Trouble in Mudbug (19 page)

“Hmm. You live like a hermit. When’s the last time you got out of the bayou for anything…dinner, a movie, a night on the town? Maybe if you spent some time in the general population, you could meet a nice man. Something the doctor is not. He uses women.”

Maryse waved one hand in the air. “I am not going to discuss this with you. It’s simply none of your business. You never liked me anyway, so let me take my chances. What the hell difference does it make to you if I end up a two-time loser?”

Helena studied her for a moment, seeming to contemplate her next words. Finally, she sighed and said, “I never said I didn’t like you. And besides, none of that matters now. We have bigger fish to fry, and I can’t have a decent conversation with you if you’re in such a snit.”

“Well, then you’re out of luck tonight.” Maryse rose from the couch. “I’m going to bed. Are you staying?”

Helena sat on the couch and glared at the television remote. “Don’t have much choice do I, if I want to talk to you. As long as I’m stuck here, will you at least change the channel?”

Maryse considered refusing for a moment. Hell, she considered turning the whole damned thing off and making Helena sit in the dark, but she just didn’t have the energy to listen to the griping. “You know, you could have saved us both the hassle and stayed at the hotel. I’m sure there are at least twenty televisions on there with all kinds of things to watch.”

Helena gave her a horrified look. “Oh, no—I already tried that one. Do you have any idea what those salesmen turn on when they are away from their wives? I can’t believe Mildred allows that crap in her hotel. Good God, the things I’ve seen.”

Some of the things Helena had seen were probably the same things Maryse could have been doing herself if her mother-in-law hadn’t cheated her of the opportunity. But she thought it wise not to point that out. “Fine. What do you want to watch?”

“I heard down at the beauty shop that channel six is doing an all-night marathon of real hauntings,” Helena replied, looking animated for the first time that evening. “That will be interesting. Maybe I could learn how to move things.”

Oh goody.
“Yeah, sure, and if things don’t work out here with that little business concerning your soul, at least you’ll know where to find friends.”

Maryse awakened the next morning to the ringing of her telephone. She groaned and covered her pounding head with her pillow, trying to block out the shrill sound.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Helena asked.

“No,” Maryse replied without even looking out from under the pillow. “Go away.”

“Sounds like someone needs coffee.”

The phone finally stopped, and the answering machine kicked on. “Ms. Robicheaux,” a polite voice began, “this is Mrs. Baker down at the insurance company. I just wanted to let you know that we finished processing the claim on your truck, and unfortunately, it is totaled. We’ll be preparing two checks, one for the last payment due on your loan and the other for the balance due to you. If you don’t receive that within ten days, please contact me at the office and let me know. Thanks and have a nice day.”

Maryse pulled the pillow back and looked at the answering machine. Last payment? What the hell were they talking about? She owed another two years on that truck. Knowing she couldn’t sleep until she sorted things out, she pushed herself off the bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand to call her bank, happy to see that Helena had at least vacated the room.

When the branch manager picked up, Maryse explained what had happened and that she needed to verify the amount needed to pay off the loan on her truck.

“I hope you weren’t injured in your accident, Ms. Ro-bicheaux.”

“I’ll be fine. Just a little bumped around.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Just one more second…ah, yes, you owe just a tad bit more than one payment on your truck. I can print the exact amount and fax it to you if you’d like.”

Maryse rubbed her forehead, not sure she could stand all the confusion without at least taking an aspirin or fifty. “How can that be? I have two more years left on that loan.”

“We’ve been splitting those extra checks every month and applying the money to your house and truck payments.” The manager sounded confused. “Those were your instructions. I hope we didn’t misunderstand.”

“What extra checks?”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Robicheaux?”

“I’m fine,” Maryse replied, beginning to get a little irritated. “I’m just having trouble remembering everything. The doc says it will all come back in time.”

“Okay,” the manager said, but didn’t sound completely convinced. “The first cashier’s check was received in this office almost two years ago with instructions to apply it to your house. When you bought the truck, we received instructions to change application to half of the check on each of the loans. We’ve been doing that every month since.”

“You’ve been receiving cashier’s checks every month for almost two years?” A sneaky suspicion began forming in Maryse’s mind—one she didn’t understand in the least and wasn’t even sure she wanted to. “Exactly how much are these cashier’s checks for?”

“Five hundred twenty-five dollars. Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Robicheaux? This conversation is really starting to concern me.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment today,” she managed to mumble. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone and stared out the window over the bayou. She’d never sent the bank checks for five hundred twenty-five dollars, but she’d paid someone else that exact same amount every month for almost two years. “Helena!”

She stalked into the living room, but the ghost was nowhere in sight. It didn’t take long to check every nook and cranny of a one-bedroom cabin, so it was only minutes before Maryse was certain the ghost had fled. And she’d bet it was during that phone call.

