A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  “Too bad.” The reporter clearly wanted to get back to the case. “Lee, any idea why the killer might have chosen this particular place?”

  “Jilly Gable’s yard, you mean. It could be worth your while to talk to her, Danny. She’s had troubles with some of the people in her life. Her last boyfriend, well, that was a while ago.”

  “What about her last boyfriend?”

  “Let’s just say he was a bad apple and he had to know a lot of bad people. So Jilly’s probably met one or two of them. Could be someone came back for her but got interrupted, or not. She was there when it all went down so she could have a lot of information.”

  “And your paper, the Toussaint Trumpet…”

  “Yes, we’re finally going to get to the bottom of a lot of mysteries hidden away in this so-called sleepy town.”

  19

  “Vivian’s really upset,” Spike said. “I don’t expect you to make that go away, but I could use your advice.”

  Cyrus glanced sideways at his friend’s face. They’d left the rectory to get away from the stream of visitors and phone calls complaining about the Toussaint Trumpet. They made their way along the winding path above the Bayou Teche, where the occasional fish broke the surface under cloudy skies on a day so humid the air felt rationed.

  “She thinks that crack in the paper about a marriage being wobbly because of a sad loss is about us.”

  Cyrus picked up a rock and skimmed it across the dull water. “That was the idea. To print stuff that could apply to a bunch of people, then watch the fallout. And report on it, I suppose. Lee’s a decent woman. Bright, funny, but she’s not cut out for small-town living and she’s trying to make it exciting enough for her. Leastwise, that’s how I see it. She’ll ease up.”

  “It’s not true,” Spike said. He carried his Stetson, slapping it against his thigh every other step. “Vivian and I are sad, okay, but we’ve only gotten closer. My challenge is to knock down any thought she has about being guilty of something. The pregnancy didn’t pan out and we lost…we lost our baby. It hurts. It damn well hurts like hell, but I’m married to the best woman in the world and I’m not having some gossiping newspaper type putting Vivian through misery.”

  Cyrus kept quiet. He thought it best to let Spike talk as long as he had a head of steam on.

  “It’s taking advantage of the kindness around here. Folks accept people, they take them in and make them welcome.”

  “And include them in any local information, real or otherwise,” Cyrus murmured, and ducked as a bird flew up with a berry in its beak.

  “Yeah,” Spike said. “She may not even have been talking about us.”

  “Absolutely,” Cyrus said.

  They walked on. The sky took on a faintly green hue and Cyrus expected rain at any moment—thunder and lightning wouldn’t surprise him. He cleared his throat and shortened his stride. “Spike,” he said, “did Reb say you and Vivian should wait a bit before starting another pregnancy?”

  Spike took a long time to say “Yes.”

  “But it would be all right now?” He couldn’t help unless he knew what was really going on here.

  Whatever Spike mumbled, Cyrus didn’t hear.

  “You are going to try again?” he asked. “You’ll have another child?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Spike said, loud enough to be announcing a blue-light special. “Of course. Vivian’s crazy about Wendy but it’s natural for her to want a baby of her own. I want that, too. But Vivian may still be sorting out her hormones and you know that can take a bit.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Now he was certain Spike was here more for help with his marriage than because he expected Cyrus to censure Lee O’Brien.

  Spike sighed and Cyrus looked at him. “What is it?”

  “We haven’t been making love.” His face reddened.

  These were the deep issues a priest was supposed to alleviate with his wisdom. Briefly, Cyrus saw Madge’s face, he felt her lips on his and actually touched his mouth. He dropped his hand quickly. This wasn’t about him. “Vivian doesn’t want to make love?”

  “I’m afraid to… I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Cyrus draped an arm over his friend’s back. “You say whatever you want to say in your own time. There’s a way through all this.”

  “I wait till she’s asleep before I go to bed.” Spike kicked a rock viciously. “If she wakes up I pretend I’m already asleep. I don’t want her to feel she has to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

  A single shard of lightning split the clouds. They’d walked quite a way and soon they’d be near Edwards Place. “Vivian needs you,” Cyrus said. “Show her your love. Physical love.”

