Maid for Murder (Charlotte LaRue Mystery Series, Book 1)

by Barbara Colley

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I would like to speak with Detective Judith Monroe,”

  Charlotte told the woman who answered the call.

  “I’ll see if she’s available, ma’am. Please hold.”

  Charlotte drummed her fingers against the desktop while she waited. When the same voice came back on the line a minute later, she was told that Detective Monroe wasn’t available at the moment. “Can someone else help you, ma’am?” the woman asked.

  A mental image of Louis Thibodeaux popped into Charlotte’s head, and a wave of apprehension swept through her. “No,” she blurted out. “I’ll call back again later.” She quickly hung up the phone. The very last person she wanted to talk to or have to deal with was her niece’s partner. There was just something about that man that rubbed her the wrong way.

  By the time that Charlotte showered, washed and dried her hair, and dressed, it was late midmorning. Again she tried calling her niece, and again she was told that Judith wasn’t available.

  She had just made up her mind that, like it or not, she was going to have to clean the birdcage, after all, when the phone rang.

  “Saved by the bell,” she murmured, snatching up the receiver. “Maid-for-a-Day. Charlotte speaking.”

  “Hi, Charlotte, this is Nadia.”

  Nadia . . . Oh, no. Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and wished the ground would suddenly open up and swallow her. She’d completely forgotten to call Daniel about Ricco.

  She’d intended to talk to her nephew about the matter on Sunday, but after Daniel had called to say he had a stomach virus and wouldn’t be able to come, she’d put it off.

  “Charlotte? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, hon,” she answered, feeling worse with each passing moment. “I’m still here, and I’m afraid I owe you a big apology.”

  “Your nephew wouldn’t take Ricco’s case.” It was a flat statement, filled with disappointment.

  “Ah ... well, you see, I haven’t asked him,” Charlotte told her. “Not yet, anyway. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me, though, after you hear why.”

  Charlotte explained about Daniel’s illness first. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have discussed the Dubuissons’ problems with anyone, but Jackson’s death had made the news, so as she told Nadia about Jackson’s murder, she figured she wasn’t truly breaking her confidentiality code.

  “Since Monday I haven’t been able to think straight with everything that’s happened,” she said when she’d finished her explanation.

  The line was silent for several moments. “How awful,” Nadia finally said. “And I think I have problems. Funny thing is, I remember reading about that in the paper, but I guess I didn’t realize that the Dubuissons were your clients.”

  “Yes ... well, but that’s still no excuse for me forgetting—not really. I’m so sorry, dear. Just as soon as we hang up, I promise I’ll give Daniel a call.”

  True to her word, Charlotte called her nephew the moment she finished the conversation with Nadia. She was relieved when his secretary put her right through.

  “Aunt Charley, what’s up?”

  “First things first, hon,” she said. “We missed you Sunday. How are you feeling?”

  “I missed seeing all of you, too, and I’m feeling a heck of a lot better than I did Sunday morning. I’m still a bit queasy now and then, but at least I’m no longer paying homage to the porcelain god in the bathroom.”

  Charlotte burst out laughing. “Oh, Daniel, only you could make a joke about such a thing.” Even as a small boy, Daniel had been the clown of the family. Charlotte had often wondered if her nephew’s antics were his way of dealing with the hurt of his father’s abandonment. At least Daniel’s way was healthier than his sister’s, she thought. Poor Judith had bottled up all of her resentment until it had turned bitter. Resentment without a release always turned bitter. Then there was Madeline . . .

  No, she decided. She wouldn’t go there. Not now, not so soon after their little confrontation. Just thinking about her sister’s obsessive behavior only made her crazy.

  Daniel cleared his throat. “So, Aunt Charley, you said, ‘First things first,’ ” he said. “Other than worrying about your favorite nephew’s health, was there another reason you called?”

  “I need a favor, dear. You remember Nadia Wilson, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do. She’s the tall, dark-haired woman who works for you. The one with the little boy named Davy. A really nice lady, if she’s the one I’m thinking about.”

  “Yes, she is a nice lady,” Charlotte agreed. Then she launched into an explanation about Ricco’s situation and Nadia’s predicament. “Such a shame,” she added when she was finished. “She really doesn’t deserve the way she’s been treated by Ricco or the police, and it’s doubly hard on her with little Davy crying for his daddy.”

  “Yeah, that’s a tough one,” Daniel agreed. “You know I can’t promise anything, but you can tell Nadia that I’ll check into the matter for her. And for little Davy,” he added. “But I have to tell you, this Ricco sounds like a real loser.”

  “He’s not exactly one of my favorite people,” Charlotte admitted, “but Nadia is, and I’d appreciate whatever you can do.”

  “Hey, Aunt Charley, anything for you. After all, what good is having a favorite nephew if he can’t help out once in a while?”

  “You won’t get an argument out of me on that one,” Charlotte quipped. “So, will I see you next Sunday?”

  “You know it! I’ll be there with bells on. Now, before you hang up, why don’t you go ahead and give me Nadia’s phone number?”

  Charlotte gave him the number, then hung up the receiver. Daniel was a sweetheart, and he was right. He was her favorite nephew. Never mind that he was her only nephew, she thought with a smile.

