Maryse awakened the next morning to the ringing of her telephone. She groaned and covered her pounding head with her pillow, trying to block out the shrill sound.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Helena asked.
“No,” Maryse replied without even looking out from under the pillow. “Go away.”
“Sounds like someone needs coffee.”
The phone finally stopped, and the answering machine kicked on. “Ms. Robicheaux,” a polite voice began, “this is Mrs. Baker down at the insurance company. I just wanted to let you know that we finished processing the claim on your truck, and unfortunately, it is totaled. We’ll be preparing two checks, one for the last payment due on your loan and the other for the balance due to you. If you don’t receive that within ten days, please contact me at the office and let me know. Thanks and have a nice day.”
Maryse pulled the pillow back and looked at the answering machine. Last payment? What the hell were they talking about? She owed another two years on that truck. Knowing she couldn’t sleep until she sorted things out, she pushed herself off the bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand to call her bank, happy to see that Helena had at least vacated the room.
When the branch manager picked up, Maryse explained what had happened and that she needed to verify the amount needed to pay off the loan on her truck.
“I hope you weren’t injured in your accident, Ms. Robicheaux.”
“I’ll be fine. Just a little bumped around.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Just one more second…ah, yes, you owe just a tad bit more than one payment on your truck. I can print the exact amount and fax it to you if you’d like.”
Maryse rubbed her forehead, not sure she could stand all the confusion without at least taking an aspirin or fifty. “How can that be? I have two more years left on that loan.”
“We’ve been splitting those extra checks every month and applying the money to your house and truck payments.” The manager sounded confused. “Those were your instructions. I hope we didn’t misunderstand.”
“What extra checks?”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Robicheaux?”
“I’m fine,” Maryse replied, beginning to get a little irritated. “I’m just having trouble remembering everything. The doc says it will all come back in time.”
“Okay,” the manager said, but didn’t sound completely convinced. “The first cashier’s check was received in this office almost two years ago with instructions to apply it to your house. When you bought the truck, we received instructions to change application to half of the check on each of the loans. We’ve been doing that every month since.”
“You’ve been receiving cashier’s checks every month for almost two years?” A sneaky suspicion began forming in Maryse’s mind—one she didn’t understand in the least and wasn’t even sure she wanted to. “Exactly how much are these cashier’s checks for?”
“Five hundred twenty-five dollars. Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Robicheaux? This conversation is really starting to concern me.”
“I have a doctor’s appointment today,” she managed to mumble. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone and stared out the window over the bayou. She’d never sent the bank checks for five hundred twenty-five dollars, but she’d paid someone else that exact same amount every month for almost two years. “Helena!”
She stalked into the living room, but the ghost was nowhere in sight. It didn’t take long to check every nook and cranny of a one-bedroom cabin, so it was only minutes before Maryse was certain the ghost had fled. And she’d bet it was during that phone call.
Maryse smelled a two-year-old rat. And she’d bet her truck payoff check that rat’s name was Helena Henry.
Luc made it into the office a little early, but not for any reason except he just hadn’t slept well. God knows, he wasn’t attempting another break-in of Maryse’s lab unless he did so in the dead of night. And given the woman’s strange behavior, probably even that wasn’t safe. Besides, he’d delivered the notebook to his buddy back at the agency. If anyone could get to the bottom of what Maryse was up to, it would be Brian.
He flipped his cell phone open just in case he’d missed a call but was once again disappointed by the blank display. Frustrated, he sat back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Maryse was certainly easy on the eyes, so following her had been no hardship but had definitely been a study in bizarre. Still, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. From where he sat, the only thing Maryse was mixed up in was something to do with her in-laws and her missing husband, and he was no closer to finding the informant than he had been the first day here. If only the DEQ would let him branch out a bit and investigate some of the other residents, but his orders were clear—he was a zoologist and was to do nothing to make people think otherwise.
He rose from the desk and headed to the coffeepot on a corner table. At least making coffee was doing something productive. He dished the grounds up and was just about to fill the pot with water when his cell phone rang.
He reached into his pocket and, recognizing the agency’s main number, he pressed the Talk button. “LeJeune.”
“Luc, it’s Brian. I got that information on the notebook.”
Luc felt his hand tighten on the coffee pot handle. “And?”
