Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(62)

“Oh, sorry. I must have accidentally picked up that can.”

“Bull, Helena. You went through that woman’s pantry and took whatever you wanted. You have an eating disorder and need to get help.” Sabine clutched her head with both hands. “Oh, God, I cannot believe I just said that to a dead person.”

“I can,” Maryse said. “I gave up on logic weeks ago.”

Helena glared at Sabine. “Have you seen Lois Cormier’s ass? Trust me, I’m doing her a favor.”

Sabine threw her hands in the air and turned back around in her seat. “I give up. You know, I thought a time or two that if you weren’t already dead, I would take on the job. Now, I’m just wondering if it’s not safer and a heck of a lot more peaceful if whoever’s trying to kill me is successful. Whatever afterlife there is has to be less aggravating than this.”

Maryse shook her head. “I thought that, too, but then I was afraid if the killer was successful but didn’t get caught, that I’d just be stuck in limbo with Helena.”

Sabine shuddered. “Oh, God, you’re right.”

“Maybe you should just leave town,” Maryse suggested.

“For how long?” Sabine shook her head. “We have no idea why someone is after me. Leaving will most likely only postpone the inevitable.”

Maryse sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” She looked over at Sabine. “Well, look at the bright side—at least we’ve got plenty to snack on while we try to sort all this out.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Helena said. “And I figured while we were having a snack, Maryse could tell me what she figured out from my family’s medical files. You’ve looked at them, right?”

Maryse looked at Sabine, waiting for a cue, and Sabine nodded. Now was as good a time as any to deliver the news. “Okay,” Maryse said. “We’ll talk as soon as we get back to the hotel.”

Fifteen minutes later they were ensconced in Sabine’s hotel room, Sabine perched on the dresser, Maryse pacing all five steps that was the length of the room, and Helena sitting on the end of the bed, stuffing her face with truffles and apparently completely oblivious to Maryse’s discomfort.

“So shoot,” Helena said. “Let me have it.”

Maryse stopped pacing and looked down at Helena. “I don’t know how to tell you this any other way, Helena, so I’m just going to put it all out there.”

“Go for it.”

“You had cancer, Helena, advanced. Even if someone hadn’t murdered you, I don’t think you could have made it a year.”

Helena dropped her truffle and stared. “But…how…I didn’t feel…I mean, I was a little more tired than usual, but I was getting old, so I thought…but that’s not what killed me?”

“No,” Maryse said, “but unfortunately, the autopsy didn’t find anything, either.”

“What?” Helena shook her head. “I’m not crazy. There’s no way my death was natural. I was there…I ought to know.”

“No one’s giving up on this, Helena. Sabine and I want you to know that.”

Helena sighed. “I know you are doing your best, and I appreciate it all. Cancer, huh? I guess that gives me something else to think on.” Helena rose from the bed. “I’m going to take a walk and sort this out, okay, guys? I’ll check in later.”

“We understand,” Sabine said and watched Helena leave through the wall. When she was certain the ghost was gone, she looked over at Maryse. “You left something out. I can tell by your face.”

“I know, but she was already struggling with the other stuff. I guess I figured we should give her a little time to adjust before we hit her with the rest.”

“What else is there?” Sabine asked.

Maryse looked at Sabine, a pained expression on her face. “Based on the medical files, there’s no way Hank is Helena’s son.”

[page]

It was almost eight o’clock before Beau made it back to Mudbug. After his conversation with the garage manager, he’d called a buddy who knew something about explosives and had agreed to come immediately and take a look at the car. His friend verified the manager’s assessment of the situation, but poking around the engine for a while and studying some of the pieces recovered from the blast, he concluded that whoever had constructed the bomb was no expert.

Damn internet.

All you needed was an ISP and Google and information of all sorts was at your fingertips. Beau parked in front of the hotel and rushed inside. He knew Maryse had been with Sabine the entire time, but ever since he’d found out about the bomb, he’d been counting the seconds until he could see Sabine with his own two eyes. The peanut oil had been clever and could have been deemed an accident, but strapping a bomb to someone’s car was an act of desperation, and that wasn’t a good sign at all.

Beau hurried up the stairs and knocked on Sabine’s door. Maryse gave him a brief quiz, then unlocked the door and let him into the room. He paused for a moment as he stepped inside, not sure what to think of the display. There was food everywhere—canned goods, boxes of crackers, chips, a loaf of bread, peanut butter, three different varieties of cookies, and he couldn’t even count how many pieces of chocolate candies.