by Jana DeLeon
Sabine stared at the doctor in shock. “The police? Test my food?”
The doctor nodded. “There is a chance the wine was somehow tainted before the sale, but I honestly can’t imagine peanut oil being any part of the process for wine-making, so it’s a real long shot. And you need to start considering who might have the access and the desire to do something like this. Any new business associates, friends, a slighted customer…the police are going to want to know.”
Sabine tried to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. The only new things in her life were Beau and her family. Surely Beau had no reason at all to harm her; in fact, he’d been trying to tell her that digging up the past might not be a good idea. But her family? They barely knew her, so it was highly unlikely they knew about her allergies. Besides, she wasn’t asking them for anything and didn’t want anything, except to gain a better knowledge of her parents. Hell, Catherine had been the one suggesting the Fortescues fund a new business for Sabine that was apparently more “worthy” of the grand family name.
Sabine took a drink of water and tried to keep her hand from shaking. “I…I don’t really know what to say.”
“The doctor’s right,” Beau said. “If you ingested peanuts, it probably wasn’t an accident. I’ll call the police and get them over to your apartment and have them send someone here to get all the information from you. Tell them to talk to me afterward. I can provide all the details on the new people in your life.”
Sabine shook her head. “I’m not about to let the police tromp around my apartment, digging through my drawers, taking inventory of my stuff. And not for nothing, but the Mudbug police still haven’t come up with anything on the break-in or the lurker I kicked. I seriously doubt they’d have any idea what to do about a poisoning.” Especially since the small matter of Helena Henry’s poisoning had seemed to fly right past both the police and the doctors. Sabine’s odds did not look good with the “experts” of Mudbug on the case.
“Now, Sabine,” Mildred said, “I think you ought to listen to the doctor, and to Beau.”
“Fine,” Sabine said. “If the hospital will release me, I’ll take care of everything with the police.”
Dr. Mitchell shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. LeVeche, but I can’t do that. We really need to monitor you overnight to ensure nothing else is wrong. I’m not trying to scare you, but you had a major attack. Quite frankly, you’re lucky to be alive. If the paramedics had been just a couple of minutes later…”
“I’ll contact the police and meet them at your apartment,” Beau offered. “I’ll oversee everything. Make sure they do a thorough job. I have connections in New Orleans. I’ll make sure anything that needs to be tested is sent to a lab there.”
Sabine sighed, feeling her independence slipping away.
Beau held one hand up. “I promise I won’t go through your panty drawer.”
Mildred shook her head. “She doesn’t have a panty drawer. What her and Maryse have against covering their rear, I simply don’t know.”
Sabine groaned and pulled the sheet up over her head, but not before seeing the embarrassment on the doctor’s face and the grin on Beau’s. “Get out of here, all of you, before I just go ahead and die to escape it all.” It was bad enough that all the medical personnel of Mudbug General already had a good idea of her feelings about undergarments.
She heard Beau laugh and Mildred said, “I’ll go with Beau and let them into your apartment. I’ll be back as soon as we’re done with the police. Don’t worry about a thing. You just work on getting better.”
Sabine waited until she heard the door close, then pulled the sheet down and thought over everything that had happened that day. “What the hell is going on?” she asked out loud.
“I don’t know,” Helena answered, making her jump.
“Jesus,” Sabine said, sucking in a breath. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Can you still see me?”
Sabine nodded. “The John Lennon thing still isn’t working for me. Why did you come back?”
“I thought maybe someone ought to keep an eye on you and since the others all left…”
“What could possibly happen in the hospital?”
“Hmmmm, well, although I started to feel weird after I drank that brandy, technically, I was in the hospital when I died,” Helena said.
Sabine stared at the wall. “Shit.”
“But having an overnight stay here does give us all sorts of other possibilities.”
“Like what?” Sabine didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Oh, I was thinking that taking a peek at the medical records of the Fortescues might be a good idea. Obviously someone’s out of their damned mind because I can’t think of anyone else who’d want to kill you. Maybe if we read their medical records, we can see if there’s any history of mental illness.”
“Oh, no. Maryse already did that breaking-and-entering medical-records search with you and it wasn’t exactly an overwhelming success.”
“Yeah, but this time there’s no breaking or entering. That’s over half the battle. Besides, don’t tell me you’re not just a little interested in getting a peek at those records. You’re still looking for a match, right? You might just get two possible answers with one small, unobtrusive trip down the hall.”
Sabine bit her lower lip. Any other time, she would never, ever agree with what Helena was saying, but the ghost did have a point. If someone had tried to poison her, the medical records might indeed give her the clue she needed to identify who it was. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to look for their blood types while she was at it. A matching blood type didn’t mean a bone marrow match, but it was a good start.
Shit.
“Okay,” she said before she could change her mind. “We’ll do this tonight.”
“If you don’t want to risk it, I understand. I can get the files myself and bring them to you.”
“Oh, no! I am not going to have a repeat of the New Orleans police department on my hands. There aren’t any hotdog stands in the hospital to cover up your exit, and hospital carts do not move themselves down the hallways, especially on level ground.”
