A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  “When I said I ought to stay, I didn’t think about you coming back here without me.”

  “You know I’ve got a business to run. Between Wazoo, Missy and Vivian, things are getting covered, but I can’t expect them to carry the whole load.”

  He spread his thumb to press the soft side of her breast. “Maybe I’m testin’. Tryin’ to find out what you’d put first if you had to make a choice.”

  Jilly digested that suggestion. “Are you tryin’ to get out of this by sayin’ you wanted me to stay in New Orleans, too?”

  He looked at the floor. “Guy?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her again. “Maybe I’m startin’ to think of you bein’ around all the time.” The things he was saying rattled him. He had a self-assigned mandate, and that was to do his best for Jilly.

  Guy couldn’t take his eyes off her. “That scares you, doesn’t it?” she said. “Could be. Commitment always has in a way.” With a hand spread on his chest, she tipped her face up to his. “I don’t have a great history of successful relationships. But you know that.”

  “Yes. Neither do I. That’s a good reason for us to go slow and careful together.”

  She started to move away from him but he stopped her. “I didn’t say it was a good reason for us to stop, cher. I couldn’t do that.”

  “How much danger do you think I’m really in? How do I fit in with this plot that’s going on?”

  “You got in the way. That’s what I think. This isn’t really about you and it’ll play out well away from you as long as we’re careful.” Scaring her could make her more vulnerable, so he’d keep on lying. He didn’t know why, but she was a player all right.

  “Do you think Pip Sedge intended to come to Toussaint?”

  He and Nat had already discussed this. “Why?” He’d like to hear her angle.

  “I don’t know, but he could have. Did you make sure it was Pip Sedge’s writing on the matchbook?”

  She made him smile. “Nothing definitive on that yet. It’s scribbled in pencil. We’ll get an answer when they make a decision. If they do. Could be difficult. But his fingerprints were sure all over it.”

  “Couldn’t it be that someone else wrote it but Sedge picked it up? To light a cigarette or something. Dropping things like that in your pocket is automatic. Then the other person came here, anyway. On the matchbook—those could easily have been directions to All Tarted Up and Caruthers was already being set up but Sedge had nothing to do with it. Or the directions might have been to another place on the lane.”

  “Could be, but we don’t know any of that.” The location of the killing was unlikely to be random, and he hadn’t forgotten her house had been broken into.

  Jilly frowned at him and he leaned to rest his mouth on the crease between her brows.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “We’ll find out somethin’ definite soon. What’s going to happen to Lee?”

  “Nothin’. As far as I can see she hasn’t actually slandered anyone. Of course, there’s always malicious intent.”

  “I don’t think Lee’s got a malicious bone in her body.”

  “We’ll see. Spike will want to talk to her, I expect.”

  “Think so?” she said.

  He saw her throat move when she swallowed. “Reckon so,” he said. “I’ve been in this town more than a year. That still makes me a Johnny-come-lately, but I can almost hear the wheels turnin’ in people’s heads around here. Half of them will be thinkin’ she’s writin’ about them.”

  “She wrote about us?”

  They’d picked up the paper when they got into town and read it on the street.

  “Think so?”

  “Don’t play with me,” Jilly said.

  “I like playin’ with you.”

  She turned pink and her eyes moved away from his.

  Jilly felt him, felt him against her as sure as if they were naked. Humidity roasted her skin. Guy’s skin would be hot, too, but naked he’d feel so good in her arms.

  He pulled her chin up until she raised her eyes. “What happened behind the old laundry was the most excitin’ thing that ever came this man’s way. Lady, you are a spitfire and you were mad—and sexy as hell.”

  If she was supposed to feel embarrassed it wasn’t happening. With one hand, she unbuttoned his shirt to the waist and spread it wide enough so she could kiss his chest, lick his nipples, catch the flat buds between her teeth—and smile when he sucked in a breath.

  He didn’t wear a belt. She undid his pants and slid her hand inside to take hold of him. His penis leaped in her fingers and he said, “If all you want is to tell me good night, I suggest you stop right there.”

