Mischief in Mudbug (14 page)

Sabine opened Helena’s folder and started to read the autopsy report again. She hadn’t been mistaken—Helena definitely had cancer, and it was very advanced. In fact, Sabine doubted the woman would have had more than six months to live. She flipped past the autopsy report and through the other papers in Helena’s file. This file only contained the last ten years, but it was a revealing ten years. Helena had asthma and her blood pressure was borderline, but otherwise, she’d been deemed healthy at every checkup. If she’d been sick with colds or the flu or the occasional virus, she hadn’t been to the doctor for them.

And there was absolutely no other note about the cancer other than the autopsy.

Which made no sense. Helena should have had some symptoms—dizziness, lethargy, pain. If the cancer had been caught soon enough, she most likely would have been given a round of chemo, then progressed to the radiation treatments. If that didn’t work, she would have been a candidate for a marrow transplant, like Sabine. But apparently, no one had known.

Sabine closed the file and bit her lower lip. Could Helena really have ignored the symptoms that easily? Or even stranger—could she have really lived with cancer advanced to the stage it had and had no symptoms at all? Was that possible? She was just about to open Hank’s file when Maryse burst into the room.

“Are you all right? What did the doctor say? What did the police say? Where’s that investigator and what the hell is he doing about all this?”

“Whoa,” Sabine said and laughed. “One question at a time or my brain might explode.”

Maryse grimaced and sat down on the end of the bed. “I know the feeling. Start talking, woman.”

Sabine spent the next fifteen minutes filling Maryse in on everything that had transpired, including her newfound ability to see Helena and their break-in at the hospital. Maryse listened closely, occasionally interjecting an “oh no,” “good Lord,” or “shit.”

When Sabine was finished, Maryse blew out a breath and stared at her for a moment. “You’ve got some nerve, Sabine LeVeche, trying to one-up me on this. Wasn’t one attempted murder enough?”

Sabine smiled. “Raissa told me Mildred yelled at you.”

“Yelling would have been polite. That woman scalded my eardrum over the phone. I snuck in the back door of the hotel to come see you. I’m not sure I can take another round.”

Sabine laughed. “I think that was stress and temporary insanity on her part. Mildred knows you didn’t have anything to do with this. If I hadn’t insisted on finding my family, none of this would be happening. I should have let this go years ago.”

“A week ago, I would have agreed. But things are
different now. We need to find a donor and your family is the best possibility. Besides, the break-in at your house and the hospital happened before you found your family. Maybe the two aren’t related.”

“Someone stole all of my family’s medical records and you think that’s not related?”

“Okay, so maybe it’s related. But you still have no idea who did it or why. You say the Fortescues seemed surprised…what if there was a third party trying to connect the dots? A reporter or something. It will be a huge story. ‘Missing daughter of heir to millions finally found.’ I can just see the headline already.”

“Maybe, but it’s a stretch.”

“I think you should ask Beau to check into it. He might have connections that can get information we can’t. We can’t even ask without admitting we know what was stolen.”

“You’re right. I should probably ask Beau.” Sabine stared out the hotel window for a moment and sighed.

Maryse narrowed her eyes at Sabine. “You make that sound like such a chore.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do. I mean, I did before you protested, but now I’m dying to. C’mon, Sabine. Luc’s been gone for days. Please tell me that one of us is getting some action.”

“I am
not
getting any action. I’m surprised at you. You know I don’t play fast and loose, and with everything else going on, the last thing on my mind is getting some action.”

Maryse raised her eyebrows. “Methinks she doth protest too much. Granted you have a lot on your plate, but I still don’t think sex is the
last
thing on your mind. Remember, I’ve seen the guy, and I know from experi
ence that even attempted murder does not squelch the desire for a hot man—especially if the hot man is interested in you.”

“You don’t know he’s interested in me.” Sabine struggled to direct the conversation away from her. “He’s just doing his job.”

Maryse laughed. “I saw the way he looked at you in the café, and I’ve seen that look before. Thank God, I stayed alive long enough to see that look on a regular basis.”

“He kissed me,” Sabine blurted.

Maryse stared. “And…”

“And what? That’s it. He kissed me and I asked him to leave.” Sabine felt a flush start to creep up her neck.

“Oh boy!” Maryse bounced up and down on the bed like a child. “I remember the first time Luc kissed me. My whole body was on fire and I thought my head was going to pop off my shoulders and into outer space. I went stomping out of the office, mad, flattered, sexually charged, and scared to death.”

