Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(36)

Helena stared at her in obvious confusion. “That nut at the psychic place?”

“She’s not a nut…well, not exactly…She’s just not like other people.”

Helena raised her eyebrows.

“Okay. So she’s a bit of a nut, but no one I know can tell you more about the paranormal, and that includes ghosts. You ought to be thankful I’m checking on things for you. And you shouldn’t judge those who want to help.”

Helena looked surprised. “She wants to help?”

“Sure, she wants to help.” Wants to help me get rid of you, anyway. “Got all weepy when I told her about the situation.” Or maybe that was the six glasses of wine. “Anyway, she thinks that you still have your soul and that’s why you’re still here. You can’t transcend, or whatever, until your soul is put to rest. In your case, she feels that’s by figuring out who murdered you.”

Helena considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Kind of what we already figured except for the soul part, right? Hey, she didn’t mention anything about how I would be able to touch things, did she?”

“As a matter of fact, she did. I asked specifically since it’s a hell of a lot more useful for you to be able to move things than me. I’m not pulling a repeat of that stunt at your house.”

“And what did she say?” Helena asked eagerly. “How do I do it?”

Maryse shook her head. “Sabine doesn’t really know how to tell you to do it. She’s never actually been dead or talked to a ghost. But her best guess was you had to will it to happen and assume it would. You couldn’t go into it thinking it wouldn’t work.”

Helena frowned. “Will it to happen? That’s it? If it was that damned easy, don’t you think I’d have already done it?”

“You’re doing it right now. You’re sitting on my toilet. Why didn’t you fall through if you couldn’t come into contact with solids? And last time I checked, regular people did not walk on water.”

Helena stared down at the toilet and scrunched her brow. “Why, I never thought of that. So it’s a matter of faith, then?”

Maryse shrugged. “Guess so. You just have to figure out a way to think of touching things as naturally as you do sitting or walking on them.”

Helena sighed. “Faith…that’s a low blow. I was the most cynical person on the face of the Earth.” She gave Maryse a small smile. “Guess I still am.”

Maryse shook her head and picked up her blow dryer, directing the hot air toward her short waves. “Well, you’re going to have to find a way to believe, because I’m not breaking and entering again, no matter how long you have to wander around here.”

Helena waved one hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah, Miss Goodie Two-Shoes, so I’ll practice tomorrow. Tonight, I have important business to discuss with you.”

“Tonight, I have a date with Dr. Christopher Warren.” She plunked the dryer down and pointed a finger at Helena. “And you will not interfere.” Maryse walked into the bedroom and began to dress.

“But it’s important,” Helena whined, and flopped onto the bed, jettisoning throw pillows onto the floor when her weight connected with the springy mattress. Maryse glanced at the pillows and shook her head. Helena was never going to get it.

“Look,” Maryse said as she wriggled into the tight, short black skirt, “I don’t doubt in the least that what you have to say is important, to you anyway. And I know there are things we need to do, but the problem is I’m still trying to have a life. And while it may not seem like a great one to you, it’s the only one I’ve got. I’d like to get some enjoyment out of it, if that’s even possible.”

Helena started to respond, but Maryse held up a hand to stop her. “Which means two things: One, I have to take care of my job, and it is a full-time venture. Two, I will not cancel a date with the most eligible bachelor in town.”

“Bachelor is right. That cad’s already dated half the women in New Orleans and probably bedded the other half without the prospect of dinner.”

Maryse gave Helena a withering stare. “Oh, but your son was the pinnacle of honesty and ethics. Give me a break.”

Helena frowned. “No. Hank was as useless as his father. I tried really hard with him but some things just can’t be changed. Guess Harold’s DNA won out.”

“That’s funny,” Maryse said as she slipped the sparkly, low-cut blue top over her head and adjusted her bra. “I always got the impression you thought Hank was wonderful. If not, why did you defend him all those years? Why pay his bills every time he got in trouble? And most of all—why in the world did you make me pay you back for Hank’s debts if you already knew how worthless he was? It’s not like they were my fault.” She walked over to her dresser and picked up a black eyeliner pencil.

Helena put her chin up in defiance. “I needed to test you.”

Maryse dropped the mascara in the makeup tray and stared at her in disbelief. “Test me? What in the world for? To see how much I could take before I drowned myself in the bayou? Or were you itching for death then and thought I’d eventually strangle you?” The thought had crossed her mind more than once.

Helena shook her head and said in all seriousness, “I needed to test your character so I could decide what to do with the land. I couldn’t just mess that up, you know.”