All of Charlotte’s defenses instantly went on red alert. “Just what are you implying, Detective?”
“I’m not implying anything, but I’m wondering if there’s a part of you that wanted Jeanne to escape, so much so that you conveniently forgot about this property until now.”
Charlotte’s tenuous hold on her temper slipped a notch. “If that were true,” she shot back, “then why would I even bother telling you now?”
He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to be privy to the inner workings of the female mind. Who knows why women do half the stuff they do?”
“Because most men are male-chauvinist pigs.” The second she blurted out the words, she wished she hadn’t. After all, he was a police detective, for Pete’s sake, and the last thing she needed or wanted was to antagonize the police.
For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I wondered what it would take to get your dander up,” he finally said, still chuckling. “Well, now I know, but I had you going for a while there, didn’t I?”
Charlotte didn’t know whether to laugh along with him or throw something at him.
As it turned out, she did neither, because he abruptly rose to his feet. “We’ll check out the information,” he said, “and I’m willing to bet that you’re right on about it So far, it’s the best lead we have. Humph! Who am I kidding? It’s the only lead we have.”
He turned toward the door, and Charlotte pushed out of the chair. He’d only taken a couple of steps when he suddenly stopped and faced her again. “By the way,” he said gruffly, his dark eyes boring into hers in a way that made her pulse race. “Thanks for the tip. I realize that telling me—or anyone—wasn’t an easy decision for you to make, considering your relationship with that family. If it’s any comfort, it was the right decision.”
His insight broadsided her and caught her completely off guard. Something deep within her, some long, forgotten emotion twisted hard, and Charlotte almost melted on the spot. That he’d even recognized that she’d had a dilemma was totally unexpected. But given the circumstances, his attempt to comfort her and reassure her was truly amazing.
The firm click of the door closing behind him was what finally shook her out of her daze. Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed. “Just goes to show,” she muttered. “You shouldn’t judge a book by the cover.”
She blinked several times, then marched over to the door. Once she’d snapped the deadbolt into place, she turned toward the birdcage. “And you—” She shook her finger at the little bird inside. “You should be ashamed of yourself, attacking a policeman like that. Silly bird, don’t you know that he’s one of the good guys.”
It was true, she realized with sudden clarity. He was one of the good guys. And given her past experiences dealing with men, good guys weren’t that easy to come by anymore.
Or could it be that you like him a little too much?
Was Judith right, after all? she wondered.
“Crazy,” Sweety Boy squawked. “Crazy, crazy.”
Charlotte glared at the little bird, then burst out laughing. “Maybe so,” she said. Maybe it was crazy to be considering a relationship with Louis Thibodeaux. “And just maybe you’re jumping the gun a bit,” she muttered. Just because the man had teased her a little didn’t mean he’d been flirting. And just because he’d been understanding and showed her a bit of compassion didn’t mean he was interested in her as a woman or in a relationship ... Or did it?
Charlotte suddenly frowned. He never had told her why he’d stopped by in the first place or what it was that he’d wanted to talk to her about.
She was still frowning when she noticed that she had a message on her answering machine. She tapped the PLAY button.
“Hi, Mom. Sorry I didn’t catch you at home, but I thought you would want to know that I checked on Mrs. St. Martin for you this morning.” There was a momentary pause. “I hate telling you this, but the old lady has taken a turn for the worse. She’s developed pneumonia, and her kidneys are shutting down. It doesn’t look good for her.” After another pause, he said, “Call me if you want to talk. I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
On Thursday morning, Charlotte chose a light breakfast of cereal and juice before she struck out for her daily walk. According to the early-morning weather forecast, the day promised to be full of sunshine, with a moderate high of around seventy degrees.
After her walk, she placed a call to Hank. He was in between patients, so his receptionist put her call through.
“Hi, honey. I know you’re busy, but I won’t keep you but a minute. I was wondering if you’d checked on Miss Clarice this morning yet?”
“Yes, ma’am, I checked. I was going to call you later. She made it through the night, but she’s going downhill fast It’s just a matter of time now. Sorry, Mom.”
“Me, too,” Charlotte murmured as her thoughts strayed to Anna-Maria. She wondered how the young woman was holding up with so much tragedy happening in her life in such a short time.
“Are you going to try to see her?”
“I would really like to—but no. Under the circumstances, I don’t think they would want me there.”
“Are you going to be okay, Mom?”
“Yeah, honey. I’ll be okay. Talk to you later.”
As Charlotte hung up the receiver, she thought about their conversation. That Hank hadn’t questioned why the Dubuissons wouldn’t want her to visit Clarice at the hospital came as no surprise. Though she’d chosen not to tell him about her part in the whole affair, Charlotte knew that he and Judith often talked and kept each other apprised of the happenings in their mothers’ lives. Knowing her son, he wouldn’t let on that his cousin had spilled the beans.
After she’d talked to Hank, Charlotte had showered and dressed, but the news about Clarice had cast a pall on the day for her.
When she returned to the living room, she paused to stare out the front window. She longed to be outside, to feel the sun on her back, anything to keep from dwelling on the tragic circumstances surrounding the Dubuisson women.
