Mischief in Mudbug

by Jana DeLeon

  “Great,” Beau said. “So he’s not on the defensive. Instead, he’s looking for another opportunity to strike.”

  Raissa shook her head. “If it is a Fortescue behind this, do you really think he will take a shot at Sabine while she’s on the family estate? Talk about bringing down the house of cards, unless of course he is insane, but then it’s not going to matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s going to keep trying. And most likely get more desperate. This dinner might be an opportunity to do a little spy work. Especially if one of you could get out of the Fortescues’ sight long enough to do a little snooping.”

  Beau blew out a breath and looked at Sabine. “I still don’t like it, but Raissa’s right. We can’t lock you up in this hotel room and wait for another bomb escapade. And at least I was included in the invitation so you don’t have to make up some excuse to bring me along. Not to mention that I’m guessing they won’t be put off forever.”

  Sabine nodded and glanced over at Raissa. The psychic mouthed the word “Helena,” and all of a sudden Sabine understood exactly why Raissa was suggesting this was a great opportunity to snoop. And what could possibly be a better weapon than the spy no one could hear or see?

  It was inching toward evening and Helena Henry sat propped up on the bed in Sabine’s hotel room, eating her third moon pie since arriving ten minutes before. Sabine wasn’t sure whether she should be amazed or disgusted. However, a critical review of Helena’s current outfit—some leather/spandex, studded combination reminiscent of eighties hair bands—gave Sabine pause. Despite eating the gross national product in carbs, fat, and sugar, the ghost was right. She hadn’t gained a single pound.

  Maybe jealousy was a more appropriate emotion, although Sabine wasn’t quite ready to trade in her life for a permanent, calorie-free binge. She looked over at her half-eaten lunch of plain turkey sandwich on the dresser. Yet.

  “So are you clear on what I need, Helena?”

  “Yepfft…marphmellows sticking…wait.” She chewed a couple of seconds more, then swallowed twice and took a huge breath. “Man, that’s good. I haven’t eaten moon pies in forever.”

  Sabine narrowed her eyes at Helena. “Where exactly did you get…no, never mind. It’s better if I don’t know. Do you understand the plan?”

  “I’m a bitch, not a moron. I hitch a ride with you and that sexy detective to the nutso house, then take a look around and see if I can find any skeletons in their closets.” Helena straightened up. “Hey, do you think they really have a skeleton in the closet?”

  “I hope not. But anything you find that looks suspect, you report immediately back to me. Just no yelling, and for God’s sake, no eating while you’re there.”

  Helena frowned. “No one said anything about not eating. Damn. Rich people always have fancy food when they have important company. What could be more important than a long-lost granddaughter? Maybe I could sneak a dessert or a dinner roll?” She gave Sabine an expectant look.

  “Absolutely not! I am not going to play distract-people-from-the-floating-roll all evening. You will sneak and snoop and get dirt on these people as if you’re searching for a bottomless pot of red beans and rice. I don’t think I should have to remind you that this is a matter of life or death. And you of all people ought to know what an iffy thing death is.”

  Helena sighed. “Fine. You don’t have to go all guilt trip on me. It’s not like I want you stuck here with me. Now, that detective would be a whole other story.” Helena’s expression brightened. “Hey, I don’t suppose there will be a little truck hanky-panky?”

  “You don’t suppose right,” Sabine shot back, but the disappointed look on Helena’s face was too comical for her to maintain her stern stance. Finally, she smiled. “But if you’re really good, I might see what I can do about a big pot of gumbo when we get back.”

  Helena clapped her hands. “Whoohoo! Can we have beer, too?”

  “I don’t know. Can you get drunk?”

  “I can try.”

  Sabine grimaced. “That’s what I was afraid of.” She was about to follow that up with the no alcohol rule when Beau knocked on the connecting door and poked his head in.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. “I thought you were talking to someone on the phone.”

  Sabine forced a smile. “Just hung up. Give me a sec and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “Everything okay with Mildred?” Beau asked.

