by Jana DeLeon
“You have a serious problem. This is just so not normal.”
Helena rolled her eyes and poked at the scrambled eggs. It lifted in one big blob. “The fake psychic is telling me this isn’t normal. Hell, you think I hadn’t already figured that out?”
“I don’t mean this as in everything, I mean this”—she pointed to the empty plate—“is not normal. Dead people do not need to eat. Dead people shouldn’t even want to eat. Ghosts should not develop addictions, Helena.”
Helena gulped down the coffee, then belched. “Guess ghosts shouldn’t lose their manners either, huh? But what the hell. You’re the only one who can hear me.”
Sabine closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to keep herself from wishing that she or Maryse had strangled Helena when she was alive. At least then they could have said they deserved having Helena haunt them from beyond.
Sabine peeked behind the recliner. Just as she’d feared, there was a stack of files that look suspiciously like those she’d seen in the records room the night before. “What did you do, Helena?”
Helena, who had been licking residual syrup off the breakfast plate, placed the now spotless plastic dish on the table. “Just some files I thought we’d need.” She swirled her finger around the inside of the coffee cup, then licked it.
Sabine felt her jaw clench involuntarily. “What files? Damn it, Helena! I wrote down everything we needed last night. Why would you take more? They’ll send me to jail if they find those files in here. What were you thinking? And why aren’t you saying anything?”
The ghost had gone strangely silent and it took a second for Sabine to realize that she was glancing at the doorway. Sabine whirled around, fully expecting to find the chatty nurse calling for a straitjacket and police backup, and let out a breath of relief when she saw Raissa standing in the doorway, a curious expression on her face.
“Raissa, thank God!” Sabine collapsed into the recliner, what little was remaining of her energy completely drained. “I thought for sure I was on my way to a padded room or jail, whichever one had available space. What are you doing here?”
Raissa stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Maryse called me. She got held up at the airport in Houston and thought you might need to hear a voice of reason since Mildred called yelling at her twice last night.”
“Mildred yelled at Maryse?” Sabine stared at Raissa. “What in the world for?”
Raissa smiled. “Apparently this attempt on your life is all Maryse’s fault because she went and tried to get killed first and you always want to do everything Maryse does.”
Sabine groaned. “I wanted to do everything Maryse did in second grade. I haven’t wanted to since. Well, except that one time I saw Luc walk out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel. I have to admit that Maryse definitely got that one right.”
Raissa laughed. “I confess to a lingering bit of jealousy myself. Not only is the man hot, but he’s so obviously over the moon for Maryse. Makes you want one of your own.”
“Only for a moment. Once they put their clothes on, then there’s bills to pay and work to do and in-laws to deal with, and we all know how that in-law thing worked out for Maryse the first time.” Sabine glared at Helena.
Raissa followed Sabine’s gaze and studied the hospital bed. “I take it the ghost is here? Either that or you are on some really good drugs and your bed is incredibly lumpy.”
“Oh yeah,” Sabine said. “She’s here in all her glory—every should-be-expanding pound of her.”
Helena jumped off the bed. “I don’t have to take this abuse.” She stalked out of the room.
Sabine gave a silent prayer of thanks and reported Helena’s exit to Raissa.
“Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be arrested for having someone else eat your hospital food, do you want to tell me what she stole?” Raissa said.
“Hospital records.” Sabine pointed over her head and behind the recliner. “She threw them behind the chair when the nurse came in. I am going straight to jail if they catch me with these files in my room.”
Helena stuck her head in through the wall. “Please,” she said. “Like you wouldn’t have been in trouble if we’d got caught in the records room last night. You weren’t whining when it was about you.”
“Breaking into the records room is not the same as stealing the records,” Sabine shot back, but she seriously doubted her voice carried the same conviction as her words. “Don’t you have a buffet to conquer?”
Helena gave her the finger and popped back out the wall.
“And take off that habit,” Sabine yelled after her. “It’s sacrilegious.”
Raissa raised her eyebrows, and Sabine remembered the psychic could only hear one side of the conversation. “We sorta helped ourselves to the medical records room last night.”
“And it required wearing habits?” Raissa shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. What were you looking for exactly? Or is this answer going to be as bad as the habit one?”
“I wanted to check the files on my family.”
“You were hoping to find one with a ‘psychotic killer’ notation on it?” Raissa asked.
“No. I mean, I was kinda hoping for some indication of instability or something. I thought that might narrow things down a bit.”
“And you’re certain your family is the problem?”
“Yes, no…I don’t know. All I know is my family is the only thing new in my life, well, except Helena, so I figured it has to have something to do with them. And they’d have to be crazy to want to kill me, because I’m not asking for anything…yet, and even if I get around to it, it’s not going to be money. I’ve already turned down a business loan from Catherine.”
“Sounds reasonable—in the sort of reason you and Maryse have taken to since Helena appeared. So what did you find?”
Sabine frowned. “Nothing.”
“No crazy people?”
“No. No records.”
Raissa stared at her. “The only doctors in the town have their offices here, right? Are there any in the Fortescues’ town?”
