by Jana DeLeon
“He told me you sent him to rehab.”
“Yeah. Well, the people you paid for Hank’s debts weren’t exactly the only people looking for him. I knew if he stuck around that not only would he be in danger until I could sort the whole thing out, but you would be too.”
Maryse considered this for a moment. “I didn’t know.”
“I know that, and I got it all handled in a couple of months’ time. I guess I figured rehab was the last place that sort would go looking for a guy like Hank. And I was hoping he’d straighten out…grow up and become a good man and a good husband. I was just fooling myself. Hank is just like his father.”
Maryse shook her head, remembering her conversation with Hank. “He’s not just like him, Helena. There’s some good in Hank. It’s just buried under that bullshit front. He didn’t know what Harold did, and he’s upset about it.”
Helena looked at her, a hopeful expression on her face, and in that instant, Maryse realized that regardless of his transgressions, Helena Henry loved her son.
“You really think so?” Helena asked.
Maryse nodded. “And if I ever get my phone back from the police, you can hear it yourself.”
“Well, that’s something,” Helena said. “I guess I didn’t give him enough credit, then or now. Maybe you two could have made it work. Now, I don’t know. All I knew then was that I’d promised my good friend that I’d make sure her daughter was taken care of, and I didn’t see that happening as long as Hank was around.”
“I get that, Helena, in a demented, completely screwed up sort of way. But why in the world didn’t you arrange for us to divorce? Why keep me hanging all these years?”
Helena sighed. “Because of the land. After Hank left, I had that survey done and found out about the oil, and I always suspected Harold was digging through my safe. That missing letter proves it. I knew if I left the land to Hank that Mudbug would become one big refinery and the town would cease to exist. This was my home. I couldn’t let that happen, so I used you, and for that I am sorry.”
“And the bills? Why make me pay Hank’s debt, then turn around and pay off my debt?”
Helena looked down at the floor. “I was worried that you might not be a good choice either, and if that was the case, then I might as well produce Hank and let you two divorce. I didn’t really know what kind of adult you’d turned out to be, and marrying Hank wasn’t exactly points in your favor.”
“So you were testing my character? Is that your ridiculous defense?”
Helena shrugged. “I guess so, and putting it that way does kinda point out how stupid and cruel it was. I figured that out when you made the payments without fail or complaint. That’s why I started using the money to pay off your debt. I was too proud to just tell you to stop.”
Maryse stared at Helena and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
She looked at Maryse, her eyes pleading for her to understand. “This whole mess is about that damned land. I thought I was saving the town and giving you a great asset at the same time. I swear, Maryse, if I’d had any indication from you that you had started a new relationship or that being married to Hank was preventing you from doing something you wanted, I would have taken care of it…regardless of what happened with the land.”
“But I just disappeared to my cabin in the marsh and stayed quiet all these years.”
Helena nodded. “I didn’t figure still being married to Hank made a difference to the way you were living. It never occurred to me that still be married might keep you from trying to have a life again. I’ve stolen two years from you, Maryse, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it now. You have no idea how sorry I am. For everything.”
Maryse rose from the bed. “I believe you’re sorry, Helena, but what you did was wrong.”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
“I forgive you, but I’m not happy with you. I hope you can understand that.”
Helena nodded and rose from the bed. “I’m not happy with me, either.” She gave Maryse a sad smile and walked through the bedroom wall into the hallway.
Maryse lay on the bed and hugged one of the bed pillows. She had enough to think about for the next ten years.
It was well after two A.M. when Maryse heard Helena’s voice right beside her bed. Jasper took off like a shot, and Maryse opened one eye and looked at the agitated ghost, then the alarm clock. “It’s the middle of the night, Helena. Go away.”
“Ssssshhhhh.” Helena put a finger to her lips. “There’s someone outside your window. You’ve got to get out of here.” Maryse bolted upright and stared at the window, trying to make out anything in the inky darkness. A second later, she heard the faint sound of scraping outside, which couldn’t possibly be good since her room was on the second floor. She rolled out of bed and onto the floor, then crawled over to the door and eased it open. The squeak of the hinges seemed to blast through the night air, and as Maryse slipped into the hall, she heard glass breaking behind her.
“Run!” Helena shouted, and Maryse stumbled to her feet, dashed down the hall, and then took the stairs two at a time. When she hit the landing on the first floor, she panicked for a moment, not having a single idea which way to go. The only options were out of the hotel or toward Mildred’s room, essentially putting the other woman in danger. The pounding of footsteps on the stairs prompted her into action, and she pushed open the back door to the hotel and ran outside.
