Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(7)

“Luc LeJeune,” he answered and gave her a lazy smile.

Maryse turned back to the computer, determined to ignore him, but his next words caught her attention.

“Yes, sir,” Luc said, his voice the epitome of respect. “She just walked in. Can I ask what this is concerning?”

Maryse jumped out of her chair and grabbed the phone from Luc. She covered the headset with one hand and glared at him. “When I need someone to screen my calls, I’ll hire a secretary.” She moved her hand and turned her back on Luc. “This is Maryse Robicheaux.”

“Ms. Robicheaux,” an ancient, very proper-sounding voice spoke. “My name is Randolph Wheeler. I’m the attorney for Helena Henry’s estate.”

Unbelievable. Helena was planning on collecting Hank’s debt even from the grave. Maryse gritted her teeth and tried to modulate her reply. “If you’ll give me your mailing address, Mr. Wheeler, I’ll be happy to mail the last two payments to you tomorrow.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Maryse heard the attorney clear his throat. “I apologize, Ms. Robicheaux, but apparently there’s a misunderstanding here. I’m not calling to collect anything on behalf of the estate. Quite the contrary, actually. My call is to notify you that you’ve been named in Helena Henry’s will and your presence is requested at the reading tomorrow.”

Maryse sank into her chair, stunned. “Helena named me in her will? What the hell did she leave me—more debt?”

There was another pause and Maryse could feel the attorney’s disapproval coming across the phone line. “Ms. Robicheaux, I’ll be happy to cover all of that tomorrow. The reading will begin at one o’clock at my office in New Orleans. The street address is 115 Morgan. Do you need directions?”

“No,” Maryse said, her aggravation slowly giving way to disbelief. “I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you at one o’clock.” The lawyer disconnected.

Maryse dropped the phone from her ear and sat completely still. What the hell? Life had offered her far more surprises lately than she’d ever asked for, and none of them the pleasant kind. Whatever Helena had left her couldn’t be good.

“So,” Luc said, “the old bat left you something. Cool.”

Maryse stared at Luc, momentarily surprised that she’d completely forgotten he was in the room. “I seriously doubt anything to do with Helena Henry will ever be called cool.” She reached for her mouse and closed her e-mail.

She’d been given more to worry about in this single day than a person should have in an entire lifetime, and more than anything, she needed to get out in the bayou and away from people. If there was any chance of getting a grip on her racing thoughts, the bayou was the only place it would happen.

She grabbed her printout off the desk, shut down her computer, and jumped up from her chair before Luc realized he still didn’t have access to her PC. “I’ve got work to do,” she said as she headed out the door. “We’ll settle this whole office thing tomorrow afternoon, but I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”


Luc LeJeune watched as Maryse slammed the office door shut behind her. Things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned. He had intended to waltz into the office, charm the woman who worked there, get the information he needed, and get the heck back to DEQ headquarters in New Orleans before he remembered why he hated small towns.

But Maryse Robicheaux might prove to be more of a problem than the Department of Environmental Quality had originally thought.

He turned to the computer, his fingers posed to start an intensive search of her personal files, when he realized the password box was flashing at him again. Damn it. She was sneaky. He’d give her that. And if he hadn’t been pressed for time on this case, he might have even been amused. He yanked his cell phone from his shirt pocket and pressed in a number.

“Wilson,” the man on the other end answered.

“Hey, boss, it’s LeJeune.”

“Yeah, LeJeune, you romance that botanist into giving up her secrets?”

“Not exactly.”

There was a pause on the other end. “What…you losing your touch?”

Luc counted to five before answering. Given his reputation among the bureau as a ladies’ man, he probably had that one coming. “No, I’m not losing my touch, but our research department needs a swift kick in the ass. This is no lonely, single scientist living like a hermit on the bayou.”

“No? What part’s wrong?”

“For starters, she’s married—to the local cad, no less—and he ran out on her years ago. To top it off, the cad’s mother died recently. The woman was filthy rich, and the reading of the will is tomorrow. Which means this town is probably about to be a clusterf*ck of money-grabbing relatives—the least of which is going to be the disappearing husband, since he was an only child.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is this woman is so distracted she barely noticed me, except to be angry about my being in her space. She doesn’t want me in the office and made that perfectly clear. I don’t think this is going to be as easy as we originally hoped.”

“Well, easy or not, it’s still your job. We need to know if that woman’s up to something. Do what you have to—pick locks, read diaries, whatever—just don’t put it in your report. Either she’s part of the problem or she’s not. We need that information sooner than later.”