“I will.”

  “Now, Cara. This thing is escalating in ways that we don’t understand, and we have more important things to do than bury you.”

  “Gee, I love you, too.”

  “You need to fix this, Cara. Today.”

  “Yes, your royal pain in the butt-ness.”

  “Good.”

  And she was gone.

  “Father Parker.”

  “Hi, Billy, it’s Cara O’Flynn.”

  “Cara? Is everything all right?”

  “Billy, someone doesn’t have to die for me to call the family priest, and a friend from forever.”

  “So, tell me, Cara, just when was the last time you called me out of the blue, for no reason at all?”

  “Good point.”

  “So what is it you need?”

  “Well, now I feel guilty.”

  “As well you should. I am a priest, you know. We specialize in guilt.”

  Laughing broke the tension.

  “Billy, can you tell me about Louis and his brother Steven?”

  “Sure. Is there a problem, Cara? Did Steven not pay you?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’ve just run into a complication or two with his old partner, and I thought if I knew more about him, I could make a fair decision about whether or not I should get his superiors at work involved.”

  “That doesn’t sound good at all, Cara. I’m sorry to have put you in such a bad position.”

  “It isn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not even sure I am in a bad position. I just wanted some background information, like how well you knew Louis, and maybe you could give me Steven’s phone number.”

  “Well, I didn’t know Louis at all, really. He came to the church from time to time. I’d recognize him on sight, but I didn’t really know him. As far as a phone number for Steven, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. All of our communication has been by email.”

  “Isn’t that a little strange? Making all the funeral arrangements and everything and never even talking to the guy?”

  “I don’t think the brother had anything to do with the funeral arrangements. All of that was taken care of by the police, I think. I came into the picture after that. I got an email from Steven asking that I take care of the condo. It isn’t a common thing for me to deal with, but unfortunately, it isn’t rare either.”

  “You never talked to him? That’s weird. I would have sworn that you had. I’m really beginning to worry about myself.”

  “I’m sorry, Cara. I should have checked the details more carefully.”

  “Don’t be silly, Billy. Why would anyone call a priest and ask them to do something like clean out a condo if it wasn’t legit? I’m not worried about it at all. I’m just trying to figure the best way of dealing with all this.”

  “I’m sorry if I got you into a situation where you worked in good faith and didn’t get paid.”

  “Not to worry. Steven sent me a good-sized check before I started, so I’m not out-of-pocket anything, even if I don’t get another cent.”

  “Well, shouldn’t the check have contact information?”

  “Good point.”

  “Just call the bank and have them give you the information.”

  “I don’t even have to do that. I keep a copy of everything. You know how I am.”

  “I do indeed.”

  “Boy, you sounded just like Mom.”

  “On that note, I’ll let you get to it. Anything else I can help you with, Cara?”

  “Nope, I think I’m good.”

  “I hope so. I haven’t seen you at church in a while.”

  “Wow, you really do sound like Mom.”

  I could hear him chuckle as he hung up.

  I jumped up and went to my trusty hatboxes where I keep all paperwork not yet filed. Sure enough, there was a copy of the check. The stupid thing is a cashier’s check. Now that I think about it, at the time I got it, I thought it was very thoughtful for Steven to send the check that way so that I wouldn’t have to wait for it to clear. All of the sudden, it seemed a little more sinister than that.

  I called my bank and asked how to trace the check. The rather snotty little person that took my call checked my account, told me that I could easily get a copy of the check that I’d deposited, but that there would be a fee, and that I had to come to the branch to get it. She also informed me that I would need proper ID and my account information. Then, in a rather I-work-at-a-bank-and-I’m-special tone of voice, she told me that I should really make a copy of all checks before I deposit them, and keep that copy for at least five years.

  I was polite.

  My mother raised me well.

  That doesn’t mean that I didn’t think about how nice it would be to say a few choice words about the fact that her mother obviously didn’t spend as much time on manners as mine did.

  So, for the moment, I still don’t know anything about Steven.

  But I do have an address! He gave it to me so that I could send him copies of everything I thought was important.

  I ran back over to my hatboxes and rummaged for the address information. I logged onto the computer, and did a search for the address.

  I cussed out loud. The address came back to one of those mailbox places that give you a real-looking address and then forward your mail somewhere else.

  I called the place. This time I got a really nice man. I explained my situation. Told him I had been sending mail to that address, and, silly me, I’d lost all other contact information, and could he pretty please give me a phone number? He said he couldn’t do that, but would be happy to take my contact information and put it in the box. Great.

  What the hell is going on?

  I sat and thought about it for a while.

  I could hear music coming from the parking lot. I checked the window and saw my neighbor with the big blue balls cleaning out his car, with the radio on a little loud. I thought about it for all of twelve seconds, and decided it was time to get a fresh opinion.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi, Cara, what’s up?”

  “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “I have all afternoon. The shop is kind of slow; there are young family men there, and I give up a few hours every week so that they can make a little extra. What you need?”

