Mischief in Mudbug (7 page)

The hotel was the tallest building on the street. If he could manage a front room, he’d have a clear view of Sabine’s building—the front of it anyway. He hoped she’d taken the necessary precautions with the back door after the last attempt. It was something he’d ask her about as soon as he had an opportunity. If she’d let him see the door and secure it, even better. Mind made up, he walked down the street to the hotel and stepped inside. A large woman with silver hair sticking up in all directions looked up from the counter as he entered.

“Hi,” she said. “Are you here for the sales convention?”

For a fleeting moment, Beau considered lying, but quickly changed his mind. The town was simply too small and once his cover was blown he’d have an even harder time convincing Sabine to trust him than before. “No. I’m here doing a little work and need a room.”

“Welcome. My name’s Mildred and this is my hotel. ’Bout how many nights you need to stay?”

Beau considered this for a minute. “I’m not really sure. Are you full, or can I negotiate something for a day at a time?”

Mildred shrugged. “Fine by me. But the hotel’s
completely booked a week from now. Think you’ll be done with your work by then?”

Beau nodded. “I hope to be.” He pulled his license and a credit card from his wallet and handed them to Mildred. It was only Tuesday and with any luck, he would either figure out what was going on or reassure himself that it was an isolated incident and be satisfied Sabine was safe.

Mildred ran his credit card and pushed the receipt across the counter along with a pen. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Villeneuve?” she asked as she glanced down at his license.

“Research, mostly.”

“Sounds fascinating. Medical?”

“No.” Beau pushed the completed registration card back across the counter. “Family history stuff mostly. Is there a room available in the front of the hotel?”

Mildred pulled a key from the pegboard behind her and handed it to Beau. “Third floor.” She studied him for a moment. “Anyone I might know?”

“It really wouldn’t be appropriate for me to say without permission.”

Mildred gave him a shrewd look. “Not for nothing, Mr. Villeneuve, but I’ve most often found that opening up family business long since dead is like stepping on a land mine.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Beau took the key and started toward the stairwell.

Sabine shoved the copies she’d made from the library microfiche into her shoulder bag and waved at old Mrs. Hebert, the librarian, as she exited the building. Three possibilities to fill two possible slots—
Amelia Watson, Sandra Franks, and Ruth Moore, all living in nearby bayou towns. No cause of death was listed, or surviving family. But at least she had a starting point.

She’d gone through the microfiche index for ten years preceding their deaths but had found no mention of any of the women. She’d ask Mildred and Helena if they knew any of the names, even though both would have been teenagers at the time of the women’s deaths. Beyond that, Sabine felt she’d spent enough time chasing a “bad feeling.” If Mildred or Helena had never heard of the women, then Sabine had already decided she would let it go without regret. Well, with almost no regret. Who was she kidding? She’d probably feel like crap but what other choice did she have? Maybe when things were more settled in her own life she’d pick it up again.

She glanced at her watch and realized it was getting toward suppertime and she still hadn’t eaten lunch. No wonder she was starving. She briefly considered the limited options in her apartment. She really had to get to the grocery store. And since Maryse had known good and well that Sabine had been joking about the bungee jumping and Luc had left that afternoon for his undercover assignment, Sabine knew her friend would remain at the lab in New Orleans until all hours of the night. Which put her out of the running as a dinner date.

Sabine looked over at the hotel. There was always Mildred. Sabine hated the thought of sitting across a table from Mildred knowing that she was hiding her cancer from her, but if she didn’t see her soon, Mildred would wonder and besides, she could go ahead and ask
her about the three women and get that out of the way. The hotel owner had raised Maryse after her mother died, and ran herd over Maryse and Sabine from childhood to their early twenties, doing her best to keep them from doing something foolish. She was moderately successful except for their teenage years and Maryse’s disastrous marriage to Hank.

Mind made up, Sabine started across the street for the hotel. She found Mildred behind the counter, wrapping up her daily accounting. The hotel owner looked up and smiled as Sabine entered the lobby.