  Sabine nodded. “It’s all settled. Maryse is going to stay with her tonight, for which I will officially owe her a trip to New Orleans for a manicure and pedicure because she has to sleep in the stinky hospital in a lumpy recliner.”

  “Not exactly a bad deal. I thought you women loved a pedicure.”

  “I love pedicures, and if I wasn’t having one with Maryse it would be a good deal, but she takes picky to a whole new level. There was this incident a couple of years ago with a bottle of Purple Passion polish and the local police…” Sabine shook her head. “No, I don’t even have time to explain. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

  Beau grinned and closed the door behind him.

  Sabine gave Helena a stern look. “You will be quiet on the ride over there. I’m not going to give him any reason to think the insanity is hereditary.” Helena nodded and pulled another moon pie from the box. Sabine snatched the pie and the box from her hand. “And no food. It’s not invisible like you, remember?”

  Helena climbed off the bed and cast a wistful glance at the moon pie box. “You’re such a grouch, Sabine. What is it about you and Maryse?”

  Sabine grabbed her purse and tucked her cell phone in a side pocket. “Gee, I don’t know. There’s that whole someone’s-trying-to-kill-me thing, or the I-can’t-live-a-normal-life-in-my-own-house and my-friends-are-getting-caught-in-the-fallout thing, and hey, we could always throw in getting-haunted-by-the-constantly-bitching-and-eating-ghost-of-the-nastiest-person-I-knew-in-real-life part of the equation.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Helena grumbled and headed out the door and down the steps to the lobby.

  Sabine followed, praying that this whole thing didn’t blow up in her face. Praying that she’d even be around tomorrow to pray.

  The drive to the Fortescues was painfully long and silent. Sabine was afraid to say anything lest she give Helena a reason to start sounding off and blow their cover. Beau was suspiciously silent and appeared to be in deep thought. Over what, she had no idea. At this point, it could be anything—her situation with the Fortescues, her earlier cancer announcement, the new information Raissa had provided, their lovemaking the night before, this fall’s football lineup.

  She sighed and rested her head back on the seat.

  Beau looked over at her. “Anything wrong?”

  “Aside from the obvious, no. I was just thinking that a full night’s sleep last night might have been a good idea given what we’re doing now. My mind’s all fuzzy.”

  “Whoohoo!” Helena sounded from the back of the car. “Why weren’t you sleeping? Details, woman, I want details. You can start with the bottom half and work your way up.”

  Sabine closed her eyes again and clenched her jaw. Do not respond. Do not even look at her.

  “I know what you mean,” Beau said. “This whole thing was bizarre to begin with and it just keeps throwing angles at us that I didn’t see coming and can’t seem to fit to anything else. I wish it would all clear up. I have this overwhelming feeling that we’re missing something, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what.”

  Sabine straightened in her seat as they pulled through the massive iron gates of the Fortescue estate. “Well, you’ve got a couple of minutes to figure it all out. Otherwise we’re back to Plan B.”

  “There’s a Plan B?”

  Sabine looked at the opposing structure and felt a cold shiver rush across her. “Yeah, stay alive.”

  Two hours later, Sabine was mentally and emotionally drained as she’d never been before. Catherine and her ideas about “prope
r” behavior for a Fortescue, Frances’s interruptions with scripture that didn’t apply to anything they were speaking of, William’s uninterested silence, and Alford’s mild annoyance had gotten on her last nerve. In fact, it was more likely the last nerve was gone, too, and now they were eating away at bone.

  Dinner had been an elaborate affair, served by the enthusiastic Adelaide, and while Sabine had to admit the food was fantastic, the atmosphere was so…oppressed, she guessed was the best word…that it made it difficult to enjoy the meal. Finally, the last dish was cleared away and they left the stiff, formal dining hall for the relative comfort of the living room. Alford excused himself, claiming he had some documents to review for a client meeting the following morning. Sabine didn’t think he was telling the truth for a minute, but since contemplating the fuzz in her navel would be more interesting than hearing Catherine drone on any longer, she could hardly blame him for escaping. After all, he had to deal with the family far more than she did and had probably heard Catherine’s opinions every week for the last twenty or thirty years.

