LITMIR.BIZ

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      2

      “You might need some new hookup lines,” Nat said when Jilly was in her car and driving away. His deep voice was pure, tumbled gravel. “That girl didn’t buy your ‘get lost now but I may have time for you later.’ No, sir.”

      Guy didn’t intend to give anyone the pleasure of seeing how teed off he was, especially smart-mouth Archer.

      “Jilly, darlin’—” Nat used his slow, most reasonable drawl “—this is my good old friend, Nat Archer. He’s come to discuss a little business. I don’t want him sharing a minute of my time with you. Make yourself comfortable awhile, cher, but first say, yes, you’ll join me for a sexy little dinner for two later. I’ll—”

      “Can it, Archer.” He couldn’t help grinning. “You don’t change, do you, partner? Jilly and I understand each other.”

      Nat pushed his hat to the back of his head. “You don’t say? Guy, I think something’s breakin’. I didn’t want to say too much on the phone, but it may be time for you to come back where you belong. The department needs you.”

      Where did he belong? Once he thought he knew, but he didn’t anymore. “What’s up? Last time you called, some girl’s daddy was after you with a shotgun.”

      Nat punched Guy’s arm. “Trust you to mangle history. The girl was a woman in her thirties and her brother was the goon on my tail. I spoiled their scam. They thought they had a patsy with deep pockets—me. They’re guests of the State.”

      “Such excitement,” Guy said, rubbing stubble on his jaw. “Makes a quiet type like me feel giddy.”

      Nat quit smiling. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be interrupted?”

      “It’s quiet here,” Guy said, “but it can pick up anytime. There’s just me till Homer gets back. I could call someone in so we could go to my house. It’s the safest place I can think of.”

      Nat nodded. “I admit I’m tryin’ to connect some long wires here. But we could be about to skate over the thinnest ice you and me ever stepped on. That’s saying somethin’. I’m not sure—I can’t be yet—but it could be somethin’ big is about to blow up in Toussaint. And if it does, yours truly is going to be right here with you.”

      Curiosity strung Guy out tight. “That so?” He had never known Nat to embellish things.

      Calling Ozaire back didn’t rate high on Guy’s list, but he wasn’t about to bother Homer, who would be over at Rosebank—a resort hotel owned by his daughter-in-law, Vivian Devol, and her mother, Charlotte Patin. Homer’s son, Spike, helped run the place with his wife, while he also kept the Toussaint sheriff’s department running. Each afternoon Homer picked up Spike’s daughter by a previous marriage, and took her home from school. Only Wendy could turn Homer into a softie.

      “You got a bug somewhere he didn’t ought to be?” Nat asked. “Looks like you got pain.”

      Guy’s response was to call Ozaire, who was so enthusiastic about returning to work he made Guy suspicious.

      “Go on ahead to my house, I’ll join you as soon as he gets here,” Guy told Nat. Then he had a thought that started him punching numbers on his phone again. “What the hell am I thinking of?” he muttered. “How’s she supposed to know if I don’t tell her? She needs to know now, not later.” He could not wait to tell Jilly to forget she had seen Nat.

      “Aw, you know those aren’t things you tell a woman on the phone. You had your chance to say the sweet nothings in person. You blew it.”

      Guy ignored Nat and looked at the sky while he listened to Jilly’s phone ring. She wouldn’t even be back to town by now and she always kept her cell on.

      He hung up and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

      “What’s up?” Nat asked.

      “You,” Guy said without preamble. “I told you I didn’t want us seen together around here. If Spike, that’s the sheriff and he’s Homer’s son, if he gets wind that I’m holed up with my old partner, he’ll be sure I’m getting ready to leave. He’ll tell Homer. Homer will get mad and fire me because he’ll want to tell me to go before I can quit.”

      Nat shook his head. “Why would you care?”

      “Jilly needs me here.” He needed her. “And I owe Homer.”

      “She already knows about me, man,” Nat pointed out.

      “Jilly might not make the connection if… Let it go. I don’t want people speculating about you, okay?”

      “O-kay.”

      His partner’s attitude galled him. “Look, Nat. You come sashayin’ in, driving a car people around here will talk about. There isn’t always a lot of excitement, see, and they can get pretty imaginative with very little encouragement.”

      “Whoa.” Nat held up both hands. “I asked you if you were on your own and you said you were, or would be in a few minutes.”

      “I didn’t expect Jilly to stay.”

      “Is it my fault she did?”

      “This had better be important,” Guy said. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

      His phone rang and he looked at the readout. “Hi, Jilly,” he said, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

      “Sorry I didn’t pick up just now,” she said.

      “You had a right,” he told her. “I need to ask you a favor. Nat, the guy you just met?”

      “Yes.”

      The sound of zydeco from her car radio made him smile. She loved the music, and she loved to dance. So did he, with her.

      “There’s a real good reason why he wasn’t here.”

      “Huh?” She turned off the radio. “What did you say?”

      “He wasn’t here.”

      “Nat Archer, the knockout guy I just met at Homer’s, he wasn’t there? The one with a voice like warm, tumbled gravel? For goodness’ sake, why don’t you just put things so they aren’t so confusing? You don’t want me to mention Mr. Archer to anyone. Right?”

      He blew out a breath in a whistle. “I just don’t have your smooth way with words, cher.”

      “You can say that again,” Nat muttered.

      Guy reached out and snatched the fedora, jumped on the closest bench, then on the picnic table, and held the hat high.

      All Nat did was shake his head slowly.

      “You’ve got my word, Guy, you know that,” Jilly said. “But I hope you’ll explain the reason to me.”

      Just what he didn’t want to do. “Sure. How about that dinner?”

      “Maybe I can fit you in. I…get back! Stop!”

      Jilly screamed and, at the same time, Guy heard the gut-churning sound of a collision, breaking glass, buckling metal—and a cacophony of shouting voices.

      “Jilly,” he yelled. “Jilly!”

      She didn’t answer him.

      There was only one road into Toussaint from Homer Devol’s place, so that simplified Guy’s rubber-laying drive. You also couldn’t get lost in the town and you for sure couldn’t miss a car crash, any car crash there.

      He saw flashing lights behind him, then heard a siren. “Not now,” he said through his teeth, and floored the accelerator. Almost at once he saw his folly, slowed and pulled over. The cruiser screeched to a stop, slewed behind the Pontiac.

      One big “ain’t

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