Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(13)

Harold leaned forward in his chair eagerly. Helena moved to stand behind Wheeler, looking like an excited five-year-old. Maryse slouched back in her chair and waited for the insults to fly.

“All of my real estate holdings in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and Lafayette, as well as the income they produce, I leave to the St. John’s Orphanage in New Orleans. I also deed to them free and clear the building they occupy, which is mine to give.”

The nun gasped and from the shade of white that washed over her face, Maryse thought she was going to pass out. Maryse grabbed a notepad from Wheeler’s desk and fanned the woman. Helena owned an orphanage? And she was giving them real estate?

Maryse glanced sideways at Harold, but he looked as confused as she was and more than a little annoyed. Maryse guessed the real estate was worth a lot.

The nun finally waved at her and managed to squeak out a “Thank you.” Maryse put the notepad back on the desk and looked expectantly at Wheeler. God help her, this was starting to get interesting.

“My home and all the furnishings within, I leave to the Mudbug Historical Society, upon the condition that it be maintained as a historical tourist site, with a limit of four rooms available for rental as a bed and breakfast. All rental profits will go toward the maintenance of the property. In addition, I also leave the historical society my real estate holdings in downtown Mudbug. The rental income on those properties should more than offset any occasional shortfall in the maintenance of my home. Any remaining profits from the rentals are to be remitted to the Mudbug School District.”

Looked like Harold better start packing. Maryse looked over at Helena, who gave her a huge smile.

Wheeler flipped the first page over and continued to read. “To my son, Hank Henry, I leave the sum of one million dollars in trust, upon the condition that he obtain respectable employment and remain clean, sober, and gambling-free for a term of five years—”

“Ha!” Maryse shouted at the speakerphone, where muffled cursing emitted. “Hank can’t remain clean, sober, and gambling-free for five minutes.”

“That will be enough, Ms. Robicheaux,” Wheeler said and shot her a disapproving look. “Actual fulfillment of the terms will be determined by Randolph Wheeler, or his succeeding associate.”

Good thinking on Helena’s part putting in that succeeding associate clause. Wheeler would probably be dead in five years. Heck, if he had to spend his time checking up on Hank, Maryse only gave him a couple of weeks.

She glanced over at Harold, but he just shook his head at the entire exchange. He looked a bit disappointed but not really surprised.

“To my cousins, Sarah and Rose,” Wheeler read, and Maryse heard the two behind her shifting on their couch, “I leave the remainder of my silver and china. You’ve been stealing it on holidays for years, so this way it will become a matched set again.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the nun, and the movement behind them ceased completely. “By the way,” Wheeler continued, “none of the china is real. It’s all a very clever reproduction.”

Maryse winced and tried not to laugh as she glanced back at the two putrid faces behind her. Rough one.

“To my husband, Harold, I leave the Lower Bayou Motel. You’ve spent so many nights there with other women that I felt you should call the place home. It’s been operating in the red for the last eight years, owes back taxes since 1986, and is covered with deadly asbestos. Nothing but the best for you, dear.”

Maryse smiled as the nun gave Harold a disapproving stare. She probably hadn’t been closed up in a room with this many sinners since Lent. The look on Harold’s face was absolutely priceless. Even Wheeler had smirked when he delivered the last sentence.

Harold glared at everyone, then waved at Wheeler. “Get on with it. Get to the good stuff.”

“Of course, Mr. Henry,” Wheeler said, obviously holding back a smile. “My final asset of this distribution, the property secured by state lease known as the Mudbug Game Preserve and Wildlife Center, as well as the annual fees paid by the government for said lease, I leave to my daughter-in-law, Maryse Robicheaux Henry.”

“That’s bullshit!” Harold jumped from his chair, reached across the desk, and grabbed Wheeler by his throat. The two cousins squeezed onto one side of the couch, and the nun made the sign of the cross. Maryse scanned the desk for a sharp implement to defend herself with but didn’t see a thing. Good God Almighty, Helena owned the game preserve? Maryse stared at the ghost in shock, but Helena only smiled and clapped, obviously enjoying the show.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harold continued to yell. “Helena can only leave that land to family. Those are the rules of the trust, and Hank is her only son!”

Wheeler pried Harold’s hands off his throat and smoothed his collar back down. “That may be the case, Mr. Henry, but Hank is not her only relative. Helena is perfectly within her rights to leave the land to her daughter-in-law, as long as the marriage lasted a minimum of two years.”

“She can’t cut me and Hank out of everything,” Harold argued, “and you know it.”

“Actually, sir,” Wheeler said, “she can cut you and Hank out of everything and you know it.”

Harold stared at Wheeler for a moment, then whirled around and narrowed his eyes at Maryse. “I don’t know what you and Helena cooked up, but I won’t stand for it. Hank is the rightful heir to that property. You’re just the dumb piece of ass he made the mistake of marrying.”