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

by Barbara Colley

  By the time they had settled Clarice onto the largest of the parlor sofas, the old lady was alarmingly pale, and her breathing was shallow.

  Judith took one look at her, then asked Jeanne, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

  Jeanne hesitated, then shook her head as she covered her mother with an afghan. “No, I don’t think so—not yet.” She turned to Anna-Maria. “Get your grandmother a glass of orange juice from the kitchen and get me a wet washcloth.”

  Charlotte stepped forward. “I’ll get the juice and washcloth.”

  “No, Charlotte.” Jeanne gave her a pointed look. “I—I need you to do something else. Let Anna-Maria get it.”

  The moment that Anna-Maria disappeared through the doorway, Jeanne said, “I didn’t want her to hear, Charlotte.” She turned to Judith. “I know I don’t have any right to ask favors, but could you please let me have a few minutes alone with my daughter before you take me away? I—I’d like to try and explain things to her.”

  Judith frowned. “I—”

  “If I was going to run, I would have done so earlier. Please ... It’s all going to be such a shock to her.”

  Still Judith hesitated, and at that moment, the peal of the doorbell sounded.

  “I’ll get the door,” Charlotte offered, relieved to have something to do.

  “I hope it’s Louis,” Judith muttered. “But if it’s anyone else, get rid of them.”

  Charlotte nodded and rushed from the room.

  The person at the door was Louis Thibodeaux. Standing just behind him were two uniformed police officers.

  By way of greeting, he nodded curtly to Charlotte. “Where’s Judith?” he asked gruffly.

  Charlotte stood to the side and motioned toward the parlor. “In there,” she said. “She’s been looking for you.”

  “I know” was all he said before he turned to the two officers behind him. “Ted, you take the back door, and Barry, you stay here. No one comes in or out without my permission.” Then, without a word to Charlotte, he brushed past her and strode down the foyer toward the parlor

  Charlotte closed the front door and turned to follow, but a movement to her left caught her eye.

  Anna-Maria stood in the dining-room doorway, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a washcloth in the other. The look of confusion on her pale face turned quickly to fear as she followed the stocky detective with her eyes. Her hand that held the juice began to shake, and Charlotte quickly stepped closer and took the glass from her.

  “What’s happening?” the younger woman whispered. She turned to Charlotte. “Please, won’t someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “Just try and stay calm, hon. Right now your mother needs you to be strong.”

  “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “Anna-Maria, your mother is in trouble. Just remember that no matter what happens, she loves you more than life itself.”

  “Why won’t you just tell me what’s happening?”

  “Because it’s not my place, hon. Your mother will explain everything. Now let’s get this juice and washcloth in there to your grandmother.” Charlotte nudged her toward the parlor with her free hand.

  As if in a trance, Anna-Maria let Charlotte guide her. As soon as they entered the room, Jeanne grabbed the juice. Once she’d gotten Clarice to take several swallows, she directed Anna-Maria to place the washcloth over Clarice’s brow. Then she leaned down and kissed the old lady on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. When she straightened, she looked at Judith.

  “You’ve got thirty minutes,” Judith told her. “Detective Thibodeaux will be right outside the door. Don’t make me sorry that I’m allowing this,” she warned.

  “Thank you,” Jeanne whispered. With a sideways glance at Louis Thibodeaux, she turned to her daughter and held out her hand. “Come along to the library with me, darling. We need to talk.”

  Judith nodded at her partner. “You go with them, Lou, and I’ll tell Barry to station himself outside, on the porch in front of the French doors.”

  “Something tells me that this isn’t a good idea,” he muttered, but he did as Judith requested and followed Jeanne and Anna-Maria.

  “I can stay with Miss Clarice,” Charlotte offered.

  “Thanks, Aunt Charley.”

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Charlotte waited alone with Clarice. The house was still and quiet, so quiet that she could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer.

  A part of her was glad that Judith had given Jeanne and Anna-Maria a few minutes alone. Her heart ached for Anna-Maria, but all she could do was pray that the girl would be strong enough to bear what was ahead. Even so, for once, Charlotte had to agree with Louis Thibodeaux. Something about the whole thing just didn’t feel right.

