Unlike her reaction to her niece’s partner when he’d as much as accused her of knowing, Charlotte felt sorry for Judith. She held up her right hand, palm out, fingers together straight up. “As God is my witness, I didn’t know about it.”
“I didn’t really think so, but—”
“You had to ask.” Charlotte finished the sentence, then smiled. “I understand, honey, so stop worrying about it.”
Judith sighed. “Okay, but I’m afraid there’s a couple of other things I need to clear up, too. First of all, do you have any idea whatsoever where Jeanne and Brian could have gone or where they might be heading?”
Charlotte frowned in thought. Something, some fleeting memory, nibbled at her subconscious, but the harder she tried to remember, the more vague it grew. “I honestly don’t know,” she finally said. “But if I think of anything, I’ll get in touch.”
“One last thing, Auntie. What did Anna-Maria have to say to you? Anything I should know about?”
For reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, Charlotte found herself reluctant to share the message from Jeanne. She slowly shook her head. “No, it was personal,” she said. “Nothing you should be concerned about.” Charlotte cleared her throat. “Now I’d like to ask you a question.”
Judith nodded.
“What was in that letter that Jeanne left? In fact, I’d like to read it.”
“I don’t object to you reading it, but I don’t have it. Lou took it with him. But I can tell you what was in it. Jeanne said that it wouldn’t do any good for us to look for her or Brian. Evidently, she’d planned ahead in case something went wrong, because she said that she’d arranged for the two of them to disappear, but she needed a twenty-minute head start.” Judith’s face flushed. “And, like an idiot, I gave her the twenty minutes.”
“Don’t,” Charlotte admonished. “Don’t beat yourself up about that. There was no way you could have known, and you took every precaution possible.”
Judith waved away Charlotte’s reasoning. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but it still ticks me off, and you can bet I’ll hear about it from the chief. I’ll be lucky if they let me give out parking tickets. Anyway, the only other thing Jeanne said was that finally her inheritance would go to the person she’d always intended it to go to—her daughter. She inferred that a long time ago she’d set up a trust fund for her daughter that would pay out on the girl’s twenty-first birthday. And that’s just about it,” she added.
Charlotte could tell that Judith was still worried. Knowing her niece, she figured she wouldn’t rest easy until Jeanne was caught. She wished there was something she could say or do to make Judith feel better, but all she knew to do was be there for her when she needed her. She reached out and squeezed her niece’s hand. “You’re a good detective, hon, but even more than that, you’re a decent, caring human being.”
A sad little smile pulled at Judith’s lips. “Thanks, Auntie. You’re not so bad yourself.”
Charlotte grinned. “I’m glad you think so. But seriously, hon, you know I love you, and if you ever need to just talk or if you ever need anything, if it’s within my power, I’ll be there for you.”
Judith nodded. “I know. But enough of all this serious stuff. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired of thinking about it all. How about a bite to eat or a cup of coffee somewhere? This time, my treat.”
All Charlotte really wanted was to go home and soak in a warm tub of water, away from prying questions and from the reminders of her part in the whole affair. Still, it was getting close to suppertime, and after what she’d just said, there was no graceful way of refusing. She forced a smile and enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “Sounds good to me. I could use a bite to eat, especially if you’re treating.”
“Oh, good. How about the Trolley Stop? It’s not exactly Commander’s Palace, but the food is excellent.”
Charlotte had eaten at both places over the years, and she’d always enjoyed the food and the ambience. Most of the times she’d dined at Commander’s Palace had been for special occasions, occasions of celebration. For tonight and considering the circumstances, the more casual atmosphere of the small café, built in the shape of the trolleys that still ran along St. Charles Avenue, would be a welcome relief. “Then the Trolley Stop it is,” she said. “Do you want to ride along with me or take your car?”
“We’d better ride separately,” Judith answered, “in case I get called out on a case.”
“Since I’m parked in front of you, why don’t you follow me, then?”
Finding a parking place along St. Charles Avenue was always a pain. Luckily for Charlotte, she spotted a car pulling away from the curb just before she reached the Trolley Stop. Once she’d maneuvered the van into the narrow space, she shoved the gearshift into park and shut off the engine.
Judith wasn’t so lucky, she noted, as she watched her turn onto one of the side streets past the Pontchartrain Hotel.
Since traffic was heavy and she’d be risking her life as well as the door of her van if she got out on the driver’s side, Charlotte figured that the safest exit would be from the passenger side.
But climbing over the hump between the front seats to the passenger side wasn’t as easy as it seemed, and by the time she stepped out of the van and locked the door, she was out of breath. With her eyes searching up ahead for sight of Judith, she didn’t see the man approach her from behind.
“Having problems?”
Charlotte jumped at the sound of the deep male voice that belonged to Louis Thibodeaux. She whirled around, her hands clenched into fists, and it took every bit of restraint that she could muster to keep from hauling off and slugging him. “That’s the second time this week that you’ve scared the daylights out of me!” she snapped.
