Kingsley, of course, stayed home.

They attended Mass that night at Tulane’s Catholic Center. Most of the parishioners were college students. Søren liked it since a couple of his former students attended there. One came up to him and shook his hand, said they couldn’t wait until he was back at Loyola. Søren introduced them all to his student; Céleste as his niece—close enough—while Juliette was introduced as “Céleste’s mother,” and Nora was, of course, “Céleste’s aunt.”

“And this is my baby sister,” Céleste said, patting her mother’s stomach.

“Or brother,” Juliette said quickly.

Søren’s student didn’t bat an eyelash at his former teacher’s “family.” It was kind of nice to feel like a member of Søren’s family. Too nice. Nora had to wonder how it would feel to be his wife. Probably it would feel a lot like bondage did…sexy and exciting at first, but after a few hours, she would get bored and sore.

As Nora stood to walk to the front to receive communion, she felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her jeans.

She veered out of the line and into the lobby. Søren gave her a curious look as she walked out.

“Cyrus,” she mouthed. Søren slightly rolled his eyes. Just slightly.

Out in the lobby, Nora listened to Cyrus’s voicemail.

“Hey Nor, it’s Cy.”

Oh, so they were on one-syllable terms now. She liked that.

“Found Father Ike’s car two streets over from the house he killed himself in. Nobody can find the keys though, so I’ve got a locksmith coming by in about an hour to pop the trunk. If you want to come, the car’s at—”

Nora didn’t bother listening to the rest of the message. She immediately called Cyrus back.

“Cy, it’s me,” she said. “Cancel the locksmith. I’ll come and pop the lock.”

“You’ll pop the lock?” he asked, laughing.

“You want to wait an hour, or do you want me to come pop the lock right now?”

“You a locksmith and didn’t tell me?”

“I know locks. It’s my job.”

If there was something in that trunk worth seeing, she didn’t want a locksmith seeing it.

“I’ll see you in a few.”

Nora snuck out the back and drove to Constance Street where she found Cyrus waiting on the hood of a silver Nissan Sentra.

“You sure it’s his?” she asked as Cyrus hopped off the car and walked to her.

“It’s his. We double-checked the plates. I don’t want to get picked up for carjacking either.”

“Yeah, been there,” Nora said. “Not going back.”

“You boosted cars?” Cyrus was watching her as she opened the trunk of her Mustang.

“My father owned a chop shop. I helped. Then I got arrested and Dad got whacked by people he owed money to.”

“I guess you turned out pretty well,” he said. “Considering.”

“That’s the nicest backhanded compliment anyone’s ever given me.”

Nora found the lockout kit she kept in her car for emergencies and pulled out the long thin rod which was nothing more than a fancy version of a bent wire coat hanger. But it did the trick.