by Jana DeLeon
Mildred, who had followed close on the heels of the officer, rolled her eyes at Barney Fife, then fixed a hard stared on Beau. “I’d like an answer to that question myself.”
Beau reached into his pocket, then remembered he’d dashed out of the hotel without one of his shoes, much less his wallet. This wasn’t going to go near as quickly as he’d like. So far, he was as unimpressed with the Mudbug police as Sabine was, but he’d bet money that the hotel owner could take him down if he failed to satisfy the two of them. “I’m a private detective, former FBI. I was hired by Ms. LeVeche to find her family. I’m staying at the hotel across the street and ran over here when I saw the paramedics enter Sabine’s building. My wallet is in my hotel room.”
“I’ll be needing to see that before you can leave town.” The officer stared at him for a moment. “So I can assume that when Ms. LeVeche is able, she’ll verify your story?”
“Of course. Jesus, I just had dinner with her here, in this apartment. I only left a little over an hour ago, max. What the hell happened? Why did the paramedics come?”
“There was a 911 call from the phone here, but no one spoke. When that happens, the rulebook says we have to assume a crime is happening or someone’s croaking, so the police and the ambulance have to pay a visit.”
“And since there was no sign of forced entry, you assumed a medical emergency and the paramedics entered,” Beau said.
The officer narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t have time to check for ‘forced entry,’ as you call it. Damned medics had broke the door down before I got here.”
Mildred looked at the cop in disgust. “For Christ’s sake, Leroy, you’re a block away and the hospital is ten miles up the highway. If you’d stop wasting taxpayer money looking at internet porn, you might be able to do your job. Although I still have my doubts.”
Beau’s opinion of the hotel owner went up a notch.
“I’ll check out your story, Mr. Villeneuve. And assuming Ms. Mildred will vouch for you staying at her hotel, I guess I’ll let you drop by with that identification. In the meantime, I’d prefer it if you stuck around Mudbug. At least until Sabine can verify what you’ve said.”
“I’m only going as far as the hospital, as soon as someone tells me where it is exactly,” Beau assured the man, who gave him a brief nod and left.
“Good,” Mildred said, giving Beau a shrewd look. “I’ll give you directions and you can give me a ride. And since I’m ‘vouching’ for you, you can explain on the way why you’re staying in my hotel and requested a room that faced Sabine’s store. Sabine told me her family was located days ago, so why all this bull about having business with her now?”
Beau sighed and motioned Mildred down the stairs. “I’ll tell you, but you’re probably not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” Mildred said and headed down the stairs and out the door.
Beau made the fifteen-mile drive to Mudbug General in ten minutes flat, hoping like hell that the policeman was back at the station checking on his story or looking at some of that internet porn Mildred had mentioned and not pulling over speeders headed out of town. Mildred had left a message for someone, probably Maryse, as soon as they got in the truck, then demanded he give her the details of his surveillance. He filled her in on the basic points of the situation and had just wrapped up when they reached the hospital. He tore into the parking lot and screeched to a halt in the closest parking space he could find to the emergency room. He jumped out of his truck and ran to the hospital. Mildred was hot on his heels, surprising him by how fast the large woman could move.
A nurse at the front desk gave them a dirty look when they burst into the lobby, but her expression shifted to concern when they asked for Sabine. “The doctors are working on her, but she’s stabilized,” the woman said. “I haven’t heard any details yet, but Dr. Mitchell will be out as soon as there’s something to tell.” She gave Mildred a sympathetic look. “I’m sure we’ll know more about your daughter soon. Is there anything I can get you while you wait?”
“No, thank you,” Mildred said, “we’ll just wait over here if that’s okay.” She pointed to a couple of chairs in the corner of the room with a clear view of the hallway to the emergency room.
“That’s fine,” the nurse said.
“Guess there’s nothing left but the waiting.” Mildred sat on the edge of one of the chairs, her hands clenched together in her lap.