  Jilly parted her lips and held the end of her tongue between her teeth.

  “Mmm.” Guy inclined his head and touched his tongue to hers. He breathed heavily. They kissed every way Jilly had known existed, and some she’d never known about at all.

  Guy paused, his cheek against hers. “I thought you were angry with me.”

  “I am,” she whispered. “Haven’t you noticed the way I prefer to cool down when I feel like rippin’ you apart?”

  “Just don’t cool down too fast.” He caught the bottom of her T-shirt but she whipped it over her head and tossed it aside before he had to do any of the work.

  Jilly pressed against his chest and pushed his shirt from his shoulders. They gleamed in the low yellow light from the single lamp. She let him shuck the shirt all the way without any more of her help.

  “You told me you wanted to get me alone,” she said.

  He ran his fingernails back and forth beneath the lace on her bra. “I kinda thought you gave me the same message.”

  “Your imagination makes things up.” With both hands she delved into his pants again and Guy rocked gently as if they were dancing. She was aware of how her arms pressed her breasts together. He stared down at them and pushed his pants from his hips.

  Guy unhooked her bra and took it off. He cupped her breasts, moved his fingers softly back and forth above her nipples.

  Her legs were weak but she pushed herself harder into his hands. His teeth closed gentle on a nipple.

  The denim skirt she wore rose easily to her waist and above and he put his penis inside her panties. Slick on slick they rubbed together and Guy began to move his hips. He hummed and moved her with the rhythm.

  She started to pant. Pricks of fire shot from every inch he touched and she feared she’d climax right then and there. Angling her hips forward, Jilly rocked with him between her legs. She threaded her fingers through her hair and clasped her hands behind her head.

  “You… Cher, I’m burnin’ up here.”

  She kept her eyes closed and didn’t open them even when her feet left the floor and he sat her on the end of the bed. He impaled her and she couldn’t take in all she wanted of him. Straining, scraping her feet up and down the outsides of his legs, she pumped him and heard the sounds she made.

  She didn’t care.

  Faster and faster they came together, Guy with his hands on her breasts again, his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, Jilly fighting to keep her eyes open and watch him.

  He came, his face dark and hard. “Jilly.” His voice slid higher. With his eyes slitted and glittering, he looked at her while his seed spilled. “Cher, cher.”

  Guy didn’t come out of her. He swept her on top of the bed and came down on her hard, stimulating her with his hands while he kept up his rhythm. When she climaxed, her body shuddered and kept on shuddering while the waves washed through her.

  “I wanted to hate you,” she murmured. “I thought you were trying to get rid of me. Send me home from New Orleans without you.”

  “Silly woman.” With his face between her legs he used his tongue, sent it jabbing against her.

  “No,” Jilly said, trying to pull him away. The effort was futile. He nipped and pushed until she fell back, shrieking softly with the power of what he did to her.

  “Well, hell,” he muttered
. “This could be inconvenient but I can’t get enough of you.”

  Jilly rose to her elbows. They hadn’t turned off the light and she gasped at the sight of his big, hard body, as ready for sex as it had been only moments ago.

  He looked at himself, and at her. Jilly gave him a shove and he tugged her close.

  “Help!” she cried, laughing at the same time. They’d been too close to the edge of the bed and landed on the floor.

  Giving her no time to decide if anything hurt, Guy sank inside her again and the lovemaking was stronger, took longer, than it had before.

  She collapsed on top of him, too exhausted to get up. “I like you right there,” he said.

  Very quietly she said “Ditto” into his ear. And then he kissed her.

  21

  Finally, after trying to nail his father all day, Spike had him. Homer walked along the dock, all the way to the end, and shaded his eyes with his right hand.

  Spike looked up and down the bayou, then leaned forward to see what Homer could be concentrating on so hard. Guy had a car up on the lift and he’d rolled out to welcome Spike when he arrived. Spike kept it short and Guy was a fast learner so he went back to his business.

  There was still a little sun, sure enough, but not enough for Homer to do more than squint, just the way he always did.