He held up his hands in a defensive motion. “Hey, I’m sorry.” His craggy face wrinkled into a frown. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered, not believing him for a second. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
A puzzled look crossed his face. “Last time I heard, it was still a free country. Besides, the Trolley Stop is sort of a watering hole for some of the detectives in this district. Fast service, good food at a decent price,” he added. Then the infuriating man had the gall to grin. Charlotte couldn’t remember ever seeing him even smile, and the transformation was astonishing.
“And what are you doing here?” he asked. “After all”—he winked—“turnabout’s fair play.”
She couldn’t believe her eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was actually flirting with her. Something weird was going on, she decided. Either the man had a Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde complex or he was drunk. The amiable, likable man standing before her couldn’t be the same bully who, less than an hour earlier, had all but accused her of plotting to help a murderess escape.
“I’m here with Judith,” she blurted out. “To eat.” Charlotte glanced nervously up the street and was relieved to see her niece striding toward them.
“Hey, Lou,” Judith called out. “I wondered where you got off to.” She nodded toward the Trolley Stop. “I should have guessed, though,” she quipped.
“I’ll have you know, missy, that I just got here. I’ve been out tracking down Joseph O’Connor, for all the good that did,” he added with a growl. “I remembered that I’d seen him working a couple of streets over from the Dubuissons’ earlier this afternoon.”
“So?” Judith prompted.
“Nothing, nada,” he shot back. “Made out like he didn’t know what I was talking about. Funny thing is, the old man seemed pretty upset about the whole thing.”
“Maybe he really didn’t know anything,” Charlotte suggested defensively.
Louis Thibodeaux rolled his eyes, then shrugged. Not for the first time, Charlotte noticed how dark his eyes were—so brown they almost were black. And his eyelashes, long, equally dark lashes that any woman would covet.
“I guess it’s possible,” he admitted. “Anything is possibl
e. But enough of that for now. I’m hungry, and I hate eating by myself. Could I persuade you ladies to join me?”
Charlotte was on the verge of automatically refusing when, to her horror, Judith nodded. “Only if you’re paying,” she quipped.
Louis Thibodeaux gave a curt little half-bow that somehow came across as elegant instead of silly. “It would be my honor and my pleasure.”
Without warning, he stepped over and wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder. Though there was nothing remotely sexual in the gesture, Charlotte felt a warm flush crawl up her neck. She was sure that she was turning six shades of red, but even worse, she was mortified that the heavy warmth of the detective’s arm felt so good. Then he held out his other arm to Judith. With a giggle, Judith stepped close enough for him to sling his arm over her shoulder.
With a swinging gesture, he stepped back, then forward, pulling both women with him, and in a singsong baritone voice, he chanted, “All for one and one for all.”
The café was crowded. Charlotte was sure that they would end up waiting forever for a table. The burly detective had been forced to release her and Judith once they got to the entrance door, but because of the crush of people jammed in the waiting area, Charlotte found herself forced to stand so close to him that she could smell his cologne, a sharp, spicy scent that suited the man perfectly.
Within moments of entering the café, one of the waitresses spotted Louis and Judith. With a smile and a wave, she signaled for them to come on through.
“Thanks, Betty,” Judith told the woman once they had shoved their way through to the front of the crowd.
“Your table should be free in just a sec,” the waitress replied.
Judith leaned toward Charlotte. “They try to keep a table open for us,” she said by way of explanation. “Good public relations with the department and all of that”
Within minutes, the waitress was back again. “The table is ready now.”
Ignoring the scowls of the other customers who had been waiting, Charlotte followed Judith and Louis to a small table in the corner by the front windows that looked out onto the avenue. Still playing the part of the gentleman, Louis held Charlotte’s chair for her, then did the same for Judith, before he seated himself.
Just as Charlotte reached for the menu, the distinctive trill of a telephone sounded. Judith and Louis automatically checked their phones.
When both of them shook their heads and stared at Charlotte, she smiled sheepishly. So much had happened, she’d completely forgotten that she’d programmed her calls earlier that morning to be forwarded to her cell phone.
“Guess it must be mine, then,” she offered as she fumbled with the zipper of the compartment on the outside of her purse, which held the tiny telephone. Once she’d removed the phone and punched the TALK button, she said, “Maid-for-a-Day, Charlotte speaking.”
“Charlotte, this is Jeanne Dubuisson.”
Chapter Twenty-four
For a moment, Charlotte was too stunned to speak. Her gaze flew first to Judith, then to Louis. Both detectives returned her look, their eyes gleaming with interest.
Her first thought was that she should she tell them that her caller was Jeanne, but Charlotte wavered. Even if she told them, what good would it do? There was no way they could possibly trace the call, she reasoned, not on the spur of the moment.
As much as she hated deceiving the two detectives, she decided against letting on that her caller was Jeanne. Instead, she turned away from the table, seeking a bit of privacy from their curious looks.
“Ah ... yes,” she stammered, not sure how else to respond.
“I didn’t know who else to call,” Jeanne said. “I’m worried sick about my mother. I’ve called several times, but no one’s answering the phone at the house. Is she okay?”