“I haven’t seen you in days.” She gave Sabine a critical look. “How are you?”

Sabine took one look at Mildred and sighed. “Maryse told you.”

Mildred walked around the counter and gave Sabine a hug. “Oh, honey,” she said as she pulled back. “You know Maryse never could tell me a lie—not that I didn’t know about, anyway. And not telling me something like this is the same as lying in my book. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“It wasn’t that I was trying to keep it from you, exactly. It’s just that…well…I didn’t want you worrying about me. We haven’t even really gotten past everything that happened to Maryse, and I didn’t want to throw something else on you this soon. And I know how you feel about my looking for my family. I knew you wouldn’t be happy with me starting it up all over again, much less in full force.”

Mildred sighed. “I guess I figure little good ever comes from digging up the past. I don’t want you hurt, Sabine, and it just might be that finding them hurts more than never knowing them. I’ve always believed
family is about sharing your life, not your blood, but I understand why this is different. I just wish there was another way.”

“I love you, Mildred, you know that? But let’s not put the cart ahead of the horse. We don’t know what’s in store for me, so there’s no use worrying about a bunch of things that may or may not happen. Believe me, I spend enough time worrying for everyone.”

Mildred gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand you trying to protect me, Sabine, but you know good and well that I’m no shrinking violet. If you or Maryse need me, I want to know about it and be right in the middle of everything, raising Cain and getting things done. That’s what friends do.”

Sabine brushed an unshed tear away from her eye. “No, that’s what
mothers
do. Maryse and I are so lucky to have you.”

Mildred smiled. “Yes, you are. So I assume that means you’re taking me to dinner. I could sure use a mess of catfish and a glass of wine.”

Sabine laughed. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to.”

Mildred reached behind the counter and grabbed her purse. “Ready?”

Sabine nodded. “Can you leave? There’s no one to cover the desk.”

Mildred waved a hand in dismissal. “Julia should be here any minute. That girl is always five minutes late. Besides, we’ll just be across the street so it should be fine.”

They stepped outside, and Mildred pulled the lobby door closed behind her. “Now,” Mildred said and gave her a shrewd look, “are you going to tell me what you really wanted to talk about?”

Beau eased down the remainder of the stairwell as the door closed behind the hotel owner and Sabine. He stared through the lobby window after them. He’d known from the beginning that Sabine was keeping something from him…most clients did. The trick was deciding whether it was something important to the investigation or merely something private and perhaps embarrassing to the client. Beau hadn’t really gotten the impression that Sabine was holding back anything concerning her family, so that must mean it was personal.

And apparently something so dire she’d also kept it from the woman she considered a surrogate mother.

Which was very interesting when considered with all the other facts that Beau had. Like the fact that Raissa had just recently had the “vision” of Sabine’s parents, but had been friends with her and known of her situation for years, or that a “friend” had stolen a police file of her parent’s car wreck just this week but no one had ever done this before. And even though he knew she’d hired an investigator in the past, she’d claimed it had been years before and he had no reason to think she was lying.

So why the big push now?

Was Sabine’s secret related to her search for her family? And if so, how? And was the break-in at her shop tied in to all of it, some of it, or none of it?

He crossed the lobby and looked across the street. Sabine and Mildred were entering the catfish restaurant. They were both smiling as if nothing was wrong, but from their earlier conversation, Beau doubted that was the case. More likely they were making small talk
now and would have the bigger discussion once they were left to themselves. He deliberated for a moment walking across the street and getting a bite himself, but there was no way to do that without alerting Sabine that he was staying in town. The last thing he needed was Sabine to be suspicious of him or he’d never be able to help her.

His FBI buddy had gotten him all the information on the guy he’d remembered, and based on Beau’s subsequent research, a picture of Sabine’s family had started to take shape. He had nearly completed his investigation, more and more convinced that he’d not only identified her father but also located a whole host of living relatives. The kind that came with baggage. He’d dragged his feet on putting the final touches on the file, hoping to convince her to give up the search, but even if the earlier restaurant performance hadn’t convinced him, he now knew for sure that Sabine had an ulterior motive for starting her search all over again and with such enthusiasm.

