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

by Barbara Colley

  Charlotte was taken aback by his vehemence. She’d seen him angry before, but this was different. This was overkill. But why?

  Maybe this will teach you ... Out of the blue, it suddenly dawned on Charlotte what he was doing. If he had meant to arrest her, he would have already done so. Plain and simple, he was trying to throw a scare into her. Yet again, she had to wonder why.

  No pat answer presented itself, but Charlotte’s insides churned with a bevy of warring emotions. She was confused as well as annoyed with him. But she was angry, too, angry enough to chew nails.

  Just who did he think he was, anyway, trying to teach her a lesson as if she didn’t have good sense? No one had ever dared talk to her as he had and got away with it. And no one, but no one, had ever accused her of being harebrained or idiotic.

  Charlotte doubled her hands into tight fists. Enough was enough. More than enough. Her temper seething, she glared up at him. “Are you arresting me, Detective?”

  “I ought to.”

  “On what charges?” she demanded.

  “Aiding and abetting a murderer, for starters,” he snapped.

  “Ah, pu-lease,” she said, sarcasm dripping, “give me some credit. I wasn’t born yesterday. Either do it or take these handcuffs off.”

  For what seemed like an eternity, he did nothing but glare right back at her. But Charlotte was in no mood to play his stupid game.

  “Take them off now!” she demanded With one last scathing look, she deliberately turned her back to him and waited.

  Several tense moments passed before he finally grabbed her hands and unlocked the cuffs. The moment he pulled them off, she jerked her hands free and whirled to face him.

  “My purse.” She stuck out her hand, palm up, and tapped her foot impatiently.

  “Charlotte, I—”

  “Give me my purse!” she yelled.

  “Okay, okay Here!” He handed over the purse.

  She should have left well enough alone. After all, she’d called his bluff and won. But everything about the man personified the prejudices she’d been up against most of her life, and it was high time that someone put him in his place.

  She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “Just in case no one has informed you, Detective,” she sneered, “this is the twenty-first century. Women not only have the right to vote now, but most of us have even learned how to get along in this world without a great big macho man to take care of us”

  With one final, contemptuous glare, she whirled around and stomped off toward the entrance doors of the hospital.

  Chapter Thirty

  The moment Charlotte climbed inside her van, she jerked off the wig and tossed it on the floor. Switching on the dome light, she leaned forward and peered into the rearview mirror. The reflection she saw made her groan. She looked awful, with her flattened-out hair and too-dark makeup. Wishing she’d brought along a brush, she tried finger-combing her hair, but finally gave up. What difference did it make, anyway? she thought. There was no one to see her, no one to impress with how she looked ... not anymore.

  With one last glare at the wig on the floor, she switched off the dome light and cranked the van. If she never saw the thing again, it would be too soon. Not only had the wig made her head itch, but it was a stark reminder of how Louis Thibodeaux had tried to humiliate her. The minute she got home, she intended to stuff it in the garbage.

  The drive home didn’t take long, but as she wound her way through the dimly lit narrow streets that were all but deserted, she kept seeing the astonished look on the detective’s face when she’d told him off.

  There was something to be said for getting in the last word. So why did she feel so rotten? she wondered. But Charlotte knew why. She knew exactly why.

  Although his initial response had been enormously gratifying at the time, she’d violated two of her most sacred codes for living. She’d always tried her best to honor the Golden Rule. And for the most part, she’d always tried to turn the other cheek.

  In Charlotte’s opinion, though, living by those codes wasn’t synonymous with being a doormat for anyone and everyone to walk on. If Louis Thibodeaux—or any other man, for that matter—thought they could bully her, then they had another think coming. Charlotte LaRue was no one’s doormat.

  Charlotte was able to hold on to her righteous indignation until she finally reached home. But doing so required energy, and Charlotte was running on empty.