“Fine, if you’re going to get all picky and geographical on me. You’re still going to need a key, though. The lock on that door is a deadbolt and doesn’t open from the inside.”
Sabine threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Then what are we even talking about this for? I don’t have the keys and wouldn’t know the first thing about picking a lock.”
“Oh, I can get them.”
Sabine groaned, knowing from the sound of her voice that Helena’s offer would come with strings attached. “Out with it, Helena. What do you want?”
“Well, I just figured that while we were in the records room you might be able to get a copy of my autopsy report.”
Sabine narrowed her eyes. “Is that all?”
“Scout’s honor.” Helena worked up her best sincere look.
Sabine frowned. It sounded so simple. Copy a couple of sheets of paper in exchange for a set of keys. Unfortunately, she already knew that anything involving Helena was never easy or without consequences.
Helena or the Mudbug police. Her two options for solving a crime.
Sabine sighed. “What time should we do this?”
Chapter Eleven
It was two more long hours and after three a.m. before Sabine was transferred to a private room. The entire time, Helena had been champing at the bit—and a bag of beef jerky from the vending machine. Watching the ghost inhale the dried meat, Sabine couldn’t help thinking people should be very, very careful what they wished for.
All her life she’d wanted to see a ghost, and she’d gotten Helena.
All her life she’d wanted to find her family, and now it looked like it might have been better—and safer—if she hadn’t.
All her life she’d wanted to find “the” guy. The guy who made her heart skip a beat, who made her skin tingle with the s
lightest touch, who made her palms sweat when he looked at her. And in he’d walked, just after she’d been given a potential death sentence by cancer, and a much more probable one by poisoning unless they got a grip, and fast, on what the hell was going on.
Sabine pushed herself out of the wheelchair and slid into her new hospital bed with a sigh. The nurse gave her a critical eye for a couple of seconds, then went about the business of checking her blood pressure for the hundredth time since she’d been brought to the hospital. She’d been too critical of Maryse, Sabine decided. She’d accused her friend of avoiding life, of avoiding relationships, especially when Luc had come on the scene. It wasn’t like her accusations were untrue, but now that Sabine found herself in a frighteningly similar position—her world upside down, everything she’d known as fact now in question, her life in danger, and a veritable Adonis just waiting for the word—she regretted having ever pushed her friend.
The overload to her emotional and mental systems was staggering, and although she’d thought it was as high as possible, Sabine’s respect for Maryse shot up even another notch. As soon as she saw her friend, she was going to give her a huge hug, a high five, and an apology. Then she was going to demand her secret. How the hell had she handled all this pressure without exploding?
The nurse removed the cuff and made some notes on her file. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep.” She pulled the covers up on the bed, flipped out the lights, and left the room.
“Thanffkt Godfft,” Helena said, her mouth full of jerky. She paused for a minute and swallowed. “I thought she’d never leave. Are you ready?”
“No, but that’s totally irrelevant, isn’t it? Do you have the key?”
Helena nodded. “Swiped it from the front desk.” She tugged at the key ring wedged in the front pocket of her entirely too-tight blue jeans and finally managed to wrench it loose while pushing up the bottom of her spandex tank top by two inches and at least three stomach rolls. “I should probably change into something loose and comfortable for the mission, right?”
“You should probably change into something loose and comfortable because I can see you.”
Helena glared at Sabine. “You skinny broads are all the same. You don’t think fat people should dress fashionably.”
“No. I don’t think fat people should show their fat. There are plenty of fashionable tops that don’t let your stomach hang out.”
Helena stuck out her tongue, complete with partially-chewed jerky. “Anorexic.”
“Glutton.”
Helena grinned. “You got me there, but damn, do you realize I’ve eaten over six thousand calories a day for the past week and haven’t gained a pound? How many people get that opportunity?”
“You could also jump off the roof of the hospital and not die, but I don’t see you racing up the stairs to try that.”
“Where the hell’s the fun in that? I’m just doing things I would have liked to do while I was alive. I don’t recall ever wanting to jump off a building, although I would have probably pushed a person or two.” Helena frowned for a moment, and then her face brightened. “Hey, what do you think the odds are I could find a way to have sex? I didn’t do hardly any of that while I was alive. And now I wouldn’t have to worry about getting one of those CDs or anything.”
Sabine closed her eyes and counted to five. “STDs, and no, I am not about to start an escort service for the dead. It would be fraught with misery and no profit at all.” Sabine went to the door and peeked outside. “It’s clear. Let’s just get this over with.”
She stepped out into the hall, and a second later Helena strolled through the wall to join her. Sabine took one look at the ghost’s new wardrobe creation and almost choked. Helena glared and went off down the hall, the full nun’s habit she wore giving her the appearance of gliding. Sabine stared after her in dismay. The fat rolls were covered, sure, but somewhere in the heavens, Jesus was surely crying.
Sabine made the sign of the cross and followed Helena down the hall.
