Maryse looked up from her laptop as the bells above Sabine’s shop door jangled, then frowned when she saw the man standing there, stiff as a board, clad in a business suit, and still wearing his sunglasses inside. Definitely not a customer. She grabbed Helena’s box of MoonPies and tossed them into the break room, then motioned for Helena to make herself scarce. “Welcome to Read ’Em and Reap,” Maryse said as she walked over to the man. “Can I help you find something?”
The stiff pulled a pad of paper from his pocket and glanced at it for a second. “Are you Sabine LaVeche?”
“No. I’m Maryse, but I’ll be happy to help you if you’d tell me what you’re looking for.”
The stiff frowned. “I’m looking for Sabine LaVeche.”
“I’m sorry, Sabine isn’t available.”
“I need to speak with her—now. Tell me where she is.”
Maryse bristled. “If you’d give me your name, I’m happy to tell her you stopped by, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving out her personal information.”
Maryse saw his jaw clench and his face flush a bit. She stared him directly in the eyes until he finally understood that she wasn’t intimidated now and wasn’t going to be later. Finally, he gave her a disgusted look and pulled his wallet from his pants pocket, then flipped it open to show her his FBI identification.
She barely managed to hide her utter relief that the stiff was merely a fed and not one of the Hebert clan. “Agent Fields?” Maryse gave him her best confused expression. “Why in the world would the FBI want to talk to Sabine?”
“That’s confidential. Can you tell me where to find her?”
“She’s in the Bahamas on her honeymoon. There’s no way to get in touch with her.”
Agent Fields blew out a breath of frustration. “When is she returning?”
“In three days.”
“And when did she leave?”
“Yesterday.”
“I’m looking for a friend of hers, a Raissa Bordeaux. Do you know Ms. Bordeaux?”
“Yes.” It was all Maryse could do to hold in a smile. Agent Fields was so frustrated with her clipped answers, his expression looked pained.
“Do you know where I might find her?”
Maryse gave him her wide-eyed innocent look. “At her store in New Orleans?”
Agent Fields threw up his hands. “Obviously, if Ms. Bordeaux was at her store, I wouldn’t be looking for her here.”
Maryse shrugged. “Then I can’t help you. I have no idea where she is.” At that very moment, the statement was entirely true.
Agent Fields pulled a card from his pocket and shoved it at her. “If you see her, please give me a call. It’s a matter of utmost urgency.” Agent Fields spun around and exited the shop.
“What an ass,” Helena said.
Maryse nodded. “A matter of utmost urgency? Is that even English?”
“Pompous, stick-up-your-ass English. I’m not clear on the grammar part, though.”
Maryse walked to the front window and watched as Agent Fields got into a tan Honda Accord, adjusted his mirrors, checked his blind spot, then pulled onto Main Street and headed out of Mudbug. “That guy is wound way too tight.” She was just about to turn from the window when a glint of sunlight flashed in her eyes. She looked farther down the street to see where the reflection had come from and saw a black sedan with dark tinted windows parked at the far end of Main Street.
“Helena,” Maryse said and waved at the ghost. “Come look at this car. Is that the car that ran you and Raissa off the road this morning?”
Helena peered out the window. “It looks like it, but then all I know is it was a black Cadillac. Seems like the front would be damaged if it was the one that hit us, though.”
“Yeah,” Maryse said, “but when Raissa called earlier, she said Sonny had several of that make and model, right?”
“Four is what you said, I think.”
Maryse backed away from the window. “I need you to do something.”
Helena gave her a wary look. “You? You hate it when I ‘do something.’ ”
Maryse glanced back outside and walked to the cash register before she could change her mind. “I know, but this is different. We have to find out who the guy in the car is. If I walk down there, he’ll leave. Well, best case, he’ll leave.”
“Worst case, he’ll shoot you.”
“There is also that.” Maryse pulled a disposable camera from beneath the cash register and handed it to Helena. “Which is why I’m not the one who’s going to walk down there.”