  “Homer,” Spike called. Damn the old coot, anyway, making trouble for no reason. “Hey, come on and have a word. I’ve got to get back to the station.”

  “Go on, then. Get back now. You never did have time for anythin’ else.”

  That did it. Spike marched over the gently swaying wooden boards of the deck until he reached his father. “You got a problem?” Spike asked.

  “You’re the one with the problem.”

  “Not from where I’m lookin’.”

  “I’m not havin’ all the flappin’ lips in this town talkin’ about me and tellin’ lies.”

  “Okay, let’s quit pretendin’ either of us doesn’t know what’s goin’ on. You’ve decided Lee O’Brien made a reference to you in the paper and now I’m supposed to pay for it.” He jutted his chin, which Homer didn’t see. “Don’t you even think about using Wendy because you’re angry.”

  “I’d never use that child.” Homer swung around. He hadn’t shaved and gray stubble outlined his lean, lined face. “Maybe we can work somethin’ out without goin’ into somethin’ really ugly. But if I can’t be at Rosebank, and I can’t, then Wendy needs to spend time here with me, same as she always did.”

  “I don’t have any plans to keep Wendy away from you. But neither am I goin’ to put up with this damn fool business you’re into, either. You think Lee was referring to you and Charlotte. Is it true? Do you want to marry her?”

  “Upstart kid,” Homer said, and for an instant seemed about to take a swing at Spike. “What d’you know about anythin’? Can’t even make that lovely woman you’re married to happy.”

  “Shut up!” Spike whipped off his Stetson and waved it. “Don’t go talkin’ about things you don’t understand.”

  “You’d be surprised what I understand.” Homer wiped shaky hands on a handkerchief. “You’re bein’ a fool with Vivian. She’s so miserable, she can hardly get out of bed of a mornin’.”

  “What do you know?” Spike asked, moving in close. His father didn’t budge; straight back, his short gray hair sticking up in a thick crew cut, he stared back into his son’s eyes. “Speak up. If someone’s said something to you about Vivian and me, I want to know about it.”

  “Damn you young’uns.” Homer shot out the words. “Damn everyone in this fool town. A man minds his own business and expects other people to do the same. But, no, they gotta poke their noses where they’re not wanted or needed.”

  “Homer?” Spike made no attempt to keep the threat out of his voice.

  “Charlotte’s worried about the two of you. Vivian’s a skinny little memory of what she was. She spends every minute she can with Wendy. That little girl is too old for her age. She understands the woman she thinks of as her mama these days is unhappy. But a girl not even nine shouldn’t be suffocated that way.”

  Spike punched the air rather than his father. “That’s not the way it is. Vivian’s gettin’ over a hard time, dammit. And so am I. We lost our baby, Pop.”

  Anger melted from Homer’s face. Without as much as a flinch, he took Spike by the shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug. “You ain’t called me Pop since you was a little’un.” He gave the faintest sniff. “And I know all about what you two kids are goin’ through. But it’ll pass, you understand me? You and Vivian will have more babies, but you won’t have ’em while you’re both so wound up you can’t relax. Don’t have to be no specialist to figure out how babies stay away from nervous Nellie parents.”

  Hesitantly, Spike put his arms around his father. They hugged, brief and hard, and let go. They continued to look into each other’s faces.

  “I didn’t mean what I said about taking Wendy away,” Homer said, shamefaced. “I’m embarrassed is all. And worried. I love you all.” He turned bright red.

  Spike punched his shoulder and muttered, “I love you, Pop.”

  “Ah, we’re goin’ soft,” Homer said, but one side of his mouth turned up. “It’s only fair on Charlotte for me to stay away from Rosebank. We’ve become real good friends, but she’ll be horrified to have our names linked in some damn fool romantic manner. We’re too old for that.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t you think this is something two friends should talk about?”

  Homer scuffed his boots on the boards and glanced toward the shop. Ozaire, the weak sun glazing his bald pate, stood in the doorway. He stared down toward them, drying a glass at slow speed and shaking his head.

  “Busybodies,” Homer muttered.