“Ah ... hold on just a minute.” Charlotte shoved out of the chair. “I’m in a restaurant, and I’m having a hard time hearing you over the noise,” she said for the benefit of the two detectives as she stepped away from the table. Without looking back, she headed straight for the door marked rest-rooms. Once inside, she locked the door behind her.
“Jeanne, my God, where are you?”
“Never mind that, Charlotte. It’s better if you don’t know. But please, I’ve been frantic with worry. What’s happening? Why isn’t anyone answering the phone at my house?”
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “I hate to tell you this, but Miss Clarice has had another stroke. An ambulance was called, and they took her to St. Charles General.”
“Is she—do you know her condition?”
“Not yet,” Charlotte admitted, suddenly ashamed that she hadn’t bothered to even check on the old lady. “But Anna-Maria called James to meet her there, so Miss Clarice isn’t alone.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jeanne paused. “I-I guess I could call the hospital.”
Charlotte could hear the worry and tears in Jeanne’s voice, but for once, she couldn’t dredge up even an ounce of sympathy for her. Jeanne had no one to blame but herself for her circumstances. “You should turn yourself in,” she blurted out. “The police are looking for you and Brian. They’ll find you sooner or later. With a good lawyer, you ...” Her voice trailed off, and she wondered if perhaps she’d said too much.
Jeanne sniffed, then cleared her throat. “You’re probably right, but I can’t turn myself in. I’d rather die first than go to jail, and I can’t risk Brian having to spend more time in jail than he already has. One last thing, though, before I hang up. How—how is Anna-Maria? Is she okay?”
In her mind’s eye, Charlotte could still picture the confusion and terror on Anna-Maria’s face as she’d sobbed her heart out while being interrogated by Judith and Louis. Deep within Charlotte, a seed of anger took root, then suddenly erupted into full-blown fury. “How can you even ask such a question!” she demanded, her voice harsh with disbelief. “Of course she’s not okay. She’s heartbroken and confused, and now, if her grandmother—God forbid—dies, she’ll be left with no one—no family whatsoever. How could you do that to her? No amount of money is worth that kind of price.”
For long moments, there was nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry,” Jeanne finally whispered brokenly. Then she disconnected the call.
Charlotte’s knees suddenly went weak, and she sagged against the wall of the restroom. It took several minutes before she was finally able to stand without feeling as if she were going to pass out. She was horrified at what she saw in the mirror. She was almost as white as the walls of the tiny restroom.
For the first time in a long time, she suddenly felt old and very weary. How on earth had she gotten into this predicament? she wondered. How had she allowed herself to become so involved with these people?
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Hank was right. He was always telling her that business was business, that the people she worked for were her clients, not her friends. Good advice, she decided. Too bad she hadn’t listened to him.
Well, never again, she silently vowed. From now on she’d keep things strictly business where clients were concerned. If she would have done so to begin with, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Just who did she think she was, anyway, for Pete’s sake, scurrying around, gathering clues, trying to catch a murderer? And now this latest twist with Jeanne, a fugitive and murderer, calling her.
Charlotte sighed. Wouldn’t Louis Thibodeaux just love to pounce on that little tidbit? He already had his doubts about her part in Jeanne’s escape, and withholding vital information from the police could get her into even more trouble ... if they found out.
A sharp rap on the door made her jump. “Ah ... just— just a minute,” she stammered. Oh, Lord, she thought. How was she ever going to face Judith and Louis now?
“Aunt Charley, it’s Judith.” The muffled sound of her niece’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you okay in there?”
Charlotte swallow
ed hard. “No,” she whispered. “I’m anything but okay.”
“Aunt Charley?”
Now what was she supposed to do? Charlotte wondered, her mind searching frantically for an answer. But no answer presented itself. With a bone-weary sigh, she turned, unlocked the door, and opened it.
“Oh, Auntie, what’s wrong?”
Unable to look her niece in the eyes, Charlotte cast her gaze downward. “Actually I don’t feel so well,” she mumbled. At least she wasn’t lying, she thought. She was sick, sick at heart. “I think I need to go home.”
“That phone call—did that upset you? Was it bad news? Is Hank—”
“No, no.” Charlotte shook her head. “Nothing like that. The call was business. I-I guess I’m coming down with something.” She was coming down with something, all right, coming down with a huge case of the guilts.
“Maybe you just need to eat something.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, hon.” Just the thought of food made her want to gag. “I’m tired, and I just want to go home.” There was no way on God’s green earth that she could sit across the table from Judith and Louis and choke down food as if nothing had happened.
“I’d better drive you, then.”
“No,” Charlotte immediately protested. “It’s not that far, and I—I’ll be just fine. Please give my regrets to Detective Thibodeaux.”
Judith eyed her with worry. “Call me when you get home so I’ll know you’re okay.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
Charlotte phoned Judith as soon as she got home. After reassuring her niece that she would be just fine, she made a second phone call to St. Charles General Hospital. She was told that she could speak to the patient’s family in the waiting room, but just the thought of talking to Anna-Marie made her nervous, so she asked to speak to someone in ICU instead.
Maid for Murder (Charlotte LaRue Mystery Series, Book 1) Page 21