  By the time she walked through her front door, all she felt was hollow inside. When all was said and done, her would-be relationship with the detective was a drop in the bucket compared to the ruined lives of the Dubuisson family. Jackson was dead, Clarice was dying, Jeanne was in jail, and Anna-Maria ... poor Anna-Maria was left to deal with all the ramifications.

  After a quick check on Sweety Boy, Charlotte switched off the living-room lights and headed straight for her bedroom. What she needed was a good night’s sleep. As she passed by her desk, the blinking light of her answering machine flashed like a tiny beacon in the semidarkened room.

  All she could think about was how tired she was, and she was sorely tempted to ignore the infernal thing. But according to the digital number count, she’d had six phone calls.

  Unease crawled up her spine. To have that many calls in the course of one evening could mean that something was wrong.

  Charlotte shook her head. “And it could mean nothing,” she muttered. But there was only one way to find out.

  Charlotte switched on the desk lamp. When she finally located a notepad and pen beneath a stack of mail, she hit the answering machine’s PLAY button.

  The first call was from Judith.

  “Aunt Charley, when you get home, give me a call.”

  The machine beeped, and the next message played.

  “Where are you, Auntie? It’s after nine. Why haven’t you called me?”

  Again the machine beeped..

  “Mom, Judith phoned me, and she’s worried because you’re not home. It’s ten-thirty, and I’m beginning to get worried, too. Call me as soon as you get home.”

  “Oh, great,” Charlotte murmured as the machine beeped. “Next thing I know they’ll put out an APB on me”

  The last three calls were hang-ups, but the digital voice of the answering machine revealed that they had come in at eleven and eleven-thirty The last call had been made at twelve, just about the time that she’d been wrestling with Jeanne in the hospital elevator.

  Charlotte shuddered, remembering the maniacal look in Jeanne’s eyes as she’d held the scalpel. Hoping she wouldn’t have nightmares about it, she glanced up at the cuckoo. It was almost one A.M.

  Now what? she wondered. No matter which call she returned, she’d have to explain about the whole humiliating mess at the hospital. Hank would have a fit. Then she’d have to listen to a lecture from him. And Judith ... Charlotte frowned Since Judith was Louis Thibodeaux’s partner, shouldn’t she have been there tonight? So why wasn’t she at the hospital, too? she wondered.

  Charlotte tapped her fingers impatiently on the desktop. She’d think about all of that tomorrow, but right now, she needed to decide what to do about the phone messages. If she didn’t call at least one of them, she would run the risk of both of them showing up on her doorstep.

  Outside, a car door slammed shut, and Charlotte frowned. Then she heard another door slam shut.

  Speak of the devil and he appears.

  “No,” she moaned the minute the old saying popped into her head. “Please say it ain’t so.”

  Even expecting it, Charlotte jumped when the doorbell buzzed. Before she had time to push herself out of the chair, she heard her niece’s muffled voice.

  “Use the key, Hank”

  The key jiggled in the lock, then the door swung open. Hank, with Judith close on his heels, burst into the room.

  He flipped on the overhead light. “Mother! Didn’t you hear us? Are you okay?”

  Charlotte raised both hands. “I’m okay,
I’m okay.”

  “My, God, Mother, what happened to you?”

  “Auntie, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t use the Lord’s name like that, Hank.”

  “Mother!”

  Both of them kept staring at her strangely, and the longer they stared, the more uncomfortable Charlotte became. It was when she reached up and self-consciously smoothed back her hair that she recalled the earlier image of herself in the rearview mirror. No wonder they were staring as if she were some kind of weirdo.

  Charlotte suddenly giggled. The more she thought about it, the funnier it became, and she began to laugh. When Hank and Judith frowned at the same time, it was almost as if they had coordinated their responses. Their worried looks only made matters worse, and Charlotte laughed even harder.

  She was laughing so hard that her sides were beginning to hurt. Within reason she knew that her uncontrolled response was hysterical laughter, simply a release from all the tension of the evening, combined with exhaustion, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Hank and Judith both rushed over to her. With Judith hovering close by, Hank felt her forehead. When he grabbed her wrist and tried to take her pulse, Charlotte was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I’m okay, son,” she sputtered. “I promise that I’m okay.” She waved him away. “Just give me a minute and I’ll explain.

