Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(82)
Mildred patted her hand. “I know exactly what you’re saying, and you were right…then. You were right until I woke up in this hospital and saw Helena Henry standing next to my bed big as life and the two of you talking to her.”
Maryse’s eyes widened. “You really saw her? We hoped it was the drugs making you confused.”
“I saw her all right. At first I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but it was too vivid, and you looked too frightened when I said something for me to think it was just me being high.”
Maryse jumped up from the bed and paced the tiny room. “That’s not good. I have this theory, you see, that when someone sees Helena, they’re in danger. That seems to be the pattern. That’s why Sabine and I were worried. And since you saw her after your car wreck, it makes me think it’s not over for you.”
Mildred took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But that would explain this feeling we have, wouldn’t it? Something’s coming, and maybe somehow Helena is connected to it all.”
Maryse stopped pacing. “That’s what I think, and you’re right, the three of us need to have a long talk when this is over. Whatever ‘this’ is. But not now. Right now, it would be overload, and we need to keep our minds focused on looking for whatever it is that’s coming. Being blindsided sucks.”
Mildred nodded. “We’re going to be fine, Maryse. We may not know what we’re up against but we know something’s there. That makes us more prepared than most in our situation. I know I’ve sent you running all over tonight, but if you don’t mind, would you pop down to the cafeteria and pick us up a couple of large coffees? I’m thinking sleep isn’t really the best idea at the moment.”
“Of course,” Maryse agreed and hurried out of the room.
Mildred unzipped the wet bag she’d just gotten. She’d been carrying it around in addition to her purse for a couple of days—had been compelled to for reasons she couldn’t attest to, but then things hadn’t been normal in Mudbug for quite a while. Oh, there was a spare set of clothes on top to hide the real reason for the bag, but the cold, hard reason for it was nestled in the bottom. She pulled the pistol from its holder and carefully loaded it. A blast of thunder echoed through the room, and she looked out the window at the raging storm. Maryse was right—that storm was setting her on edge even more than before. She tucked the gun under the edge of her covers right by her hip and hoped to God she was faster than whatever the winds were blowing her way.
[page]Chapter Nineteen
Beau pressed the accelerator on his truck, pushing the vehicle as fast as he could down the muddy road. “The storm is slacking off some,” he said, hoping to reassure Sabine, who sat rigid on the passenger’s seat.
“What if the bridge is out now? What if we’re too late? What if he gets to Mildred?”
“Stay calm, Sabine. Mildred is still in the hospital, and Maryse was going to be there with her. It’s not like she’s alone, by any stretch. And maybe we’re wrong about all of this.”
“Mildred was firstborn. That must be important or Catherine wouldn’t have mentioned it to me. As their attorney, Martin would know just how important it was. I’d bet he’s been stalking the family his entire life, waiting for a chance to claim his rights.”
“So why wait? Catherine would have paid him plenty to go away.”
“I think…I know it sounds strange, but I don’t think it was just about the money. I think it was about being a Fortescue. And if we assume Martin didn’t know William was actually Lloyd, then the only way that would happen is if William admitted to an affair before he married Catherine.”
“And since Martin knew Catherine, he knew that would never happen,” Beau finished. “So he was biding his time thinking that when they passed, he’d come in for the biggest piece of everything as firstborn. But somehow he found out about Mildred. How do you think that happened?”
“It had to be that newspaper article—the same one Frances had. Remember, when we were at Martin’s house, I brought a New Orleans paper inside. Mildred looks just like his mother. He would have seen the resemblance right away, and guessing that he had a sister out there somewhere wouldn’t have been so big a leap to make.”
Beau nodded, understanding Sabine’s logic. “But that still doesn’t explain poisoning you or the car bomb. That was your wine and your car, Sabine.”
“That’s just it,” Sabine said, her voice growing more excited. “That bottle of wine was one Mildred picked up. I’d just gotten it from Mildred the day before. And since her car’s been on the blink, she’s been driving mine. If Martin came to Mudbug to spy on her—”
“He would have thought the car was hers,” Beau finished, and his pulse began to race. “Shit, you’re right. It makes total sense, as much as any of this does. And the break-in at your shop was probably Martin, too. It gave him a shiny new key to your building and access to anything you might have on Mildred.”
“Oh no! I have a master key to the hotel. It’s hanging on a rack in my kitchen with a label on it, plain as day. What a moron! I may as well have opened the door for him myself. And what do you want to bet that the whole dinner was Martin’s idea. Being stuck at the Fortescue estate would have been the perfect alibi for him. If it hadn’t been for Frances digging up dead people, we would never have known he was gone.”