But life went on, she reminded herself as she turned away from the window. And there was work to be done.
Recording the expenses and receipts she accrued each month was one of her least favorite tasks of running her own business, and she tended to procrastinate.
With a resigned sigh, Charlotte walked over to her desk and sat down. Out of the top right-hand drawer, she pulled out her expense ledger. Then, out of the top left-hand drawer, she removed a bundle of receipts that were secured by a rubber band. It had been a month since she’d bothered to update the ledger, and she groaned when she saw how many she’d accumulated during just a few short weeks.
Charlotte was almost halfway through the stack of receipts when the doorbell rang. Glad for the interruption, she hurried to the front window and peeped out. When she saw that her visitor was Cheré Warner, she quickly opened the door.
“Hey, Cheré. This is a surprise. What are you doing here this time of day?”
Cheré grinned. “Hey, yourself. Sorry for dropping by without calling first, but I came straight from school. I had my last final this morning and finished early.”
Charlotte waved away the girl’s apology. “No problem. Come on in.” She stepped aside, and Cheré walked past her into the living room. “You saved me from a morning of boredom,” Charlotte said as she closed the door and locked it. “Just doing a little bookkeeping.” She motioned for Cheré to be seated. “How about something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”
Cheré shook her head. “No, thanks. Any more caffeine after last night and I’m liable to jump right out of my skin.”
“Now what have I told you about pulling those allnighters?”
Cheré rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but like I said, the test I took this morning was a final, and my grades in that class haven’t been that great this semester.”
“So how did you do?”
/> The girl shrugged. “I think pretty good. Who knows, though? But hey, listen, I stopped by to tell you the latest on that Devillier job. Unfortunately, Roussel Construction has had a teeny tiny setback.”
Cheré’s bit of sarcasm wasn’t lost on Charlotte. “Uh-oh,” she murmured. “What happened?”
Cheré grimaced. “Seems that the city inspectors didn’t like the wiring job. And among a number of other smaller problems, they also found a couple of substantial cracks in the foundation that have to be fixed.”
It was Charlotte’s turn to grimace. “Sounds like some major stuff.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Todd was in charge of the electrician crew, and his old man is pretty hot. Todd figures that one of the crew must have cut corners and pocketed the money, but when he tried to talk to his dad about it, they got into a big fight. Now they aren’t speaking to each other.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That’s a shame.”
“I’ll say. Most of the wiring has to be pulled, and we’re talking big bucks.”
“Yes, of course—” Charlotte interrupted. “That, too—but what I meant was that it’s a shame that Todd and his father aren’t speaking.”
“Yeah, Todd’s pretty bummed out about it,” Cheré agreed “But hey—” She shrugged. “They’ll get over it. Anyway, the bottom line is that the wiring, along with all the other changes, will probably delay the whole project a good three to six months”
Charlotte winced. “Guess that means the bidding for the cleanup will be delayed, too.” Which also meant that for the time being, she could kiss the chance to make some extra money for her retirement account good-bye.
Cheré nodded. “I’m really sorry.”
“Me, too, hon, but it’s not your fault. Stuff happens.”
Again Cheré nodded, then stood. “I hate to drop the bad news on you and then leave, but I’m scheduled to clean the Parkers’ house at two this afternoon” Cheré headed for the door. “I’m meeting Todd for lunch first, and I have to pick up some clothes at the dry cleaner after that”
By the time Charlotte closed the door behind Cheré, she felt as if she’d just survived a whirlwind. The energy level of the girl was unreal, and it made Charlotte tired just thinking about the hectic schedule Cheré kept.
“Time for another cup of coffee,” she muttered, heading for the kitchen. But the coffeepot was empty, and as Charlotte was debating on whether to brew another pot, the phone rang.
The caller was Judith.
“Hi, Auntie. I don’t have but a minute to talk, but I thought you’d like to know what we found when we checked out that information you gave Lou. Seems you were right on the money,” she continued. “I was able to verify that the Dubuissons did—in fact—buy a piece of property just outside Gould, Colorado, just about a month ago.”
“That would be just about the time that Brian moved back to New Orleans,” Charlotte said.
“Exactly, Auntie. And by checking the phone records of all the calls placed from the Dubuissons’ house, I hit pay dirt. There was one call made to the residence of a Mr. and Mrs. Earl Langly, an elderly couple who live just outside of Gould. I talked to Mr. Langly, and he told me that right after Jackson bought the property, he’d hired the Langlys to keep a check on things. When I asked about the recent phone call, he claims it came from a woman who said she was Jackson’s secretary. She told him to lay in some supplies and ready the place for some friends of Jackson who wanted to borrow the place for a while.”
Judith paused for a moment. “But this is the kicker, Auntie. Not only does Jackson’s secretary deny making such a call, but that call was placed the day after Jackson was murdered. And since the call was made from the house, we can pretty well assume it was made by Jeanne.”
Mixed emotions churned within Charlotte, and she didn’t know quite how to feel about her niece’s news. “So what happens now?” she asked.