  “You may have difficulty with this idea, but people in this town care about you. Charlotte also cares about you—a lot. But maybe you don’t see her as more than Vivian’s mom.”

  “I’ll be a rat’s ass, I think that woman’s the best thing I ever happened on, but who am I to have feelings other than friendship for her? She’s a real lady and she’s kind to me is all.”

  Spike shook his head slowly. “Wrong. I hoped you’d come to this yourselves, but there’s more there than kindness. That’s all I’m sayin’. Throw it away or give it a whirl. What harm could it do to invite her to Pappy’s Dancehall. You always did cut a mean two-step.”

  One corner of Homer’s mouth jerked up and Spike almost expected him to say Aw, shucks. “Don’t say any more about it, okay?” he said instead.

  “Okay. And, for the record, Vivian and I love each other even more than we ever did. Give us a chance to get through what’s happenin’.”

  “You got it,” Homer said. “You’re pretty good friends with Guy Gautreaux, aren’t you?”

  “Sure am. Good man.”

  “Yeah. Think he’s plannin’ to go back on the force in New Orleans?”

  “It’s always possible.” Spike felt uncomfortable. “But he hasn’t said so.”

  “Don’t beat about the reeds with me, boy. I asked what you think. He loves Jilly, doesn’t he?”

  Sheesh, nothin’ got by Homer. “Perhaps he does.”

  “She loves him and he could do nothin’ but worse. But I gotta know if he’s plannin’ on cuttin’ out.”

  “Why? As long as he’s doin’ a good job for us, and he is, why not let things take their course? Truth is you employed him to give him something to do because we were all worried about him bein’ shut away alone all the time. You were just bein’ nice.”

  “No such thing.” Homer scowled. “I need the help for sure now. He always does more than his share, even if he does choose his own hours. But dammit, I don’t like givin’ a man a job when he needs one only to have him leave me flat when somethin’ better comes along.”

  Some things never changed. “So you think you want to find out just so you
can fire him before he quits? Could that be it?”

  Homer puckered up his lips and shrugged. “Could be.”

  “Is that worth eating your insides for?”

  “Old feelin’s die hard.”

  “Times change. No one’s steppin’ on you these days. Give Guy some room to find out what he wants. Look, I’ll come clean. I think he’s crazy about Jilly and the feelin’s mutual. But they’ve both got baggage and they’re afraid of another failure.”

  “Man ought to be able to make up his mind if he loves a woman and do somethin’ about it,” Homer said through his teeth. “That’s the manly thing to do. None of this creepin’ around pretendin’ he’s too tough to need anyone.”

  Spike smiled. “You sound like a philosopher there.” He gave Homer a poke in his hard belly. “You think there’re any bits of advice you could use yourself?”

  22

  Snaffling Jilly from All Tarted Up in the middle of the day—on the pretext that he needed help with Goldilocks—had seemed like the perfect recipe for a long, luscious afternoon. Until the telephone rang and Jilly made him pick up.

  Nat wanted to see them at Spike’s office. Now.

  Guy joined Jilly in the Pontiac in front of his house and slammed his doors. He turned to her immediately and started kissing her as if he had no intention of stopping.

  “Mr. Gautreaux, it isn’t my fault if you came roaring past my place of business and made some fool excuse for taking me home in the middle of the day.”

  “Needin’ to check up on Goldilocks and wantin’ your help to get her settled at my place was no fool excuse.”

  “Seems to me we just did more than get Goldilocks settled.” She kissed him back, leaned across the console, wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face under his chin. “I wish we didn’t have anythin’ to worry about but us. Even if it could only last a little while.”

  “Hmm.” He leaned back to look at her. “I’m optimistic. Things are movin’, that has to be why Nat wants us over at Spike’s office.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t come right here.”

  “I’m grateful he didn’t.” Guy turned up one corner of his mouth. “I can’t say I’m sure he was bein’ thoughtful, but he may have been. Also, he intends to make sure he gets along well with the local boys. Guess it was Cyrus who came up with somethin’. He’s meetin’ us there, too.”