Beau studied her for a moment. “You didn’t correct the nurse when she assumed you were Sabine’s mother.”
“No cause to correct the facts, is there?”
“I thought her aunt raised her.”
Mildred nodded. “She did, as best she could anyway. Margaret was no spring chicken when the state gave her custody of Sabine, and she didn’t get any younger. Then Sabine met Maryse in elementary school and they were tied at the hip ever since. So you might say I got a double blessing.”
Beau stared at Mildred in surprise. “You’re Maryse’s mother? I thought Sabine told me her parents were dead.”
“They are. Her mother died shortly after Maryse’s birth and her father a couple of years ago. I helped with the baby after her mother died, and eventually her father and I started seeing each other on a personal basis. Did right up until the day he died.”
Beau nodded in understanding. “So you are their mother. In all the ways that count anyway.”
Mildred sniffed and looked down at the floor. “I like to think so. Those girls mean the world to me. All that business with Maryse last month damned near gave me a heart attack, and now this. You told me on the way over here that you stayed in the hotel to look out for Sabine because you had a bad feeling but no evidence. What is going on with my girls, Beau? You gave me the facts, but that doesn’t tell me anything. Tell me what you think—I don’t care if you can prove it or not.”
Beau took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I didn’t know anything about Maryse’s situation until Sabine mentioned it. Then I read up on it and I think it might have damned near given me a heart attack, too. She’s very lucky to be alive. But the man who was after her is dead, right? Probate is over and the father-in-law is setting up residence in a New Orleans jail awaiting trial.” He shook his head. “I can’t see where that has anything to do with whatever is going on with Sabine.”
“Just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“You’re right, of course. I’m just a little surprised to hear someone else try to make two and two equal five like I do.”
Mildred waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh heck, I’ve been doing the hotel accounting long enough to know that two and two equals whatever you want it to be. It’s simply a matter of perception and misdirection.”
Beau smiled. “Okay. So let’s say there’s a common factor, but we don’t know what it is. We also don’t know if the common factor is the cause of the problem or not. It could be something as simple as them being friends, or Maryse inheriting money, or it could be nothing at all.”
Mildred gave Beau a shrewd look. “Maryse isn’t the only one set to come into money now, right?”
“Yeah…I started worrying about that all of about two seconds after I found out who Sabine’s family was. Unless they’re putting up an awful good front, the Fortescues have more money than any family I’ve ever met.”
“I was gonna have breakfast with Sabine tomorrow morning and hear all about the meeting. Guess that might have to wait now. So did the Fortescues accept what you told them about her?”
“They seemed to take it all in stride. I’m sure when it comes down to the details, someone, most likely the attorney, will insist on a DNA test.”
“But you have no doubts?”
Beau shook his head. “No. Sabine is the spitting image of her father, and the grandfather, for that matter. If you could have seen those pictures of when he was young…it was mighty convincing. By my estimate, Sabine is poised to inherit a fortune.”
“You really think they�
��ll just hand over a buttload of money to someone who is still essentially a stranger, DNA or no?”
Beau nodded. “Yeah, I do. Once word gets out that Adam had a daughter and she was found, the family will do everything they can to make up for lost time. Remember, appearances are the most important thing to the Fortescues. And what would people think if they didn’t bring Sabine into the fold and treat her as the grandchild she is?”
“And you think that might make someone unhappy?”
“Maybe. There’s only the aunt left in the house with the grandparents and they don’t associate with any extended family, but assuming no aunt and no Sabine, there’s any number of estranged cousins and such who would probably come into a tidy sum when the grandparents were gone. The aunt didn’t strike me as all that healthy looking, so she probably isn’t a huge concern. She seems emotionally unstable and it might be that she couldn’t even withstand her parents’ death.”
“Which leaves Sabine.”
“Exactly.”
Mildred sighed. “Does it strike you that all these problems seem to center on money, even though Maryse’s situation ultimately wasn’t about the money, per se?”