The shriek of the hotel alarm made her heart stop beating for a moment as she realized she’d just alerted the killer to her exact location. But as she ran down the alley, she realized that it might work to her advantage if the cops responded to the alarm before the killer found her. She felt the sting of glass under her bare feet but didn’t care as she dashed around the corner of the hotel, praying that the gate was open. She came to a stop in front of the ten-foot iron gate, securely fastened by a padlock and chain. Shit! Frantic, she scanned the fence for a way over and, finding none, switched to looking for a place to hide but also came up with nothing.
Police sirens screamed in the distance, and she felt her hopes rise. She only had to hold out for another minute or so. Just sixty more seconds and help should arrive. Surely the killer would bail when the police arrived. But as she heard the hotel door slam, she knew she didn’t have even twenty seconds before she would be looking at the killer face to face. She backed up a couple of steps, then ran toward the fence and leaped as high as possible, clutching desperately at the top rail.
Adjusting her grip, she pulled herself up the fence, her arms straining with the effort, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to make it. Then a bullet whizzed by her head and struck the building to the side of her and a burst of adrenaline hit her, propelling her over the fence and onto the other side. She landed, slamming into the concrete with such force she was afraid she’d broken something in the process. As she jumped to her feet, a second bullet grazed her shoulder and hit the Dumpster in front of her. Realizing there was no possible way to exit the alley without leaving herself wide open, Maryse dove behind the Dumpster and curled into a ball, hoping like hell the police arrived before the killer got through the gate.
She heard the blast of a bullet hitting metal, then the rattling of a chain and felt her heart drop. She shut her eyes and prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before. Nothing but a miracle was going to save her now. Seconds later she heard his breathing clear as day and knew he was standing right in front of her. She clenched her eyes harder, her life racing before her in Technicolor, and wondered what she had done so wrong in life for it to end this way.
Chapter Eighteen
“I never wanted things to go this way, Maryse,” the killer said.
Maryse’s eyes popped open, and she raised her head in disbelief. “Johnny?” she said as she stared at her father’s best friend. “But why?”
Johnny shook his head.
“If I’m going to die, shouldn’t I at least know why?”
“Because
you had to go poking your nose in where it didn’t belong. Why couldn’t you leave things alone?”
Maryse’s mind raced with questions but not a single answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I do?”
Johnny sneered. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know all about those tubes you send to New Orleans for testing. You knew the chemical company was dumping waste in the bayou, and you figured that’s what killed your dad, so you were going to get even. All that crap about trying to find a cure for cancer. You weren’t looking for a cure—you were looking for the cause.”
Maryse’s head began to spin. “You’re telling me you knew the chemical company was dumping toxic waste in the bayou? You knew that’s what killed my dad and you never said a word?” She stared at the man in front of her. “I thought you were his friend.”
“I was his friend, and I watched him waste away from that disease, and all I could think was that’s not going to happen to me. No way.”
A wave of nausea washed over Maryse. The thinning hair, the weight loss. She’d thought it was diet or age, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. “You have cancer.”
Johnny nodded. “And no insurance. As long as I keep the chemical company’s secret safe, they’ll keep paying for my treatments.”
“But other people could die because you haven’t told.”
“I was going to report them as soon as I was in remission, but then you had to get in the way, and I couldn’t afford to have them busted just yet. I’ve got another year, at least, of chemo to go.” He leveled the gun straight at Maryse’s head. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Maryse. Sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I promise you won’t feel a thing. Not after the first few seconds, anyway.”
Maryse felt her blood run cold as she watched Johnny’s finger whiten on the trigger. This was it. The end of the line. An entire life devoted to one cause and her work left unfinished. What had been the point? She clenched her eyes shut and waited for the shot to enter her body, waited for her life to fade away, and when the shot came, she almost passed out from fear.
It wasn’t until she heard Luc shouting that she opened her eyes. Johnny lay splayed in front of her, his vacant eyes staring up at the night sky, a single bullet hole through his temple. Luc crouched in front of her and pulled her up from the ground, his eyes searching every square inch of her body.
“Am I dead?” Maryse asked.
Luc let out a strangled cry. “No!”
Maryse started to cry, and Luc pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. “I wasn’t sure,” she said between sobs. “I mean, with you being able to see dead people. I just wasn’t sure.”
Luc let out a single laugh and held her even tighter. “I didn’t even think about that.” He pulled back a little and placed his hands on each side of her face. “You are very much alive, Maryse Robicheaux, and you’re going to stay that way to a ripe old age.”
Maryse rested her head on Luc’s chest and relaxed as his arms tightened around her. For that moment, she would choose to believe him.
It seemed Maryse had barely gotten her breath before the backup arrived in the form of cops, an ambulance, and the coroner. She felt the thrill of victory pass through her as she realized the morgue could just as easily have been there for her if not for Luc’s shooting accuracy. She still didn’t know how he’d found her, or why he was even looking, but at the moment, she didn’t care.