  She glanced at her watch and estimated that at least fifteen of the thirty allotted minutes had passed. So where was Judith? And why hadn’t she returned yet?

  Then she eyed Clarice, and the unease she’d felt grew. The old lady was staring straight up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. She had a pasty pallor to her skin that didn’t look right to Charlotte, and she’d yet to utter a sound since Jeanne had kissed her. The only way Charlotte knew for sure that she was still breathing was the faint movement of her chest.

  She moved closer to the sofa. “Miss Clarice, how are you feeling?” When the old lady didn’t answer or even acknowledge her in any way, warning spasms of alarm erupted within Charlotte. Clarice had already suffered one stroke. What if she was in the throes of another one?

  Charlotte leaned over the old lady and gently shook her shoulder. “Miss Clarice, please say something?” Clarice rolled her eyes but offered no other response.

  “Aunt Charley, is something wrong?”

  Charlotte looked up. “Oh, Judith, thank goodness you’re back. I think we’d better call an ambulance.”

  Clarice moaned, as if in protest, then tried to talk. But her words slurred together and came out garbled.

  Judith glanced at Charlotte, and her eyes reflected Charlotte’s own fear.

  “Oh, God, I think you’re right, Aunt Charley.” Judith whipped out her cell phone and hit 911.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Stay with her, Aunt Charley,” Judith told her. “I need to let Louis know what’s happening, and I need to tell Barry to show the paramedics in when they arrive.”

  From a first-aid class she’d taken once, Charlotte knew that the only thing she could do for the old lady was to watch her breathing and keep her quiet and warm. Kneeling beside the sofa, she tucked the afghan closer around Clarice’s frail body.

  “Just hang in there, Miss Clarice. Help is on the way.” She removed the washcloth, refolded it, and placed it back on Clarice’s forehead. How long? she wondered as minutes seemed to drag by. How long before the ambulance would come?

  Raised voices in the hallway drew her attention. “Now what?” she murmured. The voices grew louder, and with a worried look at Clarice, she pushed herself up and hurried to the doorway.

  Anna-Maria, flanked by Louis Thibodeaux, was standing in the foyer. She had tears streaming down her face and was sobbing incoherently while Judith was snapping out questions.

  “Where’s your mother?” she demanded.

  “Sh-she’s gone.”

  “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  Anna-Maria whimpered and shook her head as she covered her face with her hands.

  When Judith realized she wasn’t getting anywhere with the girl, she turned to Louis Thibodeaux. “What happened, Lou? How can she be gone? Barry swears she didn’t come out his way.”

  “Well, don’t look at me,” he snapped. “I told you I had a bad feeling about this, and unless she’s a damned ghost, she didn’t come out my way, either.” He glared at Anna-Maria. “You’d better start coming up with some answers, young lady. Now stop that blubbering and tell us where your mother went.”

  When Anna-Maria cowered away from him, all of Charlotte’s matern
al defenses went up. The man was nothing but a bully. With one last worried glance at Clarice, she rushed over to the group. “Both of you, stop badgering her,” she demanded. She purposely stepped between Louis Thibodeaux and Anna-Maria, then gathered the younger woman into her arms.

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Anna-Maria cried, burying her head against Charlotte’s shoulder. “What am I going to do?”

  “Hush, now, hon.” Charlotte smoothed the younger woman’s hair. “The first thing you need to do is calm down,” she told her gently. “There, there, that’s better.” After a moment more, she placed her hand beneath the younger woman’s chin and tilted her head up. “Remember what I said about being strong?”

  Anna-Maria blinked several times, then nodded.

  “You can do it,” Charlotte encouraged. “Just try to answer their questions the best you can.”

  With one last shaky sob, Anna-Maria scrubbed at her face, took a deep breath, and pulled away from Charlotte. “My-my mother left,” she told Judith. “Sh-she left through the secret passage.”

  Judith eyed her skeptically. “Secret passage! What secret passage?”