Sabine felt all her resolve crumble. “God help me, Maryse. I
am
scared to death. I’ve never felt this way about someone. I mean, I hardly know him. How can he have this effect on me?”

Maryse reached over and took her friend’s hand. “I don’t have an answer for you, even now that I’ve lived it myself. You were always the one that believed everything had intent and purpose—bad and good. Maybe people are linked before this life and if they find each other again, that link overrides everything lived this lifetime.”

“I don’t know that I believe in past lives,” Sabine said.

“Okay, so what if your souls were hanging out in the same office before they were assigned a mother? Whatever you want to believe. I just know that when I met Luc, I felt things I hadn’t felt before, and I’m not just talking about the sexual attraction—although certainly that was part of it.” She blew out a breath. “As a scientist, I want to think maybe it’s pheromones or some other biological draw that happens to fit Luc and I together better than I’d fit with others. Maybe he’s the first man I’ve met with the same biological imperative that matches mine.”

Sabine studied her friend. “You don’t believe that for a minute, do you?”

“No. I believe it’s love.”

Sabine squeezed Maryse’s hand, so profoundly happy for her friend and yet scared to take the same gamble herself.

“There’s no scientific explanation for love, Sabine, but we can’t deny its existence.”

“I barely know him,” Sabine argued.

“Yet you’re drawn to him.”

“It might just be lust.”

“What’s the downside if it is?”

Sabine stared down at the bed. “What if I die?” she whispered.

Maryse hugged her. “What if you don’t?”

Sabine shoved the medical files Helena stole into a backpack for Maryse and played lookout since her friend insisted on sneaking out the hotel’s back way to avoid Mildred. Sabine had barely made it back to her room before her cell phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize and she was surprised and pleased to hear Beau’s voice when she answered.

“I’m at the lab in New Orleans. Raissa dropped the scanner off here, so I’m heading back that way in a few minutes, but something else has come up.”

Sabine felt her pulse quicken. “With the tests?”

“No. It will be a while before we know something for certain on that end. I got a call from the Fortescues’ attorney. He wants to talk to you at his office this afternoon. I started to say no because of everything that happened last night, but I didn’t want to tip our hand on the poisoning. If he hears through the grapevine, that’s one thing, but I thought we’d better keep it quiet as long as we can.”

“Definitely. No, you did the right thing. So did you tell him I’d be there?”

“I told him I’d check with you. He got a little agitated and asked for your cell number, which I refused to give him.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know, but my guess is the Fortescues are putting some pressure on him about something. I don’t think he’ll be put off forever. More likely if you don’t show up there, he’ll show up in Mudbug.”

Sabine stepped to the window and looked out across Main Street at her shop. “You think I should go?”

“I think…oh hell, I don’t know what I think. I’m in a bad position here, Sabine. Professionally, my mind is screaming for you to go because whatever he wants might give us some insight into all the other things going on. Personally, my mind is screaming at me to drag you to New Orleans and put you in a safe house.”

Sabine thought about her upcoming radiation treatment. “That’s not an option. I have something important to do next week.”

“Something worth risking your life for?”

Sabine pressed her fingers to her temple. The irony was overwhelming. “In this case, yes.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

“No. There are certain aspects of my life that I intend to keep private. This has nothing to do with the other situation, I assure you.”

“Fine.” His voice was short and Sabine could tell he was frustrated with her.

“Do you have the attorney’s number so that I can schedule the appointment?”

“I’ll do it. Is four-thirty okay?”

Sabine glanced down at her watch. Two and a half hours from now. “I’m sure it will be fine. I just need to check with Maryse about driving me there. Mildred is hellbent on me not driving and won’t give me back my car keys.”

“Don’t worry about it. I plan on going with you. I want to see what Mr. Alford has to say.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. I have a lot of experience at reading people and probably know more about the law than you do. I want to make sure this attorney isn’t trying to pull something off for those nuts.”

“Fine, but there’s someone else I want to try to see while we’re there, if she’ll meet with me, that is.”

“Who?”

“Someone who might have known the Fortescues back when my father was a kid. Unless you think it’s a bad idea.”

“No…no, I think it’s a really good one as long as her memory is sound. I’ll pick you up around three-thirty, okay?”

It was just shy of four-thirty when Beau and Sabine pulled up in front of Martin Alford’s office. It was a beautiful antebellum home just off the main street in town. What was once most likely a carriage house had been converted into his place of business, a small, tasteful sign identifying his estate law practice. They walked up the beautifully landscaped path to the office entrance and Beau rang the buzzer at the side of the door. Sabine looked around nervously and plucked a New Orleans newspaper from the top of the bush beside the door. She twirled the loose end of the plastic wrapper around on her finger, every possible scenario imaginable running through her mind. The attorney opened the door a minute later and motioned them inside.