  Charlotte’s smile quickly turned into a frown, and she groaned. Why hadn’t she thought to tell Daniel about his mother’s decision to start her own business? Later, she finally decided, her finger hovering above the REDIAL button on the phone. She’d call him back later, but first she needed to phone Nadia.

  After a quick call to Nadia to let her know that Daniel had agreed to look into Ricco’s case, Charlotte checked the cuckoo clock and saw that it was almost noon. Daniel would more than likely be on his way out to lunch by now, she figured, so she’d have to call him later.

  Charlotte glared at the phone, then eyed the birdcage. “I’m not calling the police station again,” she told Sweety Boy. “And I’m not cleaning that cage today, either. One more day won’t hurt you. But what I am going to do is track down that niece of mine.”

  The Garden District was under the jurisdiction of the Sixth District New Orleans Police Department. The station, a modern, two-story maroon brick building trimmed in blue and tan, was located on the corner of Martin Luther King Boulevard and South Rampart. It was a new building and a vast improvement over the old headquarters that had been located on Felicity Street

  As Charlotte pulled into the parking lot behind the station, she glanced around at the cars parked there and right away spotted a vehicle that looked like Judith’s.

  Once she’d parked, she hesitated. Dropping by had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that she was actually there, she wondered about the prudence of her decision.

  That Judith was busy was obvious, since she hadn’t been able to take phone calls. Maybe she shouldn’t disturb her, after all, Charlotte thought.

  Checking the clock on the dashboard, she noted that it was already half past twelve. Before she could change her mind, she quickly gathered her purse and climbed out of the van.

  After all, the girl had to eat, she told herself as she locked the van and hurried down the sidewalk that ran alongside the building, a smile on her lips. Surely she could take a moment to talk to her favorite aunt.

  Inside the building was a large glass-fronted foyer area that contained a wall of vending machines, two closed doors, and an elevator. Since there were no signs to giv
e directions, by a process of elimination, Charlotte chose the elevator and rode it up to the second floor. Sure enough, when she stepped out of the elevator, directly to her right was what appeared to be an information desk.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” a young uniformed female officer asked.

  “I’m here to see my niece, Judith Monroe. She’s a homicide detective.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Charlotte frowned. “Well, er ... no—no I don’t, but I’m sure she’ll see me.”

  At that moment, a door opened near the beginning of a hallway several feet away, and Judith walked out. When she glanced Charlotte’s way and saw her aunt, a puzzled look crossed her face.

  “Aunt Charley?” She approached Charlotte. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could say I just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to drop in and say hello, but that would be a lie. I tried calling you”—she shrugged—“but never could get through, so since it was lunchtime, I—” Charlotte looked around and noted that several officers were watching the two of them and listening to their conversation. “Could we talk somewhere a little more private?” she suggested.

  “Will this take long? I’m really, really, snowed under here.”

  “It’s about your mother.”

  When Judith’s eyes widened with alarm, Charlotte felt an immediate stab of guilt.

  “Is she okay? Nothing’s happened to her, has it?”

  Charlotte quickly shook her head and patted her niece’s shoulder. “No, no, dear, nothing like that. This is good news.”

  The look of relief on Judith’s face only made Charlotte feel worse. “Like I was saying, I thought since it was lunchtime, maybe you could join me for a bite to eat—my treat—and then we could talk.”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie, but there’s just too much work still to be done on the Dubuisson case. As much as I’d like to, I can’t. Until this thing is solved, I won’t have time for anything.”

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “You need to eat, dear, and I insist. If you can’t go out to lunch, then I’ll order us something to be brought here. You can still work while you eat, if you have to.” She paused. “And you can just get that look off your face, young lady. I won’t take no for an answer. Now, where’s a phone I can use?”

  With a weary sigh, Judith motioned toward a long hallway. “Follow me.”

  Judith led the way to a large rectangular-shaped room divided by several shoulder-high, back-to-back partitions. Each partition was further divided into work stations.

  “This is as private as it gets around here,” she told Charlotte with a wave of her hand that took in several other officers seated at work stations. “Over here,” she said. “You can use that phone.” She pointed to an area in the second row of partitions. “When the food comes, we’ll talk.”

  She seated herself at the work station next to the one she’d pointed out to Charlotte. Picking up a pen, she immediately began sorting through a stack of neatly organized files and jotting down notes on a tablet of paper.

  Charlotte eyed with distaste the area Judith had told her to use. Besides a computer monitor and keyboard, there were stacks of files and papers strewn all over the top. There were also what appeared to be several wadded-up candy wrappers, a coffee mug still half-filled with coffee, a half-eaten sandwich, and French fries sitting on top of a paper sack.

  She set her purse down near the phone on top of a stack of papers, then rummaged through the purse until she found her address book.

  “I believe Georgio’s delivers, and it’s just around the corner,” she said absently as she thumbed through the book until she located the name and number of the restaurant she was looking for. “How about an oyster po-boy?” She punched out the phone number. “If I remember right, that used to be one of your favorites.”

  Her face a picture of concentration, Judith nodded without looking up and continued poring over the files and writing down notes.

