Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(2)

For that matter, so would Jadyn.

She looked down at Helena and sighed. “Okay, I get it. At least, as much as anyone can. But you can’t steal things in broad daylight from people who can’t see you, although that’s probably a blessing. But you’re going to give someone a heart attack. Not to mention that you’ll make it impossible for Colt to do his job when people start reporting the thefts, and then residents will give him holy hell for not arresting the bad guy.”

Helena waved a hand in dismissal. “Sophie Jenkins is an old drunk. Everyone is just too polite to say it. So even if she reported a whole bakery marching out of her house, no one in Mudbug would believe her, least of all Colt.”

“I hate to say this,” Mildred said, “but she’s right. Sophie’s sorta known for her outlandish statements. A floating pie wouldn’t so much as raise an eyebrow in this town.”

Jadyn threw her arms in the air. “This town cannot be your personal buffet.”

“If they had a decent buffet around here,” Helena complained, “it wouldn’t be a problem. Not like anyone would miss an egg roll or two or a handful of popcorn shrimp. I tried the high school, but it was horrible! It’s no wonder half of the kids sneak out behind the school and smoke pot at lunch.”

Jadyn closed her eyes. “I did not just hear you say that.”

“I said—” Helena started.

“No,” Jadyn said. “What I meant was, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that part about the students, and that if you’d like to repeat it, you should do so in front of the sheriff.”

“He can’t hear me and besides, why should I be the one to tell?” Helena asked. “One of his deputies was out there last week smoking with them.”

Jadyn looked over at Mildred, who didn’t look any more pleased with that bit of information than she was.

“Okay, bottom line,” Jadyn said. “You don’t steal food from anyone who is not a drunk. And don’t steal from anyone who can’t afford the loss.”

“Fine,” Helena grumbled. “You two act like I’m an archcriminal.”

Jadyn shook her head. “I can’t believe I just endorsed stealing food, albeit under specific terms.”

Mildred patted her on the back. “Knowing Helena tends to skew normalcy a bit.”

Jadyn opened her mouth to reply but before she could get a word out, the front door to the hotel opened and slammed shut.

“Helena!” Maryse yelled from the lobby. “Don’t think you’re getting away with it.”

Instantly, Helena dropped the piece of pie she’d been holding, jumped up from the chair, and ran through the wall behind her. A couple seconds later, Maryse stormed into Mildred’s office, her face flushed red.

“Where is she?” Maryse demanded.

“She just ran through the wall,” Jadyn replied, wondering what in the world Helena had done to get her normally even-keeled cousin so angry.

“I’m going to kill her.” Maryse stared at the wall and yelled, “I’m going to kill you!”

For a split second, Jadyn wondered if it were possible to kill a ghost—which would solve a lot of problems—but then figured Maryse’s rant was rhetorical and not literal. “Should I even ask?”

“Oh, you should ask all right. Then when I have Sabine exorcise her back to whatever pit of hell she crawled out of, you won’t feel a bit of sympathy.”

Mildred looked over at Jadyn and raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

Maryse took a deep breath and then unloaded on Jadyn and Mildred, filling them in on her less-than-stellar morning.

“The hutch that I gave you as a wedding present?” Mildred asked.

Maryse nodded. “It’s riddled with bullet holes now.”

Mildred put her hands on her hips. “I may just have to kill her myself. That hutch was a family heirloom.”

Jadyn cringed, quickly deciding silence was her best option.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Maryse said. “One of the vases on the hutch that I shot was daddy’s urn.”

Mildred paled and Jadyn’s hand involuntarily flew up to cover her mouth.

“I must have grazed the top of it,” Maryse continued, “because it fell onto the dining room rug and the top part broke off. Which would have been a situation that was salvageable except that while I was chasing Helena down the block, Jasper decided it was a perfect spot for a new litter box.”

“Holy Mother of God!” Mildred made the sign of the cross.

Jadyn felt her stomach clench. Next time she saw Helena, she might be tempted to try shooting her, too.

Maryse flopped into an office chair. “I rolled up the whole mess in the rug and tossed it in your Dumpster. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mildred sank into the chair next to her. “Your daddy is in my…oh, well.” Mildred grabbed a magazine off the desk and started fanning herself. “I don’t want you worrying about this. I’ll give you half of my ashes, and we’ll find you a sturdier urn.”

“Do they make them bulletproof?” Maryse asked.

Jadyn’s hand slid from her mouth and she looked back and forth between the two women, a million thoughts racing through her head. She assumed Jasper was a cat and he’d committed the worst of offenses with Maryse’s dad’s ashes and ruined a perfectly good rug. But why in the world did Mildred have some of Maryse’s dad’s ashes? Was it a Mudbug tradition? Some weird agreement among residents? And where was Mildred keeping her portion? Because she was going to be a lot more careful around vases now that she knew what might be contained in them.