Word of Honor

  “Who did her makeup, sha?” she asked him.

  “Paula Bouchillon,” he said.

  “When I go, I want her,” she told him. “Now don’t you let them put no silly wig on me, nor poof my hair up like Dolly Parton. I want to look natural, me. And I want to wear my tiara from the beauty contest.” Aunt Aggie had been Miss Louisiana in 1938, and she never let anyone forget it.

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll put it in your file.” He had been taking notes like this on Aunt Aggie’s funeral for the last several months, since she’d become obsessed with her own death.

  “Now T-Celia gon’ want to put me in my purple dress,” she went on, “but I don’t like that dress. I don’t know yet what I want to wear, but I’ll let you know before the time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Celia, who had been looking for her, spotted her and hurried into the room. “Aunt Aggie, we need to sit down.”

  Aunt Aggie followed dutifully as Celia led her into the chapel where the funerals were held. “Aunt Aggie, you’ve got to stop planning your funeral. You need to be concentrating on the grieving family, and Sue Ellen, instead of all this morbid talk.”

  People started filling in around them, but Aunt Aggie didn’t speak to any of them. They were carrying the closed coffin into the room, and her eyes followed it. “This is the quietest I ever saw her,” Aunt Aggie said. “Didn’t know she had it in her, me.”

  Celia was mortified and looked around to see if anyone had heard. “Aunt Aggie, she’s dead.”

  “Might be, might not be. Sue Ellen would do ’most anything to get attention.” The man in front of them shot them a disgusted look over his shoulder, and Celia looked as if she might crawl under the pew. “Aunt Aggie!”

  “I didn’t know he could hear me,” she said. “But you know it’s true.” She patted Celia’s leg. “I don’t want that kind o’ coffin, me,” she said. “It ain’t worth it. I want the cheap kind, ’cause there’s no use spendin’ all that cash on the dead…”

  “Aunt Aggie, please quit talking about your death!” Celia sat back and set her hand on her belly. “You know, I think I’ll go to Mary’s funeral alone. I just don’t want to sit through it with you if you’re going to do this.”

  “Why you so upset when I talk about dyin’?” Aunt Aggie demanded. “Ain’t like I’m gonna be floatin’ down the river Hades. If I die, I’m gon’ shoot right straight up to heaven, so why you actin’ like it’s some awful thing, sha?”

  Celia managed to smile. “You’re right, Aunt Aggie.” She had been trying to disciple her aunt since she’d come to know the Lord a few months earlier. But the old woman was still a babe in Christ. Her faith in the basics—that Jesus Christ had died for her and rose again so that she could go to heaven when she died—had not wavered. “I just don’t want you to go yet.”

  “Well, I ain’t got no intentions,” she said, “so don’t you worry yourself.” Allie and Mark slipped into the pew next to Celia, and Aunt Aggie wrenched her neck to see around Celia. “Allie…”

  “Hey, Aunt Aggie,” Allie said, as if the old woman had greeted her. “How are you?”

  “Don’t mind that,” Aunt Aggie said, waving her off. “Who sent that spray over there?”

  Allie looked at the spray of flowers Aunt Aggie was pointing to. “Uh…Grant Hargis.”

  “Sha, if they want to order mums for my funeral, you tell ’em I hate ’em. You hear?”

  Celia groaned.

  “Aunt Aggie, you’re gonna live to be a hundred and thirty years old,” Allie said. “Quit planning your funeral, for heaven’s sake.”

  “It’s only because I’m allergic, me. Make me sneeze.”

  “You won’t sneeze if you’re lying in a coffin,” Celia whispered.

  “I might.” Aunt Aggie leaned further around Celia, then got up and moved between her and Allie. “And I want you to put the flowers around the coffin so folks don’t stand too close. Keep folks from breathin’ down on me with they rancid breath—”

  “Aunt Aggie, people are going to hear you!” Allie said.

  Offended, Aunt Aggie got up again. “Well, then, I’ll go sit with somebody who appreciates what I got to say.” With that she slid out of the pew and headed for the cluster of firefighters she saw at the back of the room. Regally, she walked back to them, and they all got to their feet and hugged her. She felt like the most popular girl at the school dance.

  She was just about to sit down when she saw Hank from the newspaper coming in with a camera around his neck and a pad and pencil in his hand. “Hank, you ain’t botherin’ folks for a story, is you?” she asked.

  Hank looked cornered. “Uh…yes ma’am, Aunt Aggie. I thought the funerals would be a good human interest story after the bombing.”

  “Well, you take care that you don’t upset these folks now, you hear? This is a serious occasion.”

  Several of the mourners shot her disgusted looks as she sat between two of her firemen.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jill knew she should have gone to the funerals, but she just couldn’t manage to pull herself together enough to do it. She was exhausted and still nervous about getting out in public, where she could be an open target for reporters and curiosity seekers, not to mention whoever had tried to kill them last night.

  Allie and Mark had taken the baby and gone to the Blooms ’N Blossoms shop early to make all the sprays that would be sent to the funerals. They were also attending the funerals, but she had opted to stay at their house alone.