“It was definitely chemical formulas—you were right about that.”
“Okay, but for what?”
There was a slight pause on the other end. “We don’t know exactly.”
“Damn,” Luc muttered. “Well, what do you know?”
“She’s mixing up different plants, it looks like. Each combination is clearly identified by species and anything other than plants used to make the sample. They’re all labeled with trial numbers, the way a big lab would do things.”
“Okay, so she’s trying to create something. Do we have any idea what?”
“Hell, it could be anything…weight-loss pills, hair products, a cure for insomnia…there’s just no way of knowing unless we can see what she’s testing this stuff on. You said there’s no animals or anything like that in her lab, right? No refrigerators with little dishes with some of the mixture in it?”
Luc cast his mind back to his lab tour. “No, nothing like that. It’s a tiny room. All that’s there really is a couple of tables with the test tubes, burners, that sort of thing. I didn’t see any evidence of testing on anything.”
“Well, she’s testing somewhere. All that effort is not for nothing. Have you gotten the trace on her phones yet? Maybe that will give you an idea where to head next, although I got to tell you, Luc, it doesn’t look like this has anything to do with our case, and if the boss-man finds out, he’s probably going to pull the plug on you.”
“There’s something going on with her,” Luc argued. “Someone intentionally cut the brake lines on her truck.”
“Unless it has something to do with our case, it’s not your problem. Don’t get involved, LeJeune. It always turns out bad.”
Luc flipped his phone shut without answering. Don’t get involved. Like it was that easy. He didn’t understand his attraction to Maryse at all. Sure he’d dated plenty of women, but never for any reason other than a good time for a short time. Maryse pulled at him in a different way, and that made him very uncomfortable.
Usually women just hit him below the belt, and that was an easy fix, but Maryse challenged him on an intellectual level, and not just with his investigation. She was a complex woman, something he usually avoided like the plague. But for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to figure her out rather than run for the hills.
No matter his discomfort, he wasn’t about to leave her unprotected if someone was trying to hurt her. She may not be part of his case, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t have some help.
He finished filling the coffeepot with water and turned it on. Glancing at his watch, he realized Maryse should be at the office any minute, assuming she wasn’t off on one of her many mysterious adventures. He turned on the computer and bypassed Maryse’s sign-on screen using a hacker tip he’d picked up from Brian the day before. As soon as the operating system loaded, he double-clicked the internet icon and logged into his e-mail. Surely the phone trace was back by now—at least the last couple of days’ worth.
He scanned the e-mail files, sorting through the usual spam that not even the government could manage to screen…improve sexual performance, new stock alert, penis enlargement…ah ha, phone tap results. He glanced out the window as he printed the file, happy to see the road was still clear of Maryse’s rental.
This is it? One page for two phones? No matter how busy Maryse appeared, apparently it didn’t involve much in the way of phone calling. He scanned the list, looking for something that stood out—the state office, the attorney in New Orleans, her friend in Mudbug, her insurance company—and, wait a minute, a laboratory at a university in New Orleans.
Jackpot.
That lab must be running the tests on whatever it was Maryse was cooking up. Another glance out the window let him know he was still in the clear, so he opened his cell and punched in Brian’s number. “Brian, it’s LeJeune. I need you to hack something for me.”
“Okay,” Brian said, “what’s the case file number?”
Luc hesitated. “This one is off the record. At least for the time being.”
“Oh, man, not your botanist in distress again? Do you know how much hell I caught over that stripper in New Orleans?”
“She wasn’t a stripper, she was a performer, and you helped get her daughter back from the molester ex-husband who’d made off with the kid. Surely that was worth an ass-chewing.”
“I guess. But one of these days, LeJeune, you might want to think about settling down with one woman instead of rescuing every one you come in contact with. And if you want my help with your Sir Lancelot routine, you’re going to have to come up with something besides doing a good deed to convince me to risk that ass-chewing again. After all, I’m not privy to the same perks you’re getting out of these deals.”
Luc sighed, not about to admit that he was yet to receive a single perk from Maryse Robicheaux. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. The woman seemed to frustrate him on all levels. Something he wasn’t exactly used to. “How about two tickets to this week’s game?”
“How are the seats?”
“The best—they’re mine.”
“Throw in the use of your Corvette for the night and it’s a deal.”
