Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(50)

Raissa laughed. “Well, the next time you or Helena need to procure some illegal data, let me know and I’ll loan you my scanner.”

“Scanner?”

“Yeah, a scanner,” Raissa said. “Mine is small—just big enough for a sheet of paper, and really thin and portable. You could scan all the documents Helena stole onto a USB, then review them at your leisure on your home computer. No hand cramps, floating file scares, or habits required.”

“I never even thought about something like that. You constantly amaze me with your grip on technology.”

“Hey, the spirits don’t help with filing and I don’t want to rent storage. Digital file cabinets are the way to go.” Raissa walked over to Sabine and gave her a hug. “I’m going to clear out. I want to talk to Beau before I head back to New Orleans and open the shop. You let me know if you need anything. Promise?”

Sabine nodded. “Promise.”

Raissa gave her a wave and left the room. Sabine looked down at the files, then frowned when she saw who the records belonged to—Helena’s family. Why in the world would Helena want those? Her parents were long dead—they couldn’t possibly have killed her.

Sabine shoved the files in her overnight bag and zipped it shut. Helena wouldn’t be able to return them until nighttime. Which would give Sabine plenty of time to ask the ghost what the hell was going on.




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Chapter Twelve




It was past sunrise before Beau finished up with the Mudbug police, locked up Sabine’s apartment, and loaded the evidence bagged for testing in his truck. Logic told him that Sabine had to have been poisoned in her apartment and most likely by something she consumed that night, but for the life of him, Beau couldn’t figure out how anyone had gotten inside. There was no sign of forced entry on any of the doors or windows, and since the property manager had gotten approval to replace the locks after the break-in on both the front and back doors, anyone who’d previously had a key was out of luck.

Someone could have jimmied the lock, but the new technology would have been extremely difficult for anyone but a professional. There was always the locksmith to consider, but the company the property manager used was based out of New Orleans and had been in business forever. Still, Beau supposed he would talk to someone there after he finished at the lab.

He was just climbing in the truck when he heard Mildred yelling from across the street. The hotel owner came running toward him, clutching a stack of white Styrofoam boxes. “I was hoping to catch you before you left for the hospital. Can you give me a ride?”

“Sure,” Beau said and motioned her into the truck, “but I thought you were driving Sabine home after they released her.”

“I was,” Mildred said, her face flushed with the exertion. “Doggone battery on my car is dead again. It’s happened four times now in the past two weeks, but I haven’t had time to get another. I don’t need the car that often, so I’ve been borrowing Sabine’s, but in all the excitement, I’ve misplaced my spare key.”

“Do you need some help?” Beau pointed to the stack of boxes, about to topple as Mildred struggled with the seat belt.

“What—oh, no, thank you.” She clicked the belt into place and righted the boxes. “I got breakfast for all of us over at the café. I figured you haven’t had time to get anything, same as me, and I know my Sabine. She’s not going to eat any of that hospital food.”

“I don’t blame her,” Beau said as he started down the highway to the hospital. “So do you need me to give the two of you a ride home?”

“No. You’ve got much more important business to take care of in New Orleans. I’ll get Sabine’s keys from her and have one of my friends give me a lift home. Then I’ll come back for Sabine.”

“You sure you have time? I can’t imagine Sabine is going to sit in that hospital one minute longer than required, even if it means walking home.”

Mildred laughed. “You got my girl pegged, all right. But not to worry. They won’t release her before noon. Dr. Breaux doesn’t make rounds as early as he used to and even though that Dr. Mitchell seemed sharp, Dr. Breaux’s probably going to want to see Sabine himself.”

“Dr. Breaux’s the local?”

“Yes. In his seventies and still kicking.” She shifted in her seat to stare at Beau. “So are you planning on taking care of my girl?”

Beau gave a start and glanced over at Mildred. “Depends on what you mean by taking care of. I’m going to find out who’s trying to hurt her, and I’m going to do my damndest to see that whoever it is doesn’t get another shot.”

Mildred sighed. “Why do you young people make everything so difficult? I’ve seen the way you look at her. You darn near ran me over trying to get to her apartment last night, and the way you were shouting questions at those paramedics…all I’m saying is it looked like a lot more than concern for a client to me.”

Beau groaned inwardly. Was his attraction to Sabine really that apparent, or was the hotel owner just fishing and hoping? Either way, Beau wasn’t about to accommodate her. Sabine’s rejection was embarrassing enough kept between the two of them. He wasn’t about to share it with anyone else.

“I look at her like a cop does a potential victim. I was FBI, remember? And I’m not about to lose a client…not on my watch. I’m going to protect Sabine, but once I know what’s going on here and the guilty party is in jail, then my job is done.”