  When her cell phone rang, she answered it quickly. “You got an urgent message,” Sheila said, as if she was the boss and Jill had been negligent about her job.

  “Who’s it from?” Jill asked, doubting the real urgency of anything today.

  “It was from a Debbie Ingalls.” Jill caught her breath. “She sounded very nervous and insistent that she talk to you today.”

  “Debbie Ingalls?” Jill repeated.

  “Ingalls…isn’t that the name of the guy who’s in jail for roughing you up?”

  “He didn’t rough me up. He just held me hostage for a few hours.”

  “So how did he run you off the bridge if he’s still in jail?”

  “Apparently, he didn’t,” Jill said. “We don’t know if he’s working alone or with someone else, which is why you’re at home today, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Anyway, this Debbie woman…is she his wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what does she want with you?”

  Jill figured it had something to do with Jerry’s desire for her to represent him. “I won’t know until I call her back. What’s the number?”

  Sheila barked out the number, then added, “I work in the middle of the hot seat and nobody wants to tell me anything. I’ll just be an uninformed sitting duck. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Sheila, if there’s anything I need to tell you after I talk to her, I will. I won’t make you a sitting duck.”

  Sheila muttered something that Jill was glad she couldn’t hear and hung up. Jill took a deep breath, then dialed the number on her cell phone.

  “Hello?” The voice sounded anxious, upset.

  “Debbie, this is Jill Clark. I understand you tried to call me.”

  “Yes! Oh, thank you for calling back, Jill.” It sounded as if Debbie burst into tears. “Jill, I need to talk to you. Please, it’s very important.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s about Jerry, and all this mess. Please, Jill, can you come and see me? Can we talk somewhere? I could come to your office.”

  Every red flag in Jill’s mind sprang up. “No. I’m not in the office today.”

  “Just tell me where. I’ll come anywhere, as long as I can bring the children. I don’t have anyone to keep them.”

  Jill frowned. Could a woman with two preschoolers really be dangerous? “Look, I’m a little nervous about meeting with any of you. Somebody tried to run me off the bridge into Lake Pontchartrain last night, and I’m not fee
ling exactly congenial right now.”

  “Someone tried to run you off the road? Jill, don’t you see? That’s proof that Jerry isn’t involved.”

  Jill didn’t answer.

  “Jill, please…there are some things I could explain to you. Things that might help you understand. You seemed like a decent person when I saw you the other night, and you know that my husband didn’t do anything to hurt you. You gave your word about something and you didn’t keep it. That’s okay, because I understand, but there are some things that you need to understand. Please. I’m begging you.”

  Jill closed her eyes as the guilt rose within her again, and those red flags fell to half-mast. If she refused to represent Jerry Ingalls, the least she could do was meet with this woman. She seemed like a harmless person. She was the one, after all, who had talked Jerry into letting her go. She supposed she owed her that much. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll come to your house.”

  “You would do that?” Debbie exclaimed. “Oh, Jill, I would appreciate that so much. That way I could get the children down for a nap before you come, and we could talk.”

  “What time?”

  “How about three? They should be sound asleep by then.”

  “All right. I’ll be there.” She hung up the phone and leaned her head back on the couch, her eyes closed. She couldn’t believe she had agreed to do this. What in the world would Debbie have to tell her? There was nothing more that she wanted to know about Jerry Ingalls, and Debbie didn’t have a prayer of convincing her to represent him. Besides that, she was worried what it might mean to go into his home. What if it was a trap of some kind?

  She got up and paced across the floor, raking her fingers through her hair. She tried to think it through, then began to pray that God would give her direction. Would he stop her from going if it was a trap? Would he intervene somehow? She honestly didn’t know, but by the time she finished praying, she felt an urgent need to keep this appointment with Debbie. Maybe that was God speaking to her. Maybe if it was the wrong thing to do, God would have let her know it. She just wasn’t sure about her feelings anymore. Sometimes they made no sense, and sometimes they led her wrong.

  The phone rang and she jumped. She tried to catch her breath as she picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Jill, it’s Dan.”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief. What had she expected? For the killer to call her to let her know he’d found her? Somehow, she’d have to get over this paranoia. “Hi, Dan.”

  “You sound a little out of breath,” he said. “Anything wrong?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “The phone just startled me.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I just wanted to let you know that they’ve set a time for Mary Hampton’s funeral. Tomorrow at ten o’clock. I wondered if you wanted to go with me.”

  She closed her eyes and sank back onto the couch. “I don’t know, Dan. I’ll have to think about it. It’s not that I don’t want to go pay my respects…”

  “I know,” he said. “All the questions about the hostage thing and the bridge…I kind of dreaded that, too.”

  “And I don’t know if I’m up to going out in public with this person still out there. I missed Sue Ellen’s…”

  “Me, too. What happened last night kind of has its lingering effects, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, though she knew he couldn’t hear.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No. I was just about to go to the kitchen and see what Allie and Mark have in the fridge.”

  “Why don’t I just bring you something over?” he asked. “It’s lunchtime, and we both have to eat.”

