He was right…as usual. Several months ago she’d made the mistake of forgetting to turn it off during the morning worship hour, and it had rung right in the middle of the pastor’s sermon. Now everyone in the whole church knew that her ring tone was the song “God Bless the U.S.A.” To top it off, the call she’d received was a wrong number. She’d later joked with the pastor’s wife that perhaps everyone in the church should switch to the same ring tone of the song “Amen.”
“So why this Sunday?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“Well, ah, nothing—not exactly.”
“What does ’not exactly’ mean?”
It was Charlotte’s turn to sigh. Louis knew her too well. Even worse, she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t approve of what she was doing…if he knew. Maybe she could change the subject. “When are you coming home?”
“Now I know something’s going on,” he said, his voice heavy with suspicion.
Oops!
“You know that if you don’t tell me, I’ll just call Judith, and she’ll tell me.” His voice rose. “So stop trying to change the subject. Knowing you, you probably completely ignored my advice and got yourself involved in another stupid murder investigation. And let me guess,” he added sarcastically. “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that movie star’s boyfriend, would it?”
Stung more by his condescending tone of voice than what he’d actually said, Charlotte felt her temper flare. “Call Judith!” she retorted, her voice rising in anger. “Be my guest! Or call your watchdog, Samantha O’Reilly.”
“Samantha?”
“Oh, yeah, I know all about your little spy. Go ahead. Call her.”
“But Samantha isn’t—”
Charlotte cut him off. “Not that what I do or don’t do is any of your business. In fact, call anyone you please, but do not call me again.”
Her heart pounding in her chest, she pulled the phone away from her ear, then snapped it closed, effectively ending the call. “Serves you right,” she said, glaring at the phone. Almost immediately, it rang again. This time, when she flipped it open, she pressed the button that would turn the phone off.
“So there, take that!” she muttered as she dropped the tiny phone back inside her purse. Still angry, she stomped over to the bed, threw herself down on it, and covered her eyes with her forearm.
Outside, thunder boomed, and the sound of rain beating against the windowpane reached her ears. “Perfect,” she grumbled. “Just perfect.” Nice that the weather outside fit her mood inside, she thought sarcastically.
As she lay there, listening to the thunder and rain, the thought that she had totally overreacted flitted through her mind, but she immediately squashed it. What she didn’t understand, though, couldn’t understand, was why Louis thought he had the right to run her life. Sure, they were friends, sorta, kinda, on again, off again. And while it was true that she was attracted to him in most of the ways that counted and she truly respected him, none of that gave him the right to keep track of her like she didn’t have the sense God gave a goose.
For more years than she cared to remember, she’d run her life just fine, thank you very much, without a man’s help, without help from anyone but the good Lord above. What on earth made Louis think that she wasn’t capable of doing so now? If anyone was capable, she was. For Pete’s sake, she owned her own business, a lucrative business that employed several other people. Not only that, but she was debt free; she outright owned her own home, and owned her van.
And what about Hank? Did Louis ever stop to think that she’d raised a son, all by herself, and had even helped put him through medical school?
You’re overreacting, don’t you think?
No! she silently argued.
Yes, you are, and you know why.
Leave me alone. Go away.
The truth hurts, doesn’t it?
“Yeah, yeah,” she whispered. Truth was, if she were honest enough to admit it, she cared about Louis, cared about him more than she had cared about any man since her son’s father. Oh, there had been other men in her life. A woman couldn’t live for as many years as she had without making male contact somewhere along the way. But none of the others had ever measured up to her memories of her son’s father, Hank Senior, the ultimate love of her life…until Louis came along.
Charlotte sighed, and for some reason, Laura Pate came to mind. Maybe, once again, it was that control thing. Was it possible that she’d been in control of her own life, her own destiny, for so long that she wouldn’t be able to relinquish that control to anyone else? And why should she have to? Unlike poor Laura Pate, who didn’t have a choice in the matter, she did have a choice.
