Trouble in Mudbug (24 page)

Maryse slowly nodded, understanding his point. “But an explosion is a whole different story.”

“Bet your ass it is,” Luc said and narrowed his eyes at Maryse. “So are you going to tell me what you’re involved in that’s going to get you killed?”

Maryse nodded. “It’s got to be the land. There’s a clause in the inheritance.”

“What clause?”

“The land inheritance has clauses tied to it that have to be fulfilled over the next week in order for the title to pass to me. One of the clauses is that I have to outlive Helena for seven days following her burial.”

“Jesus Christ!” Luc stared at her for a moment, then lowered his voice again. “Then Johnny’s right—you’ve got to get out of town for a while. I have family in places no one would ever find you. They can keep you protected for a week, easy.”

Maryse shook her head. “I can’t leave Mudbug. That’s another one of the clauses. If I leave, everything passes to Hank, and he’d lease the land as fast as possible.”

“He’d have to find a taker first,” Luc said. “Maybe in ten years or so development would be pushing this way, but right now? Even the chemical company couldn’t put together an expansion plan quickly. It would take years.”

“Yeah, but didn’t I tell you? Helena’s only just bothered to mention that the preserve is full of oil.”

Luc stared. “Good Lord, the woman’s practically signed your death warrant.”

“I don’t think that was her intention, but it’s certainly starting to look that way.”

Luc looked out the window for a moment, then shook his head and looked back at Maryse. “Well, this problem is way too big to be solved over lunch, but I guess the first thing we need to do is get you somewhere safe. You think the hotel is okay?”

Maryse shrugged. “Heck if I know. Mildred lives there, and the hotel is usually at least half-filled with salesmen and such for the chemical company. I should be okay there, but I hate putting Mildred in the middle of this mess.”

“I don’t like it either, but you have to stay somewhere that’s easy to watch, and the hotel is your best option in Mudbug. Are you going to tell Mildred what’s going on?”

“What other choice do I have? My house exploded. She’s going to wonder what happened, and Mildred’s too sharp for me to pass off some bullshit explanation.”

“And what about the Helena returning from the dead part?”

“Oh, no! I don’t need Mildred worried about my sanity, too. She doesn’t believe in this sort of thing and isn’t likely to start regardless of what I say. No, Helena has to remain mine, yours, and Sabine’s little secret.”

“Sabine?” Luc asked.

“My best friend. She owns the psychic shop in downtown.”

Luc’s face cleared in understanding. “Ah, psychic, huh? So I guess she has no trouble taking on a haunting.”

“Oh, she has plenty of trouble, especially with exactly who’s doing the haunting, but she’s doing some research to try and help us figure out some things—mainly how Helena can ascend or depart or whatever.”

“You might want to put a hold on that.”

“Why?”

“I would imagine that Helena knows plenty she still hasn’t told you. Not to mention she’s a much better choice for eavesdropping on suspects than either of us.” Luc sighed. “Unfortunately, until we figure out exactly what’s going on here, Helena is worth more to us dead.”

The fear on Mildred’s face was clear as day when Luc came hauling Maryse into the hotel. The hotel owner ran across the lobby, as only large women can run, and started to gather her up in a hug. Apparently, she remembered Maryse’s injuries and placed a hand on her arm instead. “Oh, my God, child, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mildred. Just a few cuts and my head’s pounding a bit again, but nothing to be concerned with.”

Mildred stared at Maryse as if she’d lost her mind, then looked over at Luc, whose expression apparently didn’t do anything to convince her to the contrary. She looked back at Maryse. “Nothing to be concerned with? Are you kidding me? That explosion at your cabin carried all the way to downtown. Why, when I heard it was your place, Johnny had to stop me from swiping his boat and heading over there myself. I swear I would have swam if I had to.”

Maryse smiled. “I know you would have. I’m surprised Johnny won the fight over his boat.”

Mildred flushed a bit. “Well, I couldn’t get the damned thing started or I would have gotten away with it. Then I came back into the hotel and was just about to grab my keys and head to the dock when Sabine called and told me to hold tight and prepare a room for you.” She gave Maryse a hard look. “What the hell is going on, Maryse?” She looked over at Luc. “And what is he doing taxiing you around?”

“It’s sort of a long story. Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, and I’ll take a shower. Luc will fill you in on the high points in the meantime.”

Mildred pursed her lips, obviously wanting an answer right away but not about to argue the fact that Maryse could obviously use a shower. “Okay,” Mildred said finally. “I’ve got a new caramel blend I can put on and some butter cookies I just baked yesterday. You go on with your shower. Sabine brought some clothes by earlier to tide you over until you can buy some more.” She pointed a finger at Luc.
“You
can follow me to the kitchen and start explaining exactly what the hell happened and how you got in the middle of it.”

Maryse smiled at the look of dismay on Luc’s face. She knew he was probably itching to make phone calls or revisit the blast site or something that proved his cleverness or masculinity. Instead, he was stuck answering to Mildred over caramel coffee and butter cookies.

“Go ahead and tell her everything,” Maryse instructed.

