Trouble in Mudbug (23 page)

Maryse gasped and struggled to maintain her cool.

Helena stared at him in disbelief. “But how is that possible?” she asked.

Luc shrugged, not the least bit bothered by the situation. “I don’t know. Family tradition, I suppose.”

Maryse stared. “You hear her, too?”

Luc grimaced. “Unfortunately. Why do you think I looked behind you when you entered the lobby? I heard two voices approaching clear as day, but then you were the only one who came through the door. Helena walked through the wall a couple of seconds later.” He looked from Maryse to Helena. “How long has she been hanging out with you?”

“Since the funeral, much to my dismay,” Maryse said.

Luc looked at Helena, then back at Maryse and smiled. “No wonder you’ve been so bitchy. What the hell did you do to earn being haunted by your dead mother-in-law?”

Maryse bristled at his words. “First of all, I didn’t
do
anything to make her show up. She just did, and now my life is pure misery. Second of all, I’ve always been bitchy to rude, pushy people. Helena has nothing to do with that.”

“Man, that’s bad karma in a way I’ve never seen before.”

Maryse shot him a dirty look, and Luc wisely decided to lead off from that line of conversation. “So the storage closet story?” he asked.

Helena hooted and dissolved in laughter, sinking down the wall and onto the floor in a heap. “I tried to tell her that doctor was a loser and a cad, but would she listen? No way.”

“And you would know a cad, right?” Maryse shot back. “Especially since you married one and had the nerve to continue that genetic defect into the next generation. You should have at least done the world a favor and had Hank neutered when he hit puberty. That way we’d be sure the scourge on humanity couldn’t continue.”

Helena clamped her mouth shut and looked a bit sheepish.

Luc laughed and gave Helena a once over. “So what’s with the pink suit?”

“Do you think it was mine?” Helena shouted, an indignant look on her face. “Last I checked, the morgue didn’t ask the dead to pick out their wardrobe.”

“Maybe it was one of Harold’s floozies,” Maryse suggested and took a good look at Helena. Something was different. It took her a second to realize that instead of the uncomfortable twenty-year-old pumps she used to wear, Helena’s feet were now decked out in a brand new pair of Nike running shoes. Maryse stared at the shoes in amazement. “Helena, how did you change your shoes?”

Helena huffed. “Don’t you think if I knew, I would have changed the whole outfit? Damn it, I was walking to the hospital and thinking a pair of running shoes would really come in handy. Next thing I knew, that’s what I was wearing. As soon as I figure out how I did it, this pink monstrosity is gone.”

Before Maryse could reply, Dr. Breaux entered the room, giving Luc a curious look.

Figuring that was his cue, Luc nodded to the doctor and said to Maryse, “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” Then he left the room with Helena trailing behind him, yapping away as only Helena could yap. Maryse let out a sigh of relief. Maybe Helena would start hounding Luc and give her a break.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Breaux pronounced her fit for anything that didn’t encompass fast movement, eye strain, stress, or aggravation. Given her life at the moment, Maryse figured the only way to avoid that was death. Which would apparently fit right in with someone’s plan.

At the front desk, she signed the papers for yet another insurance claim and turned to find Luc standing alone in the lobby. She glanced around but didn’t see hide nor hair of Helena. She studied Luc for a moment. If he’d figured out a way to get rid of Helena, he might be worth keeping around. The lesser of two evils. Luc motioned to the front door, and she followed him out of the hospital with a clear view of the back end of his Levi’s. Definitely the better looking of the two.

Maryse figured Luc would drive her straight to the hotel, but instead he parked in front of Johnny’s Bar.

“You need to eat something,” he said. “You have to take pain meds and probably haven’t eaten today, have you?”

Maryse thought back to the odd phone call from the bank that had started her day. Good God, was that really only
this
morning? If every day was as long as this one, staying alive for another four days was going to age her a hundred years. She was definitely going to have to get a better moisturizer.

Luc was staring at her, and it took Maryse a moment to realize she had worked through everything in her own mind but hadn’t answered his question. “Sorry. I had to think about it for a minute, but you’re right, I haven’t eaten yet today.”

Luc gave her a sympathetic nod. “Then let’s get some food in you. Besides, you and I have to talk.” And after delivering that cryptic phrase, Luc headed into the bar before Maryse could even formulate a question.

They sat at the table in the corner—the private one that Maryse and Sabine preferred. They’d barely gotten seated before Johnny appeared at their table, wiping old grease off his hands with a dirty dishcloth, the worry on his face clear as day.

“Maryse!” He studied the cuts on her head and arms. “Are you all right? I was cleaning the grease traps and heard that blast all the way back in the kitchen. I thought for sure you were a goner until Mildred called and said you were on your way to the hospital.” He scanned her again, an anxious look on his face. “So, you’re okay? Nothing serious?”

Maryse smiled up at her father’s friend. “I’m fine, Johnny. Just a raging headache and some cuts, but nothing life threatening.”

Johnny looked a little apprehensive but nodded. “What happened?”