  “I’ll get her some water,” Judith offered.

  When Hank nodded, Judith rushed off toward the kitchen.

  As Hank continued staring at her, Charlotte tried to get control of herself, but the serious expression on his face brought on a new burst of laughter.

  He knelt down beside the chair and took her hands in his. “Mom, you need to calm down,” he said gently.

  It was the genuine concern in his tone as well as the tender way he held her hands that finally sobered her.

  Judith returned with the water and handed it to Hank. “Here, Mom, drink this,” he told her.

  To humor him, she took the glass and drank a sip. Surprisingly, the water tasted good to her, and realizing just how thirsty she was, she drank it all.

  “Better now?” he asked.

  Charlotte nodded. “Let’s sit over there.” She motioned toward the sofa and chairs in the living room. Hank and Judith sat on the sofa, and Charlotte sat across from them in a chair.

  “I’m sorry you were worried tonight,” she said. “Now don’t get me wrong. I appreciate your concern—I think it’s really aweet.” She centered her gaze on her son. “But I’m not an old woman who needs to be constantly checked on. Not yet, anyway.”

  Hank’s mouth was already tight and grim, and she knew her mild reproof had hit its mark when his mouth tightened even more.

  “I’ve still got a few good years left,” she added.

  “Auntie, I know it’s really none of our business, but where were you tonight? And why are you dressed like that.”

  “You’re right, hon. It is none of your business.” Charlotte smiled to soften her rebuke. “The truth is, I’m a bit reluctant to tell you. And I’m a little embarrassed. I guess you’ll find out soon enough, though, and better it comes from me than someone else.” She could just imagine the kind of spin that Louis Thibodeaux would put on the story. “But let me start from the beginning. Do you remember the night that we were going to eat at the Trolley Stop with your partner?”

  Judith nodded. “The day that Jeanne escaped.”

  “Yes, and if you remember, I received a phone call at the restaurant just after we were seated.”

  Again Judith nodded. Taking a deep breath for courage, Charlotte told her niece and her son about the call from Jeanne. She also told them about her visit from Louis Thibodeaux earlier that day. “I already knew that Clarice wasn’t expected to live much longer, but it was right after Louis got the call from you, Judith, that I began to realize that Jeanne might somehow know about her mother, too. It just made sense to me that she would try to see Clarice before she died.”

  “But you couldn’t tell Louis because of the phone call.”

  “No—no, I couldn’t, especially after he as much accused me of helping her escape to begin with.”

  Judith narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “So let me guess here. I’m guessing that you decided to disguise yourself and stake out the hospital.”

  Charlotte lowered her gaze and stared at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “Yes—yes I did.”

  “And Louis busted you and gave you a hard time.”

  Charlotte raised her head. “Not before I busted Jeanne, but how did you know?”

  “I know because I know how Louis operates. I thought it was kind of strange that he insisted I needed a night off. He even offered to take any calls that came in. Now I know why. But get back to the part about busting Jeanne. I take it she showed up.”

  “Oh, she showed up, all right” And as Charlotte told about her harrowing experience in the elevator, Hank’s face twisted into a horrified expression of disbelief and rage.

  “You did what?” He jumped to his feet. “God Almighty, you could have been killed!” He advanced toward her. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Why—”

  “Don’t—” Charlotte abruptly rose to face him. “Don’t say another word. I’ve already heard it once tonight, and I’m in no mood to hear it again.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his mouth thinned into a line of disapproval as he glared at her. Charlotte lifted her chin and glared right back.

  “Sit down, Cuz,” Judith told him firmly. “Your mom is here, and obviously she wasn’t hurt, so just sit down and let her finish.”

  Charlotte could almost see the wheels turning in her son’s head. To his credit, he finally backed down, albeit reluctantly. But from the expression on his face, Charlotte figured she hadn’t heard the last of it from him.

