Wiped Out

by Barbara Colley

  Charlotte walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote control, and switched on the television.

  In the kitchen, she set up the coffeepot, turned it on, and then headed back to the bedroom to dress. By the time she was dressed, the coffee was ready. Charlotte poured herself a cup, settled in front of the television, and switched the channel to a local station.

  According to the newscast, the hurricane had finally made landfall about two A.M. near Mobile, and as she watched the videos of the wind and flood damage that the storm had left in its wake, her heart ached for the people living in and around the southern Alabama area. She clicked off the television, bowed her head, said a prayer for the survivors, and added a prayer of thanks for New Orleans being spared once again.

  Half an hour later, drenched with sweat from her walk but invigorated, Charlotte entered her house. The blinking light of the answering machine caught her eye.

  With a puzzled frown and wondering who would be calling her so early, she stepped over to the machine. The number display indicated that there had been two calls.

  Charlotte’s insides tightened as her imagination took wing and all kinds of possibilities filled her head. Two calls within an hour and before eight o’clock on a Saturday morning had to mean trouble. Had there been a family emergency of some sort? Was someone hurt or…

  She shook her head. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop borrowing trouble and stop imagining the worst. It’s probably nothing important.” She took a deep breath. “Only one way to know for sure, though. Just do it.” Sending up a quick prayer, Charlotte reached and hit the PLAY button.

  The machine beeped; then, “Ms. LaRue, this is Sandra Wellington. I’m looking for a maid. Now, I know that you have a maid service with other people working for you, but I understand that you personally have an opening. I would only need you to come in once a week. If you’re interested, please give me a call.”

  Charlotte stared at the machine with stunned disbelief as the woman rattled off her phone number. Again the machine beeped, and the second message played.

  “Ms. LaRue, this is Abigail Thornton. I’m looking for a maid. You came highly recommended, and I was told that you might possibly have an opening. Two mornings a week should be sufficient. If you are available, I’d like to talk with you about working for me. My number is…”

  Charlotte backed up a few steps, and shaking her head in amazement, she collapsed onto the sofa. “And here I’ve been worrying about losing clients,” she murmured.

  But how on earth had either of the women even known that she had an opening to begin with? If she had made that call to Bitsy like she’d intended, she could understand how they might have known. But she hadn’t.

  Charlotte pushed herself off of the sofa and walked over to the desk. With pen in hand, she replayed the messages and jotted down each woman’s name and phone number. Then she stared at the names and numbers.

  Abigail Thornton wanted her to work two mornings a week, but the only two mornings she had available were Wednesdays and Thursdays, and it was highly doubtful that Ms. Thornton wanted her to work two mornings straight in a row. On the other hand, Sandra Wellington wanted a maid only one day a week, and if per chance Ms. Wellington would be satisfied with Wednesday being that day, it would fit nicely into her schedule.

  Charlotte added a star by Sandra Wellington’s name. Of course, she’d give Abigail Thornton a call anyway, just to see if she would be interested in having one of her employees do the cleaning.

  …Promise me you will at least think about it before you go looking for a new client. Please. Hank’s plea swirled through her head, and Charlotte thoughtfully tapped the pen against the notepad on top of the desk. If she didn’t take either client, she’d have both Wednesdays and Thursdays off during the week; then, if and when Hank and Carol have a baby, she’d be free to…If and when.

  God forbid that something should happen, but what if something did happen? What if, for some reason, Carol couldn’t get pregnant?

  Charlotte’s throat grew tight. Hank would be heartbroken, especially after his experience with his ex-wife. Charlotte could still picture her son’s beaming face when he told her that he was finally going to be a father. Then, another picture came to mind…her son, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice choking, as he told her that Mindy had aborted his baby.

  Charlotte shook her head as if doing so would shake away the image of her son’s tormented face. Thank God, Mindy was out of the picture now. Hank had immediately divorced her. And, finally, after so many years of being angry and bitter, he had opened up again, all because he had found Carol.

  Carol. Even if she did get pregnant right away, it would be nine months before she would have the baby.

  Nothing says you can’t quit work any time you want to.

  Charlotte suddenly smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course, dummy. You can always quit.” She reached for the phone and dialed Sandra Wellington’s number.

  Mimi’s funeral was being held at two o’clock that afternoon. Traditionally, close friends and relatives of the deceased usually would gather at the family’s home after the services. Charlotte had agreed to be at the Adams’s house by two-thirty to straighten up a bit, make coffee, and have the food that June had ordered from the caterer set up before everyone arrived.

  Charlotte had just placed the last of the food on the dining room table when she heard a commotion at the back door. Leaving the platter of sandwiches on the table, she returned to the kitchen just as Gordon, Emma, and Justin entered.

  Gordon was wearing a dark gray suit, and Justin, a dark navy one. Both looked very distinguished, but the long black dress that Emma had chosen to wear only accented her pale face and brought out the dark circles beneath her eyes. Charlotte hated thinking such a thing, but the poor girl looked like something dredged up from an old vampire movie.

  In spite of her ill-chosen clothes, though, the young woman’s swollen eyes and the grief-stricken look on her face tugged at Charlotte’s heart.