Charlotte sighed again. Was that the choice? And if it was, why did it have to be that way? Why couldn’t she have both? Why couldn’t she control her own life and enjoy life with Louis? While it was true that she didn’t want to spend what was left of her life all alone, she didn’t want to spend it kowtowing to a male chauvinist either.
“Humph! Better alone,” she murmured, “than with someone telling you what to do or what not to do all the time.”
But as she lay there thinking back over the past few years, she kept remembering how her life had been before she’d met Louis and how it had been since.
Charlotte turned over onto her side and rolled into the fetal position. Just because he’d been rude didn’t mean it was okay to be rude back. She probably owed him an apology. Maybe later, she decided. Later she’d call and apologize…well, not apologize exactly. Instead, maybe she should try and explain why she’d lost her temper.
Then another thought struck her. Why had Louis been trying to call her to begin with? He never did say. Of course in all fairness, she didn’t give him much of a chance to say why.
Charlotte turned over onto her other side. Some conversations were better face-to-face. Maybe she’d wait until she got back home to talk to him. Besides, at the moment, she had more pressing issues to take care of. She needed to concentrate on the reason she was in this little town to begin with: namely, who really killed Nick Franklin?
On Monday morning, the evening storm had passed, leaving the air muggy with heat and humidity. After Charlotte and Benny ate an early breakfast at a nearby Shoney’s Restaurant, they drove back to Oakdale Nursing and Care Center.
This time when they approached the doorway to Laura’s room she was sitting up in a chair watching television. From the sound of the program she was tuned to, Charlotte figured it had to be one of the many cable cooking shows. How sad was that? In all probabilities, Laura Pate would never cook another meal.
Benny leaned close to Charlotte. “I think you should do most of the talking. I figured that she’ll be more inclined to open up to another woman than a man.”
“I agree,” she said, but though what Benny said made sense, at the moment she didn’t have the foggiest idea how to even start a conversation.
“Ready?” Benny asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied.
When Benny rapped lightly on the door frame to Laura’s room, Laura glanced up from the television and smiled.
“What a nice surprise,” she said. “Come on in here.” She glanced curiously at Charlotte as she pointed the remote control toward the TV and muted the sound. Then she turned her attention back to Benny. “If I remember right, your name is Benny, isn’t it? You’re Marti’s chauffeur. Is Marti with you?”
Benny nodded and Charlotte followed him inside. “Yes, ma’am, I’m Benny.” Then he shook his head. “Sorry—Marti couldn’t make it this trip. But—” He motioned toward Charlotte. “I brought someone else along to visit you. Her name is Charlotte—Charlotte LaRue.”
“Are you one of my Marti’s friends too?”
Charlotte hesitated a moment, then simply smiled. She couldn’t really call herself Marti’s friend, but explaining their relationship was more complicated than Laura needed to hear at the moment.
Avoiding the question, Char
lotte said, “You must be very proud of your daughter and all that she’s accomplished.”
Laura’s entire face lit up. “Oh, I am proud of her, but—” Abruptly, her expression grew tight with strain. “At the same time I worry about her. I’ve tried over and over to teach her that fame and fortune don’t guarantee happiness, but I guess that all I can do now is hope and pray that she paid attention to what I tried to teach her.”
Charlotte nodded. “That’s all that any parent can do.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes, I do,” Charlotte answered, relieved that Laura seemed lucid and also relieved that she was the one who opened up a topic of conversation. How had she forgotten that one thing all mothers had in common with other mothers was their children? “I have a son and two grandchildren.”
“Oh, you have grandchildren! I’d love to have grandchildren. I keep hoping that Marti will decide to settle down one of these days and give me some, but so far, she doesn’t even have a boyfriend.” Laura blinked several times; then her eyes suddenly clouded over.
For long moments, it took every ounce of willpower that Charlotte possessed to hold her smile in place, when what she really wanted was to cry. In light of Laura’s medical condition and Marti’s present circumstances, there was more than a good chance that Marti would never marry and have children and that Laura would never get to hold a grandchild on her lap.