They took a seat in two overstuffed taupe leather chairs placed in front of an ornate redwood writing desk, and Sabine handed the attorney his newspaper.
Alford thanked her and took a seat behind the desk, his expression almost one of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry to ask you here on such short notice, but we’ve had a situation arise.”

Sabine sat up straight in her chair. “What kind of situation?”

“Catherine asked the domestic staff to keep your identity confidential, at least until all the particulars could be worked out, but apparently Adelaide has been talking at the grocery store, and news is starting to spread.”

“Why would she deliberately disobey Catherine?”

Alford shrugged. “I don’t think she was trying to cause trouble. Adelaide’s mind simply isn’t what it used to be. Dementia, Alzheimer’s, or maybe just old age. Either way, her reliability isn’t, well, reliable.”

Sabine glanced over at Beau, wondering where this was going, but he looked as confused as she felt. “What does all this have to do with me, Mr. Alford?”

“I need to ask you to have a DNA test. I’m sorry to move straight to the legal aspects of this so soon after your reunion, but I’m left with little choice now.”

Sabine suddenly understood. “The family wants to make sure I’m the real deal before Adelaide spreads any more tales.”

Alford jumped up from his chair, an agitated expression on his face. “No, I’m sorry, that’s not it at all. I don’t mean to imply that the family doesn’t trust you because nothing could be further from the truth. The family is certain you’re Adam’s daughter and so am I. You look exactly like him, and the dates and facts surrounding your birth coincide with the things we know from our end.”

Sabine stared at him. “Mr. Alford, I have no issue with providing a sample for a DNA test. In fact, I fully expected to be asked to. I guess what I’m not understanding is why the urgency now if not for the family’s protection?”

“It’s not for the family’s protection. It’s for your own.” The attorney sank back into his chair. “Over the years scam artists who found out about Adam showed up pretending to be a long-lost granddaughter or grandson. They’ve always proved to be frauds, but not before they’ve stolen from the house or managed to get money out of Frances—she’s very gullible.”

“The family is worried that everyone will think I’m another scam artist.”

“Yes. They don’t want this to cause any trouble for you, and the reality is, without medical proof of your claim, you will probably endure a certain level of animosity from the townsfolk.”

“I see,” Sabine said, although she didn’t really buy his explanation for a moment. More likely the Fortescues didn’t want to cause any more embarrassment for the family, but Sabine saw no benefit to pointing out the obvious to the one man who probably knew that to begin with.

He gave her an apologetic look. “I am so sorry about this, Ms. LeVeche. We were hoping to explain this situation and take care of these things over time. No one wanted to make you prove yourself as soon as you walked in the door. The Fortescues are a lot of things, but ill-mannered is certainly not one of them.”

Sabine held in a smile. Only the most proper—and mentally imbalanced—of people would consider a
DNA test rude when there were millions at stake. “Is there a facility I need to go to?”

Alford shook his head and pulled a bag from his desk drawer. “All I need is a hair sample and I can send this off. Again, I apologize for this, Ms. LeVeche. I also lost both my parents when I was very young. I know how important family is. The Fortescues wanted to give both sides time to get to know each other before making it public. No one wanted things to get out this way.”

“There is no need to apologize, Mr. Alford. No harm has been done but a little tongue-wagging. I assure you, tongues have wagged about me a time or two in the past. I’m a psychic, remember?”

Alford looked relieved. “Yes, of course. I’m just so used to dealing with the family, and they’re so…I guess
particular
is the best word.” He gave Sabine a small smile. “I sometimes forget that the rest of society is not as stringent. The family has arranged for a rush on the tests. They should be notified with the results by tomorrow morning and will contact me immediately following. If you’ll give me a way to reach you, I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve spoken with the family.”

“No problem,” Sabine said and jotted her cell number down on the back of one of her business cards. “I also have a question for you, Mr. Alford. I wondered if I could get a copy of my father’s medical records, after the DNA results are back, of course. I’ve had a couple of minor medical issues come up in the past, and that information would be nice to have.”

“Certainly,” the attorney said, but Sabine could tell the question has flustered him. Was the attorney aware that her father’s records had been stolen, or was he just
hesitant to agree to provide any personal information about the family?

When the DNA results were back, she had every intention of pressing him again.

