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prepared to shoot me for the sheer joy of it.
Ah, chérie! You are fine, non?
Yes, Grandfather. For the moment, anyway.
Quel soulagement! And ze Raphael?
Merde! I plunged my arms into the lake of mud, search -
ing for the cardboard tube containing the precious painting.
A few yards away Dr. Gossen sat shaking his head and look-
ing befuddled. Rain had washed the mud from the profes-
sor s face, and the paleness shone in the dim light.
 Are you hurt? I called out.
He shook his mud-caked head.
 Help me, then! We need to find the tube with the painting!
We crawled around the slide zone, feeling for the tube.
 I found something! he shouted.
I slithered toward him and together we excavated it. It
wasn t the cardboard tube. It was an arm.
I did a quick head count. Billy Mudd was resting near his
truck, Roy Cogswell was being assaulted by an outraged
Bosnian mother, and Dr. Gossen was with me. The arm be-
longed either to a disinterred body or to Dr. Dick.
 Annie!
 Pete! Over here! I called. He, Evangeline, and Catiz
slogged through the muck and helped us dig out the body.
BRUSH WITH DEATH 313
 You hokay, Annie? Evangeline asked, her mild blue
eyes worried.
 I m fine, thanks. I m so glad you guys were here.
 No kiddin . We was about to leave  cause of the rain, but
we thought we d wait and see if it cleared up. Whoa! This
guy s a goner, ya ask me.
 Dick! I heard Helena scream.  My darling Dick!
 Did you call 911? I shouted, but she ignored me and
ran full-throttle toward us, fell to her knees, and started paw-
ing through the mud.
 We need something to dig with, I said to Pete.
 We will get. Pete spoke rapidly to Catiz, who sent a
hovering cousin to fetch the tools the Bosnians had brought
to clean up Potter s Field. With the aid of shovels and trow-
els we unearthed Dr. Dick. Helena threw herself on him,
sobbing, and I pushed her aside to see if he was alive. I
thought I felt a thready pulse but he was unconscious.
 Get help! I said, and as Pete bounded off toward the
cemetery office I turned on Helena.  Now don t you wish
you d called 911? It was a cheap shot, but considering
her beloved husband had intended to murder me with her
endorsement I thought I was entitled.
 Everyone! Listen up! This is extremely important. We re
looking for a cardboard tube, the kind posters come in. It s
got to be around here somewhere.
Leaving Dr. Dick to the ministrations of his beloved He-
lena, the rest of us fanned out across the slide zone to search
for the missing Raphael. I felt a tightening in my chest,
which meant either I d inhaled a lot of mud or I was starting
to panic. Even if we found the painting, the odds of being
able to restore the damage wrought by tons of mud and
graveyard debris seemed overwhelming.
 I ve got it! Billy yelled, holding up a muddy tube.  It
landed in the cab of my truck.
314 Hailey Lind
Bien fait, chérie, my grandfather whispered. Ze great
Raphael would zank you eef  e could.
 Jeee-sus, wouldja get a look at my truck? Billy mut-
tered as we sat on a bench outside the columbarium.
After giving my statement to a bone-weary Detective Hu-
cles, I had called Frank from the office. He arrived in an ar-
mored car and whisked La Fornarina away, promising to
take it straight to Donato Sandino at the Getty Museum. The
Italian fake buster would unleash the battery of restoration
skills he d mastered during the Arno River flood to repair
any damage Raphael s masterpiece may have sustained.
I watched Pete, Mama Pete, Evangeline, Catiz, and several
other cousins gesticulating energetically as they gave their
statements, and wondered if the cops would be able to figure it
all out. An ambulance escorted by a squad car had taken Dr.
Dick and Helena away. Dr. Dick was alive but just barely, and
I d heard the EMTs puzzling over the terrible third-degree
burn on his thigh. The vial of sulfuric acid must have been
crushed during the mud slide. Let that be a lesson to you, Dr.
Dick, I thought. Nobody messes with the little baker girl.
Miss Ivy, who d had the presence of mind to call the fire
and rescue squads when she heard the hillside give way, was
distributing warm blankets and mugs of steaming coffee. It
wasn t Peet s, but at the moment it was manna from heaven.
It was still raining, but at this point clean water could
only help the situation. The straps and bib of my overalls
sagged, and the mud-filled pants rode low on my hips. I d
been trying to scoop the muck out of them, but this proved
hard to do and still remain a lady.
A flatbed truck rolled by, hauling the contorted mess that
used to be Billy s pickup.
 I ll bet your insurance covers it, I said.  You know,
mud slides, acts of God. . .
BRUSH WITH DEATH 315
Mudd glared at me with a baleful expression.
 I have to confess that I was surprised when you came to
our rescue, Billy. Don t take this the wrong way, but I never
pictured you as one of the good guys.
He shook his head.  Cindy and I met here, you know, when
she was photographing some of the crypts. I know it s kind of
weird, but sometimes I just sit in this cemetery, and enjoy the
peace and quiet. He paused and his voice lowered.  I thought
Cindy killed herself because of me. Because of us. I ve got a
wife and kids. What the hell was I thinking?
That Cindy was young and pretty and adoring?
 Never again, Billy said, his chin thrust out.  It s the
straight and narrow for me from now on.
I was skeptical, but who was I to say? I d read that Fatal
Attraction had driven an entire generation of philanderers
into temporary fidelity. If a movie could inspire better be-
havior in an audience, then perhaps the murder of a young
woman could reform Billy s character.
 You couldn t have known what Dr. Dick was up to,
Billy, I said.  He fooled all of us.
 Maybe so. But I ll never know, will I? And Cindy paid
the price for my mistakes.
There wasn t much to say to that, so we watched the
crowd begin to disperse and the squad cars leave. One of the
cops signaled that we could go. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]