“Not anymore,” Sabine said. “The last doctor retired years ago and has never been replaced.”
“Then their records should have been transferred here. Unless you think they went all the way to New Orleans to see the doctor.”
Sabine shook her head. “Their records were apparently here at one time. But on the shelf where all the Fortescue files should have been was this orange piece of paper with a list of their names.”
“So someone checked them out?”
“That’s what I thought at first, but when I shuffled through the manager’s desk, I found a sheet of paper listing all the files that were stolen in the hospital break-in a couple of weeks ago.” Sabine felt a chill run through her. “There were other people’s names on the list, but they didn’t appear related. Except for the Fortescues. But Raissa, no one knew we were related then—not me, you, them—you hadn’t even hired Beau when the break-in happened.”
Raissa narrowed her eyes. “You’re right. That’s very strange.”
“It can’t be a coincidence. Not after this.”
Raissa shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “No, I don’t believe it’s a coincidence, but I can’t put the pieces together, either. I’ll do a reading this afternoon and let you know if I come up with something.”
“Thanks.”
“So…if your family files were missing, what did Helena steal?”
Sabine groaned. “I don’t even know. She ran into the room just ahead of the nurse. It’s a miracle the nurse didn’t see a floating file display. How in the world would I have explained that one?” Sabine rose from the chair and reached for the files.
Raissa smiled. “And just think—you’re supposed to be equipped to deal with the dead.”
“No one could be prepared for Helena,” Sabine said as she stood back up, files in hand. “The Spartans couldn’t have pre
pared for Helena. You know, I’m not really sure she didn’t pass over. I’m starting to think Satan couldn’t handle her either so he sent her back.”
Raissa laughed. “Well, the next time you or Helena need to procure some illegal data, let me know and I’ll loan you my scanner.”
“Scanner?”
“Yeah, a scanner,” Raissa said. “Mine is small—just big enough for a sheet of paper, and really thin and portable. You could scan all the documents Helena stole onto a USB, then review them at your leisure on your home computer. No hand cramps, floating file scares, or habits required.”
“I never even thought about something like that. You constantly amaze me with your grip on technology.”
“Hey, the spirits don’t help with filing and I don’t want to rent storage. Digital file cabinets are the way to go.” Raissa walked over to Sabine and gave her a hug. “I’m going to clear out. I want to talk to Beau before I head back to New Orleans and open the shop. You let me know if you need anything. Promise?”
Sabine nodded. “Promise.”
Raissa gave her a wave and left the room. Sabine looked down at the files, then frowned when she saw who the records belonged to—Helena’s family. Why in the world would Helena want those? Her parents were long dead—they couldn’t possibly have killed her.
Sabine shoved the files in her overnight bag and zipped it shut. Helena wouldn’t be able to return them until nighttime. Which would give Sabine plenty of time to ask the ghost what the hell was going on.
Chapter Twelve
It was past sunrise before Beau finished up with the Mudbug police, locked up Sabine’s apartment, and loaded the evidence bagged for testing in his truck. Logic told him that Sabine had to have been poisoned in her apartment and most likely by something she consumed that night, but for the life of him, Beau couldn’t figure out how anyone had gotten inside. There was no sign of forced entry on any of the doors or windows, and since the property manager had gotten approval to replace the locks after the break-in on both the front and back doors, anyone who’d previously had a key was out of luck.
Someone could have jimmied the lock, but the new technology would have been extremely difficult for anyone but a professional. There was always the locksmith to consider, but the company the property manager used was based out of New Orleans and had been in business forever. Still, Beau supposed he would talk to someone there after he finished at the lab.
He was just climbing in the truck when he heard Mildred yelling from across the street. The hotel owner came running toward him, clutching a stack of white Styrofoam boxes. “I was hoping to catch you before you left for the hospital. Can you give me a ride?”
“Sure,” Beau said and motioned her into the truck, “but I thought you were driving Sabine home after they released her.”
“I was,” Mildred said, her face flushed with the exertion. “Doggone battery on my car is dead again. It’s happened four times now in the past two weeks, but I haven’t had time to get another. I don’t need the car that often, so I’ve been borrowing Sabine’s, but in all the excitement, I’ve misplaced my spare key.”
“Do you need some help?” Beau pointed to the stack of boxes, about to topple as Mildred struggled with the seat belt.
“What—oh, no, thank you.” She clicked the belt into place and righted the boxes. “I got breakfast for all of us over at the café. I figured you haven’t had time to get anything, same as me, and I know my Sabine. She’s not going to eat any of that hospital food.”
“I don’t blame her,” Beau said as he started down the highway to the hospital. “So do you need me to give the two of you a ride home?”
“No. You’ve got much more important business to take care of in New Orleans. I’ll get Sabine’s keys from her and have one of my friends give me a lift home. Then I’ll come back for Sabine.”
“You sure you have time? I can’t imagine Sabine is going to sit in that hospital one minute longer than required, even if it means walking home.”
Mildred laughed. “You got my girl pegged, all right. But not to worry. They won’t release her before noon. Dr. Breaux doesn’t make rounds as early as he used to and even though that Dr. Mitchell seemed sharp, Dr. Breaux’s probably going to want to see Sabine himself.”