Ruth Boudreaux’s home was a spacious Victorian, just a couple of blocks from Alford’s office. Sabine had called several times that afternoon but had been unable to get a hold of anyone. She asked Beau to stop by the house just in case Mrs. Boudreaux was home now and would agree to speak to her.

The woman who answered the door clearly wasn’t Ruth Boudreaux. For one thing, she was at least forty years younger, and her accent was northern. “May I help you?” she asked politely.

“I hope so,” Sabine said. “My name is Sabine LeVeche. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Mrs. Boudreaux. I’ve been doing some family research and I think she might know some of my relatives.”

“My name is Anna. I’m Mrs. Boudreaux’s nurse.” She motioned them inside to a formal living room. “If you tried to reach her today, we were probably at church at the time. Mrs. Boudreaux insists on praying daily and lighting a candle for two of her brothers. She lost them in Vietnam.”

“Do you think she will speak to me?”

“Oh, certainly. Mrs. Boudreaux enjoys having visitors. It’s just that, well, her memory’s not quite what it used to be.”

“Alzheimer’s?”

“Yes. Not horribly progressed yet, but there was an incident with the stove and the family felt it best if she had someone with her full time.”

“Of course,” Sabine said, trying to hide her disap
pointment. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt then. Anything she can remember is more than I know now, and there aren’t so many alive any longer who were around at that time.”

“Oh,” the nurse brightened. “You want to ask her about the past? You might be in luck, then. On a good day, her memory of years past is very vivid. It’s more recent events that she can’t seem to recall.” She motioned them down a hallway. “If you’ll come with me. She’s sitting in the sunroom. The light is good for her and she often spends evenings in there.”

Feeling a bit more hopeful, Sabine followed the nurse down the hall and into a huge sunroom at the back of the house, Beau close behind. The room was on the west side of the house and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the multitude of blooming plants, causing a burst of color throughout the room. A thin, silver-haired lady sat in a rocking chair at the far corner, gazing out the window at a group of birds playing in a fountain in the backyard. She looked up when they entered the room.

“Mrs. Boudreaux,” the nurse said. “This lady is doing some research on her family and would like to speak to you about them.”

Mrs. Boudreaux looked up at Sabine and squinted. “Do I know you, dear?”

“No, ma’am,” Sabine replied. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before. But I think you know my family.”

“Who’s your family?”

“The Fortescues.”

Mrs. Boudreaux’s face cleared and she smiled. “Why, of course. That’s why you seemed so familiar. You’re the spitting image of your father. Why don’t
you and your husband pull up a seat, and I’ll see what I can do to help you.”

Sabine momentarily cringed at the woman’s assumption that Beau was her husband, but it wasn’t worth correcting. She and Beau pulled two wicker chairs closer to Mrs. Boudreaux and took a seat. “So you knew my father?” Sabine asked.

“Of course I did. We attended twelve years of school together, and goodness knows how many times we shared a pew in church. Why, William was almost a brother to me.”

Sabine immediately understood. Mrs. Boudreaux didn’t remember Sabine’s father, Adam. She remembered her grandfather. “That’s nice, Mrs. Boudreaux.”

The woman studied her for a couple of seconds. “Something I don’t understand…why don’t you just talk to William if you have questions?”

Sabine was prepared for this very question. “I’ve been estranged from the family for quite a while. We’ve just recently come together again and I don’t want to say anything that might upset the relationship. I understand that people of certain social status don’t like to be reminded of or discuss things that might cause embarrassment or sadness. I don’t want to inadvertently upset someone if I can prevent it.”

Mrs. Boudreaux looked pleased. “Very proper of you to remember the family status in your reconciliation. And I suppose since you are family and your purpose is honorable, God won’t consider my talking to you gossip.”

“I’m certain He wouldn’t, Mrs. Boudreaux, or I wouldn’t even have asked.”

Mrs. Boudreaux gave her a single nod of approval.
“Well, I can honestly say that the only scandal I’m aware of concerning the Fortescues would have been that business during the war concerning William’s brother, Lloyd. He always was the disreputable one of the family. You would never have known those two boys were raised in the same household, much less born identical.”

“So I take it their looks were where the similarities ended?”

“Heavens, yes. William was a true gentleman, as far back as I can remember. Even in grade school he was always protecting the smaller children from bullies or helping young ladies up the steps.” She smiled. “Our skirts were much longer in those days, and sometimes a steady hand on your elbow helped when you were balancing books in one hand and clutching a large portion of your skirt in the other.”