  “What if she turns me down?”

  “You’re a big boy. Work through it because she needs you more than she ever has.”

  Spike stopped walking. He looked toward the bayou and put on his Stetson as rain began to fall. “I love her so much.”

  “Then show her.”

  “Cyrus!” Madge’s voice came from behind them and he turned to see her running along the path in the high heels she favored. He liked them, too, liked the way they showed off pretty feet and legs. She waved her hand. The yellow dress she wore had a square neck and no sleeves, and a finely pleated full skirt flipped around her knees in the breeze.

  “Stop running,” he called. “You’ll fall.”

  If anything, she ran faster until she reached them. Not even breathing hard, she said, “Good morning, Spike, I didn’t know you were here,” and appeared agitated.

  “You did,” Cyrus reminded her. “You forgot is all. Let your heart be quiet, cher. Tell me what’s upset you.”

  “I’m not upset.” She shook the dark curls she’d grown almost to shoulder length in the past few months. Again she slid Spike an uncomfortable glance.

  “I’d best be going,” he said, thumping Cyrus on the back. “I’ll think through what you said.”

  “No, no,” Madge told him. “Don’t let me chase you away. It’s good for Cyrus to get out of the house and walk. He spends too much time with other people’s troubles.”

  Cyrus didn’t look at Spike. “The calls are still coming in, I suppose,” he said.

  “Yes, but it’s Homer I want to talk to you about.”

  “What about Homer?” Spike snapped. “What about my father?”

  “He’s fine,” Madge said quickly. “Just mad is all. He’s really steamin’ and he expects you to fix it, Cyrus.”

  “It?”

  “He says he’s been written up in ‘Lurking With Lavinia.’ He says Lee’s talking about him and Charlotte in the bit about a man being too chicken to ask an out-of-town lady to marry him.”

  “Good grief,” Cyrus said.

  Charlotte Patin was Vivian Devol’s mother and Homer’s good friend. They shared a love of Wendy because when Vivian and Spike married, Charlotte couldn’t wait to be a grandmother to Spike’s daughter.

  “Listen you two,” Madge said. “You know how Homer can be. He’s on a tear. He says he’s not going to Rosebank again because he doesn’t want to run into Charlotte.”

  “That’s crazy,” Spike said. “He loves to be there.”

  “Apparently not now he’s being chased by a conniving woman who told lies to a gossip columnist.”

  “He’s calling Charlotte a conniving woman?” Spike shook his head. “I reckon he may have been having some romantic notions about her or he wouldn’t be so mad.”

  Cyrus took Madge by the arm and started back toward St. Cécil’s. “I’d better go and sort this out.”

  “I hope you can. He’s going to file for custody of Wendy.”

  “What?” Spike shouted.

  “Well, he says he spends more time with her than you do and he’s taking her back to his place.”

  20

  The thing that got a man was knowing he was in trouble but not why. In New Orleans everything had been great with Jilly until she turned cold on him. Now they were back in Toussaint, a
nd the prospect of a meaningful discussion hovered ahead of Guy.

  When he opened Jilly’s front door, he braced himself for a lick attack from Goldilocks. The dog didn’t show and Guy didn’t mention her. If something had happened to the interloper, he didn’t want to be the one to bring it to Jilly’s attention.

  “Where did you get that key?” Jilly said behind him, all sharpness.

  “You gave it to me. In case I needed it, was what you said. Would you like it back?”

  He turned to look down at her and she tried to stare back, but gave up and averted her face. “It might be useful for you to have it. In case they manage to kill me. No, you keep it.”

  “Right.” He wouldn’t get drawn into a discussion about how likely she was to be murdered because Caruthers had died at her place. Besides, he knew she was afraid and his job was to give her some confidence.

  He walked into the house.