Luc nodded and headed through the double doors that Mildred had indicated. The hotel owner pulled back her shoulders and followed him. Maryse took one final look at Luc’s retreating figure and sighed. Like she needed to feel any more attraction to Luc LeJeune. She’d spent the last couple of days trying desperately to ignore the sparks between them, and now here he was, looking out for her and seeing her ghost.

The first time she’d met him, Maryse had thought he was just another playboy with a roving eye, but apparently there was another side to Luc that he obviously didn’t let out for just everyone.

He’d shown Maryse that other side, but for the life of her, she had no idea why.

Luc watched the hotel from across the street and saw Maryse close the blinds to her hotel room window. Good. She should stay put for a while, and if she got any foolish ideas about leaving the hotel before he returned, Mildred had promised to handcuff her to the stair railing. She’d even showed him the handcuffs, which had given him a moment of pause.

He looked across the parking lot, half-expecting to see Helena strolling around like she hadn’t done anything wrong, but apparently the ghost had decided to lay low for a bit. He shook his head and walked toward his Jeep. He wasn’t happy about seeing Helena, but it did explain why Maryse had been acting so strangely. In fact, given everything she had going on, he was somewhat surprised she’d held things together as well as she had.

He took one final look at the hotel, satisfied that Maryse was in capable hands, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he climbed in his Jeep. He’d already had one text message today from his boss, and with everything that had happened, he hadn’t had an opportunity to call in without blowing his cover. But he couldn’t put off calling the office any longer. Wilson rarely called Luc when he was in the field. If he felt the need to leave a message, something must be up.

He dialed his office and his boss picked up on the first ring.

“Damn it, LeJeune!” Wilson shouted. “Where the hell have you been all day?”

Luc moved the phone a couple of inches from his ear until he was sure the yelling was over. “There was a situation with my suspect.”

“Spill it, LeJeune. I don’t have all day like you do.”

“Someone tried to kill her.”

“Are you positive?”

“Her house exploded.”

There was a couple of seconds pause, and Luc knew Wilson was rolling this piece of information around in his mind. “Well, I guess that might be hard to construe any other way. So I take it she wasn’t in the house?”

“On her way up to it when it blew. We just got back from the hospital.”

Wilson groaned. “Do not tell me you’re white knighting this woman around to doctor’s appointments and to have her hair done. Are you trying to look suspicious? As far as she’s concerned, you barely know her, LeJeune. Act like the stranger you’re supposed to be before someone makes you.”

“I’m not going to hair appointments, and I just happened to be in the vicinity when her cabin exploded so I took her to the emergency room. Any decent person would have done that—stranger or no.”

“Maybe, but be careful. Remember, I never wanted you on the assignment in the first place. Your grandparents lived entirely too close to Mudbug for my comfort. There’s still the possibility of you being recognized.”

“My grandparents moved almost five years ago,” Luc argued, “and I haven’t been there to visit since I was in high school. They preferred to come to the city to see me.”

“Family visiting preferences aside, you better stay low on this one or I’m going to yank you out.”

“I understand, but I’m wondering if all this is related to our case. There’s no way this was an amateur job. There’s not a single piece of that cabin left over two feet long.”

Wilson sighed. “Well, keep an eye on her for now, but I have to tell you, it’s looking more and more like the informant is that accountant that Agent Duhon is on. I’m expecting a break anytime. And when I get it…”

“I understand,” Luc said, and closed his phone. His time was running out. As soon as they had the informant, his business with Maryse was over and he would be expected back in New Orleans. And that left Maryse with no one to protect her but a fake psychic, a hotel owner with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, and a ghost wearing bad polyester.

Luc gave her ten, fifteen minutes tops.

Maryse awoke the next morning with another pounding headache and immediately decided that head injury headaches were much, much worse than the drinking kind. Her poor body had seen more abuse in the last couple of days than it usually did in years. She groaned as she got out of bed and turned a tired eye to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Only six
A.M.
Habit, she knew, but if ever there was a day she’d have liked to sleep in, this would have been it.

The day before had been long and intense, first Luc filling Mildred in on the basics, with Sabine joining them for most of the conversation. Then Maryse had made her appearance, and it was all she could do to keep Mildred and Sabine from bundling her up and hauling her out of town, regardless of land, oil, inheritance, or anything else. She’d finally convinced them to leave it alone for the night at least, but she could tell that no one was happy going to bed with no plan of action.

She shuffled into the bathroom to survey the damage and groaned. It wasn’t a pretty sight and definitely wasn’t going to help her “stay in Mudbug” argument. Even Jasper, who was drinking out of the toilet despite a perfectly good bowl of water in the bedroom, paused for a moment and stared.

The bruises on her arms and legs from the truck wreck were purple with that nasty-looking yellow around the edges. The cuts were not deep and wouldn’t scar, but they dotted her hands like bright red freckles. Fortunately, in all of this, she’d remembered to protect her face, but the stress and lack of sleep were showing there. The bags under her eyes were so dark they looked like she was ready to play a quarter in the NFL, and to top it all off, they were puffy, probably from all the yelling she did yesterday mixed with the intermittent tears last night.