“Even as we speak, the feds are on their way to Gould. And with any luck, Jeanne Dubuisson and Brian O’Connor will be in custody before the sun sets.”
After Charlotte hung up the phone, she had to keep reminding herself of all of the reasons that Jeanne and Brian should be caught and punished.
Jeanne had committed murder. She’d murdered both her father and her husband. She’d also caused her daughter heartache that not even time would mend.
Then there was Brian. Regardless of how much Jeanne had protested Brian’s involvement, he had to have known what was going on. Charlotte was no lawyer, but she was pretty sure that by knowing and doing nothing to prevent it, he’d made himself an accessory to Jackson’s murder.
But there was a part of Charlotte, a tiny part, she finally admitted, albeit reluctantly, that was glad the couple hadn’t been caught right away. Jeanne would get her punishment soon enough. Of that, Charlotte was more sure now than ever before. But at least she’d had a week to finally be with the man she had loved for almost a lifetime.
Was it worth it? Charlotte wondered. When Jeanne and Brian were brought back in handcuffs and put on trial, when they were found guilty, then sentenced to either life imprisonment or death, would Jeanne think it had been worth it all?
Only Jeanne could answer that question, she decided.
Chapter Twenty-eight
By the hardest, Charlotte was able to finish recording her business receipts and expenses by noon. She’d even managed to choke down a sandwich for lunch.
After lunch, she decided that if she didn’t get out of the house, she was going to start climbing the walls.
It took a while, but she finally located her gardening gloves in the back corner of the shed. Within twenty minutes, sweat was dribbling down her back as she yanked on the stubborn crabgrass that had encroached upon her flower bed near the porch steps. Yet, in spite of the heat and physical exertion, her thoughts kept returning to Jeanne and Brian.
Had the feds caught up with them yet?
I’d rather die first than go to jail.
Had Jeanne meant what she’d said, or had she just been spouting off a bunch of nonsense? Would Jeanne and Brian put up a fight? she wondered. She couldn’t imagine Jeanne in a shoot-out with the police. But she’d never imagined that Jeanne was the type who would kill anyone, either.
Then a horrible thought came over her. What if Jeanne and Brian had planned some type of suicide pact?
Behind her, a car door slammed. Grateful for any kind of distraction from the awful stuff she was imagining, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder.
“Making any headway?”
Charlotte swallowed hard at the sight and sound of Louis Thibodeaux. Grabbing hold of the rail of the porch steps for support, she got to her feet. “Not a lot,” she answered as she pulled off her gloves and tried to brush away the grass and dirt that stubbornly clung to the knees of her pants.
The detective approached her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d take a chance that you might be home. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s no problem. I usually keep Thursdays free to run errands and catch up on stuff,” she explained. “But I do have a phone, you know. You could have called at any time,” she added.
“I could have, I suppose, but I like to see what I’m getting.”
At first, Charlotte thought she’d heard him wrong. “Pardon me?”
“Oops! That didn’t exactly come out right, did it?”
Raising one imperious eyebrow, she said, “I guess that depends on what you think you’re getting.”
“Yeah ... well, what I’m trying to say is that I’m interested in renting the other half of your house—if it’s available. Judith told me she thought it was empty and that you sometimes rent it out”
Even as Charlotte began shaking her head, disappointment washed through her. In spite of the heat, she felt her face grow even warmer. Up until that very moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped that whatever he�
��d wanted to talk about was a bit more personal. So much for silly daydreams, she thought “I haven’t really considered renting it again anytime soon,” she finally said.
He nodded. “Yeah, she told me about your last renters, how they tore up the place, then skipped out on the rent. You wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, though. Think of the advantages of having a cop living next door.”
She could think of plenty of advantages of having him living next door even if he wasn’t a cop. Then a picture of the messy desk where she’d sat at the police station came to mind. “I don’t know,” she hedged.
“I just need somewhere to stay for a few months,” he explained. “I’m building a camp on some property I own on Lake Maurepas. At the end of the year, after I retire, I plan on moving out there pennanently I’d also planned on staying in my house till the camp was finished, but I got an offer—one of those kind that are too good to refuse.” He shrugged “So, how about it?”
At the mention of his retirement, she was reminded of her own retirement looming in the near future. The extra money from his rent would be a nice addition to her account. “When would you want to move in?”
Pure devilment danced in his dark eyes. “Like I said before, I like to see what I’m getting.”
“Well, you know the old saying,” she quipped. “What you see is what you get. And right now I have to get the key” She started up the steps. “Be right back,” she said over her shoulder, and as she stepped inside the door, she heard the trill of his cell phone ringing.
Once she’d located the key, she took a minute to glance in the mirror on the wall near the front door. Only a complete overhaul would help, she decided with a frown as she wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek, then did a quick finger-comb through her hair. “Oh, well,” she muttered. “Too bad.”
Charlotte turned away from the mirror. When she stepped outside, he was waiting for her on the porch, his cell phone still in his hand. From the look on his face, she figured that the call must have been bad news.
Maid for Murder Page 23