  Emma spared a brief glance Charlotte’s way, then told her father, “I’m going to my room.”

  “I’d rather you wouldn’t,” he said. “Not just yet. People will be coming by soon, and—”

  Emma shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. “No, please, Daddy, I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t know half those people, and besides, they’re not coming to see me. Please, don’t make me stay down here.”

  The bang, bang, bang of the door knocker echoed throughout the house and Gordon turned to Charlotte. “Would you mind answering the door, please?”

  “Sure,” Charlotte replied. With a sympathetic smile for Emma, she left the room.

  Within minutes after the first group of people arrived, Judith and her partner, Brian Lee, showed up.

  Judith glanced over her shoulder at a group of people coming up the walkway. “Just pretend we’re part of the crowd,” she told Charlotte. “And for goodness sake, don’t let on that I’m your niece. We’re just here to observe.”

  “Sure, I understand,” Charlotte said, as they stepped into the hallway.

  Among the crowd behind Judith and Brian was June, escorted by an older man, who Charlotte assumed was Fred, June’s husband. Everyone but June walked toward the parlor. “Aren’t those the same two detectives who were asking all the questions?” June asked Charlotte.

  Not sure how to answer, Charlotte simply shrugged.

  “So what are they doing here?” June asked.

  “I think it’s standard procedure for the detectives to attend the funeral in a murder case.”

  June’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

  Charlotte swallowed hard at being put on the spot. “I read a lot of mystery books,” she explained.

  June nodded slowly, her gaze following Judith and Brian as they entered the parlor. Then she fixed her eyes on Charlotte. “Now that’s strange. I hadn’t noticed it until just now. That woman detective and you coul
d pass for mother and daughter. Are y’all related?”

  Charlotte had often been mistaken as Judith’s mother, more so than Madeline, and for years it had been a sore point between her and her sister. Since Charlotte didn’t want to outright lie, mostly because she’d never been much good at it, she smiled. “I don’t have a daughter. Just a son.”

  Giving Charlotte one last suspicious look, June walked past her and went into the parlor.

  When Charlotte turned to greet the next group coming up the steps, she was shocked to see Rita Landers and Sally Lawson.

  At first Charlotte didn’t immediately recognize Rita. Her hair was styled differently, and it had been bleached from dark brown to blond. Though the style and color were attractive enough, Charlotte personally thought Rita looked better with brown hair.

  Both women nodded a greeting at Charlotte, then went into the parlor. Within minutes, June returned to the front door. “Can you believe the nerve of that Rita Landers showing up here?” Her eyes flashed in anger. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go check on the food, and I’ll finish greeting the guests? Besides, I don’t think I can stand to be in the same room as Rita.”

  With a nod, Charlotte happily took refuge in the kitchen.

  Later, as Charlotte was checking the parlor for dirty dishes, she spotted Emma sitting by herself near the front window. The young woman looked even more miserable than she had earlier, but evidently, whatever Gordon had said to her had been enough to convince her to stay downstairs.

  Back in the kitchen, Charlotte unloaded the tray of dirty dishes, then began replenishing a crystal platter with the last of the sandwiches from the caterer’s box. The food was disappearing fast, too fast, she thought, as she carried the platter into the dining room and placed it on the table. With one last look at the table, Charlotte turned to go back to the kitchen, but June sidled up beside her before she’d taken two steps.

  “The coffee urn is almost empty,” June said.

  “I’m brewing more,” Charlotte told her, “but this—” She motioned toward the tray of sandwiches. “This is the last of the sandwiches.”

  June shrugged. “Guess I didn’t order enough, but too bad. Maybe once the food is gone, all these people will finally leave.” She glared at Rita Landers, who had cornered Gordon and was having what appeared to be an intimate conversation with him. “Can you believe the nerve of that woman? After all of the trouble she’s caused, and she has the gall to show up here. She was also at the funeral.”

  June’s eyes suddenly grew wide with astonishment. “Well, that just beats all. I didn’t realize that Sally Lawson was here too. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  When Charlotte just stared at her and didn’t answer, June shook her head. “Never mind. Poor Mimi—she’s probably rolling over in her grave.”

  Though Charlotte didn’t feel it was her place to keep tabs on who showed up and who didn’t, for once she agreed with June. Personally, she thought it was a bit tacky for the two women to show up, especially since they both had to know how Mimi had felt about them.

  Back in the kitchen, Charlotte checked the coffeepot, and when she saw that it hadn’t quite finished brewing, she gathered up the empty caterer boxes and carried them outside to the large garbage receptacle near the back door.

  When she reentered the kitchen, three men she didn’t recognize had seated themselves around the kitchen table. Each had a cup of coffee, and each had a small plate piled high with what Charlotte feared were the last of the sandwiches that she’d just put out in the dining room.

  Each man in turn gave her a cursory glance, and she could tell from the expressions on their faces that they had dismissed her as only the hired help, someone not worthy of their concern or attention. Then, they ignored her.

  “What’s this crap I’m hearing about Gordon?” one of the men asked the other two.

  “What’cha heard,” the man across from him said.

  The man lowered his voice. “I heard that the cops think he did it, that he poisoned Mimi.”