Whatever was up with Sabine LeVeche was serious business. He felt it in his bones. And even though he knew he shouldn’t care, he wasn’t even going to bother trying to pretend he didn’t.

Sabine gave Mildred a hug and crossed the street to her building. They’d sat in the restaurant for hours, starting with catfish and ending with far too many cups of coffee. Now it was getting late and the hour coupled with the storm that was moving in had brought darkness to the dimly lit downtown area. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move off to her left. She whirled around and stared into the inky darkness, trying to make out where the movement had come from. Two buildings down was a stack of crates outside of the general store on the corner. The owner’s car was parked in front of the crates parallel to the sidewalk, even though the lines clearly were painted perpendicular. No matter, since there was so little activity this late in the evening.

She took a couple of steps closer to the end of the street and peered closely at the stack of crates. Was there something moving behind it? She shot a look back at the restaurant and bit her lip. There were only a few patrons inside and with the music playing and the general buzz of talking and serving, it would be unlikely anyone inside would hear her if she called for help.

Go back to your apartment, lock yourself inside, and call the police.

And tell them what? That you’re spooked over some creepy
diary entry from forty years ago?
Yeah, they’d love to hear that, especially after her phone call today, asking for an update on their nonexistent investigation on her break-in. Sabine got the impression that if Leroy and company never heard from her
or
Maryse again as long as they lived, it would be too soon. The Mudbug police were well-equipped to deal with drunk and disorderlies, or poaching, or off-season hunting, but breaking and entering and murder went a bit beyond their scope.

Then another thought crossed her mind—what if it was Hank? He wasn’t exactly square with the local law, so hiding behind a bunch of crates waiting to talk to her wouldn’t be a stretch. “Hank? Is that you?” Silence.

She bit her lower lip, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed in 9-1-1 and slipped her phone into her palm, her thumb hovering over the Talk button. At least she could scream. They wouldn’t have any idea where she was making the call from, but the police station was at the far end of town and surely someone would come running outside if she made the call. Surely.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the crates. One, two, three, four, five, she counted each step as she went, like knowing the number somehow made a difference. The crates were only twenty feet or so away and she stood stock still, trying to make out any shift in the shadows cast out into the street, straining to hear anything besides the wind blowing between the buildings.

Nothing.

She let out her breath and shook her head.
You’re
imagining things, Sabine, and the only thing you’re accomplishing is scaring yourself.
What was the point? If she wanted to lay wide-eyed in her bed all night, there was a twenty-four-hour run of horror movies on one of the local channels. At least that way she could have dry, non-blinking eyes and a pounding heart in the comfort of her pajamas and her bed. Not to mention a glass of wine to thin the blood and a double-fudge chocolate brownie to top off the sugar coma.

Then something moved again, just beyond the crates.

If she hadn’t been looking directly at the shadows cast far out into the street, she would have missed the tiny sliver of movement, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Something was behind those crates. The shadow had seemed too long for an animal, so that left only one other option. And the only reason to lurk in the shadows was if you were up to no good.

She tightened her grip on her phone and leaned over to the side, trying to peer beneath the car. “Hank, is that you? If it is, come out. You’re giving me the creeps.”

And that’s when he rammed her, his shoulder catching her right in the collar bone.

She’d grossly miscalculated, Sabine thought as she slammed down onto the sidewalk. He hadn’t been behind the crates. He’d been hiding in the shadows on the side of the car, not five feet from where she’d stopped to listen. She screamed as she hit the ground, pain shooting through her shoulder as it took the brunt of the fall. She struggled to press the Talk button on her cell phone, but the fall had jostled it in her hand, and Sabine was certain the call didn’t make it through.

