Trouble in Mudbug (33 page)

“What the hell are you talking about?” Maryse felt beads of sweat begin to form on her brow, frustration and confusion overwhelming her.

“The agency got a tip that a chemical company was dumping waste into the bayou. The informant claimed to be a resident of Mudbug, and on the surface, the information seemed to check out. Then the intel stopped—no more letters, no phone calls, and all attempts to locate this person failed. I was sent down here to find the informant and verify his claims. We’re under a bit of pressure from the EPA.”

“Oh my God! Is it toxic? Where is it?”

“We don’t even know for sure that the dumping is going on, much less what the waste is or where it is. There’s no reason to get excited just yet. If the dumping is going on, the site could be anywhere in the surrounding area, not necessarily in Mudbug.”

Maryse took a minute to process this information. “So you think someone is dumping toxic waste into the bayou somewhere, and you’re undercover to find the guy who tipped you off. Then why are you hooked up with me?”

Luc stared out the window again. “At first it was business. Then it got personal. I thought you’d figured that out.”

Personal? As in he liked her so he was trying to protect her? And business—what business? She wasn’t in any danger when Luc first arrived. “So you came down here to locate a mole and instead, you end up seeing ghosts and playing protector for me. Does that cover it?”

Luc nodded. “I guess so. I care about you, Maryse, and you don’t have the training or ability to deal with something like this. I was afraid something bad would happen if I didn’t help—am still afraid.”

He cared about her? He
was
spending an awful lot of time putting himself in danger. But the fact remained that he didn’t care enough to tell her the truth. Not until he was left with no other choice. “And what does your agency think of your extra-curricular activities?”

Luc frowned. “They’re not happy. They think I’ve drawn too much attention to myself and they’re afraid it will blow my cover.”

Maryse narrowed her eyes, certain that something in his story didn’t ring true—not exactly. How was Luc supposed to discover the informant when he’d been shut up in an office with her? “But you’re still here.”

“I couldn’t leave you this way.”

Bullshit. “Why not? You could lie to me this way.” Then a thought came to mind—a memory of Luc trying to read her notebook that day in her lab. “You thought I was the informant.”

“That was one possibility, yes.”

“And the other possibility?”

Luc looked out the window down the highway, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Maryse stared at him for a moment, then it hit her. “Oh, my God. You thought I was covering for the chemical company. Somehow hiding the evidence of the pollution.”

Luc jerked his head around to look at her. “No, I never thought that, even when the agency suggested it. I looked into your research because I thought you’d come across the source. I didn’t know what you were working on until Helena let the cat out of the bag.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Maryse. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth. Don’t you understand that?”

Maryse looked directly in his eyes. “All I understand is that every man I’ve been with has used me in one form or fashion, and you’ve turned out to be no different.”

He put one hand on her arm, but she brushed it off. “Don’t even bother. In fact, you can drop me off at the hotel and return to your high security office in the bayou. I won’t be needing your services any longer,
Agent
LeJeune.”

Maryse didn’t say a word as Luc drove the rest of the way back to the hotel, and Luc was obviously smart enough to know he wasn’t going to talk his way out of this one. But the longer she sat in silence, the angrier she became. What the hell had she been thinking? Not only had she allowed herself to be used by another lying asshole, she’d actually welcomed him with open arms—and legs. What was it about her that she couldn’t find an honest man to save her life?

Which was sort of an ironic question since apparently a
dishonest
man had done just that.

She stared out the window and held in the tears that threatened to fall. Damn it. Why did she always have to cry when she was mad? Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t get more screwed up than it already was, she had to go add insult to injury by sleeping with Luc.

And even worse—she’d enjoyed it.

No more men
, she vowed, as Luc swung the car onto Main Street. Society might as well give her a wimple and start calling her “sister.”

They pulled into the hotel parking lot, and before Luc brought the car to a complete stop, Maryse jumped out, slamming the door behind her, and stalked into the hotel. She could hear the car idling behind her but forced herself to look straight ahead and never hesitate in her stride. When she reached the door to the hotel, she heard the engine rev as the car screeched out of the parking lot. She glanced down the street as she stepped into the hotel and saw the car round the corner to the highway.

Probably going to see his “buddy” in New Orleans. Another DEQ agent, she had to assume at this point. Maybe they were going to review the tapes and see if Luc recognized the man outside the office. And then a terrible, horrible thought hit her. Her eyes blurred, and she walked headfirst into the corner of the door.

Video tape! Satellite feed!

And she’d been having sex with Luc right there on the desk in the middle of the office.

Sex on her desk wasn’t exactly the way she’d always pictured herself on film. No, for her first foray onto camera, she’d had something a bit more dignified in mind, and something requiring a lot more clothes. Something like accepting the Nobel Prize for Medicine.

Her one foolish dream.

“Something wrong with you?” Mildred asked as she entered the hotel office, completely cutting into her thoughts of a royal romp.

Maryse frowned. A shorter list would probably be what
wasn’t
wrong. “Nothing more than the usual.”
And a videotaped orgasm with a lying DEQ agent.

Mildred stared, not looking in the least bit convinced. Time for a distraction.

“Any luck locating Harold?” Maryse asked.