Maryse shook her head. “I have no idea. I was just pulling up to the cabin when it exploded. Good thing I wasn’t any closer.”

“Jesus, Maryse.” Johnny tugged his blue jeans back up around his waist and took in a deep breath. “I saw the fire department head that way. Are they going to investigate?”

Maryse nodded. “Oh, yeah. The fire department, the police department, and who knows who else. Not that there’s much left to look at.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luc said. “If the fire department suspects foul play, they’ll call in specialists. There’s very little that gets by an investigator trained for this sort of thing.”

Johnny paled a bit and looked at Luc, his eyes wide. “Foul play?” He looked back at Maryse. “I never thought…you’re sure?”

“The entire place was leveled,” Luc said. “What are the chances that’s accidental?”

Johnny stared down at Maryse and hesitated a few seconds before speaking. “Maryse, I heard a little about the will reading. Maybe you should take an extended vacation or something. Get the hell out of here until it’s safe.”

“And when will that be, Johnny? No one has any way of knowing, and I’m not leaving here with this whole inheritance mess hanging over my head.” She clamped her mouth shut, not about to reveal the real reason she couldn’t leave.

Johnny nodded but didn’t look pleased. “Harold was in here raising hell last night about him and Hank being cut out of the will.” He frowned. “You know, he’d be just crazy enough to try something like this.”

Mayrse nodded. “He’s already threatened me, and believe me, that will be the first name I give to the police.”

Luc shook his head. “I could be wrong, but I think whoever set that blast knew what they were doing. Someone with experience.” He looked up at Johnny. “You got any ex-military in Mudbug?”

Johnny let out a single laugh. “Are you kidding? Hell, practically every man in this town over the age of forty was military. The economy back then didn’t offer as many opportunities for young men as it does now.”

Luc sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

Johnny scrunched his brow in obvious thought. “Harold was military. He’s always in here bragging about it.”

“What did he do?” Luc asked.

Johnny shrugged. “No way of my knowing for sure, but he’s always claimed he was special forces.”

“Thanks, I’ll look into that.” Luc studied Johnny for a moment. “What about you?”

“Me?” Johnny laughed. “Oh, hell, I was a mess cook. Why do you think I opened this place? Toss some food on the grill, pour some beers. Just like being back in the service.”

Maryse smiled. “You might need to throw a burger or two on the grill for yourself, Johnny. You’ve dropped a few pounds.”

Johnny looked a bit embarrassed. “Wouldn’t hurt me to lose a couple more.” He placed a hand on Maryse’s shoulder. “You let me know if you need anything. I’ll send Jeff over to get your order.” Johnny nodded to Luc, then walked back to the kitchen.

“Well,” Luc said, “looks like the first thing we need to do is find out exactly what Harold did during his time in the military.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

Luc grimaced. “We should probably start with asking Helena.”

“Great,” Maryse mumbled. She stared out the window for a moment, trying to roll everything that had happened to her in the past couple of days into some kind of sense, but it was so extraordinary that she couldn’t even start. Giving it up as futile, she looked back at Luc. “What family tradition?”

“Huh?”

“Back at the hospital, you said you could see Helena because of family tradition. What does that mean?”

“Oh, well, it’s simple really. People in my family have been seeing the dead for as many generations as there are stories about it. My great-great grandmother claimed to have seen over sixty ghosts in her lifetime. But then, she lived to be a hundred and five.”

Maryse gasped. “Sixty ghosts!” She was completely unable to grasp the idea of seeing, and more importantly
hearing
, sixty Helenas. “How in the world did she live past a hundred with all those ghosts around? I’m ready to kill myself over one.”

Luc laughed. “They weren’t all around at the same time. Hell, that would give anyone a heart attack. In fact, I think the most she ever had speaking at once was two and they were twins, so I guess it sorta figured.”

Maryse shook her head in disbelief. “And none of this bothers you? Because I have to tell you, I’m creeped out every time I see her, even if only for a millisecond.”

“Hell yeah, it bothers me,” Luc said. “Why do you think I left a small town and hightailed it to the city? There may be more ghosts roaming around, but it’s a lot harder for them to figure out you can see them if they’re among so many people. I’ve managed to fly below the radar for ten years. Until now. Damn small towns.”

Luc glanced around the room and leaned across the table toward Maryse. “You know someone’s trying to kill you.”

Maryse was a bit taken aback at the directness. “Wow. I know the explosion couldn’t have been an accident, so that’s really the only explanation, but when you put it that blunt, it makes it even scarier than before.”

Luc nodded. “It’s not the first time, either.”

Maryse stared at him and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“My buddy at the dealership said someone cut your brake lines on your truck. Your wreck was no accident.”

“And you’re just now telling me about this? Don’t you think that was information I needed before now?”

Luc had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Maryse, but I was a bit confused at first since your wreck happened
before
the reading of the will, so it didn’t add up. Then after I heard about the whole inheritance thing, I figured Harold or someone else found out ahead of time and took a snipe at you. Cutting brake lines is not exactly a clear-cut route to death. In fact, it’s probably not a good route at all.”