  “Uh uh, no way, man,” the second man said.

  “I heard the same thing,” the third man chimed in.

  “So what’s the motive?” the second man asked. “Gotta have a motive. And what kind of evidence do they have on him?”

  “Oh, he’s got motive alright,” the third man said. “About two million motives, a life insurance policy he took out on her last year.”

  The first man shrugged. “So what? If you ask me, that’s not much of a motive, especially considering how much he’s worth.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” the third man said. “I hear he’s been playing the stock market and he’s lost a bundle.”

  “Yeah, well, who hasn’t, but you don’t see me offing my old lady, do you?”

  “No, but you don’t have a little honey on the side either.”

  The second man rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. But that could be just a rumor. Does anyone know who she is?”

  “If they do, they’re not talking, and if they’re smart, they sure as hell won’t talk now, not with the cops breathing down Gordon’s neck.”

  “Hmm, very interesting,” the first man said. “Could be even more interesting if we knew who she was for sure. Might even be good for a little blackmail.”

  The other two men guffawed at the first man’s little joke, and it was all Charlotte could do to keep from giving them a piece of her mind.

  The coffee had finished dripping, so Charlotte welcomed the opportunity to leave the kitchen before she said something she shouldn’t. With a disgusted look directed at the men, she picked up the steaming decanter and carried it into the dining room.

  Was it true after all? she wondered, as she wove her way through the crowd to the coffee urn. Was Gordon having an affair? Charlotte felt her temper spark. And what about the other things the men had said…the two million–dollar insurance policy and his losses in the stock market? Were those things true as well? If so, it was no wonder the police considered him a suspect.

  Charlotte stopped next to the coffee urn and glanced around, her gaze resting on each of the women in the room. Which one? she wondered. Which one was Gordon having an affair with?

  Chapter 12

  Rita Landers was standing near the hallway door. Was she the one? Charlotte wondered. Was she Gordon’s “honey”? Mimi had thought so, had even said as much to June, but Charlotte wasn’t so sure. For one thing, it didn’t make much sense. Why would Gordon have an affair with a woman who had spread such vicious rumors about Mimi, especially when Rita’s penchant for gossip was supposedly the reason he had fired her husband to begin with?

  Charlotte’s gaze roamed the room again until she spotted Sally Lawson standing near the table talking with a woman whom Charlotte didn’t recognize. Was she the one? Had there been more to Mimi and Sally’s feud than just a couple of dead trees? Had the real reason for their feud been over Gordon?

  With a slight shake of her head, Charlotte turned her attention back to the task at hand and poured the coffee into the urn. She’d poured almost half of it when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gordon come through the doorway.

  Charlotte’s grip on the decanter handle tightened, and for a split second, she pictured herself flinging the rest of the hot beverage right in Gordon’s smug, hypocritical face. She’d never actually do it, of course, and she knew she should be ashamed for even thinking of such a thing, but…

  What goes round comes round. If the gossip is true, then Gordon will get his comeuppance one of these days. He will reap what he’s sowed.

  Somewhat comforted by the thought, Charlotte poured the rest of the coffee into the urn. When she returned to the kitchen, she was relieved to see that the three men were no longer there.

  At the sight of the table, though, her lips thinned with irritation. The men were gone, but they’d left a mess, and they had also left half of the sandwiches uneaten on their plates.

  Waste. Charlotte hated was
te of any kind, but especially food. There were far too many hungry people in the world for anyone to carelessly waste food.

  As Charlotte set the decanter on the cabinet next to the sink, for a second she was tempted to gather the uneaten sandwiches and put them back out on the platters in the dining room. After a moment, though, she changed her mind. Besides, someone might see her, and no matter what her personal opinion of Gordon was, he was still her employer. As such, she had an obligation not to do anything that might cause him embarrassment.

  With a grimace, she marched over to the table, and once she scraped all the leftovers onto one plate, she took the plate and dumped the sandwiches into the trash. When she turned to take the plate to the sink, June entered the room.

  “We’re out of coffee, Charlotte,” she said.

  Shaking her head, Charlotte walked to the sink and deposited the plate on top of the others that were already soaking in sudsy water. “That’s impossible,” she told June. “I just finished filling the urn.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Charlotte silently counted to ten to keep her temper in check. “I’m absolutely sure,” she finally said.

  June shrugged. “Why don’t you go ahead and put on another pot to brew anyhow? That way, we’ll be sure we won’t run out.”

  That’s exactly what Charlotte had intended to do, but it irked her that June seemed to take a strange pleasure in exerting her so-called authority.

  Just do your job and ignore her.

  Charlotte forced what she hoped looked like a smile and picked up the decanter.

  “I’ll be back to check on things in a little while,” June told her. Then, with a tight smile of her own, June turned and left the room.

  Charlotte stared out the window as she rinsed out the decanter under the faucet, then filled it with water. The woman really was a pain, and bossy to boot.

  You don’t have a little honey on the side either.

  Maybe June was Gordon’s “honey,” she thought. Come to think of it, June was certainly a likely candidate, especially considering the way she’d stepped right in and taken over the entire Adams family since Mimi’s death.