  Jilly followed. Since they had left the others in New Orleans she had treated him like an ax murderer. Driving back one behind the other in their separate vehicles had been a blessing of sorts. At least he’d had an opportunity to calm down and try to figure out why she was mad at him—only he hadn’t figured it out.

  “Is it okay if I check things out before I go?” he said. “Suit yourself.” She went into the living room and he heard her making sure the windows were locked before she drew the curtains. “Come on in and be comfortable.” Her tone sounded less antagonistic.

  “I will after I go through the house,” he told her, and heard the phone ring.

  “Hello,” Jilly said. “Hey, Wazoo. You’re right, I am tired out. Doll Hibbs? Well, she’s served enough meals at the Majestic. Sure, if she wants to make some extra money, let her help fill in. Don’t forget we’ve got Hungry Eyes to cover till Joe and Ellie get back…of course you haven’t forgotten. It’s just me obsessing. I’ll be at the shop early in the mornin’ and we’ll all talk.”

  Spike wanted to “be comfortable” with Jilly. He went from room to room and found no sign of disturbance. Upstairs the story was the same until he came to Jilly’s bedroom. The disturbance there was shiny, black and rumpled. Goldilocks had turned the comforter into a swirling mess to make a cocoon. She lay in the middle, peering out at him with one eye, although her tail wagged.

  “You no-good mutt,” he told her, but gently. “Look what you’ve done to Jilly’s bed.”

  “What has she done?” Jilly came in and stood beside him. She giggled. “This girl surely does know how to make herself at home.”

  Goldilocks lifted her head and got up slowly, wiggling out of the comforter. She was about to jump down from the bed when Jilly stopped her. “You’re a lucky man to have a dog like this,” she said to Guy. “I know you’re still fightin’ it, but you’re good with her and she’ll be your best buddy.”

  The best buddy he wanted wasn’t a dog, although he did feel a twinge of attachment to the mutt. He wouldn’t be telling Jilly about that.

  Jilly put her arms around Goldilocks’s neck and hugged her. “Sweet thing. Time to get down.” She sat down and the dog promptly flopped and settled her head on Jilly’s knees.

  “I’ll get her down,” Guy said, moving in the dog’s direction.

  “Whoa,” Jilly said. “Look at this.”

  “What?”

  “Her tummy.” She stroked the shaggy fur in both directions from the center.

  Guy moved in closer and looked at Goldilocks’s slightly pink belly. “Is it the wrong color?”

  “No.” Jilly rolled her eyes. “She’s…” She rolled the dog onto her back, which Goldilocks seemed to think was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Guy, I think this girl is pregnant.”

  He blinked rapidly and got a little closer. “She’s a pup herself. How can she be pregnant?”

  “We don’t know how old she is, but she’s old enough to have puppies. See how big she is here?”

  Guy sighed. “That’s all we need. How many months before she has ’em?”

  “Weeks. Maybe eleven. Twelve.” Jilly stroked Goldilocks’s head and looked at Guy, who had backed off a step or two. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think our Goldy girl’s bikini will fit so well shortly.”

  “You’d better get to be an expert fast.” Guy frowned so deeply his brows all but hid his eyes. “She’ll need special food and care. And a vet. You’d better get her checked out by a vet quickly. With her being young like that, she could have a lot of trouble.”

  Jilly didn’t laugh, but she wanted to. “She’ll want a box and a blanket,” she told him. “They like to nest when they’re expecting babies. I know that much.”

  “How did it happen?” Guy said. He sat gingerly on the bed, at Goldilocks’s other side, and held one of her feet. “Some animal took advantage of a poor, helpless creature. She couldn’t even have known what was going on.”

  “Where did you grow up, Guy?”

  “New Orleans. Why? What does that have to do with anythin’?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinkin’ how you don’t sound like a farm boy.”

  He spared her a glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Does a big dog like this have an easier time having pups than a little one would, huh?”