Since Sabine had been placed on the second floor, they opted for the stairs over the elevator, figuring it was the safest option to avoid detection. At the end of the hall, Helena motioned for Sabine to stop while she stepped around. “It’s clear,” Helena said and waved her on. “The records room is at the end of this hall. I hope this time goes better than last.”
Sabine’s mind raced with arguments against what she was about to do, but her feet continued to move, one in front of the other, until finally she was at the end of the hall, standing behind the largest penguin she’d ever seen and watching her struggle with the ancient lock.
“Finally,” Helena said when the lock turned at last. She pushed the door open and slipped inside, Sabine close behind. “The Dead records are on the last row. Guess that’s sorta fitting. All the living assholes are on the first three. You start there and get some dirt on the Fortescues. I’m going to find my autopsy report.”
Sabine cringed. Dead records. That was rude.
Sabine slipped to the front row and looked down the rows of shelves until she’d located the F’s. Field…Fontaine…Fox. She looked beyond Fox but the Fu’s had started. She looked more closely, pulled each file out a little from the shelf. At the spot where the Fortescues’ files should have been, assuming there were any at this hospital, there was a single sheet of bright orange paper. Sabine pulled the paper from the shelf and saw that it contained a list of every member of the Fortescue family, alive and dead, and some she’d never heard of. Cousins, she supposed.
But where were the records? There must have been files at some time. Otherwise, why have a sheet of paper marking this spot? Sabine could understand medical personnel pulling a single file in order to treat a patient, but an entire family? That was just weird.
A sudden thought flashed through her mind and she moved to the next row. Landry…Lattimer…LeVeche. She pulled her file from the stack and opened it. She frowned at the results of her biopsy, but as she flipped through the file, everything seemed in order. Maybe the Fortescue files had been checked out for review.
She stepped over to the medical records manager’s desk and went through the files stacked on top. Nothing. She was just about to give up when she saw a sliver of orange peeking out from under a stack of paper in the In box. Sabine pulled the orange paper from the box and began to read, her heart beating faster as she read. It was an inventory of files stolen during the hospital break-in. There were a bunch of names on the list, but the ones that stood out to Sabine all ended in Fortescue. Everyone in Mudbug had assumed it was junkies that had broken into the hospital; only Sabine didn’t see any drugs on the list of missing items. Just medical records.
It wasn’t possible. The hospital break-in happened before she knew about the Fortescues, before Beau knew, before he’d even been hired. Something was very, very wrong with all of this. It couldn’t possibly be random.
“Hey.” Helena’s voice caused her to jump. “I need your help here.” Helena shoved a file in Sabine’s face. “The autopsy report is there, but I don’t understand all that medical mumbo jumbo. Can you take a look and jot down the important things? That way if you don’t understand it either, we’ll have something to show to Maryse.”
Sabine nodded, trying to get a grip on the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was let Helena in on more than she already knew. And Sabine needed to make some sense of everything before she could formulate an opinion, much less a plan. She took the file from Helena and sat down at the desk, pulling a legal pad and pen toward her.
She read the first line of the autopsy report and sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” Helena asked. “What does it say? I don’t understand, Sabine. What killed me?”
Sabine continued to read down on the report, growing more surprised with every word. “I’ve got to write this down. Maryse will understand it better than I do.”
Helena stared at her. “But you know something. I saw that look
on your face. There’s something in that file you didn’t expect to see. Why won’t you tell me what it is?”
Sabine shook her head and wrote furiously. “I can’t be sure. I think I’m confusing my terminology and I don’t want to tell you the wrong thing. Let’s just get it all down and talk to Maryse. Okay?” Helena didn’t look the least bit convinced, but she didn’t argue either.
Sabine continued to write, word for word, everything in the report. Maybe by the time she talked to Maryse she’d have come up with a way to tell Helena that the autopsy had found no sign of foul play.
And that Helena had been dying of cancer.
Sabine stood at the hospital room window. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting an orange glow over the marsh. She’d barely slept, only managing ten-minute increments, and was positive she looked as bad as she felt. The nurse had already been in to check on her and promised to bring breakfast in directly. Sabine could hardly wait. Hospital food was so tasty. She’d just decided that a shower might not be a bad idea when Helena came huffing into the room, still wearing the habit, and threw a stack of files behind a recliner in the corner. Before Sabine could get a word out of her mouth, the nurse bustled in with Sabine’s breakfast. Sabine glanced over at Helena, who’d collapsed in the recliner wheezing like she’d just run the New York marathon, and tried not to even think about what Helena had tossed behind the chair.
Sabine excused herself to the bathroom, hoping it would hurry the cheerful, chatty nurse along. It probably took all of a minute before she heard the door close, but it felt like hours. Sabine stepped out of the bathroom to find Helena sitting up in her bed, a half-eaten pancake dangling from the plastic fork.
“You know,” Helena said as she shoved the other half of the pancake in her mouth. “Hospital food isn’t near as bad as I remember.” She stabbed a half-cooked sausage with the fork and wolfed it down.