  The thought of his company made her feel instantly better. “Okay,” she said, “but I have an appointment at three, so I’ll have to cut it short.”

  “An appointment?” he asked. “You’re working today? I went by the office earlier and nobody was there.”

  “Yeah, well. I decided not to go in, and I sent Sheila home. Just in case.” She was quiet for a moment, then finally said, “Debbie Ingalls wants to meet with me.”

  Disapproval screamed out of his silence.

  “Dan…are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “You’re not actually considering meeting with her, are you?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  Silence again. “Look, I’ll be over there in thirty minutes, and we can talk about it then.” He had hung up before she had the chance to respond, and for a moment she sat there with the phone in her hand, staring at it angrily, almost rebelliously thinking that he had no right to talk to her about anything, that this had nothing to do with him.

  She remembered the arguments they’d had when they’d been seeing each other before, when she had spent long hours working on a client’s behalf. Dan had complained that she took too many risks and worked too many hours. Then he had just lost interest altogether.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who really hooks up with one woman very long, Jill. You know that about me,” he had told her. And then it had been over. Tragically, humiliatingly over.

  Now he was back…temporarily, she assumed. Again, making her feel vulnerable and guilty for doing her job.

  She was still turning the thoughts over in her mind when the doorbell rang. She looked outside and saw his rental car in Allie and Mark’s driveway. As she opened the door, her anger melted away. He was too handsome for his own good, and the sling on his arm just gave him an endearing air of vulnerability. He was still the catch of the town, and she thought of all the women who would be sick to know he was bringing her lunch again.

  Their eyes connected and her heart jolted. She hated the fact that he still had this effect on her.

  “How ya doing?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. She stepped back from the door and allowed him in, and he set the bags on the table. “I got you sweet and sour chicken. I remembered you liked that.”

  “Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

  Their eyes locked for a moment longer, and finally, he swallowed hard and looked at the floor. “Look…I had a long lonely night, and all these thoughts have gone through my mind about last night and how close we came…” His voice broke off and he looked up at her again. “A hug would be really nice right now.”

  A smile crept across her mouth as she stepped into his arms. He held her tightly, in a way she didn’t think she’d ever been held before, almost as if she was cherished or…loved. Emotions both confusing and painful welled inside her, and she suddenly wanted to cry.

  This, she told herself, was even more dangerous than walking into Debbie Ingalls’s home.

  Their eyes met again, and she tried not to let herself read the eloquence in his. She couldn’t trust anything her heart translated for her. Quickly, she turned and went to Allie’s cabinet and got out two glasses and some silverware. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her with his head slightly tilted as she moved around the kitchen.

  They sat down and he said grace, and then they began to eat in silence.

  “So are we gonna talk about this?” Dan asked finally.

  She looked up at him. “Talk about what?”

  “About your going to Debbie Ingalls’s house.”

  She looked back down at her food. “I don’t really know why we would have to talk about it,” she said. “It’s just something I’m gonna do, that’s all.”

  He seemed stung by the words, and she noticed a pink hue flushing over his face. “I’m not trying to get in your way,” he said, “or to tell you what to do or anything like that. I’m just concerned. Last night somebody tried to kill you.”

  “You, too.”

  “Yeah, but it’s you they were after. Your car was sabotaged. You’re the one who was held hostage two nights ago.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off her food. He touched her hand to make her look at him again. When they met, his were probing, intense. “Jill, someone is still trying to kill you, and I don’t want them to suc
ceed. I really, really don’t want that to happen.”

  She moved her hand away. “I don’t want it to happen, either, Dan.”

  “Then why are you meeting with her?”

  “Because I think she’s a decent person,” she said. “I met her the other night, and she’s the one who talked Jerry into letting me go. She’s a young, pretty mother who loves her husband.”

  “And what does she want with you?”

  “Probably to try to talk me into representing him,” she said, “which I’m not going to do under any circumstances, but I felt I at least owed it to her to give her a chance to have her say, since she is the one who got me out of that situation.”

  “Do you understand that you could be walking into a trap? If Jerry Ingalls does have people working for him…if he is the one behind that guy running us off the road last night, then Debbie Ingalls could be in on it, too. She’s on her husband’s side, Jill. Whatever their agenda is, she could be right there with him.”

  “They have two little kids,” Jill said. “Why would she do that?”

  “Why would anybody do anything?” he asked. “There are three people dead because he blew up the post office. There would be two more dead if he’d succeeded last night.”

  “I just have a gut feeling about this,” she said. “I don’t think Debbie is involved. She’s just fighting for her husband and her life, and the lives of her children.”

  “But you can’t always follow your gut feelings,” Dan said. “Jill, look at me.”

  Grudgingly, she looked up at him. “Jill, you’re an emotional person. I’ve known you long enough to know that your emotions do get tangled up with people. That’s a good thing. It gives you compassion. But it also makes you exhaust yourself and spend yourself completely, and sometimes your emotions are wrong.”

  She felt the heat rising to her face, and her anger returned. “Tell me about it,” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”