“Yep. Sara Belle down at the salon says she’s almost positive she saw Harold unloading a suitcase at that fleabag motel on the outskirts of town.”

Maryse groaned and slapped her forehead. “Helena left him that motel. Why didn’t I think of that?” And even more, why didn’t Helena think of that? Did she have to do all the work here?

Mildred narrowed her eyes at Maryse. “You’re not thinking of tailing Harold, are you? ’Cause I don’t have enough savings to post bail for murder. I don’t want you anywhere near Hank Henry unless the police are involved. With guns. And Mace. Lots of Mace. And maybe one of those electric rods that makes you stupid senseless when it touches you.”

“A stun gun,” Maryse provided, although it was pointless information. Hank was already stupid senseless. Being jolted with fifty thousand or so volts of electricity might even make for an improvement. And if not, it would certainly make for a good show. “I’m not going to tail Harold,” Maryse assured her. “I’ll have someone else do it. Someone less conspicuous than me.”

Mildred nodded. “Good. Probably needs to be Luc then. You know I love Sabine, but she’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the box. You don’t have to know where you came from to decide where you’re going. If only she’d get her head out of the damned clouds and down her on Earth, that girl could probably make a lot of herself.”

“Sabine’s fine, and lately, she’s backed off a lot on the whole parental search thing.” Maryse waved a hand in dismissal. “I know you think the whole paranormal thing is complete bunk, but at least she’s making money. There are probably worse things.”

Mildred stared at her for a moment. “
I
think the whole paranormal thing is bunk? Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly jumping on that bandwagon either. Did you hit your head too hard in one of those mishaps of yours?”

Oops. Momentary lapse of consciousness. And definitely all Luc’s fault. She gave Mildred a sheepish smile. “Of course, I don’t buy into that stuff. I’ve just given up trying to convince Sabine otherwise. As long as her business is successful, I guess I just decided who cares.”

Mildred narrowed her eyes, and Maryse knew the hotel owner suspected something was up. Something Maryse wasn’t telling her. In ten billion years she’d never come up with the ghost of Helena Henry, so Maryse figured she was in the clear as long as she didn’t spout off something stupid again.

“Well, why don’t you try to rest,” Mildred said finally. “I’ll be right here if you need me.” She pointed to the front of the hotel. “And no standing in front of the plate-glass window.”

Maryse nodded and left the office. There was no way possible she could rest. Between ghosts, attempted murder, and videotaped sex, she was about to have that nervous breakdown she’d been putting off. And avoiding Mildred until she had control of her racing emotions probably wasn’t a bad idea. If she stayed in the office with Mildred’s hawk eye on her, she knew she’d end up confessing her sins of the flesh. And she wasn’t ready to discuss her romp with Luc the Liar, especially given her track record with questionable men.

She snuck in a call to Sabine but got her voice mail. She left her a brief message with instructions to come directly to the hotel when she got back from visiting Raissa, then closed her phone, shoved it in her pocket, and sighed. Finally deciding she couldn’t stand around in the hallway until Sabine showed up, she grabbed a bottle of Pledge and a rag from the storage closet and began to polish the spindles on the stairwell. She finished that chore in about thirty minutes, and then Sabine walked in, saving her from doing something really strange, like vacuuming the lobby. Sabine stared at her for a moment, then sniffed the air. Since the entire stairwell smelled lemony fresh, there was really no hiding what she’d been up to.

Sabine raised one eyebrow. “You want to tell me why you’re avoiding Mildred?”

Maryse glared. “I thought you weren’t psychic.”

Sabine laughed. “It doesn’t take a genius to see that something’s wrong if the woman who hates cleaning more than root canals starts breaking out the Pledge on a building that’s not even hers.”

Maryse shrugged. “I’m stressed.”

“Bullshit. You drink when you’re stressed. You clean when you’re avoiding.”

“Well, Mildred hasn’t figured it out, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Sabine shook her head. “Mildred knows damned good and well why you’re cleaning. She also knows that you won’t breathe a word to her about whatever secret you’re keeping until there’s no other choice.”

“Got that right,” Maryse mumbled.

“She also knows that you’ll tell me if it’s important, and I’ll tell her.”

Maryse stared at her so-called best friend in dismay. “Is this what the two of you do when I’m not around? Plot ways to analyze my life and then share things I’ve told you in confidence?”

Sabine had the good sense to look guilty. “It’s not like that. It’s just that Mildred and I both worry about you, and you don’t make it easy on people by secluding yourself so much on the bayou. I’ve seen you more since Helena died than I have in the past six months.”

Maryse sank onto the stairs. “You know you’re welcome at my place anytime, or at least you were when I had a place. And Mildred too. I know I didn’t come to town often, but it just wasn’t necessary. I had everything there that I needed.”

Sabine sat beside her on the stairwell and gave her a sad smile. “But don’t you see, Maryse? You didn’t have everything you needed. You’re losing sight of people, how they operate, what motivates them. If you were more social, you would have seen Christopher coming a mile away.” She paused for a moment, then took a breath before continuing. “And I hope this doesn’t make you mad, but I don’t have to be psychic to see what’s going on between you and Luc. Right now, I’d bet anything that’s what drove you to dusting.”