Gavin Brown grinned. “That’s great.”
Then, with a shudder, she told him about her harrowing ordeal with Toby, and how she’d escaped.
A puzzled frown came over his face. “Now, tell me, once again, what you used on him.”
“A cheese grater and some bleach.”
The detective visibly shuddered. “Humph, remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Charlotte’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t want to have to hurt him,” she cried.
“Hey—” He reached over and patted her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with defending yourself. With what you’ve told me, along with Ms. Sanders’s testimony, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get the death penalty.”
“Ms. Sanders? As in Dawn Sanders?”
He nodded. “Yep, that’s why I didn’t answer your calls right away. Dawn Sanders showed up this afternoon and turned herself in. More than likely I was interrogating her when you called. Seems she knew all along that Toby—Alex Scott—was planning something, but she didn’t realize that he was going to murder anyone, not until you and Benny showed up and started asking questions. She thought he was out to prove that Nick and Angel killed his sister. After she talked to y’all, she got to feeling really guilty and decided that this time, she’d do the right thing.”
“That sure explains a lot,” Charlotte said, thinking of the second time that she had tried to talk to Dawn and the way Dawn’s stepfather had acted toward Benny and her.
“Yeah, well, it explains more than you know. Seems that Toby, a.k.a. Alex Scott, has been planning this for years. While he was in prison, he learned how to forge a new identity from another inmate. Through yet another inmate’s outside connections, he was able to get a recommendation when he applied for the job of being Angel’s bodyguard.”
“I had wondered about that,” Charlotte admitted.
Gavin Brown nodded, then continued. “It seems that once Ms. Sanders started visiting him and he found out that she had been hired to take care of Angel’s mother, he had the perfect way of keeping up with Angel and Nick—their whereabouts and such. So he strung her along, letting her think he really cared about her. After he got out of prison, though, he disappeared. That’s when Ms. Sanders realized that he’d probably been using her all along.”
“Poor Dawn,” Charlotte murmured, truly feeling sorry for the young woman. Then she frowned. “Seems like Toby—Alex—really perfected the art of using people. I wonder if it’s possible that he was using that tabloid reporter, Bruce King, as well. I can’t prove it, but I think Bruce King is the one who leaked my name to the press.”
“He was,” the detective confirmed. “After that leak happened, I brought him in for questioning. Let’s just say that after I got through with him, he won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“Good. Serves him right. But back to Dawn. What’s going to happen to her now?”
“If what she’s told us checks out, then nothing will happen to her, except that Angel will probably fire her.”
“Too bad,” Charlotte said. “She really seemed to care for Laura Pate. So, what about Angel?”
Gavin Brown checked his watch. “I’d say, right about now, Benny is picking her up at the jail.”
“Oh, wow, that’s great!” Charlotte grinned. No wonder Benny had been in such a hurry.” Then another thought occurred to her and her grin slid into a frown. “I’ve got a question,” she said. “If it turns out that Nick and Angel were the ones who ran over Alex’s sister, what will happen to Angel?”
“Afraid I don’t have an answer for that one. That would be up to the county prosecutor where the murder occurred.” He glanced at his watch and stood up. “Guess that’s about all the questions I have for now, but as the case progresses, I may have more.”
Charlotte nodded and stood as well. “Ah, I hate to bring this up, but I never did finish cleaning the downstairs.”
The detective shook his head. “Not today. I’ve got the crime scene team on their way back over here. Give me a call in the morning, and I’ll let you know then if you can finish up here.”
All the way home, Charlotte kept telling herself that it was just as well that she didn’t have to work anymore that evening. For one thing, she was bone-tired, physically and emotionally; for another thing, all she could think about was a hot shower, her pajamas, and her bed.
Once inside her house, Charlotte saw that, for a change, there were no new messages on her answering machine. She sighed. She still needed to call Hank and Bitsy.
“And Bert,” she grumbled, dreading that particular call. “But first, a nice glass of iced tea,” she told Sweety Boy.
After spending an hour on the phone with Hank and Bitsy, Charlotte decided to wait to call Bert the next day. The call to Hank wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, but the call to Bitsy was a nightmare. Bitsy was still upset about her antique rug being ruined.
“Might as well throw it away,” she had complained. “And I’ve been thinking about something else as well. Now that someone was actually killed in my house, I’m not sure I want to live there anymore.”
It had taken Charlotte more time than she’d wanted to spend calming Bitsy and reassuring her that no, ghosts weren’t going to haunt her house just because someone was murdered there.
Even more tired after her phone conversations, Charlotte headed for the shower.
In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and frowned. “Great. That’s just great,” she murmured, stretching her head first to one side, then the other, as she inspected the wide purple bruises around her neck.
Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes. Up until that moment, she hadn’t let herself think about how close to being murdered she’d come. With a sob, Charlotte reached up and swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. Both Hank and Louis would have a conniption once they saw those bruises. Maybe she could wear a scarf until the bruises faded.