  A couple of times Helena had popped her head into the room, but only long enough to shake her head at Sabine and pop back out again. Sabine was growing dreadfully afraid that she was enduring this insult to her entire life for nothing.

  They had just settled in the living room with coffee and Catherine was droning on about the high-end, dresses-only clothing store that Sabine should open when Adelaide hurried into the room, interrupting Catherine’s monologue on “proper fashion for heiresses.”

  “Mrs. Fortescue, a storm is moving in something fierce and there’s a leak around one of the library windows. It came up so sudden-like, I’m afraid we didn’t even know until quite a bit of the floor was soaked.”

  Catherine frowned and left the room. She returned a minute later, a grim look on her face. “Adelaide is right. I can’t see an inch beyond the hallway window. The living room is so well insulated we couldn’t hear a thing.” She looked at the housekeeper, her agitation obvious and unusual for the normally ultra-composed woman. “Have you checked the news? Where is the storm coming from?”

  Adelaide shook her head. “Can’t get any signal on the television. As soon as we realized it was raining, we tried. I got an old radio up in my room. You want me to get it?”

  “Yes,” Catherine said. “That would be very helpful.” She looked at Sabine and Beau. “I’m so sorry about all of this. The storm must have shifted at the last minute. If you’ll excuse William and me, there are some things we should tend to in case we lose power.” Catherine nodded at her husband and they left the room through opposite doors, the quickness in their step belying the calm presentation.

  Sabine shot a look at Beau. No power meant no lights. Shut up in this house with a possible killer and no lights wasn’t an option Sabine hadn’t considered, and she didn’t like considering it now. As soon as Catherine left, Sabine crossed the room and retrieved her purse from the table in the corner. She opened it and ensured that her pistol was still safely tucked inside, then walked back across the room, purse in tow, and pulled a cough drop from a pocket inside. She sat the purse on a table within easy reach and looked over at Frances, who was sitting ramrod stiff, her face filled with fear.

  “Frances?” Sabine asked. “Are you all right?”

  Frances twisted the edge of her sweater with both hands. “I don’t like the storm. I put them in the garden, but they came back. It was the water.”

  Adelaide came into the room and patted Frances on the arm. “Now, Frances, you didn’t plant any flowers this spring and besides, William fixed the drainage years ago. Those plants aren’t going anywhere.” Adelaide helped Frances up from her chair. “Why don’t you let me get you settled in your room before the worst of this comes? I’ll bring you a cup of hot chocolate as soon as you’re tucked down deep in them covers.”

  Frances looked at Adelaide with a blank stare for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Hot chocolate does sound nice.”

  “Of course it does,” Adelaide soothed. She turned to Sabine and Beau. “Give me a minute to see to Frances, and then I’ll get you two some flashlights from the kitchen. Just in case.” She guided Frances out of the room and into the hallway.

  “It’s the ‘just in case’ that worries me the most,” Sabine whispered. “What are we supposed to do now?”

  Beau crossed the room and checked up and down the halls at both entrances. “I don’t know, but that storm is starting to worry me.”

  “Maybe we should start home before it gets any worse.”

  “Too late for that,” Martin Alford’s voice sounded from the front entrance, causing Sabine to jump. “The bridge is already under water, and the river was still rising. It will take hours after the rain subsides before the river will be low enough to cross.”

  Sabine stared at him. “Surely there’s another way. A way around?”

  “Not to speak of,” Alford said, as he wiped at his dripping wet face with a tissue. “A long ways back there was a road that ran north of here and circled the river, but when the Fortescues acquired the land containing the road about thirty years back, they closed off the road and it’s since grown over so you wouldn’t really know it was there unless you knew where to look.”

