A Grave Mistake

“Hey,” Guy yelled. “Officer, get over here. And you can get lost,” he added, pointing to the suit. He ignored Lee O’Brien, her tape recorder and her expression of breathless anticipation.

“Guy,” Jilly whispered, “that’s the bodyguard from Edwards Place—the new one I told you about.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s Darth Vader.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me for the language, please. He’s interferin’ where he’s got no right to be.”

Cyrus had reached the pair. He said a few quiet words and the deputy followed him back toward Guy and Jilly. The bodyguard also approached, his flat, freckled face impassive. He walked slowly and ignored Lee O’Brien, who trotted beside him and talked cheerfully.

“You didn’t send for an aid car?” Guy said to the deputy. “You’ve got casualties. Who did you call so far?”

Again the man turned red. “I got real busy, sir.”

“First day on the job?”

“Second. Nothing happened yesterday, and—”

Guy checked out the youngster’s name tag. “Tell the gawkers to move on, Hall. Cyrus, Jilly, do we want the aid car?”

They both said, “No.”

“Dr. Reb’s going to expect a visit from the pair of you.”

“Later,” Jilly said.

Deputy Hall had developed a much bigger voice and he herded citizens on their way. “Look,” Guy said. “You need to give a report to him, exchange particulars with each other, make sure pictures are taken and get the tow truck here. Call your insurance companies. Either of you have a problem with sending the cars to Mortie’s?”

“Mortie’s is the only body shop in town,” Cyrus pointed out, and Jilly actually smiled.

“I’m Caruthers Rathburn.” The bodyguard had arrived. “I think I can make this a great deal easier for everyone.”

“Excuse me?” Guy looked the man in the eyes. Standing so close, he could see that rather than freckles on his round face, he had open pores where oil mingled with sweat. “This is a routine traffic accident. No need for anyone to make anything easier.”

“How are you feeling, Jilly?” Lee O’Brien asked. She had the kind of blue eyes that suggested she’d never seen anything worse than a piece of eggshell in an omelette.

“Good, thank you, Lee,” Jilly said. “Give my best to Reb and Marc. We’re finished here.”

Guy coughed.

Caruthers Rathburn reached inside his jacket and Guy’s hand went instinctively for the gun tucked into his belt.

“Wallet,” Rathburn said with a knowing sneer. He pulled out the wallet and eased out a fan of big bills. “I work for Miss Gable’s stepfather. I’ve spoken with him and he insists she’s to go to her mother immediately. Please take this, Father. Use what you need for transportation until we deal with things. I know—”

“No, thank you.” Cyrus looked at the fistful of money pressed against his middle as if it were maggots. “I’m sure things aren’t as bad as they look. We’ll fix any little problems.”

“Father,” Lee said, her blond ponytail flipping as she looked from one person to another. “You don’t have any little problems with that car of yours. How does that make you feel?”

They said she was sharp, Guy thought. You could have fooled him.

Cyrus smiled at the woman and said, “I’ll be glad to talk to you about this, and I’m sure Jilly will, too. But we ought to deal with the formalities, first.”

The way very pretty Lee O’Brien gazed at Cyrus reminded Guy how hard it might be for a priest who looked the way this one did. Women invariably sent longing glances in his direction.

“I don’t think I heard your name,” the bodyguard said to Guy.

“No reason you should. Excuse me.” He turned back to Jilly.

The bodyguard didn’t figure out that he was supposed to get lost. “I have my orders. This is yours.” He gave the bills another push against Cyrus, and when he wouldn’t touch the money, let it slide and flutter to the ground at their feet. “I’ll drive you to your mother, Miss Gable.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m going to my shop now,” Jilly said, her face white. “Please tell my mother I’m fine.”

Rathburn only hesitated a moment before walking away, leaving the four of them standing in a heap of money.

“Cyrus,” Jilly said. “We can do this between us. It was all my fault.”

“You don’t say that when you have an accident, Jilly,” Cyrus said.

“You would.”