“Oh, yeah. If there’s one thing I learned in the FBI, it was that money is the greatest motivator of all. We had a saying there—’there’s three things you don’t mess with, a man’s money, his wife, or his children—in that order.’ ”
Mildred gave him a knowing look. “Some days, it just pays to be poor, single, and childless.”
Sabine awoke with a series of wires attached to various parts of her body. She blinked, trying to clear her blurry vision, then blinked again. Her eyes were still watery, but she could make out a small hospital room, like the equipment hadn’t given that away. No separate bathroom, so she must be in the emergency room. Helena must have been able to make the call. Thank God. The last thing she remembered was calling to the ghost for help.
“Sabine, can you hear me?”
Sabine looked across the room but didn’t see anyone. “Helena? Is that you?”
“Yeah. I’m standing next to your bed.”
Sabine turned to the side, expecting to find nothing but air, and sucked in a breath when she saw Helena, clear as day, standing next to her bed. “Holy shit! I really am dead this time.”
Helena peered down at her, her eyes hidden behind a pair of polarized sunglasses. “You can see me again?”
“Of course I can see you. For some god-awful reason, you’re dressed like John Lennon. Why wouldn’t I be able to see you? We’re both dead and apparently stuck here.”
“Uh, I hate to point out the obvious, but hospitals as a general rule do not attach heart monitors to dead people. And even if they did, I’m fairly certain dead people wouldn’t have a pulse.”
Sabine twisted around to get a good look at the monitor behind her and felt relief wash over her. Sure enough, her heart was beating. Albeit, it was probably beating a good bit faster now than it had before, but that was fixable. Dead wasn’t.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think you’ll have to wait long for an answer. In a minute, they’ll let Mildred and that hunky investigator in here.”
“Hunky investigator? What’s he still doing here?” She shook her head. “Never mind that. Have you been here the whole time? Have the doctors said anything?”
“Yeah, they’ve said plenty, but not a damn thing I understood. They’re moving you to a room, though, so I guess that’s good news. I’m really glad, Sabine. I know I am a real annoyance to you and Maryse, but I don’t want to see anything bad happen to either of you.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I wish—”
Before Helena could finish her sentence, the door burst open. Mildred went straight to Sabine’s side, walking through Helena, and clutched Sabine’s hand in her own. “My God, Sabine, you’ve scared the life right out of me.” Beau was right behind her.
Sabine squeezed Mildred’s hand and watched as Helena strolled through the hospital wall. “Looks like I came closer to scaring it out of myself. What happened? Have you talked to the doctor?”
Mildred shook her head. “They’re coming in a minute, but I insisted on seeing you now.”
Sabine smiled. “I bet you did. Maryse?”
“I got her voice mail, but I left a message.”
“I thought you’d be halfway back to New Orleans by now,” Sabine said to Beau.
“You didn’t tell her you were staying in the hotel?” Mildred asked.
“You’re staying at the hotel?” Sabine repeated. “Since when?”
Beau paused for a moment before answering. “I checked in three days ago.”
Sabine frowned at Mildred. “You knew this and didn’t tell me?”
Mildred raised her hands in protest. “I didn’t know who he was until tonight. Darn near ran me over getting to your apartment when he heard the sirens. You know I wouldn’t keep something like that from you, Sabine.” Mildred shot a dirty look at Beau. “You didn’t tell me you were lying to her.”
“I wasn’t lying, exactly.” He stepped next to the bed and looked down at Sabine. “That break-in at your place worried me. I just didn’t like the sound of it, but then I’ve been accused of being paranoid, so I didn’t want to get you riled up in case it turned out to be nothing.”
“So you thought you’d spy on me for a couple of days, then let me know if you thought I was in danger…something I might have needed to know before tonight. Where the hell is that doctor?” Sabine flashed an angry glance at the door to her room, agitated that they were keeping her waiting.