  Anna-Maria looked at Charlotte, and Charlotte nodded encouragement. “Tell her, hon.”

  “It-it’s behind one of bookcases,” Anna-Maria said, her answer directed at Judith. “It was once a part of an underground-railroad route used to help hide runaway slaves.”

  Louis Thibodeaux glared at Charlotte, and in a voice as cold as his eyes, he said, “Did you know about this so-called secret passage?”

  Hands on her hips, Charlotte whirled to face him. She’d had just about enough of the insufferable man. “Just what are you suggesting, Detective Thibodeaux?” she challenged.

  “Louis, don’t,” Judith warned. “My aunt is not a suspect here.”

  He gave Judith a level look. “Come on, Monroe. She’s worked for them for several years. Don’t you think it stands to reason that if she’s cleaned their house for that long, she’d know the ins and outs of it?”

  Though Charlotte knew the history of the secret passages and had heard that some of the old homes in the District still had them, no one was more surprised than she about the existence of one in the Dubuissons’ library. And she strongly resented the detective’s implication, especially after all she’d done to help prove Jeanne had murdered Jackson.

  “What I think is that we’re wasting time,” Judith snapped. “We need to check out this so-called secret passage.”

  “You won’t find her.” Anna-Maria’s voice shook with emotion. With a trembling hand, she held out a piece of paper, offering it to Judith.

  “What’s this?” Judith snatched it from the girl.

  “A-a letter,” Anna-Maria stammered. “My-my mother said to give it to you.”

  As Judith skimmed the letter quickly, her face grew dark with fury. “Well, isn’t that just peachy?” she sneered. “Forget the secret passage. She’s long gone.” She held out the letter to her partner.

  He took the paper, glanced over it, then handed it back. “I’ll put out the APB,” he told her. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”

  They? Jeanne and who else? Though Charlotte had her suspicions and was dying to know what was in the letter, at that moment the distant sound of a siren drew her attention. “I hope that’s the ambulance,” she muttered.

  Anna-Maria’s eyes grew wide. “Ambulance?”

  Charlotte thrust out her hand to the younger woman, and ignoring both Judith and Louis Thibodeaux, she said, “Come along with me, hon. Your grandmother is ill, and we need to check on her.”

  Back in the parlor, Charlotte was relieved to see that Clarice’s condition seemed to be about the same. While Anna-Maria murmured encouragement and hovered over the old lady, Charlotte stood by and waited. Outside, the siren grew louder, and for the moment, both Judith and her partner had disappeared.

  When the siren finally ceased its incessant wailing, within minutes two paramedics, followed by the officer named Barry, rushed into the room.

  It didn’t take long for the EMTs to determine that Clarice had indeed suffered another stroke. While they prepared the old lady for a transfer to St. Charles General Hospital, Charlotte kept a wary eye on Anna-Maria.

  To her surprise, the girl held up like a trooper. She thoroughly questioned the medics about her grandmother’s condition, then made a quick phone call to her fiancé. After a brief explanation, she asked him to meet her at the hospital.

  For the first time that afternoon, Charlotte felt as if Anna-Maria were going to be okay. But she was worried about Clarice.

  Just before they wheeled the old lady out on the stretcher, Anna-Maria leaned over and kissed her on her pale cheek. “They’re going to take you to the hospital, Grandmother. They won’t let me ride in the ambulance with you, but I’ll be following in my car. You just hang in there and I’ll see you at the hospital.” Then she leaned down close to the old lady and whispered something in her ear.

  Charlotte strongly suspected that Anna-Maria said something to her grandmother about Jeanne, but she couldn’t be sure. Whatever she said caused Clarice to whimper and close her eyes. Then her lips thinned, and one side of her mouth turned up slightly at the corner. Charlotte could have sworn that the old lady was smiling as the paramedics took her away.

  Anna-Maria watched from the doorway as they rolled her grandmother through the foyer, out the front door, and down the gallery steps. Once they were gone, she turned to face Charlotte. “Thank you for your help with Grandmother,” she said stiffly. She paused for a moment, as if unsure what to say next Then she grimaced. “To be honest, I don’t know whether to hate you or hug you.”

