Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(44)

Sabine frowned at Mildred. “You knew this and didn’t tell me?”

Mildred raised her hands in protest. “I didn’t know who he was until tonight. Darn near ran me over getting to your apartment when he heard the sirens. You know I wouldn’t keep something like that from you, Sabine.” Mildred shot a dirty look at Beau. “You didn’t tell me you were lying to her.”

“I wasn’t lying, exactly.” He stepped next to the bed and looked down at Sabine. “That break-in at your place worried me. I just didn’t like the sound of it, but then I’ve been accused of being paranoid, so I didn’t want to get you riled up in case it turned out to be nothing.”

“So you thought you’d spy on me for a couple of days, then let me know if you thought I was in danger…something I might have needed to know before tonight. Where the hell is that doctor?” Sabine flashed an angry glance at the door to her room, agitated that they were keeping her waiting.

Beau ran one hand through his hair. “I swear, Sabine. If I’d thought…I didn’t know…”

“Stop,” Sabine said. “I’ll decide how I feel about all this after I find out what happened to me. For all we know, this might be nothing.”

“Nothing?” Mildred said. “You were unconscious. It’s a miracle you dialed 911 before you passed out. That can’t be nothing.”

“She’s right,” a voice sounded from the doorway.

They all turned to look at the young doctor who had entered the room. “I’m Dr. Mitchell. I just started here last week. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you all, but I’m certain we’d all rather it be under different circumstances.” He smiled at Sabine. “You are one lucky lady. The paramedics are amazed you managed to dial for help given the state you were in when they arrived. And since I’m assuming none of us would like a repeat performance, we’re going to have to rethink your dinner choices.”

Sabine stared at the doctor. “What are you talking about? I had a roast beef sandwich, same as yesterday.”

The doctor studied her. “Any dessert? Cookies, perhaps? A brownie?”

“I took a glass of wine and some sugar cookies to bed.”

“We had cookies at the Fortescues’, too,” Beau reminded her.

“You had cookies. I moved two of mine onto your plate so no one would think I was being rude when I didn’t eat them.”

Beau gave her a surprised look. “I didn’t even notice.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “Some detective.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re certain. You’ve had nothing else to eat or drink since lunch but your sugar cookies and wine?”

“Of course I’m certain. What is this about? You’re starting to worry me.”

“You had an allergic reaction,” the doctor replied. “The kind of reaction that can kill people.”

“Peanuts? You’re saying peanuts caused this?” She shook her head. “I know I’m allergic to peanuts—have known forever and I promise you I avoid them like the plague. Why do you think I didn’t eat the cookies when they were served? I don’t take any chances. There is no way I ate a peanut, not even accidentally. I cooked the roast beef myself yesterday and have eaten three meals from it now. The bottle of wine was brand new. I opened it last night.”

“And the cookies?” the doctor asked.

“I made them,” Mildred said. “A couple of days ago, and I assure you they didn’t contain peanut oil. I’m allergic to peanuts myself and I’ve been eating those cookies ever since I baked them.”

Sabine stared at the doctor. “You must be mistaken.”

“I was with her from midafternoon until last night through supper,” Beau added. “She only had the roast beef and a bottled water for supper.”

“And the wine,” the doctor asked Beau. “Did you drink any as well?”

“No,” Beau said and looked a little embarrassed. “I left before Ms. LeVeche retired for the night.”

“Where did you get the wine, Ms. LeVeche, and is it a brand you drink regularly?”

“Yes, it’s my favorite zinfandel, and Mildred gave it to me day before yesterday. Mildred, Maryse, and I like the same brand, but it’s not sold here in Mudbug, so anyone who’s going to New Orleans usually picks up a bottle or two when they’re there.”

The doctor turned to Mildred. “Do you remember where you bought the wine?”

Mildred nodded. “Sure. At Bayou Beverages just on the highway before you get to the city. Why? Is that important?”

“It could be if someone else reports a problem.” The doctor made a note in his file. “Who else knows about your allergy?”

“Everyone,” Sabine replied. “Everyone in Mudbug, anyway. The restaurants are very careful with my food preparation and no one ever brings me Christmas goodies with nuts. I figured keeping something like that a secret was bound to be trouble.”

Dr. Mitchell nodded. “And usually it is, but I wonder if this time it didn’t work against you.”

Sabine felt a wave of cold wash over her. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but she was certain she wasn’t going to like it. “Surely, you’re wrong, Dr. Mitchell,” Sabine said, trying to clutch onto a reasonable explanation. “Maybe something else…a spider bite or something simple like an anxiety attack?”