Beau ran one hand through his hair. “I swear, Sabine. If I’d thought…I didn’t know…”
“Stop,” Sabine said. “I’ll decide how I feel about all this after I find out what happened to me. For all we know, this might be nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mildred said. “You were unconscious. It’s a miracle you dialed 911 before you passed out. That can’t be nothing.”
“She’s right,” a voice sounded from the doorway.
They all turned to look at the young doctor who had entered the room. “I’m Dr. Mitchell. I just started here last week. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you all, but I’m certain we’d all rather it be under different circumstances.” He smiled at Sabine. “You are one lucky lady. The paramedics are amazed you managed to dial for help given the state you were in when they arrived. And since I’m assuming none of us would like a repeat performance, we’re going to have to rethink your dinner choices.”
Sabine stared at the doctor. “What are you talking about? I had a roast beef sandwich, same as yesterday.”
The doctor studied her. “Any dessert? Cookies, perhaps? A brownie?”
“I took a glass of wine and some sugar cookies to bed.”
“We had cookies at the Fortescues’, too,” Beau reminded her.
“You had cookies. I moved two of mine onto your plate so no one would think I was being rude when I didn’t eat them.”
Beau gave her a surprised look. “I didn’t even notice.”
Sabine rolled her eyes. “Some detective.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re certain. You’ve had nothing else to eat or drink since lunch but your sugar cookies and wine?”
“Of course I’m certain. What is this about? You’re starting to worry me.”
“You had an allergic reaction,” the doctor replied. “The kind of reaction that can kill people.”
“Peanuts? You’re saying peanuts caused this?” She shook her head. “I know I’m allergic to peanuts—have known forever and I promise you I avoid them like the plague. Why do you think I didn’t eat the cookies when they were served? I don’t take any chances. There is no way I ate a peanut, not even accidentally. I cooked the roast beef myself yesterday and have eaten three meals from it now. The bottle of wine was brand new. I opened it last night.”
“And the cookies?” the doctor asked.
“I made th
em,” Mildred said. “A couple of days ago, and I assure you they didn’t contain peanut oil. I’m allergic to peanuts myself and I’ve been eating those cookies ever since I baked them.”
Sabine stared at the doctor. “You must be mistaken.”
“I was with her from midafternoon until last night through supper,” Beau added. “She only had the roast beef and a bottled water for supper.”
“And the wine,” the doctor asked Beau. “Did you drink any as well?”
“No,” Beau said and looked a little embarrassed. “I left before Ms. LeVeche retired for the night.”
“Where did you get the wine, Ms. LeVeche, and is it a brand you drink regularly?”
“Yes, it’s my favorite zinfandel, and Mildred gave it to me day before yesterday. Mildred, Maryse, and I like the same brand, but it’s not sold here in Mudbug, so anyone who’s going to New Orleans usually picks up a bottle or two when they’re there.”
The doctor turned to Mildred. “Do you remember where you bought the wine?”
Mildred nodded. “Sure. At Bayou Beverages just on the highway before you get to the city. Why? Is that important?”
“It could be if someone else reports a problem.” The doctor made a note in his file. “Who else knows about your allergy?”
“Everyone,” Sabine replied. “Everyone in Mudbug, anyway. The restaurants are very careful with my food preparation and no one ever brings me Christmas goodies with nuts. I figured keeping something like that a secret was bound to be trouble.”
Dr. Mitchell nodded. “And usually it is, but I wonder if this time it didn’t work against you.”
Sabine felt a wave of cold wash over her. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but she was certain she wasn’t going to like it. “Surely, you’re wrong, Dr. Mitchell,” Sabine said, trying to clutch onto a reasonable explanation. “Maybe something else…a spider bite or something simple like an anxiety attack?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m not mistaken. The symptoms are textbook and the tests showed peanut oil in your stomach.” He looked at Beau and Mildred, then back at Sabine, obviously nervous. “Ms. LeVeche, I don’t know how to say this any other way, but since you and your friend are certain of your dietary intake, I think you need to contact the police. They’re going to want to search your apartment and test that bottle of wine and the food.”