For Just Cause

Big mistake.

“Start it over.” She struggled to make her voice sound calm, as if their contact, from her thighs all the way up to her shoulder, didn’t affect her at all, as if her heart hadn’t started beating like a drum solo and her insides hadn’t clenched up in anticipation of something that would never happen.

Apparently her efforts succeeded. Billy obliged, turning up the volume.

An elderly priest stood informally before a group of people seated in folding chairs. “This is Theresa’s house.” Claudia recognized the large sofa painting of The Last Supper. “I wonder why the service was held there?”

“Because the Torres home was a crime scene?”

“Now we can at least see what the house looked like before the break-in.”

The priest talked about Eduardo’s sterling qualities, how he gave generously to the church and sponsored a poor village in Mexico—the village where his wife’s parents still lived.

“There’s something funny about that priest,” Claudia said.

“Funny, how?”

“He keeps glancing at the fireplace. He’s definitely distracted by something over there. See how he bounces up on his toes?”

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