Read Online The Helena Diaries - Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law Series Novellas) by Jana DeLeon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jana DeLeon
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soon.”
As they launched into yet another argument, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside the room. I rushed through the wall just in time to see Maryse coming down the hallway. Thank God I’d caught her before she went in Hank’s room.
I told her to turn her fancy cell phone on record, and she recorded an earful—an earful of Harold confessing to killing me. But it was all wrong. He said he put rat poison in my coffee, but I’m certain that whatever killed me was in the brandy. And rat poison was nowhere on the list of things that Maryse said could have caused my death.
Even more surprising, Harold swore up and down he hadn’t tried to shoot Maryse. I guess I shouldn’t have really been surprised. Shooting someone required direct action, and Harold had always been a coward. Poison was far more his style.
Then Hank blew my entire cover.
As Harold raged at him for never divorcing Maryse, leaving her eligible to inherit the land, Hank finally blurted out the secret I’d been keeping from everyone—that I’d been paying him to stay away.
Yeah, it was probably a crappy thing to do. Okay, it was definitely a crappy thing to do. But as long as Maryse and I were still related by marriage, I had every right to leave her the land. If she and Hank had divorced, Hank would have been my only option. Granted, it wasn’t the best idea, and I swear, I’d never planned on forcing Maryse to remain married to my son forever. But she was young and had plenty of time to get married and all that. Besides, until Dr. Disaster, she hadn’t shown any interest in dating. How was I to know that she wanted another relationship?
I guess what I really wanted was to give Hank some time to grow up, so I’d sent him to rehab, and based on reports, I’d thought he was doing better. But if he’d been in on everything with Harold, then I’d been wrong once again. Hank hadn’t changed at all.
It only took a second for everything to sink in with Maryse. I swear, if she could have killed me all over again, she would have. I hauled butt out of the hospital while I still had a butt to haul. I had a feeling most of it would be chewed out later, and I really couldn’t blame her.
I’d bungled this up badly.
I headed straight for the police station after I left the hospital. I knew what had happened from the perspective of the victims, and I believed Harold when he said he wasn’t the culprit—this time, anyway—but that meant someone else was gunning for Maryse. Attempting to shoot her in broad daylight in the middle of Main Street could only mean one thing.
He was getting desperate.
Unfortunately, the police were behind the eight ball. They had Harold pegged as the guilty party, and all resources were directed at finding him and building a case against him. I screamed and yelled that they were wasting their time and the real killer was still out there scot-free and probably preparing his next strike, but all my yelling fell on deaf ears.
Even after Maryse showed up and played them the recording from the hospital, they still didn’t appear convinced that Harold was off the suspect pool. I hid in a storage closet—so as not to set her off track—but I could easily hear her raging through the thin wall. But since no one could come up with a better option, the police were hell-bent on beating the dead horse Harold.
I listened long enough to realize Maryse would never get anywhere, then headed out for the hotel. I wanted to check around and see if I could figure out where the shots were fired from. And I wanted to make sure no one was tucked away in an attic, closet, or manhole. It would take a while, but I would ensure no one near the hotel was a threat to Maryse.
She needed to be safe when she returned from the hospital.
The hotel and the surrounding area appeared secure, but I am not an expert, so if anyone died tonight, it wasn’t on me. Well, maybe since the entire situation was my fault, it was still on me.
As they launched into yet another argument, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside the room. I rushed through the wall just in time to see Maryse coming down the hallway. Thank God I’d caught her before she went in Hank’s room.
I told her to turn her fancy cell phone on record, and she recorded an earful—an earful of Harold confessing to killing me. But it was all wrong. He said he put rat poison in my coffee, but I’m certain that whatever killed me was in the brandy. And rat poison was nowhere on the list of things that Maryse said could have caused my death.
Even more surprising, Harold swore up and down he hadn’t tried to shoot Maryse. I guess I shouldn’t have really been surprised. Shooting someone required direct action, and Harold had always been a coward. Poison was far more his style.
Then Hank blew my entire cover.
As Harold raged at him for never divorcing Maryse, leaving her eligible to inherit the land, Hank finally blurted out the secret I’d been keeping from everyone—that I’d been paying him to stay away.
Yeah, it was probably a crappy thing to do. Okay, it was definitely a crappy thing to do. But as long as Maryse and I were still related by marriage, I had every right to leave her the land. If she and Hank had divorced, Hank would have been my only option. Granted, it wasn’t the best idea, and I swear, I’d never planned on forcing Maryse to remain married to my son forever. But she was young and had plenty of time to get married and all that. Besides, until Dr. Disaster, she hadn’t shown any interest in dating. How was I to know that she wanted another relationship?
I guess what I really wanted was to give Hank some time to grow up, so I’d sent him to rehab, and based on reports, I’d thought he was doing better. But if he’d been in on everything with Harold, then I’d been wrong once again. Hank hadn’t changed at all.
It only took a second for everything to sink in with Maryse. I swear, if she could have killed me all over again, she would have. I hauled butt out of the hospital while I still had a butt to haul. I had a feeling most of it would be chewed out later, and I really couldn’t blame her.
I’d bungled this up badly.
I headed straight for the police station after I left the hospital. I knew what had happened from the perspective of the victims, and I believed Harold when he said he wasn’t the culprit—this time, anyway—but that meant someone else was gunning for Maryse. Attempting to shoot her in broad daylight in the middle of Main Street could only mean one thing.
He was getting desperate.
Unfortunately, the police were behind the eight ball. They had Harold pegged as the guilty party, and all resources were directed at finding him and building a case against him. I screamed and yelled that they were wasting their time and the real killer was still out there scot-free and probably preparing his next strike, but all my yelling fell on deaf ears.
Even after Maryse showed up and played them the recording from the hospital, they still didn’t appear convinced that Harold was off the suspect pool. I hid in a storage closet—so as not to set her off track—but I could easily hear her raging through the thin wall. But since no one could come up with a better option, the police were hell-bent on beating the dead horse Harold.
I listened long enough to realize Maryse would never get anywhere, then headed out for the hotel. I wanted to check around and see if I could figure out where the shots were fired from. And I wanted to make sure no one was tucked away in an attic, closet, or manhole. It would take a while, but I would ensure no one near the hotel was a threat to Maryse.
She needed to be safe when she returned from the hospital.
The hotel and the surrounding area appeared secure, but I am not an expert, so if anyone died tonight, it wasn’t on me. Well, maybe since the entire situation was my fault, it was still on me.
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