She rolled over and jumped up as fast as possible,
knowing that a standing opponent was in a much better position to defend themselves than one lying down, but she was no sooner standing than the ski-masked figure shoved her, trying to knock her to the ground again. Sabine struggled to maintain her balance, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to manage. But at the last moment, she managed to spin around and clock the masked figure in the shoulder with her heel.

The attacker stumbled backward. Through the slits in his mask, Sabine could see his eyes widen with surprise. He paused only a second to stare at her, then turned and ran into the woods at the edge of downtown. Sabine stared after him, sending up thanks for the seven years that she’d spent the time and money driving to New Orleans for martial arts lessons. Finally deciding that he wasn’t going to try for a repeat performance, she picked up her cell phone from the sidewalk and hurried down the sidewalk to the police station.

No use sending up the alarm…especially not with Mildred right across the street and already worried about her. Her attacker was long gone and short of an Olympic sprinter or a bloodhound, there was going to be no catching him. Not tonight anyway. She paused for a moment before opening the door to the police station. This was really a waste of time, and she knew it, but regardless of their ability, it was still their problem. Maybe if odd things continued to happen around town, the city council might just figure out that an inept ex-fisherman and his otherwise unemployable nephew might not be the best choices to keep the city safe. She sighed as she pulled the door open.

Getting a competent police force was as likely as the town banning beer and losing religion.

Sabine exited the police station after what was probably the most frustrating thirty minutes of her life. Oh, there was a whole lot of writing—longhand—on legal pads, and the constant nodding and glances between Leroy and his idiot nephew, but it all amounted to nothing. The reality was, the business with Maryse had shocked the town but absolutely no one was willing to believe it was anything but an isolated incident—the ravings of a madman. And now that the madman was gone, there couldn’t possibly be anything more than the normal redneck offenses going on in Mudbug.

At least that’s what they wanted to believe.

There was noise across the street and she looked up in time to see the last of the patrons leaving the restaurant and the owner locking the door behind them. She glanced down at her watch and sighed. It was past time for her to be in pajamas, and she was going to regret every minute of her
Kill Bill
routine the next morning when her alarm went off.

“Is everything all right?” The voice sounded close to her and caused her to jump. Beau was standing next to his truck.

“Oh,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s not, I mean…I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I needed to talk to a few people around the area. The conversations went a bit longer than I thought they would, and I was hungry.” He shrugged. “I de
cided to have dinner before I started the drive back. So…is everything all right?”

Sabine shook her head. “No. I don’t think so, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Beau stepped onto the sidewalk and looked closely at her. “What happened?”

“I saw someone lurking in the shadows on the corner when I left the restaurant.” She let out a single laugh. “Listen to me—lurking in the shadows. I sound like a B horror movie.” She looked at Beau, expecting to see him smiling, but his expression was serious and he didn’t look happy.

“Lurking where, exactly?”

Sabine pointed to the end of the street. “The corner, just in front of the general store. I know I should have just minded my own business and gone home, but after the attempted break-in at my shop, I thought maybe someone was trying to break into the store.”

“And you thought you’d apprehend a thief? Why in the world would you put yourself at risk like that? You’ve got a police station just down the block.”

Sabine smirked. “Yes, and the state of our policemen is why I thought I was a better choice for the job. I might look fragile, but I assure you I can take care of myself.”

“Really…you packing?”

“No. I mean, not on me. I
do
have a pistol if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Not going to do you a bit of good in your sock drawer.”

Sabine sighed. “Look. I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m trained in martial arts—seven years of training to be exact.”

“So you learned that new how-to-stop-a-bullet karate move. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Oh, good Lord! Are you always this aggravating? So maybe I shouldn’t have gone looking for trouble, although I hardly equate walking down Main Street with entering a war zone. Besides, I didn’t get anything but a little dirt on my pants, but the guy sneaking around is going to feel the throbbing in his shoulder for a couple of days.”

Beau studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Martial arts, huh? I assume you kicked him?”

“Yeah, I was off-balance so I used it to my advantage.”