“Dr. Breaux’s the local?”
“Yes. In his seventies and still kicking.” She shifted in her seat to stare at Beau. “So are you planning on taking care of my girl?”
Beau gave a start and glanced over at Mildred. “Depends on what you mean by taking care of. I’m going to find out who’s trying to hurt her, and I’m going to do my damndest to see that whoever it is doesn’t get another shot.”
Mildred sighed. “Why do you young people make everything so difficult? I’ve seen the way you look at her. You darn near ran me over trying to get to her apartment last night, and the way you were shouting questions at those paramedics…all I’m saying is it looked like a lot more than concern for a client to me.”
Beau groaned inwardly. Was his attraction to Sabine really that apparent, or was the hotel owner just fishing and hoping? Either way, Beau wasn’t about to accommodate her. Sabine’s rejection was embarrassing enough kept between the two of them. He wasn’t about to share it with anyone else.
“I look at her like a cop does a potential victim. I was FBI, remember? And I’m not about to lose a client…not on my watch. I’m going to protect Sabine, but once I know what’s going on here and the guilty party is in jail, then my job is done.”
Mildred studied him for a moment. “Your job, huh? Okay then.”
Beau glanced over at her as he pulled in to the hospital parking lot and knew he hadn’t fooled her for a minute. But at least she’d stopped pressing the issue. For the moment.
Sabine was sitting cross-legged on the end of her hospital bed watching television when they walked into her room. Beau took one look at her and felt his heart leap. Never before had he wanted to gather someone in his arms and hide them away from the world to protect them. He’d known he was lying to Mildred when he’d told her that Sabine was another victim he was trying to protect, but he hadn’t realized quite how much he was lying.
He swore the room got brighter when she smiled at them. He blinked once, certain he was seeing things, but reality was perched on the end of the bed, so obviously happy to see them. Beau managed a weak hello as Mildred dropped her breakfast box on the table and gathered Sabine for a hug. Beau placed the boxes on the tray next to the bed and tried to get a grip.
It simply wasn’t fair, he decided. No one should look that good, ever. Much less after being poisoned, almost dying, and spending the night in a hospital, which contrary to what it should be was never restful. No makeup, a drab green hospital gown, her hair tied in some strange-looking knot on top of her head, and she was still gorgeous. Why couldn’t Raissa have been friends with a sixty-year-old retired librarian or something?
Mildred finally released Sabine and pointed to an empty hospital food tray on a small table next to a recliner. “Don’t tell me you ate that garbage?”
Sabine looked momentarily guilty. “Not a chance. I dumped it down the toilet. Didn’t want the nurse to make a fuss. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t let me starve.”
“Darn straight,” Mildred said and pulled a couple of sodas out of her handbag. “Pancakes and sausage for everyone. You two go ahead and start. I’m going to check with the nurse and see what time they’ll be releasing you.” She handed Beau a box and gave him a wink.
“Oh, and Sabine,” Mildred said as she paused at the door. “I must have dislodged your gown when I hugged you. Your heinie is showing.” She grinned and left the room.
It was an involuntary reaction, and God knows he should have figured out some way to stop it, but Beau couldn’t help looking at Sabine’s butt. Her face blushed ten shades of red as she grabbed the hospital gown and tugged it together in the back, but not before he saw the silky smooth curve of her bottom peeking out.
&
nbsp; Sabine groaned. “She’ll use this forever as a reason I should wear underwear.”
Beau grinned. “Hard to argue with her at the moment. Not that I’m agreeing, mind you.”
Sabine looked over at Beau and shook her head. “You know, normally I would have gone into hiding over something like this. The fact that flashing a man with my bare butt is the least of my problems is a real testament to just how screwed up my life is at the moment.”
“A butt like that should never be hidden away. Statues should be erected in its honor.”
Sabine’s lips quivered with amusement. “Maybe I won’t die of embarrassment today, then. So are you hungry?”
“Starved.” He just wasn’t saying for what.
She patted the bed. “You can sit on the bed with me if you’d like,” Sabine suggested as she uncrossed her legs and turned to the side. “The table is long enough for both of us to use it.”
Beau swallowed when Sabine said the word “bed” but took a seat next to her and pulled the table in front of them. “How are you feeling?”
“How do I look? I mean the rest of me, not just my butt.”
He choked on his soda and set the can on the table. “Great. You look great.”
“For an almost dead woman, you mean?”
To hell with it. Beau looked directly at Sabine. “You’re beautiful. A little paler, perhaps, a little tired around the eyes, but otherwise just as beautiful as you were yesterday and the day before.”
Sabine’s eyes widened and for a couple of seconds said absolutely nothing. The room was so quiet that Beau could hear the ticking of his watch. Shit, shit, shit, shit…it seemed to echo in his mind.
Finally, she gave him a shy smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”
Beau shook his head. “I wasn’t saying it to make you feel better. Damn it, Sabine, you’re a beautiful, desirable woman, and any man who doesn’t see that is stupid or blind. I’m neither.”