She didn’t get an argument from Cyrus. When she glanced at Guy he was smiling. Darn it all, anyway, he had the clumsiest mouth in the South, but he also had the best heart—if he’d ever stop burying it in a hole and piling body armor on top.

Wally Hibbs, fifteen-year-old only child of Gator and Doll Hibbs, who ran the Majestic Hotel, arrived on his bicycle, which he stopped by slamming his sneakers on the street. He’d outgrown the bike a long time ago.

“Everything’s okay here,” Cyrus said at once, and Jilly felt good just knowing Wally had the priest and the folks who worked at St. Cécil’s to give him the warmth and welcome he didn’t get at home. Wally hung around with Cyrus whenever he could, and the man had become almost a surrogate father to the boy.

“Who is that man?” Lee asked, her eyes on Rathburn’s back. “He’s got a nasty attitude. He said he worked for your stepfather, Jilly?”

“Yes,” she said, pretending not to see the faces Guy made at her.

Wally’s bike crashed to the ground and he stooped to gather the money. “Can’t just leave this here, Father,” he said. “I saw that man give it to you. Is it true your dad’s the richest man in all Louisiana, Jilly?”

What were folks saying to make him come up with a question like that? “I’m not sure where my father is,” she told him. “I haven’t seen him for years.”

“Your new dad,” Wally said, sitting on his heels to carefully face all the bills the same way. “This is a lot of money,” he said, his eyes round. He started counting, licking the tip of a grubby forefinger now and again.

“I don’t like to ask you,” Cyrus said. “But would you get that money back to Edwards Place?”

“No way,” Wally told Cyrus. “I told you, I saw that man push the money on you.”

“I don’t need or want a stranger’s money.”

Wally looked smug. He wiggled his nose and sniffed. “Is there anything says a stranger can’t give money to the church?” His smile grew wider, showing the space between his two front teeth. “I don’t think the Lord would be pleased with you discriminatin’ like that, not when the church needs new bingo boards and there ain’t—isn’t enough money.”

A frosted beige Jaguar convertible slid to a stop, and a woman wearing large sunglasses and a pink baseball cap over curly red hair trailed her left arm and hand over the top of the driver’s door. Dazzling prisms shot from whatever jewelry she wore on her fingers.

“Jilly?” Laura Preston said, amazement dripping from the single word. “What are you doing here with these people?”

“For those of you who don’t know,” Jilly said, “this is Laura Preston, my mother’s daughter-in-law. Laura and Edith live together at Edwards Place.”

Silence met the announcement. “Laura, please let Edith know I’ll be over to see her later. I’m not hurt at all.”

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” Cyrus said, laughing at Wally, who remounted his bike with a determined expression. He took the money from the boy and walked toward the deputy.

Wally shrugged. “I knew he would do that, but I had to give it a try. Wait till I tell Madge how Father turned down good money when there’s never enough to pay the bills at St. Cécil’s.”

Guy made a grab for the rear of the bike, but Wally shot out of range, heading for Bonanza Alley and the rectory. “Don’t you go mixin’ it up,” Guy yelled. Madge Pollard worked for Cyrus. She kept the parish running and watched over Cyrus, although not like a mother hen. Jilly tried not to think about the complicated friendship Cyrus and Madge had, not often, anyway. Some people just didn’t have much luck when it came to falling in love, and Jilly guessed she and Madge had great men in their lives, only they were the wrong men.

Without another word, Guy walked away. He approached the rucked-up Beetle and looked down through the broken passenger window, at the seat, Jilly assumed.

He dragged open the door and stooped to pick something up from the floor.

Lee said, “Guy’s a nice man but he’s too difficult to read. Too quiet. He’s real easy on the eyes, though.” She cleared her throat and turned a little pink. “You already noticed that, Jilly?”

“Uh-huh.”

On the way back he only broke his stride for a few moments when he passed them. He gave Jilly her cell phone and said, “I’m relieved you’re okay. Take care, y’hear. I’d better get back to it.” His down-turned mouth and narrowed eyes turned him into the stranger she’d seen before and she didn’t like him.

Well, she’d taken all she intended to take from Mr. Gautreaux and she wasn’t taking any more.

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