  Charlotte felt her throat tighten and tears threaten. She blinked back the tears and swallowed to relieve the tightness in her throat. “If it’s any help,” she told her gently, “I understand. And I’m sorry—” She hesitated. To say she was sorry for blowing the whistle on Jeanne would be a lie. None of what Jeanne had been through was reason enough to murder her father or her husband in cold blood. “I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this,” Charlotte finally said, her voice trailing away as she waited anxiously for Anna-Maria’s response.

  The younger woman’s lower lip began quivering, and she blinked rapidly. Then she cleared her throat. “I need to get to the hospital, but I stayed behind on purpose because I have a message for you.” She paused long enough to make sure that no one was within hearing range. Finally satisfied that they wouldn’t be overheard, she looked Charlotte straight in the eyes and said, “I have a message for you from my mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Charlotte felt as if a heavy fist were squeezing her heart, but all she could do was wait, wait and wonder what Jeanne could have possibly wanted her to know. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “My mother asked me to tell you that she doesn’t blame you for what you did. She said that she understands why you had to do it, and in spite of everything, you’ve been more of a friend to her than anyone she knows.”

  Charlotte felt a single tear slide down her cheek, but she was too choked up for words.

  In a controlled voice that Charlotte barely recognized, Anna-Maria continued. “Now I must get to the hospital, and I’d like to lock up before I leave, so you’ll have to go now.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I’ll just get my purse,” she murmured, stepping toward the doorway. When she drew even with Anna-Maria, she stopped and looked her in the eyes. “For what it’s worth,” she told her, “I wish you and your grandmother well. And if you ever need me—for anything—all you have to do is call.”

  Outside, the warm afternoon was fast turning into dusk. When Charlotte realized how late it was, a sudden weariness came over her, a weariness born of a sorrow that went bone-deep. It grieved her deeply that her association with the Dubuisson family had to end as it did.

  It should have been gratifying to know that she’d helped solve Jackson’s murder, but thoughts of Jeanne and what she had come
to mean to her haunted and confused her. For the most part, she was horrified by what Jeanne had done, horrified and angry. When all was said and done, she’d grown to love Jeanne like the daughter she’d never had. Even so, Charlotte had learned over the years that loving someone could be a double-edged sword. It didn’t mean you had to like what they did or even condone their actions.

  Judith’s car was still parked out front, and she was waiting for Charlotte by the van. Charlotte joined her, and they both stood and watched as Anna-Maria backed out of the driveway and drove down the street.

  Though Charlotte was pretty sure that Judith had waited for her to see if Anna-Maria had divulged anything different from what she’d said earlier, she was also itching with curiosity about the letter Jeanne had left. Did she dare hope that Judith would let her read the letter? she wondered.

  “Ah ... where’s your partner?” she asked as soon as Anna-Maria’s car disappeared from sight.

  Judith gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m not really sure, but he said something about following up on a lead.”

  “A lead about Jeanne?”

  Judith shrugged again. “Maybe. Like I said, I’m not sure where he went. But if they’re still in the city, we’ll catch up to them sooner or later.”

  “They?”

  Judith nodded. “Brian O’Connor is with her, wherever she is” Her gaze slid away, and she stared at the ground. She shifted from one foot to the other, then fidgeted with the strap of her purse.

  “Just say it,” Charlotte told her, recognizing her niece’s nervous gestures.

  “I don’t want to ask this, Aunt Charley.” She glanced up, and her eyes reflected the strain she was under. “I have to, though. It’s my job.”

  “Judith, honey, just do what you have to do. I’ll love you, anyway.”

  A tiny smile pulled at Judith’s lips. “And no matter what you tell me, I’ll still love you, too.”

  Charlotte grinned. “Touché.”

  Judith suddenly grew serious again. “Did you know, Auntie? It doesn’t stand to reason that you did, considering how you helped trap Jeanne in the first place. For the record, though, I have to ask. Did you know that there was a secret passage in the library?”