Maryse smelled a two-year-old rat. And she’d bet her truck payoff check that rat’s name was Helena Henry.

Luc made it into the office a little early, but not for any reason except he just hadn’t slept well. God knows, he wasn’t attempting another break-in of Maryse’s lab unless he did so in the dead of night. And given the woman’s strange behavior, probably even that wasn’t safe. Besides, he’d delivered the notebook to his buddy back at the agency. If anyone could get to the bottom of what Maryse was up to, it would be Brian.

He flipped his cell phone open just in case he’d missed a call but was once again disappointed by the blank display. Frustrated, he sat back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Maryse was certainly easy on the eyes, so following her had been no hardship but had definitely been a study in bizarre. Still, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. From where he sat, the only thing Maryse was mixed up in was something to do with her in-laws and her missing husband, and he was no closer to finding the informant than he had been the first day here. If only the DEQ would let him branch out a bit and investigate some of the other residents, but his orders were clear—he was a zoologist and was to do nothing to make people think otherwise.

He rose from the desk and headed to the coffeepot on a corner table. At least making coffee was doing something productive. He dished the grounds up and was just about to fill the pot with water when his cell phone rang.

He reached into his pocket and, recognizing the agency’s main number, he pressed the Talk button. “LeJeune.”

“Luc, it’s Brian. I got that information on the notebook.”

Luc felt his hand tighten on the coffee pot handle. “And?”

“It was definitely chemical formulas—you were right about that.”

“Okay, but for what?”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “We don’t know exactly.”

“Damn,” Luc muttered. “Well, what
do
you know?”

“She’s mixing up different plants, it looks like. Each combination is clearly identified by species and anything other than plants used to make the sample. They’re all labeled with trial numbers, the way a big lab would do things.”

“Okay, so she’s trying to create something. Do we have any idea what?”

“Hell, it could be anything…weight-loss pills, hair products, a cure for insomnia…there’s just no way of knowing unless we can see what she’s testing this stuff on. You said there’s no animals or anything like that in her lab, right? No refrigerators with little dishes with some of the mixture in it?”

Luc cast his mind back to his lab tour. “No, nothing like that. It’s a tiny room. All that’s there really is a couple of tables with the test tubes, burners, that sort of thing. I didn’t see any evidence of testing on anything.”

“Well, she’s testing somewhere. All that effort is not for nothing. Have you gotten the trace on her phones yet? Maybe that will give you an idea where to head next, although I got to tell you, Luc, it doesn’t look like this has anything to do with our case, and if the boss-man finds out, he’s probably going to pull the plug on you.”

“There’s something going on with her,” Luc argued. “Someone intentionally cut the brake lines on her truck.”

“Unless it has something to do with our case, it’s not your problem. Don’t get involved, LeJeune. It always turns out bad.”

Luc flipped his phone shut without answering.
Don’t get involved.
Like it was that easy. He didn’t understand his attraction to Maryse at all. Sure he’d dated plenty of women, but never for any reason other than a good time for a short time. Maryse pulled at him in a different way, and that made him very uncomfortable.

Usually women just hit him below the belt, and that was an easy fix, but Maryse challenged him on an intellectual level, and not just with his investigation. She was a complex woman, something he usually avoided like the plague. But for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to figure her out rather than run for the hills.

No matter his discomfort, he wasn’t about to leave her unprotected if someone was trying to hurt her. She may not be part of his case, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t have some help.

He finished filling the coffeepot with water and turned it on. Glancing at his watch, he realized Maryse should be at the office any minute, assuming she wasn’t off on one of her many mysterious adventures. He turned on the computer and bypassed Maryse’s sign-on screen using a hacker tip he’d picked up from Brian the day before. As soon as the operating system loaded, he double-clicked the internet icon and logged into his e-mail. Surely the phone trace was back by now—at least the last couple of days’ worth.

He scanned the e-mail files, sorting through the usual spam that not even the government could manage to screen…improve sexual performance, new stock alert, penis enlargement…ah ha, phone tap results. He glanced out the window as he printed the file, happy to see the road was still clear of Maryse’s rental.

This is it? One page for two phones?
No matter how busy Maryse appeared, apparently it didn’t involve much in the way of phone calling. He scanned the list, looking for something that stood out—the state office, the attorney in New Orleans, her friend in Mudbug, her insurance company—and, wait a minute, a laboratory at a university in New Orleans.

Jackpot.

That lab must be running the tests on whatever it was Maryse was cooking up. Another glance out the window let him know he was still in the clear, so he opened his cell and punched in Brian’s number. “Brian, it’s LeJeune. I need you to hack something for me.”

“Okay,” Brian said, “what’s the case file number?”

Luc hesitated. “This one is off the record. At least for the time being.”

“Oh, man, not your botanist in distress again? Do you know how much hell I caught over that stripper in New Orleans?”