When Laura abruptly lowered her gaze to stare at the floor, Charlotte’s heart sank. As seconds dragged into minutes, Charlotte feared that they had lost her, feared that once again she had retreated into that foggy never-never land.
Then, without warning, Laura lifted her gaze to Charlotte and like a magician’s sleight of hand, the clouded look had disappeared. “Sorry.” Laura frowned. “Now, what was I saying?”
“We were talking about children,” Charlotte gently prodded.
“We were?”
Charlotte smiled and nodded.
Laura shrugged. “Humph, I don’t know why, but it seems like lately, I keep having these blackouts. Then, when I try to remember, all I remember is the past.”
Charlotte swallowed the huge lump of emotion lodged in her throat. Blackouts? Was it possible that Laura didn’t remember that she had Alzheimer’s? Come to think of it, not once yesterday or today, so far, had Laura even mentioned having Alzheimer’s. How could that be? Then again, maybe that was a good thing. Except for the confusion and panic at the beginning of the disease, maybe not remembering that she had the dreaded disease was a blessing in disguise.
“Ah, speaking of the past, I’d love to know about your daughter.”
At that, Laura smiled. “My Marti was a wonderful child, beautiful and smart as a whip. Never gave me a minute’s worry, at least not until her senior year of high school.”
“So what happened in her senior year?” Charlotte gently probed.
Laura frowned and slowly shook her head. “Not all parents are as blessed as I have been. At least I still have my Marti.”
Afraid that Laura was going off on a tangent, Charlotte prompted, “You were going to tell me about her senior year.”
“I was? Oh, yes, of course I was. Why, I remember it like it was only yesterday. It was when one of our most prominent families in town—the Scotts—lost both their daughter and their son.” She slowly shook her head. “Such a tragedy—a terrible tragedy—especially in a small place like Oakdale. Their daughter was accidentally run over. The whole thing was so upsetting for Marti and for the rest of her class as well.”
Charlotte’s interest suddenly peaked, and though it might not have anything to do with anything, she found it intriguing that Laura mentioned the “tragedy” in conjunction with having problems with Marti. “You said that the Scotts lost both their children, so what happened to their son?”
Laura frowned. “Whose son?”
“The Scott family,” she gently reminded her.
Laura slowly shook her head from side to side. “Terrible tragedy…terrible. Most people around here blamed the parents for leaving the kids unsupervised, but I try not to judge. After all, Alex was eighteen, a senior in high school, plenty old enough to take responsibility. But boys will be boys, or so I’m told. Guess the temptation was too great, what with his parents being out of town and all. Did your son ever do anything like that?”
“Like what?”
Again Laura’s eyes grew cloudy and she frowned. “I—I don’t know.”
“You were telling me about Alex, the Scotts’ son.”
“I was?” For a moment, she seemed lost in thought; then, “Oh, yeah, now I remember. It seems that he decided to throw his own senior party, without chaperons, or so they say. Of course I’m not supposed to listen to gossip—my husband would disapprove—but it was also in the newspaper and that’s not gossip. According to the newspaper, Alex got drunk and accidentally ran over his own sister, killing her. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a jury ended up convicting him of—of—” She frowned a moment, and then her expression brightened again. “That’s it. Now I remember. They convicted him of criminal vehicular homicide and sent him away to state prison.” Laura sighed. “Poor Betty Jean—that’s Alex and Jackie’s mother.”
Jackie? Jackie must be the name of the Scotts’ daughter, Charlotte decided.
“Some say she had a nervous breakdown,” Laura continued, “and has never been the same since. Can’t say as I blame her. Who knows how any of us would act under those circumstances? All I know is how hard Marti took it, just being in the same class and all. Why, for days I couldn’t get that girl to hardly eat. I can’t imagine what poor Betty Jean went through.”
Hoping that Laura’s memory wouldn’t play out before she revealed a bit more, Charlotte said, “So, why do you think Marti was so upset about it? Was she good friends with either of the Scott children?”
