Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(25)

“Sure.” Maryse headed out of the shop and into the hot, humid Louisiana evening. The sun was still beating down on the concrete, heat vapors rising from the street. The smell of boiled crawfish from Carolyn’s Cajun Kitchen down the block filled the air and made her remember that it had been forever since breakfast.

She hesitated for a moment as she crossed the street to Johnny’s bar, wondering again if she was making the right decision. If she told Sabine about Helena’s ghost, she was leaving herself wide open for lectures on all kinds of unexplained phenomena—Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, UFOs. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a lifetime of hassle.

She bit her lower lip and cast a nervous glance back at Read ’em and Reap. On the flip side, there was the one huge advantage of letting her friend in on it—Sabine knew darn near everything about the supernatural, and anything she didn’t know, she could find out. If anyone could make Helena go away, it would be Sabine. And getting rid of Helena was the number one priority, even if it meant going to near-death-experience meetings or looking at those blurred photos of God-knows-what that Sabine was always trying to push off on her as real.

Seeing no better alternative, she pushed open the door and entered the bar. A couple of fishermen sat at the old driftwood bar and waved a hand in acknowledgment when she walked in. Other than that, the place was empty. She made her way to the table in a dim corner, far from the bar, and took a seat. The owner and chief bartender, appropriately named Johnny, shuffled over to her a minute or so later.

“Sorry to hear about your mother-in-law,” he said, brushing aside a stray strand of thinning, silver hair from his forehead.

“Really?” Maryse stared at him.

Johnny fidgeted for a moment, then gave her a grin. “Well, hell no, actually, but ‘sorry’ sounds a lot more polite. Did Hank show up for the funeral?”

“Not a chance. I figure he won’t come around until he gets the money to pay off the local law enforcement.”

Johnny nodded. “Sounds about right. I swear to God, that has got to be the most useless human being ever produced.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I know you married him and all.”

She waved one hand in dismissal. “You haven’t offended me. I was young and stupid. I don’t blame myself for being taken in by Hank Henry. I’m certainly not the only one who was.”

“That’s for sure. I think he owed damned near everyone in town before he skipped out.”

No shit. “Yeah, that’s what I hear.” It was all she could say about the situation without exploding.

“Well, what’re you drinkin’?” Fortunately, Johnny saved her from dwelling on all Hank’s debts.

“Could I get a club soda and a glass of white zin for Sabine? She’ll be here in a minute.”

Johnny nodded and clasped her shoulder with one hand. “You let me know if you need anything, okay? I promised your daddy I’d look after you, and I intend to keep that promise.” He gave her a grin. “Can’t have the old bastard coming back to haunt me, can I?”

Maryse gave him a weak smile. “Guess not,” she managed as Johnny shuffled back to the bar to get the drinks.

Given a choice between Helena Henry and her dad, she’d have taken the “old bastard” any day. He’d been as hard as every other commercial fisherman in Mudbug and hadn’t given an inch on anything, but at least he’d been honest and fair.

It couldn’t have been easy on him, raising a girl on his own after her mother died, but he’d done the best he could, and she didn’t think she’d turned out too bad. Except for the major slip of marrying Hank, she had a pretty good track record. And let’s face it, if her dad hadn’t come back from the dead to stop that wedding, she was pretty sure he wasn’t ever returning.

Clenching her fists in frustration, she mentally cursed Hank Henry for about the hundredth time that day. If he hadn’t got a hold of her at the absolute lowest point in her life—just after her dad had passed—would she have fallen for his act?

She liked to believe the answer was no, but the reality was that Hank Henry had charmed the pants off darn near every girl in town at some time or another. But none of them had been stupid enough to marry him. She frowned at her shortsightedness and shook her head as Sabine slid into the chair across from her, the bracelets on her arm clinking together like wind chimes.

“Did you order drinks already?” Sabine asked and brushed the bangs from her eyes.

“Yeah, I got you a glass of wine.”

Sabine gave her a grateful look. “Thanks. It’s been one of those weeks.”

Maryse smiled. Oh yeah, honey. Wait until you hear about my week. Yours has to look better after that. “I haven’t had the best week myself. In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk with you about.”

“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you this afternoon,” Sabine said, “but then I didn’t really know how long the will-reading would take. Is that the problem…something to do with Helena’s will?”

“Sorta.” Maryse inclined her head toward Johnny, who was on his way across the bar with a tray of drinks, and Sabine nodded in understanding. She waited until Johnny had delivered the drinks, did his old-man flirting routine with Sabine, and shuffled back behind the bar before she got down to business.