  “Your brain.”

  “Sure, a beautiful young woman wants my body, and the only part she wants is my brain. Just my luck.”

  I did the polite laugh thing, and invited him in for a cup of tea. He said he’d be there in five minutes; he just had to carry the stuff he’d collected from his back seat and trunk into his apartment. I offered to help. He declined.

  I went in the house, put the kettle on. Did a quick ransacking of my cupboards to see if I had anything to offer him to munch on. The junk food component of my food storage has gone down considerably since Teagan has gone back to work.

  I had some cookies, some only slightly stale cinnamon rolls, some really good bread, and some leftover chicken that might be dancing on the edge of salmonella or the plague or something. I threw the chicken in the garbage before A.J. ate it by mistake. Thank God he grabbed the leftover chicken fingers instead of the other chicken on his way out this morning. Giving food poisoning to someone doing your family a favor is a big no-no.

  I grabbed a teapot. I put some boiled water into the pot, to make a proper cup of tea, when my neighbor showed up at the door, his own beer in hand.

  Change of plan, I grabbed some chips and a cold Pepsi, and joined him in the living room.

  “So, what do you need with my brain?”

  “I have a weird situation, and I know you have a background in some kind of Army thing, and you seem to know all the cops in town, and I need your read on something, if that is okay.”

  “I was special ops, that isn’t really ‘some kind of Army thing,’ but go ahead.”

  “Okay, let me start at the beginning so that you can see the whole picture and tell me if I should be scared or if I’m just being stupid.”

  “Cara, you’re not the type of girl that overreacts. If you’re scared, there’s a good reason. What’s going on?”

  “A while back, a good friend of my mom’s died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “She was there to witness the earth’s crust cool, but she was a really good woman, and I miss her more than I ever thought I could. Anyway, when she died, my sister Teagan and I started cleaning out her house for my mom, as a favor. Then the family priest called and asked me if I would do the same thing for a guy in his parish. At the time, I thought that my priest and this man really knew each other well, but it turns out they didn’t. Anyway, I emailed the dead man’s brother back and forth, and we decided I’d clean everything out.”

  I went on to tell him the whole story, including the part where Joe-the-cop showed up, and Teagan and I beat him up, and when he showed up at my parents’ house and almost ran over me and we called a supervisor, and when he showed up at the cemetery and said it was probably his sister, and how he told me that the whole thing was actually a covert mission, and that I couldn’t tell anybody about it. Everything I could think of from top to bottom, from the weird journals I found in Louis’s condo, to the locked room with the table bolted to the floor that turned out to be for rehab.

  In the middle of my story, he disappeared, came back with a six-pack of beer, and sat and listened intently.

  When I was done, all he said was, “This is some kind of bullshit you got yourself in the middle of.”

  “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “No, I don’t think you’re the crazy one. I think you need to be real careful, Cara. Do you have a gun?”

  “No, I don’t have a gun. They say that the majority of people with guns, the bad guy gets the gun away from them, and they get shot with their own gun, ‘cause we all know the bad guy gets the gun away from the good guy. Even cops get shot with their own guns. What chance do I have, if a cop with a holster and training and everything, can’t keep the gun for himself?”

  “Who is ‘they,’ and who are they talking about? I could teach you how to be safe with a gun in about an hour.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not a gun person.”

  “Well, how about your boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so. He shoots with a camera. He's a photographer.”

  “Cara, this just doesn’t add up at all. Isn’t your brother a cop? Have you talked to him?”

  “I didn’t know if I should get him in the middle of it. If there was any truth to it at all, I didn’t want to screw up his career. He is younger than me, and he has a wife and family. I don’t want my stupidity to ruin his life.”

  “First, you haven’t been stupid. Second, I don’t think if this cop is doing what we think he is doing, it can get you or your family in trouble. We might even be able to work this thing to your brother’s advantage.”

  “That’s always good. What do you think I should do?”

  “Right now, I don’t want you to do anything. Give me a little time to think it through and to come up with something.”

  “I really didn’t mean to hand my problems over to you. I just wanted to bounce it off of you so that I could get the opinion of an uninvolved person. My family always jumps into it if they think there’s any chance that one of us has a problem, and I didn’t want to do that to them.”

  “Well, work has been slow, and I’m bored near to death. This will give me something to think about. I got a couple of things to do tonight, then I got work in the morning, but tomorrow afternoon, I can put some real concentration toward it. How ‘bout we talk again tomorrow evening?”

  “That would be great. Can I cook you some dinner?”

  He smiled. “How’s the boyfriend gonna feel about that?”

  I laughed. “He is very enlightened, he’ll be fine. He won’t be home anyway. He has a night shoot, something to do with the lights in the background from that bridge over on Bundy.”

  “That is a beautiful area.”

  “Tell you what. If we don’t speak first, I’ll have dinner ready at six thirty. Will that work for you?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’m a country cook, not a gourmet or anything. Do you have any requests?”

