A Grave Mistake. Stella Cameron

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      Jilly looked up, saw Guy, and burst into tears.

      He parked and got out of the car. Immediately he heard the deputy’s raised voice. “You’ve told me what you saw, sir. You’ll be contacted if we need more information.” The officer’s thin face had turned bright red and Guy wondered if this was his first day on the job.

      The other man held his hands loosely in front of him and spoke softly, too softly to be heard.

      “No,” the officer said. “You can’t take care of this little matter. We’ve got procedures we follow.”

      A small crowd had already gathered and every face was familiar.

      Guy went to Cyrus and Jilly and bent down beside them. “Who’s the guy arguing with the deputy?”

      With no warning, Jilly’s crying intensified. She covered her face and shook her head, but tears made it between her hands to drip off her chin.

      “Cyrus?” Guy looked at the priest. “Jilly’s really shocked.”

      Cyrus raised his brows, widened his deep blue eyes as if trying to send a silent message. He indicated Jilly by inclining his head at a sharp angle.

      “Jilly,” Guy said. “Jilly, cher, all this will go away. You must have hit something slippery and slid right into Cyrus.”

      She bowed lower with her hands laced over the back of her head, and Cyrus shocked Guy by grabbing the neck of his T-shirt and yanking him down. “You mean well,” the priest said into Guy’s ear. “But it would be better if you found out how Jilly is before you analyze the rest of this situation.”

      Guy squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re right,” he said. I am a fool and I never was any good with women. She deserves better than me.

      “How’re you doin’, Jilly?” he asked quietly. Too bad he couldn’t feel noble for never making a move on her. He wanted to.

      “You didn’t hear the crash?” she said, in a choked voice. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe the brakes felt mushy. I don’t understand why you didn’t hear all that noise.”

      He blinked a few times. “Of course I did. We were talkin’ on the phone.”

      “Then why didn’t you come right away? If you cared… Friends look out for each other.” She brought her left hand down and looked at her watch. “If it had been you, and I knew something bad had happened, I wouldn’t have taken my time getting to you.”

      Cyrus actually gave him a sympathetic look. Honesty was the only way of saving his tail here. “I did, Jilly, but I speeded like a fool and got stopped by a cop. If he hadn’t decided to be reasonable, I’d still be there.”

      “Oh, Guy.” She looked at him reproachfully. “You shouldn’t have been speeding.”

      Cyrus said, “I think I’d better help out the young deputy. I don’t know who the other man is, but he’s making nothing into something. Uh-oh, here comes Patti-Lou, or Lee I guess her name is when she isn’t writing her gossip column.” He got up, slapped Guy’s shoulder and walked away.

      “C’mon,” Guy said, taking hold of Jilly’s free hand and pulling her up. “Do you hurt anywhere? Hurt bad like something’s broken?”

      She shook her head and leaned to look around him. “I don’t want anything in the Trumpet about this.”

      Guy turned enough to see Lee O’Brien, cousin of Reb O’Brien Girard, Toussaint’s medical examiner and only doctor, pushing a tape recorder under the deputy’s nose. “Forget it. Whether you like it or not, you’re in the paper. Can’t really blame the woman—most days she doesn’t have a whole lot to write about.”

      “Except gossip.” Jilly groaned, touched the side of her head and mouthed, “Ouch.”

      “You did hurt yourself,” Guy said. “You hit your head.”

      “A bump. It’s nothing.”

      “I expect someone already made it over in the aid car to check you out.”

      Jilly shook her head again.

      “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.

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