Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(12)

Maryse lowered the magazine and realized that everyone in the lobby was staring at her. She gave them a smile and pulled her cell phone from her purse. “Sorry, I just remembered a call I need to make.” She pretended to push in some buttons, gave a fake greeting to the nonentity on the other end of the line, then turned sideways in her seat and leaned in toward Helena. “So what would have happened if he left you?”

“He wouldn’t have gotten a dime. It had to be my decision or he got nothing. Why do you think he’s hung around all these years, cavorting with floozies, hoping I’d divorce him?”

Maryse cringed, with little doubt in her mind that Harold had probably paid dearly for his indiscretions. Good God, was a free ride and a luxury sedan really worth living with an angry, embittered Helena every day?

“And the payoff is for what exactly?” Maryse asked. Rich people were very confusing.

“Hmmpf. Apparently for being so useless he couldn’t work and wouldn’t be able to support himself. You have to understand. I married Harold when I was nineteen. I didn’t get control of the trust until I was twenty-one. Since no one thought our marriage would last, the lawyers insisted on something to protect my inheritance. Then Harold insisted on something to protect himself, since he was about to deploy to Vietnam and figured that would give everyone too much free time to change my mind.”

Maryse absorbed all this. “So how much money are we talking about?”

Helena stared at Harold in obvious disgust. “Upwards of half a million. So I figured no way. I had ultimate control of the estate upon death, so I decided Harold would just have to suffer living with me if he wanted to maintain his lifestyle.”

Maryse leaned closer and whispered. “So what exactly did you leave Harold then?” After all, he was at the attorney’s office with the rest of them, so that had to mean she’d left him something, despite her griping and complaining.

Helena smiled. “You’ll see. You’ll all see. Especially Harold.”

Oh hell. This couldn’t be good. And here she was wearing high heels and a dress and sporting a headache set to turn into a migraine at a moment’s notice. Running was definitely going to be out of the question.

She was just about to push Helena for more information when a tall, thin man stepped into the reception area from the back office. He had not a hair on his head but seemed as though he was trying to make up for it with a long, flowing gray beard. His posture was as stiff as his suit, which had probably been purchased somewhere around the time he started growing the beard.

“If you will follow me, please,” he said, and Maryse immediately recognized the pompous voice as the attorney who had phoned her. “We’re ready to begin.”

Maryse tossed her cell phone back into her purse as everyone in the waiting area rose and followed Father Time down the hall and into a small office at the back of the building. The others had already taken their seats, so Maryse perched on the edge of a particularly hideous gold lamée–covered chair, positioned right between Harold and the nun. The two hens were on the couch directly behind them. Everyone stared at the attorney, Wheeler, like they were waiting for him to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Or in her case, Hank Henry. Where the hell was Hank?

Wheeler took a seat behind a cherry-wood desk that occupied half of the room and gave them a sickly smile. “Thank you for coming. There were several people or agencies named in Helena’s will, but this group represents those she wanted to be present for a reading. The remainder will receive notification by certified mail.”

Maryse frowned, smelling a setup. She glared at Helena, but it did no good. She was too busy trying to strangle Harold from behind, but her fingers kept passing through his neck.

“What about Hank?” Maryse asked, unable to help herself. Damn it, that man was not going to get away with being married to her forever. If he didn’t turn up soon, she was definitely going to pursue having him declared legally dead—again. And if she ever got her hands on him, it wasn’t going to just be a declaration.

Wheeler reached over to the phone and pressed the speaker button. “Hank,” he said, and frowned, “is joining us by phone. He felt his presence here wouldn’t be prudent.”

“Prudent, my ass!” Maryse jumped up from her seat, glaring at the phone. “You listen to me, you sorry piece of—”

“Uhmm,” Wheeler cleared his throat and gave her a clear look of disapproval. “I’m sure that Mr. Henry would be more than happy to arrange a meeting with your attorney to discuss your unfinished business. However, your personal life has no place here.”

Maryse glared at Wheeler, then at the phone, then at Harold and Helena for producing that pile of pond scum. She also made note that the pond scum had not uttered a word during the entire exchange. “Fine, then let’s get on with it. Obviously, I have some business to do with my own attorney and the sheriff’s department. I can’t hang around here all day.”

Wheeler nodded, and Maryse took her seat. He picked up an expensively bound stack of paper from the top of his desk and said, “All the words I read from this document are Mrs. Henry’s. They have not been edited or altered by this office or any of my agents.”

Here we go. If Wheeler was already claiming absolution and hadn’t even read the first sentence, this was going to be a doozy.

The attorney cleared his throat and began, “I, Helena Henry, being of sound mind and bad attitude, do hereby make the following bequeaths upon my death…”