  “I suppose so.” She sensed he was going to be a nervous owner—unless she lost the fight and he decided he wouldn’t keep the dog. “You’ll want to find another home for her.” Keeping an innocent face wasn’t easy. “You wouldn’t want to deal with this.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  She reached across Goldilocks and held Guy’s wrist. “Don’t feel guilty about it. You can’t be expected to deal with a pregnant dog and puppies.”

  He put a hand on the back of her wrist and stroked absently. “D’you think there’s one of those Dummy books on all this—on dogs having puppies?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. You’ll have to disclose any defects, Guy. It’s like a car—or a house—you have to come clean with any prospective new owners.”

  That got her another of his stares.

  The hard, warm pressure of his fingers shouldn’t feel so good.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she told him. “If the plaster on your walls is all cracked, you can’t put a curtain over it and tell buyers it isn’t cracked. That’s grounds for legal action. I don’t know what they call it, but Joe would.”

  “She’s not defective,” he said abruptly, and leaned over to nuzzle the dog’s head with his own. “You’re perfect, aren’t you, cher? Gonna be a mama. What a clever girl, and don’t you let anyone tell you anythin’ different. We’ll get you the best box there is and one of those fleece blankets. Two blankets so you can squirrel around in ’em. I’ll cut down the sides of the box, too. You won’t want to hurt yourself gettin’ in and out. Then there’ll be the babies with their little legs.” Goldilocks slurped at his face and showed all her teeth in ecstasy. “They can’t climb over much and the kids’ll be wantin’ to play soon enough. Maybe I’ll make a box. Homer knows about that stuff. I could put somethin’ soft along the edges just to be safe.”

  Jilly hovered between tears and laughter. This was a side of Guy she had never seen.

  “Are you laughin’ at me?” He looked up at her sharply, suspiciously. “Knock it off. You’re ready to get rid of her just because she was taken advantage of. That’s not going to happen. Once she’s had her babies she’ll be operated on so she doesn’t have more and I’ll find homes for her puppies.”

  He made Jilly feel good. “That’s so nice of you.”

  “Wouldn’t think of doing anything else.” He scratched Goldilocks between the ears. “And this is a one-of-a-kind dog, see if I’m not right. When I’ve got her trained, you’re going to wish you’d taken me up on my offer to give her to you.”

  “Probably.” She kept a straight face. Suddenly he was spouting what she’d already told him about Goldilocks as if it had been all his idea in the first place.

  He settled his gaz
e on her lips. “You’ve been mad at me for hours.”

  “Yep.”

  “You drive me nuts when you behave like that. Mad and proud of it.” He continued to watch her mouth. “You got an old blanket?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Goldilocks needs it till I can get something better. It’ll be easier for her at my place with everything on the same level.”

  Jilly got up and went into the hall, to the linen closet. She dug out a big old crocheted afghan and arranged it in a fluffy heap in one corner of the bedroom.

  Guy slid his arms under the dog and lifted her up when he stood. “She doesn’t weigh so much,” he said. “Needs feedin’ up. Isn’t it true the babies take everythin’ from the mother?”

  “Absolutely true.” Something about the way he fussed over Goldilocks made Jilly ever so slightly jealous.

  The dog rested her head on his shoulder and he carried her to the afghan where he set her down and pulled the bright wool around her. She sighed hugely, got up, turned around and around and flopped down again.

  Guy covered her up once more.

  “You can be a sweet guy.”

  “Me.” He pulled his brows down. “Not this man, lady. I’m one mean son of a gun. Ask anyone.”

  “You tried to get rid of me in New Orleans.”

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he braced his feet apart. “Now we’re getting to whatever your problem is. I tried to look after you in New Orleans.”

  “I don’t need looking after.” That was a wicked lie. “I need to be…if I’m your friend, I have to be your equal. If you look out for me, I look out for you. You were going to stay in New Orleans. You said you were.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Oh, forget it.” She got up and headed for the door. Guy put an arm across her body and held her waist. Almost immediately he slid his hand up and let his arm rest on her breasts. Jilly didn’t feel inclined to move away.