get a rise out of me.”

  “When did this happen?” Spike asked.

  Cyrus reached around to squeeze his arm, but Spike intended to make the best of the moment.

  “Happen,” Charlotte said, her bright eyes twinkling. “You make it sound like a train wreck. Homer picked this ring out on his own. He got my ring size from my sneaky daughter and brought it to me this mornin’. Isn’t it a lovely friendship ring?”

  The entire assembly laughed and more than one wiped away tears. “That’s a friendship ring?” Cyrus asked. “Why would—”

  “We’re engaged,” Homer said, frowning at the toes of his boots. “I don’t know how I got so lucky. Can’t think how a woman like Charlotte could forget herself for long enough to say yes to an old grump like me, but that’s the way of it.”

  “I only called it a friendship ring in case you weren’t ready to announce anythin’, Homer,” Charlotte said. “But I’m proud to shout it outside if it’s okay with you.”

  “Er, later,” Homer said. “When we’ve got a few other problems sorted out around here.”

  The two of them accepted congratulations and Spike didn’t remember seeing his old man so euphoric.

  But no joy would be without a cloud until he heard Jilly was safe. He’d already taken a step he’d never hoped to take and sent a wire to Joe and Ellie Gable’s hotel in Venice, where they were expected late today or tomorrow. He had to inform Jilly’s brother but he only hoped he’d be able to say she’d been found by the time Joe called.

  The intercom buzzed and he returned to his desk.

  Lori said, “The lab guy’s back. He’s on his way to your office.”

  The instant the man walked through the door Spike snapped, “I’ve been waiting for a report. How come someone didn’t call?”

  The man looked stricken. “Dr. Barnes must have forgotten. It’s pretty busy over there. Here’s what you need.”

  A semicircle formed at a discreet distance from the desk. Spike opened the manila envelope and pulled out a couple of typewritten sheets. On the top sheet, the findings had been boiled down to simple terms.

  Spike read through the information twice and picked up a pen to make some notes.

  “Okay,” Vivian said. “What is all that about?”

  He looked up. “Sorry.” The job of deciding how to proceed had captured all of his attention. He looked at the still-hovering technician. “This means I need to deal directly with NOPD. Detectives Gautreaux and Archer were probably right to think what happened here is connected to incidents in New Orleans.”

  “Dr. Barnes tried to contact Detective Gautreaux and his partner but couldn’t reach them,” the technician said. “He left a message for them to call him back.”

  “Fair enough,” Spike said, with every intention of tracking Guy down himself. “Will you thank Dr. Barnes for me? And thank you for getting back here.”

  Once the man had left, the edgy silence of those who remained spurred Spike on to explain.

  “Lee and Wazoo, you were right about what you found. The tape was used to stick a note to Jilly’s shop door. Someone pulled the note off, apart from the bit that slipped down and some scraps of tape that remained on the door.”

  Lee crossed her arms tightly. She didn’t look happy. “Well, I hope it helps get this thing solved. I haven’t done anything else right.”

  “The bigger point—” he looked at Cyrus “—is that the gum you found in a vase at Edwards Place was wrapped in a note. Evidently the lab didn’t have much difficulty separating the paper from the gum. The scrap Lee found fits into a part of the note and one end of the tape is a perfect match. Caruthers Rathburn took the note off the front door and carried it around to Parish Lane—like it told him to do.”

  He looked around and got the feeling they were all holding their breath.

  “The note told Rathburn—who had just delivered Jilly’s Hummer—that his ride back to Edwards Place was waiting in the yard behind Jilly’s place.”

  “Why wouldn’t someone wait right there in front to give him a ride?” Vivian said.

  “Because he was going to be murdered and they didn’t want to do it where they might be seen. Rathburn did as he was told, handed over the note and Wes Preston shot him between the eyes.”

  Several heads bowed.

  “Wes Preston?” Vivian said.

  “I should have gone after the gum at once,” Cyrus told Spike, and to the others he said, “I was at Edwards Place the night Rathburn was killed. I saw Wes come into the house, wrap the gum he’d had in his mouth and toss it in the vase. And I just didn’t think anything of it. I am so sorry.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Vivian said. “They’ll get Wes. And Jilly’s going to show up, too. I bet she’s shopping—she doesn’t go into New Orleans very often.”

  “I’m going to find Guy,” Spike said, looking up the cell phone number. “You might be right, Vivian, if a few things hadn’t changed. Lee did suggest—for everyone to see—that Jilly might have a lot more information on the killing than she was talking about. No one seems to know where Wes is—except that he’s probably in New Orleans. And now it looks as if Wes could have a strong reason for wanting Jilly out of the way.”

  Homer fanned himself with his hat and screwed up his eyes. His mouth turned down. “Seems to me the first thing you gotta find out, the key to it all, is why Wes Preston wanted this Rathburn guy dead.”

  38

  Guy felt as if bugs were crawling under
his skin. Sweat stuck his shirt to his back and made dark spots on the front. His palms were clammy. If he didn’t respect Marc Girard and his judgment, leaving the search for Jilly to meet up with Marc and his sister, Amy, would have been out of the question.

  He still didn’t get why they couldn’t come into the precinct but at least they’d come pretty close. Guy drove the navy blue Ford he’d been issued into a parking lot for St. Louis Cathedral, only blocks away from the office. The chief had suggested the different vehicle in case Guy’s Pontiac was too hot for the moment.

  On the end of the first row of slots, with the passenger side of the vehicle next to a red croton hedge, stood Marc Girard’s new, dark green Land Rover. Guy swung in and stopped in the next slot. He saw Marc behind the wheel and gave him a sloppy salute, which Marc returned. There was no sign of Amy.

  Guy went to Marc’s door and waited for the other man to roll down the window. “Get in,” Marc said. “In the back. It’ll make it easier for you and Amy to talk. I’m just the driver.”

  Immediately, Guy opened the back door and climbed in. With her feet pulled up beneath her, and a wide-brimmed black straw hat hiding most of her face, Amy Girard sat close to the other door. She looked into Guy’s face and shook her head.

  “Hello, Amy,” Guy said. He could see Marc’s good looks in his sister. She looked better than when Guy had last seen her, her skin showing a tan now and her eyes brighter. A striking-looking woman in her way.

  “I shouldn’t have waited to come to you,” she said, “but I was so scared, I couldn’t think straight. The very first time I saw Jilly Gable, that was the time to find out who she was and—and find out if there was reason for me to go hide.”

  Guy nodded, and waited.

  “The night I met Jilly at her café I was goin’ to tell her why I’d reacted to her the way I had at Rosebank but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I believe I could get killed if the wrong people find out where I am, but now there’s Jilly and I have to step forward. If those bastards figure she could injure them in some way, she’s toast. It was the piece on TV that made me ask Marc to bring me to you. That and the ads for someone to come forward about Paula Hemp.