Helena stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You want me to take a picture of him? Won’t that be a little noticeable?”
“Yeah, for a minute, maybe. Hide the camera in your pocket until you get to the car. I’m still working on this ghost-logic stuff, but that should keep it fairly concealed. If you can’t get a clear shot of them through the driver’s window, then take a picture through the front windshield.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to stand in front of a killer’s car and take a picture.”
“All he’ll see is the camera. You take the picture, and by the time he jumps out of the car, assuming he even does, it will be too late. You tuck the camera in your pocket and stroll back to the store.”
Helena shrugged. “What the hell. Probably be more interesting than watching you type.” She slipped the camera into her pocket and walked through the wall of the shop and onto the sidewalk.
Maryse moved behind a display of colored rocks so she had a clear view of the street without the driver seeing her in the storefront window. She peered over the top of the display and watched as Helena strolled down the sidewalk, then crossed the street to the black Cadillac. She bent over and peered into the driver’s-side window, but apparently the tint was too dark for her to get a good picture, so she moved to the front of the car. Maryse sucked in a breath and clutched the top of the display.
This is for Raissa, God. If you could just help Helena get it right this one time.
Helena stood in front of the car, studying the windshield. She looked behind her, then moved one step to the right, apparently trying to cut out the glare. She glanced back at the store and gave Maryse a thumbs-up. Maryse tightened her grip on the display. Please God. Please God. Please God.
Helena pulled the camera out of her pocket, but it got stuck on the way out and flipped through the air, seemingly in slow motion, then landed directly in the middle of the hood of the car. Helena froze for a moment, then scrambled onto the hood and grabbed the camera. The car rocked with her weight, and Maryse could see frantic, shadowy movement inside. Helena kneeled on the hood and directed the camera at the driver’s seat as the car roared to life and lurched in reverse.
“Oh, no!” Maryse gasped as Helena rolled off the hood of the car and into the street. She lay there for a second, completely still, and Maryse was certain she had somehow died again. Then she was up and running.
Clutching the camera in one hand held high above her head.
Maryse felt the blood drain from her face and she had to lean against the display for support. The display gave way, and Maryse and a million colored rocks spilled onto the floor of the store. She managed to pull herself up on her knees and peer outside, but the situation was dire. Helena was running as fast as she could, the camera still in plain sight. The car had stopped backing up and was now coming down the street after the floating camera.
Maryse managed to crawl to the front door of the shop and open the door a crack. Surely, the driver wouldn’t hear her yell over the car engine. “Hide the camera,” she yelled as loudly as she could, then slammed the door shut, rose from the floor, and peeked between the miniblinds on the door.
Helena stopped dead in her tracks, which wasn’t exactly smart. The car came to a screeching halt, but not before it bumped Helena and sent her rolling down the street.
Dazed, Helena jumped up from the ground and tucked the camera in her pocket just as the car door opened. Maryse strained to see the driver, but he had his back to her as he scanned the street for the missing camera. Helena staggered down the street to the shop. The driver took one final look in the street, then jumped in his car and tore out of town.
Maryse waited until the car had turned at the far end of Main Street, then opened the door of the shop to allow Helena in. “Are you all right?”
Helena leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, wheezing. “I guess so. I mean, what could happen to me, right? I’m glad you opened the door. I don’t know if I could concentrate enough to walk through a wall right now.” Helena reached into her pants and pulled the camera out. “I don’t think it got damaged when I fell, or when the car hit me, or when I fell again.”
Maryse took the camera and studied Helena. “You know, I hate to say this, but you’re white as a ghost. I know it sounds stupid, but normally you have color.”
“Of course I’m white. That scared the shit out of me.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, you still feeling fear when there’s really nothing that can hurt you. Kinda a rip, if you ask me.”
“Tell me about it.” Helena looked behind Maryse at the mess on the floor. “What happened?”
“Scared the shit out of me, too.” Maryse looked at the mess and sighed. “I guess I better call Raissa.”
“Think this will scare her?”
“No. And that’s what worries me the most.”