  “Oh, I don’t know that I’d like living here knowing that every time it rained I was cut off from the rest of the world. What if they have an emergency?”

  Alford brushed wet hair off his forehead and reached for a tissue to wipe his brow. “If there’s a serious situation, there’s plenty of room to land a helicopter, and those pilots can fly in just about anything. Of course, you’d have to take one of the horses to actually get into town as the phones usually go right along with the power, but it’s rarely necessary. The bridge usually doesn’t go all the way under. It just happens when it rains hard and fast, a real downpour.”

  “Where did this come from?” Sabine asked. “Everyone thought the storms were headed east of here.”

  Alford nodded. “They are, but not far enough east for us to avoid a bit of the lashing. It was clear as a bell when I left and not five minutes later the bottom dropped out of the sky. I thought I’d get past the bridge before it went under, but with all the rain we’ve had lately, the river was already running high and this storm is really pouring it out.”

  “So what do we do?” Sabine asked. “I mean, if Mr. Alford is right and we won’t be able to get over the bridge until tomorrow—” A huge clap of thunder boomed through the house, causing the walls to shake. The lights flickered once, then again, then went off completely, leaving the room pitch black.

  “Holy shit!” Sabine passed her hand over the table until she found her purse, then lifted it up and pulled it on her shoulder.

  “Just stay still,” Beau advised and stepped closer to Sabine, finding her hand with his. “Adelaide said she’d be back with flashlights. She can’t be much longer.”

  Sabine felt her pulse begin to increase and hoped Adelaide came before she was in cardiac arrest mode. She looked to the doorway that Adelaide had escorted Frances through and saw a faint flicker of light. She squinted, trying to make out the source, and as it grew closer, she realized it was an old-fashioned oil lantern. The lantern cast an eerie glow on Catherine’s face as she walked into the room.

  Catherine’s gaze stopped on Alford. “Mr. Alford…I was afraid you might not make it out in time. I can only assume the bridge is underwater.”

  “Yes,” Alford said. “I don’t think it’s going to be passable for quite a while after the storm stops.”

  “Then you’ll all stay here,” Catherine said and looked over at Sabine. “I’m so sorry about this inconvenience. If I’d had any idea the storm would hit here, we would have postponed dinner. Adelaide is finishing up with Frances. I’ll have her make up three guest rooms on the same hall.”

  “Do you have any flashlights?” Beau asked. “Adelaide was going to bring some back with her.”

  “Yes,” Catherine sa
id. “We keep several in the kitchen for just this reason. I’ll go get them. William is bringing in more lanterns from the garage, and there’s the generator, of course, but it only produces enough power to light the kitchen. I’m afraid you’re going to have to relive ancient history for a night—except for the indoor plumbing part, of course.” She gave them a smile, then turned and walked toward the kitchen. Alford fell in step behind her.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’d like to get one of those flashlights and check on my car. I think I left an interior light on.”

  “Of course,” Catherine said and the two left the room through the entrance to the kitchen.

  The light in the room faded with Catherine’s lantern, and once again Sabine and Beau were cast into darkness. “I don’t like it,” Beau said, keeping his voice low. “It’s not safe. I don’t want you in that room alone. I’m staying with you.”

  “Catherine would never agree to that. It wouldn’t be ‘proper.’ ”

  “Then I’ll sneak in after she’s gone.”

  “With all of us occupying the same hallway? If you use a light, Alford or Frances will see it and if you don’t use a light, you’ll take out one of the five thousand antiques they have lining every hall in this monstrosity.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Sabine opened her mouth to respond, but felt a jab in her side from Beau’s elbow. She looked over at the entrance as Catherine walked back into the room, carrying two flashlights. A second look revealed Helena strolling behind her, a worried look on her face. Catherine handed them each a flashlight and said, “Adelaide has already started putting out the linens. It will only be a bit longer before the rooms are ready. I know it’s a little early, but I figured it would be better to retire now than risk walking around with the lanterns. I worry about fire, especially in a house this old.”