  “There’s really not much else to tell,” she continued as Hank walked over to stare out the window. “Jeanne was arrested, but I don’t know if they’ve caught Brian yet. One thing I do know, though. I’m very, very tired.”

  Judith pushed herself up off the sofa. “I think that’s our cue.” She walked over to Charlotte. “I’m glad you’re okay, Auntie” She reached out and gave Charlotte a hug. “But next time—”

  Charlotte shook her head and laughed. “There’s not going to be a next time”

  “Well, I certainly hope not,” Hank said from across the room.

  “Oh, put a sock in it,” Judith told him. She turned and walked toward the front door. “Now give your mom a hug,” she said when she passed him, “and let her get some sleep.” She turned her head and winked at Charlotte. “Catching the bad guys is tough work.”

  Hank snorted his disapproval, but he retraced his steps back to Charlotte, and wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her. “I love you, Mom,” he told her against her hair. After a moment, he released her. “Now get some rest” Then he grinned. “Doctor’s orders.”

  Charlotte’s heart melted. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” she whispered.

  Charlotte watched from the door until they got into their cars. Closing the door, she locked it, switched off the overhead lights and the desk light, and then made a beeline for the bedroom.

  In the bathroom, she scrubbed off the makeup, undressed, and slipped into her pajamas. She’d just turned off the lamp and laid her head down on her pillow when the phone beside her bed rang.

  “Now what?” she groaned. Figuring it had to be either a wrong number or a crank call, she decided to let the answering machine take the call.

  “Aunt Charley, I know you’re probably already in bed, but I thought you might like to know that I called Lou when I left. He said they caught Brian O‘Connor. O’Connor was spotted cruising back and forth in front of the hospital right after they arrested Jeanne” There was a pause. “And by the way, I gave Lou a piece of my mind for keeping me out of the loop on this thing. Sweet dreams, Auntie.”

  Charlotte sighe
d and snuggled deeper beneath the covers. “That’ll teach him to mess with the women in this family,” she muttered with a smile.

  Within minutes, she felt herself contentedly drifting off to sleep.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Barbara Colley’s newest Charlotte LaRue mystery

  DEATH TIDIES UP

  coming soon in hardcover!

  Charlotte had almost finished cleaning the last window in the living room when there was a sudden, earsplitting shriek from upstairs.

  “Charrrrlotte!”

  For a moment, she was too stunned to move as the sound echoed throughout the empty house.

  Not a cry of pain, her mind registered, but terror. It was a cry of sheer terror.

  “Charrrrlotte!”

  Janet, Charlotte thought, her heart pounding. Janet was the one screaming out her name.

  It was the thump-thump of running footsteps above her that finally jerked her into action. Was someone chasing Janet and Cheré? Were they in danger?

  A weapon. She needed a weapon of some sort. Charlotte glanced frantically around the room. Nothing. There was nothing she could use except ... her fingers tightened on the spray bottle of ammonia in her hand. Better than nothing.

  Vaguely aware that Emily had bolted from the bathroom, Charlotte dashed out into the hallway and sprinted for the stairs. “You stay down here,” she shouted at Emily.

  Halfway up the staircase, she met the other two women scrambling down.

  “What on earth?” Charlotte cried. “What’s going on?”

  Janet was shivering so hard she could barely talk. Crowded close behind her, Chere’s face was drained of color, and her dark eyes were wide with horror.

  “D-dead,” Janet stuttered, her voice cracking. “I—I turned on th-the light, and th-there’s a dead man in-in the closet.

  A dead man ... dead ... Charlotte’s stomach turned queasy, and she heard Emily utter a startled cry from the foot of the stairs.

  “Okay, okay, hon” Charlotte squeezed Janet’s arm. “Now just calm down. Are-are you sure—sure he’s dead?”

  “Well he’s not moving,” Janet cried. “An-and I don’t th-think he’s breathing.”