“I’m impressed. That’s an advanced reaction. Well, at least let me walk you home. I know you don’t need an armed guard, but you’ll damage my chivalrous male ego if you turn me down.”

Sabine stared at him, aggravated that she hadn’t insulted his manhood, aggravated that he was impressed, aggravated most of all because she
liked
the fact that he was impressed. “Fine. If we run into trouble between here and the thirty steps to my doorway, you are free to take control.”

Beau grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He fell in step with Sabine and they walked up the sidewalk to her building. For just a moment, Sabine thought he was going to take her hand in his and found herself disappointed when he didn’t.
What the heck are you thinking? If he touches you, it’s all over. Get your mind off the guy and onto bigger problems.

They were halfway to her building, but the walk already felt like it had taken hours. She had to find something to take her mind off the gorgeous man next to her. Something to keep her from committing the ulti
mate sin—inviting him inside. She scanned the businesses on Main Street looking for inspiration.
Catfish, banks, dirty car, special on canned goods, massage—crap!
She blinked once and looked past the Mudbug Hair Salon & Spa. Rubbing naked bodies wasn’t likely to make her forget anything—in fact in the split second it had crossed her mind, she’d added two or three more things to the list of what she’d like to do with Beau Villeneuve.

“Something else on your mind?” Beau asked.

“No.” Sabine held in a groan, certain her face was flaming red. Thank God for a cheap town and dim street lights. “I mean, no more than any other day.”

“You’ve got a lot going on. Maybe you ought to take a break.”

“And do what? Even if I had unlimited funds and someone to take over my business for a while, geography isn’t going to stop my mind from whirling.”

Beau sighed. “No, it’s not.”

Sabine stopped in front of her shop and looked at him. “You say that like someone who tried it.”

“Tried it and failed miserably.” He looked down at the sidewalk.

Sabine bit her lip, knowing she should let this conversation end and go inside, but her curiosity had already gotten the better of her. “So how far did you travel to not forget?”

Beau looked back up at her. “In miles—who knows? Three continents, eleven countries, God knows how many cities, and a couple of islands that aren’t even on the maps.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding. I’ve never even been out of Louisiana.”

Beau stared. “Wow.
You’re
kidding.”

Sabine held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. Unless you count the Gulf of Mexico for an offshore fishing trip.”

Beau laughed. “Not exactly a world tour.”

“No big deal, I guess. And the way things have been lately, there’s plenty of excitement in Mudbug.”

Beau’s expression sobered. “A personal tour of the Australian outback is exciting. What’s been going on in Mudbug lately is criminal, and that’s just dangerous.” He looked up and down the front of the shop building, then twisted the front door handle. “You sure you don’t want me to take a look around? Everything looks okay, but…”

Sabine shook her head. “I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the offer and the walk. Besides, you have a bit of a drive back to New Orleans.”

Beau stared at her for a moment, as if he was contemplating saying something, or God forbid, doing something, but finally he nodded. “All right then. Goodnight, Sabine.” He headed back down the sidewalk to his truck and Sabine let herself into the shop and made sure the new lock was turned all the way. She peeked out between the blinds and saw Beau sitting in his truck, looking at her shop. He waited a couple of seconds more before starting his truck and pulling away.

Sabine sighed. The triple threat—sexy, intelligent, and kind. Beau Villeneuve was the kind of distraction she just didn’t need, but damned if she didn’t want him anyway.

It was almost lunchtime, and Beau paced the microfiche room in the New Orleans library for at least the
tenth time, holding his cell phone but not wanting to make the call. He’d verified everything he could and then spoken with the family’s attorney. He was almost positive that he’d found Sabine LeVeche’s family. After recognizing the man from Raissa’s drawing in the Vietnam war criminal files, he’d dreaded the outcome. On the upside, the war criminal was an identical twin and hadn’t been seen since the war. With any luck, the remaining brother was Sabine’s grandfather, but Beau still didn’t feel right about any of it.