“Absolutely not.” Even Luc didn’t remove his black, 1963 split-window dream machine from the garage unless it was a special occasion. “You know I only drive the Corvette when it’s important.”
“And you haven’t seen the woman I plan on asking to the game.”
Luc clenched his jaw. “Fine, but if you get so much as a scratch on her, I’ll kill you, and you know I know how.”
“Sounds reasonable. What do you need?”
“I need you to get some information for me. There’s a lab at Tulane University in New Orleans where Maryse is sending her stuff for testing. I need to know what she’s testing and why.”
“Jesus, LeJeune! Do you really think the university is just going to hand over that kind of information just because I ask nicely? Her tests are protected information, especially if she’s working on something she can patent.”
“So get a warrant.”
“Based on what, exactly? Hell, you won’t even tell me why you want the information or give me a case number to support it. How am I supposed to convince a judge to go along with this plan of yours?”
Luc frowned. “Don’t you have a friend, a contact, someone who could get you a line on the information?”
Brian sighed. “I’ve got a buddy who works in the science department. He might be willing to ask around. But he’s going to need some time to do it with any finesse or it will look suspicious. Then someone might tip off your botanist.”
“Yeah, okay. If that’s the best we can do.”
“And I mean real time, LeJeune, not an hour or two. This could take days, maybe even a week.”
Luc looked out the window as the Maryse’s boat raced up to the dock. He reached over to shut down the computer. “Just do your best. Make it as fast as you can, but tell your friend not to draw any attention to himself. I can’t afford exposure.”
“No problem. I’ll call when I’ve got something.”
Luc flipped his phone shut and watched as Maryse docked. Even from a distance, Luc could see her mouth set in a straight line, her upper body tensed. What now?
She entered the office without even a glance over, then poured a cup of coffee and stood staring at the wall while she drank. Luc stared at her back, then dropped his gaze to her behind, nicely tucked in a pair of old, tight-fitting jeans. “Do I dare even ask?”
“What?” Maryse spun around and looked at him as if realizing for the first time that he was in the room. “Oh, sorry. Good morning.”
Luc raised his eyebrows and stared. Okay, it was even worse than he thought. She was being polite. “Good morning. Is everything all right with you? You seem a little…distracted.”
“I’m just a little pissed and more than a little confused.” She refilled her coffee, then dropped into her office chair with a sigh. “My life used to be so simple, you know? I did my job, had my side interests, one friend, one surrogate mother…no drama, no issues.”
“Except for Hank,” Luc pointed out.
Maryse nodded. “That’s a given.”
“And now you have other issues?”
“Jeez, LeJeune, haven’t you been paying attention the last couple of days? My mother-in-law is dead, and Hank has yet to show up so I can serve him. The worse part is that’s the least of my worries at the moment.”
Intrigued, Luc leaned forward in his chair. “So what’s the worst?”
“The worst is wondering what the hell Helena Henry has been up to all these years. I mean, the woman was the Antichrist of Mudbug. Even you had heard of her, and then she goes and leaves me the game preserve.”
“Okay. But that’s a good thing, right? I mean, if she’d have left it to Hank, he would have sold it off right away.”
“Leased it,” Maryse corrected. “The trust prevents an outright sale, but that’s not the point.” She picked up a pencil from the desk and started tapping it on the desktop.
Luc leaned back in his chair, giving her his full attention. “What else is there?”
Maryse looked over at him, her face full of uncertainty. “When Hank ran off, he owed money to a lot of the wrong kind of people. I had to borrow from Helena to pay them off.” Then she told him about the payments she’d been making to Helena that had most likely been used to pay down her loans.
Luc sat back in his chair and stared at Maryse, now crystal clear on her confusion. “What the hell?”
Maryse shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I have no frig-gin’ idea. And it just makes me wonder how much manipulation has gone on behind my back. I get the feeling I was used, but I can’t put my finger on how or for what purpose. There is no way Helena Henry paid that money on my loans to be nice. Helena doesn’t know nice. Without an ulterior motive, she had no reason to get up in the morning.”
“I agree. It sounds really strange, and given the source, I guess it would make me sort of nervous, too.” He shook his head. “Too bad you didn’t find out about the payments before the old bat died. You could have asked her yourself.”