Laura shook her head. “No, not good friends. We didn’t run in the same social circles as the Scotts, and they weren’t members of our church. But Marti has always been the sensitive type. Of course back then, I had strong suspicions that there was more to it than she admitted. In fact, I strongly suspected that she and that boyfriend of hers were there at that party. Of course she denied it, but I could always tell when she wasn’t telling me the truth about something. Mothers know those things. And besides, when I washed her clothes the next day, her jeans and sweater reeked of alcohol. Alcohol was strictly forbidden in our household. Why, if her daddy had even suspected she’d been drinking he would have whipped her within an inch of her life. Sometimes I wonder if we were too strict.”
Though Charlotte listened with half an ear, the words that boyfriend stuck in her mind. Could it be? Was it possible? Though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer, she asked anyway. “Marti had a boyfriend back then?”
The sad look on Laura’s face disappeared, and she smiled, then nodded. “Lots of boys came around after my Marti. She’s a beautiful girl. Do you know my Marti? Have you ever met her?”
Charlotte prayed for patience. “Yes, I have,” she answered kindly. “And you’re right, she is beautiful. But you were going to tell me about the boyfriend she had when Alex Scott gave that party.”
“I was?” Laura frowned, then suddenly smiled. “Oh, yeah, I was. Out of all of Marti’s boyfriends, I guess I liked him the least.” She shook her head. “Those Franklin kids were the rowdiest kids in my Sunday school class, and Nick was the worst of the bunch.”
Bingo!
“There were four of them, you know. But bless their little hearts, they couldn’t help it if their daddy was a no-account drunk, a mean drunk at that. Why, it near broke my heart to see those little ones come in with bruises on their arms and legs.” Laura suddenly covered her mouth with her hand and looked as if she were in pain. After a moment, she lowered her hand, and with her face still etched in pain, she said, “Lord, forgive me. There I go gossiping again…and judging. The Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not judge, lest ye be judged.’ Mr. Pate
will be angry if he knows. You won’t tell him, will you?”
Charlotte swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat. Not only had Laura forgotten that her husband was dead, but she still feared his reproach. Charlotte reached out and patted Laura’s hand. “It’s okay. I won’t tell. We all tend to be judgmental at times.”
Laura stared at her a moment, then suddenly yawned. “My goodness, I’m tired.” When she struggled to her feet, Benny rushed to her side to steady her. “Maybe I’ll take a little nap before lunch,” she told them, and with Benny’s help, she climbed into bed.
Benny pulled the cover over her, and without apology, she promptly closed her eyes. Within mere seconds Laura was softly snoring.
Benny moved closer to Charlotte. In a low voice he said, “So, what do you think?”
“I think we should probably leave for now and let her rest. Even with what she’s told us, there’s still nothing concrete—no proof of anything.” She shrugged. “No reason, so far, from what Laura said, that Nick would have to blackmail Angel—I mean, Marti.”
With one last glance at Laura, who was still sleeping, they headed for the door. Just outside the door, both came to an abrupt halt when they found themselves face-to-face with Laura’s nurse. From the stern expression on her face, Charlotte figured that they were about to get a lecture for tiring out her patient. Best to get it over and done with.
Charlotte plastered a smile on her face. “Hi, there. You’re Laura’s—I mean, Mrs. Pate’s nurse, aren’t you?”
The nurse nodded. “Dawn Sanders,” she replied.
“Oh, yes, now I remember. I think that Dawn is such a pretty name. Just so you know, your patient is fast asleep now. I guess I should apologize. I’m afraid that our visit tired her out. But don’t worry, we were just leaving.”
“Yes, I know.” A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face. “I guess I should apologize too.” When Charlotte frowned questioningly, she rushed on, “I’m afraid that I shamelessly eavesdropped on most of your conversation with her.” She paused, and then said, “But now I’m glad that I did. By chance, have either of you seen the front page of the Oakdale Weekly this morning?”
Dusted to Death Page 13