“Yeah, sure,” she murmured, stepping into the shower. Since she didn’t own any scarves, she’d have to buy some first. Maybe makeup would hide the bruises.
A good twenty minutes later, she felt a lot more human after her extra-long shower, but her crying jag had completely drained her.
“Bed,” she whispered, turning back the covers of her bed. And sleep. Things always looked better after a good night’s sleep.
Suddenly, the ringing of the telephone broke the silence. With a sigh, Charlotte went into the living room and picked up the receiver. “Maid-for-a-Day, Charlotte LaRue speaking,” she said into the receiver.
“Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”
Louis. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she countered.
“Well, I hear that you did some major damage to Angel’s bodyguard this afternoon.”
Samantha O’Reilly. Had to be. The woman might be a tiny thing, but she sure had a big mouth. “I would suspect that by now he’s Angel’s ex-bodyguard,” Charlotte said. “I did what I had to do.”
“I know you did, Charlotte. I mostly just wanted to make sure that you were okay and congratulate you.”
“Congratulate me?”
“Yeah. After all, you solved a high-profile murder, freed an innocent woman, and beat up the bad guy.”
“Sam did most of the beating up the bad guy,” she retorted.
“Not the way I hear it. Anyway, I also want to ask you out to dinner tomorrow evening—kind of a celebration. And before you say no, I’ve already made reservations at Commander’s.”
Commander’s Palace, one of her most favorite restaurants in the city. A warm fuzzy feeling spread within her. What a sweet gesture.
“Would about seven be a good time?”
Would it be a good time? Charlotte thought back over the past several days. Seeing and talking to Laura Pate had made her realize, more than ever before, that life is short. Laura’s predicament had also made her rethink her life, specifically. Yesterday was gone; Hank’s father was gone. Had been gone for almost a lifetime. Maybe it was high t
ime—past time—for her to stop holding on to something that never could be. And just maybe it was time for her to start living for today and looking forward to the future.
“Hello? Charlotte, are you still there?”
“Yes, Louis. And yes, I’d love to go to Commander’s with you.”
“So it’s a date?”
She managed a smile. “See you tomorrow evening.”
“Now, go get some rest, woman.”
“Good night, Louis.”
First thing Thursday morning, Charlotte phoned Gavin Brown. “Well? she asked. “Is it okay to finish up at Mrs. Duhè’s house this morning?”
“Yes, it’s okay. We’ve got everything we need from there.”
“Great! Just one thing, though. What about that antique rug, the one Nick was on top of?”
“Sorry, but we’re going to have to keep that for a while.”
Charlotte sighed. “Well, when you’re finished with it, you can check with Mrs. Duhè, but I don’t think she wants it back.”
“Will do. Now, you take care, Charlotte LaRue, and try to stay out of trouble, if you can.”
“Bye, Detective Brown.” Charlotte hung up the receiver, but she could hear him laughing before the call disconnected. “Ha! Ha! Ha!” she told Sweety Boy. “He thinks he’s so funny.”
She stared at the phone. She still needed to call Bert. “Might as well get that over with,” she said, dreading the call. She tapped out his phone number. After several rings, the phone switched to voice mail.
“Hey, there, this is Bert. I’m busy right now, so leave a message.”
Charlotte grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It was the coward’s way out, but it would be much easier to simply leave a message than to actually have to tell Bert that she wasn’t interested in a relationship with him.
“Hi, Bert. This is Charlotte LaRue, returning your call. Listen, the flowers you sent were beautiful. But just knowing that you’re doing well is all the thanks I need. And, Bert, don’t close yourself off from people. Out there somewhere is someone who is just as lonesome as you are. Now I really must go. Best of luck to you.”
Charlotte hung up the receiver and sighed. Had she been too subtle? Surely her message was clear enough to get the point across. At least she hoped it was. As for the second bouquet of flowers he’d ordered, maybe she’d have the florist deliver them to her church or to a local hospital.
“For now, though,” she told Sweety Boy, “I’ve got to go to work.”
That afternoon, Charlotte treated herself to a hot bubble bath, and languished in the tub until most of the bubbles were gone. By six thirty she was fully dressed and getting more nervous by the minute. Would Louis notice the bruises on her neck? She hoped not.
She walked over to her dresser and looked at her reflection in the mirror for the third time in the last five minutes. Satisfied that the bruises didn’t show, thanks to the makeup she’d used, she turned a bit to check out her silhouette. Though the solid navy, silk dress she’d chosen to wear was a few years old, it was a classic, the kind that never went out of style. The dress, along with her pearl earrings and the matching pearl necklace, always made her feel elegant and sophisticated.
“You look just fine,” she told her reflection. “For Pete’s sake, it’s just Louis, so get over yourself.”
It was ten till seven when Louis knocked on her door. “You look really nice,” he told her when she opened the door.