The paramedics whisked her off to the ambulance to assess the damage, and Luc joined a group of cops over to one side, probably giving his statement of the events. One paramedic was bandaging her shoulder while another tended to her cut feet when Mildred came rushing up. The hotel owner took one look at Maryse sitting in the ambulance and Johnny lying dead in the alley and began to sway.
She sucked in air like a drowning woman, and a paramedic shoved an oxygen mask over her face until her breathing became regular again. Maryse waited until she had taken a few normal breaths before explaining what had happened, leaving out, of course, the part that Helena had played in everything. Which brought Maryse up short. Where was Helena, anyway?
Mildred listened to Maryse’s story, her eyes growing wider and wider with each sentence until finally she’d finished her tale of horror. Mildred gasped as Maryse finished, and the paramedic hovered, oxygen mask in hand. She waved one hand in dismissal and told Maryse her own version of the night’s events.
She’d jumped up as soon as the alarm sounded and ran straight to Maryse’s room. When she found the door standing wide open, the window broken, and the empty bed, she’d run back downstairs to call the police, expecting the worst but hoping for the best. Maryse kept waiting for Mildred to blast her for running out of the hotel rather than to her for help but was relieved when it seemed that her substitute mother was going to let it go. Or was reserving it for a later date when she needed a good guilt trip to use.
Family was a wonderful thing.
Since Maryse’s injuries were minor, the paramedics released her to Mildred, and they headed back to the hotel with instructions from the police to await questioning within the next thirty minutes. Maryse looked around for Luc, anxious to speak to him, to fill in the missing pieces of the story, but she didn’t see him anywhere.
Disappointed, she followed Mildred into the hotel lobby, wondering why Luc had left so abruptly. In the alley, it had seemed like he’d really cared. Was that all just part of his job? She was just about to march outside and insist on seeing him when Sabine burst through the doorway in a panic.
As soon as she locked her gaze on Maryse, she ran across the lobby and grabbed her in a hug. “I’m fine,” Maryse said as Sabine squeezed harder. “Okay, well maybe now I have a broken rib, but other than that, I’m fine.”
Sabine released Maryse and brushed the tears from her face. “Don’t you dare joke about this, Maryse Robicheaux. I could have lost you.” She hugged her again, and Maryse felt the tears well up in her eyes once more.
“It’s all over now,” Maryse said through her tears. “It’s all over.”
Sabine released her once more and gave her a smile as Mildred hustled into the room with a glass of water and some aspirin. “You sit right down on that couch,” Mildred directed, “and I don’t want one bit of lip. All these goings on, it’s a damned wonder you haven’t had a heart attack—or given me one. You’re going to relax for a minute if I have to sit on you.”
Maryse grinned at Sabine, not caring in the least that Mildred was being bossy and pushy. Being bossy was simply her way of assuming control of the situation, her way of finding relief. Maryse relaxed on the couch and propped her sore feet on the coffee table, then took the water and aspirin from Mildred and downed them both.
The hotel door opened, and Luc walked in with a man he introduced as Agent Stephens. Maryse worried for a moment that this man might have seen her in fewer clothes and a much more compromising position, but she wasn’t about to go there now.
“More agents,” Maryse finally asked. “Is something wrong?”
Agent Stephens smiled. “Not at all, Ms. Robicheaux. And please, call me Brian. Everything is actually great.”
Maryse looked from Brian to Luc, hoping for confirmation and an explanation. “Really?”
Luc nodded. “The local police picked up Harold at the motel where he was staying. He’s in a small dingy cell, and he won’t be leaving for a long time. We’re betting the DA goes for the death penalty.”
Maryse shook her head. “He can’t.”
Luc looked confused. “Harold confessed to murdering his wife. That rates the death penalty in Louisiana.”
“Except that Harold didn’t kill Helena.”
All movement in the hotel ceased, and everyone stared at Maryse.
“How can you know that?” Sabine asked.
“Simple,” Maryse said. “Harold said he slipped rat poison in her coffee, but Helena’s medical file didn’t indicate any of the symptoms from rat poisoning
at all. He may have tried to kill her—and me—but he didn’t succeed in either case.”
“Shit!” Luc said. “Not exactly the outcome I was looking for.”
Maryse nodded. “I understand, but Harold’s confession should be enough to get a court order to exhume Helena’s body, right? With a proper autopsy, looking specifically for foul play, we might get some answers.”
Luc looked over at Brian, who nodded. “Should be easy enough for the local DA to get,” Brian said.
“And what about Hank?” Maryse asked. “Did the police get a statement from him?”
Brian glanced over at Luc, clearly unsure how to answer. Luc looked at Maryse and shook his head. “Hank’s gone. His hospital bed was empty when the locals went to question him, and the nurse confirmed he never checked out through proper channels.”
