“Unbelievable. And it never occurred to anyone that this rule might leave the first to inherit with a much shorter life span than originally intended?”
Wheeler shook his head. “I don’t think they were thinking in those terms. It was simply a different world back then. And while I understand your concern, I really don’t think you have a lot to worry about. Certainly, it’s possible the land could be worth a good bit of money to developers at some point, but that’s not the case at the moment. The state is the only interested party as things stand right now. Ten, twenty years down the road, things could change, especially if New Orleans continues to push its boundaries, but what you’re suggesting is an awfully big risk for a payoff that might not even happen in a person’s lifetime.”
“But you said the land was Helena’s most valuable asset.”
Wheeler nodded. “Sentimentally, it was, and as I said, long-term the land will probably be worth more than any of us can imagine.”
“I guess you’re right,” Maryse said, but one look at the pensive Helena, and Maryse wondered if there was something that Wheeler didn’t know. Something that Maryse didn’t want to know. “Is there anything else?”
Wheeler pulled some documents from a folder on the table. “I need some signatures for the paperwork for the state to ensure they make the check out to you rather than Helena, and there’s a couple other documents needing signature…mostly just legal posturing, but required nonetheless.”
Maryse pulled the stack of paperwork over toward her and spent the next fifteen minutes signing her name as Wheeler pointed out the correct spots. Finally, she passed the last document back to Wheeler, who placed them all neatly back in his folder. “Well,” Maryse said, “if that’s everything, I guess I’ll be on my way.”
Wheeler nodded and rose from the booth. As Maryse rose, he extended his hand. “Thank you for meeting me this morning, Ms. Robicheaux. I’ll call as soon as I have those papers ready for your signature. I can meet you here again if that’s convenient.”
“That’s fine,” Maryse said, and shook Wheeler’s hand. “Just let me know.” She turned from the booth and left the cafe, Helena trailing behind her. Maryse loitered a bit on the sidewalk, waiting for Wheeler to leave. She needed to talk to Helena and wasn’t about to give the ghost a ride again. Hanging out with Helena all day simply wasn’t on her list of things to do. Finally, Wheeler made it to his ancient Cadillac and pulled away.
Maryse glanced inside the café to make sure no one was looking and turned her back to the huge picture glass. “Okay, Helena, spill it,” she said. “You’ve got this pained look on your face, and I have the bad feeling that you’re about to say something else I’m not going to like.”
Helena lowered her eyes and shuffled her feet. “I’m just concerned about the one-week clause. That’s all.”
Maryse stared at her. “Why? You heard Wheeler. It’d be too risky for Hank or Harold to try anything when the land isn’t really worth much right now.”
Helena bit her lower lip and raised her head to Maryse. “You remember that envelope I had you look for in my safe? The one that was missing?”
Maryse nodded. “How could I forget?”
“Well, it had some documents from a survey of the land.”
Maryse closed her eyes in frustration. “So what did it say, Helena? Where are you going with this?”
Helena clenched her hands together and stared at Maryse. “It might have said that the preserve was full of oil.”
“What!” Maryse cried, then glanced around making sure no one had seen her yelling into empty space. “Oil? Exactly how much oil might that letter have said was in the preserve?”
“It might have said there was billions of dollars worth…”
Maryse stared at Helena, horrified. “Billions, as in I don’t even know how many zeros, billions?” Maryse felt a flush rise to her face. “Jesus Christ, Helena! You heard Harold threaten me at Wheeler’s office. He probably took that letter before the will reading. He expected Hank to inherit the land. That’s why he’s so mad.”
“Now, let’s not get excited.”
“Excited? Are you crazy? You’ve made me a moving target. One without a lot of places to hide given that I can’t leave Mudbug. Do you really think Harold wouldn’t take a shot at me over billions of dollars? He may be lazy, but he’s not that lazy.”
Helena took in a deep breath, and Maryse could tell that despite her protests, Helena was worried. Great. Just great.
“It’s only six days counting today,” Helena said. “We can come up with a plan.”
“What kind of plan? Maybe locking me in a Kevlar box for a week? Even the bayou has a limited number of hiding places.”
Helena shook her head. “I don’t want you camping in the bayou. In fact, if you could not go into the bayou at all for a while that would probably be better. As long as you’re surrounded by people, it will be much harder to get to you. And you do have a secret weapon.”
Maryse narrowed her eyes. “What secret weapon?”
Helena pointed to herself. “Me. Think about it, Maryse. I can look out for you without anyone suspecting. I can warn you if anything is out of the ordinary.”
Maryse stared at her. “Yeah, because everything else that’s happened this week has been normal. You’re not a weapon, Helena. You’re the angel of death, and I don’t want you anywhere near me. You’ve done quite enough.”
Maryse jumped into her rental and tore out of the parking lot before Helena could fling herself on the trunk or anything else ridiculous the ghost may come up with. Six days. Unbelievable. Not quite a week, and it seemed ages. Suddenly, still being married to Hank seemed like such a simple problem.
She turned onto the gravel road and headed toward the office. She had to get her head on straight. Had to come up with a plan. Maybe she’d just have a heart attack right here and now and save Harold the trouble. A second later, she slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a stop in the middle of the road. The thought that had hit her was so horrible, so awful that she couldn’t even breathe.
If Harold killed her, she might be stuck in limbo like Helena. Even worse, she might be stuck in limbo with Helena.
For all eternity.
Six days was looking shorter by the minute.