“Thank you,” she replied. “You don’t look so bad yourself.
The short drive to Commander’s didn’t take long. Once there, Louis requested that they be given a table in the Garden Room.
Charlotte smiled as the maître d’ escorted them up the stairs to their table. Commander’s was divided into several different dining areas on two floor levels. Some were small, others large, some private, some open, but of all the rooms, Louis knew that the one on the second floor called the Garden Room was her favorite.
Once they were seated at one of the small tables, Charlotte glanced around. The large, spacious room, with its walls of mirrors, white latticework, and huge windows had been designed to enhance the outdoor setting of oaks and palms visible through the windows. She hadn’t been there for dinner since the renovations after Hurricane Katrina, so she was pleased to see that it was just as beautiful and elegant as ever.
When the waiter asked for their drink order, Charlotte was surprised to hear Louis request a bottle of champagne.
“You really meant it when you said we were going to celebrate, didn’t you?”
For an answer, he simply smiled.
Several minutes passed, and Charlotte realized that she was perfectly content with the silence. With Louis, she didn’t feel the need to keep up an ongoing conversation.
At that moment the waiter arrived with the champagne. Once he’d popped the cork and poured them each a glass, Louis told him, “Give us a few minutes; then we’ll order.”
The man nodded, then left.
“This is really nice,” Charlotte said. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Louis reached across the table and took both of Charlotte’s hands in his. His warm hands swallowed hers, and for the first time that evening, a prickly feeling of suspicion tiptoed up her spine.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Louis sighed and gently squeezed her hands. “I’m a little nervous. Just give me a minute.”
Louis nervous? About what? Then, suddenly, like the winds of a category-five hurricane, it hit her, and she knew what all of this was leading up to. At least she thought she knew. If her suspicions were right, then how could she have been so clueless, what with all of those phone calls to check on her, the good-bye kisses, and such? Whether her suspicions were right or wrong, deep within a feeling that she’d long thought dead blossomed. “Now you’re making me nervous,” she told him.
“Don’t be. I’m nervous enough for the both of us.” He cleared his throat, then looked deep into her eyes. “How long have we known each other now?” he asked.
Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Several years, I guess.”
“Long enough for me to tell you that I love you?”
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat, and all she could do was stare at him.
“Long enough for me to ask you to marry me?” he persisted.
She managed a shrug. “I—I suppose so.”
“I do love you,” he told her. “I’ve known it for a while now, but couldn’t work up the courage to tell you. I’m not the greatest catch in the world, and you probably deserve a lot better than some old, worn-out, retired detective, but will you marry me?”
Tears sprang to her eyes as the realization swept through her that she loved Louis too. But marriage? At her age? For Pete’s sake, she’d just started drawing her Social Security.
So what? Big deal. What does age have to do with it?
For once, she didn’t want to argue with the aggravating voice in her head. In fact, she decided that the voice was absolutely right on.
“You’re not that old or worn out,” she told Louis. “If you are, then I am too. I—I’m no spring chicken, though. That’s for sure,” she finished in a whisper.
He simply smiled. “Neither am I.”
He gently released her hands, and then slipped one of his into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small black velvet box. He opened it and removed a solitaire diamond ring. “So, how about it?” He held the sparkling ring out to her. “Are you going to marry me?”
Charlotte swallowed hard. The gold ring was gorgeous in its simplicity. The diamond was large enough to be noticeable, but not so large that it looked fake.
“Yes,” she said firmly, and held out her left hand for him to slide the ring on.
Hank’s father would always be her first love, but there was more than enough room in her heart for Louis as well. God willing, Louis would be her last love.
This time she reached out acr
oss the table for his hands. Her heart overflowing with joy, she squeezed them tightly, and whispered, “Just so you know, I do love you too.”
* * *
A Cleaning Tip from Charlotte
The next time you clean mirrors or something made of glass, use a single coffee filter with your window cleaner instead of a paper towel. Unlike paper towels, coffee filters are lint free. Also, a package of coffee filters costs a lot less than a roll of paper towels.
* * *
Recipe
Each year Charlotte bakes her son, Hank, a special cake for his birthday.
RED VELVET CAKE
Makes 12 large or 16 small slices.
1½ cups sugar
½ cup vegetable shortening
2 ounces red food coloring
2 eggs, unbeaten
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cocoa
1 cup buttermilk
3 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon vinegar
Cream sugar and shortening together until light and fluffy; add the food coloring and unbeaten eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Set aside. Sift together 3 times: flour, salt, and cocoa. Add dry ingredients alternately with buttermilk to the sugar mixture and mix well. Add the vanilla and beat well at least 2 minutes. In a separate bowl, dissolve soda in vinegar, and then gently fold mixture into cake batter. Don’t beat. Pour batter into 2 (or 3) well-greased and floured round cake pans, then bake in a 350-degree F oven for approximately 35 minutes. Cool completely before icing.
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