  Once Charlotte had placed the order, she seated herself at the desk. Despite Judith’s telling her they would talk when the food arrived, now that she was actually there, it was all Charlotte could do to contain her curiosity about the autopsy report.

  Patience, she cautioned herself. She’d wait until the food came, and while they were eating, she’d begin by telling Judith about Madeline’s new career plans. Then she’d work the conversation around to Jackson’s murder and the autopsy report.

  When Judith continued working and didn’t look up or say anything, Charlotte began to wonder if her niece had forgotten about her even being there.

  Should she interrupt Judith, or should she simply wait? Charlotte wondered as all around her officers came and went, computer keyboards clicked away, and the phones rang. Probably best to wait, she decided.

  With nothing better to do at the moment, Charlotte glanced around and took in the details of the room. One whole side of the long room was a bank of uncovered windows. The windows, along with the white walls and light gray tiled floor, conspired to give the room an open, airy atmosphere.

  Except for the cluttered work stations, the place appeared, for the most part, to be clean. No dust that she could see, and the floor looked freshly mopped and waxed. Yep, clean, all except for . . .

  Her gaze zeroed in on the desk area in front of her. Disgusting, she thought. Totally disgusting. Compared to Judith’s neatly organized area and the rest of the room, it was a pigsty, and whoever usually sat there had to be a slob, she decided.

  Whoever sat there . . .

  Louis Thibodeaux. Of course. Who else?

  That’s just great, she thought. Not only was the man rude and abrasive, but he was a slob to boot. She shuddered, then her gaze flew to the doorway. She didn’t remember seeing him when she came in, but what if he showed up while she was there? She’d never get Judith to tell her anything if he was around.

  “Earth to Aunt Charley.”

  With a start, Charlotte suddenly realized that Judith was talking to her.

  “Oh, sorry, hon. Did you say something?”

  “Are you okay? You looked a little sick for a moment there.”

  Charlotte waved away Judith’s concern. “I’m fine. Just woolgathering, I guess,” she added, then laughed. “Having one of those senior moments.”

  Judith smiled but still didn’t look quite convinced. “What was it, now, that you wanted to tell me about Mother?”

  “She’s decided to go into business for herself. She’s going to move into the other half of the double and work there.”

  “In other words, she got fired.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact she did, but how did you know?”

  “I know my mother, and after all, I am a detective, Auntie. The way I figure it, she found out about my father’s new wife, got all depressed, probably didn’t show up for work, and ended up getting fired.”

  “You got all that just from her deciding to go into business for herself? I’m impressed.”

  Judith grimaced. “Don’t be. Like I said, I know my mother.”

  “Oh, honey, how did you get to be so cynical at such a young age?”

  Judith shrugged. “Comes with the territory.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but at that moment, the phone on her desk trilled.

  Judith answered it, but her conversation was short, and as she hung up the receiver, she said, “The food’s here. The delivery boy is waiting by the front desk.”

  “That was fast.” Charlotte stood and grabbed her purse. “I’ll go take care of it,” she said, then motioned toward the stack of files in front of her niece. “You just go ahead with whatever you’re doing.”

  Judith stood. “I’ll have to come with you, Auntie. They don’t like civilians roaming around on their own.”

  The huge po-boys were made with freshly baked French bread overstuffed with fried oysters and dressed with lettuce, onions, mayonnaise, and thick slices of tomatoes.

  “Just one of
these would have been more than enough for the both of us,” Judith said as she bit into her sandwich. “Hmm,” she groaned with pleasure, and Charlotte smiled.

  “I’d be willing to bet that you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, now, did you?”

  Judith shook her head and managed to say, “No,” and chew at the same time, all without opening her mouth.

  By the time she had eaten her fill, Charlotte couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer, but even so, she didn’t want to appear too eager. “So, did you get that autopsy report back on Jackson,” she said, striving for an offhanded attitude as she carefully wrapped the remainder of her sandwich and stuffed it back into the small paper sack.

  Judith was still chewing, but she nodded, then swallowed. “That’s why I’ve been up to my eyeballs around here. From the size of the wound, it appears that the official cause of death was the result of a blow to the head from some type of heavy blunt instrument.” Judith took a drink out of her canned Coke.

  “We suspected as much, of course,” she continued, dropping the empty can in a wastebasket beside her desk, “but there was so little blood splatter that we weren’t sure. What we didn’t know was that the weapon used measures about four inches wide. Even so, there were no fibers or anything embedded in the wound to give us a clue as to exactly what type of weapon was used.”

  Judith stared into space at a point just past Charlotte’s shoulder, her face a picture of concentration, and Charlotte could well imagine gears and wheels turning in her niece’s head. “It also seems that our Mr. Dubuisson was full of barbiturates,” she said, almost as if she were thinking out loud. “Not enough to kill him but just enough to knock him out.”

  Judith’s voice trailed away, and a sick feeling spread through Charlotte. “Why?” she asked.

  Judith suddenly frowned as if she’d just remembered her aunt’s presence. “Why did someone kill him if he was already unconscious?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “That’s the million-dollar question right now. But if what we suspect holds true, then we just might be on the right track to catching his killer.”