  “I was one of those Army guys, remember? We eat pretty much anything they slap on a plate. You learn that early. I’m sure anything you fix will be great.”

  He grabbed the remainder of his beers and headed for the door with a new little bounce in his step. I guess once a tough-guy hero, always a tough-guy hero.

  Nice to have someone to save again.

  That thought made me shudder.

  I decided to type up everything I’d told my neighbor about, printed out a copy, in case he needed to give it to the chief of police or something.

  I took a shower and decided to think about nicer things.

  My phone was ringing when I got out of the shower.

  Teagan.

  “You did it. You finally brought me over to the dark side.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Plogged.”

  “What?”

  “Plogged. You have used that word all our lives. It’s a stupid word, and I just used it. I not only used it, but I used it in front of everyone at an important meeting. I not only used it in front of everyone at an important meeting, but someone called me on it. I turned so red that Joany felt sorry for me. Joany!”

  “Why would you be embarrassed to use the word plogged? It’s a perfectly good word, Teagan. It’s the combination of plugged and clogged. It describes the condition better than either word alone.”

  “Cara, normal people don’t make up words.”

  “Sure they do. Beyoncé made up bootylicious, and they put it in the dictionary.”

  “Number one, you’re crazy, and bootylicious is not in the dictionary. Number two, you aren’t Beyoncé.”

  “Beyoncé doesn’t get to make up words because she is famous. She gets to make up words because they are the most appropriate noise to communicate her thoughts. Just like anyone else. And, yes, bootylicious is in the dictionary. I’m telling you they put it in there. The Oxford one. Check it.”

  “I don’t have time to check that kind of stuff. I have a life. I just wanted you to know that your weirdness is contagious, and you might want to stay away from young children and older people.”

  “Thanks. Besides, I think I might have lost my powers. I’ve been thinking about this whole thing with the cops and the killers and nothing is coming to me. I got nothing.”

  “Cara, that’s because you’re trying to be logical. You just aren’t a logical person. That isn’t your talent. Your talent is taking all the pieces of a puzzle, that everybody thinks is a picture of bubble gum balls, and figuring out before anyone else that it’s actually marbles.”

  “Gee, that is a talent worth honing.”

  “It is. You don’t give yourself enough credit. The beauty of life is that all talents are valid and all talents are useful. Stop trying to turn your talent into someone else’s talent and let it work for you.”

  “Thank you, oh majestic guru Teagan.”

  “You’re welcome. What are you doing tonight?”

  “I’m going to cook dinner and hang out. You want to come over?”

  “Yep. Can I bring Jessie?”

  “Yep. You have a request?”

  “Moo, oink, cluck, or the occasional gobble. What about fish? We haven’t done fish in a while.”

  “Teagan, does a fish moo? Does it cluck? I don’t really do fish.”

  “Sure you do. I’ve seen you do rainbow trout. I’ve even seen you do the white fish in milk in the oven thing. You asked if I had a request. I’m requesting fish.”

  “How about if we forget about the fish? They have boneless rib eyes on sale at Publix. I’ll grab some, and we can have the guys grill them while we do the other stuff and catch up in the kitchen. They replaced the grill out by the pool at my apartment complex, and they have a really nice setup out there.”

  “That sounds perfect. You sure you want to splurge on rib eyes?”

  “Why not? Maybe all that protein will kick my brain in gear, and I’ll actually figure out this whole conundrum.”

  “What time?”

  “I’m not positive. We’ll say six, and if I check with A.J. and that’s a bad time, or Jessie can’t make it, we’ll talk. If we don’t hear from each other, six will work.”

  “Six it is. See you then.”

  I didn’t even have to ask her to bring dessert. That’s a Teagan thing. She knows. She’s a good sister.

  And the powers kicked back in.

  Thank you, God.

  Sisters!

  I missed that.

  I would do anything for my sister.

  Wouldn’t Jerkface?

  Wouldn’t Jerkface’s sister do anything for him?

  I called Billy again.

  “Cara, this is a surprise. Two calls so close together. Am I sick?”

  “Very funny, Billy. I have a question for you. Do you know where Louis is buried?”

  “Why certainly. I presided over a small graveside service when he was interned.”

  “I could have sworn someone told me that he was cremated, and I thought that was against the rules for a Catholic.”

  “Cara, you really need to spend more time with the Church. The ban on cremation was lifted in the 1960s. Since the late 1990s, the cremated remains of a Catholic are to be treated exactly the same way un-cremated remains would be treated.”

  “Well, I can’t be held accountable for rules that changed before I was ever born, Billy.”

  “Cara, I don’t know how to break this to you, but the rules of the Church, with rare exception, have been around since long before either of us were born.”

  “Good point. So where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Louis.”

  “You really need to put your blinker on before you change subjects so quickly. You could cause injury.”

  “Teagan always says I’m going to give myself whiplash.”

  “Teagan is a smart woman.”

  “Louis?”

  “Oh, well, he’s buried on the north…”