Maid for Murder (20 page)
Authors: Barbara Colley
When Judith continued working and didn’t look up or say anything, Charlotte began to wonder if her niece had forgotten about her even being there.
Should she interrupt Judith, or should she simply wait? Charlotte wondered as all around her officers came and went, computer keyboards clicked away, and the phones rang. Probably best to wait, she decided.
With nothing better to do at the moment, Charlotte glanced around and took in the details of the room. One whole side of the long room was a bank of uncovered windows. The windows, along with the white walls and light gray tiled floor, conspired to give the room an open, airy atmosphere.
Except for the cluttered work stations, the place appeared, for the most part, to be clean. No dust that she could see, and the floor looked freshly mopped and waxed. Yep, clean, all except for . . .
Her gaze zeroed in on the desk area in front of her. Disgusting, she thought. Totally disgusting. Compared to Judith’s neatly organized area and the rest of the room, it was a pigsty, and whoever usually sat there had to be a slob, she decided.
Whoever sat there . . .
Louis Thibodeaux. Of course. Who else?
That’s just great, she thought. Not only was the man rude and abrasive, but he was a slob to boot. She shuddered, then her gaze flew to the doorway. She didn’t remember seeing him when she came in, but what if he showed up while she was there? She’d never get Judith to tell her anything if he was around.
“Earth to Aunt Charley.”
With a start, Charlotte suddenly realized that Judith was talking to her.
“Oh, sorry, hon. Did you say something?”
“Are you okay? You looked a little sick for a moment there.”
Charlotte waved away Judith’s concern. “I’m fine. Just woolgathering, I guess,” she added, then laughed. “Having one of those senior moments.”
Judith smiled but still didn’t look quite convinced. “What was it, now, that you wanted to tell me about Mother?”
“She’s decided to go into business for herself. She’s going to move into the other half of the double and work there.”
“In other words, she got fired.”
Charlotte frowned. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact she did, but how did you know?”
“I know my mother, and after all, I am a detective, Auntie. The way I figure it, she found out about my father’s new wife, got all depressed, probably didn’t show up for work, and ended up getting fired.”
“You got all that just from her deciding to go into business for herself? I’m impressed.”
Judith grimaced. “Don’t be. Like I said, I know my mother.”
“Oh, honey, how did you get to be so cynical at such a young age?”
Judith shrugged. “Comes with the territory.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but at that moment, the phone on her desk trilled.
Judith answered it, but her conversation was short, and as she hung up the receiver, she said, “The food’s here. The delivery boy is waiting by the front desk.”
“That was fast.” Charlotte stood and grabbed her purse. “I’ll go take care of it,” she said, then motioned toward the stack of files in front of her niece. “You just go ahead with whatever you’re doing.”
Judith stood. “I’ll have to come with you, Auntie. They don’t like civilians roaming around on their own.”
The huge po-boys were made with freshly baked French bread overstuffed with fried oysters and dressed with lettuce, onions, mayonnaise, and thick slices of tomatoes.
“Just one of these would have been more than enough for the both of us,” Judith said as she bit into her sandwich. “Hmm,” she groaned with pleasure, and Charlotte smiled.
“I’d be willing to bet that you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, now, did you?”
Judith shook her head and managed to say, “No,” and chew at the same time, all without opening her mouth.
By the time she had eaten her fill, Charlotte couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer, but even so, she didn’t want to appear too eager. “So, did you get that autopsy report back on Jackson,” she said, striving for an offhanded attitude as she carefully wrapped the remainder of her sandwich and stuffed it back into the small paper sack.
Judith was still chewing, but she nodded, then swallowed. “That’s why I’ve been up to my eyeballs around here. From the size of the wound, it appears that the official cause of death was the result of a blow to the head from some type of heavy blunt instrument.” Judith took a drink out of her canned Coke.
“We suspected as much, of course,” she continued, dropping the empty can in a wastebasket beside her desk, “but there was so little blood splatter that we weren’t sure. What we didn’t know was that the weapon used measures about four inches wide. Even so, there were no fibers or anything embedded in the wound to give us a clue as to exactly what type of weapon was used.”
Judith stared into space at a point just past Charlotte’s shoulder, her face a picture of concentration, and Charlotte could well imagine gears and wheels turning in her niece’s head. “It also seems that our Mr. Dubuisson was full of barbiturates,” she said, almost as if she were thinking out loud. “Not enough to kill him but just enough to knock him out.”
Judith’s voice trailed away, and a sick feeling spread through Charlotte. “Why?” she asked.
Judith suddenly frowned as if she’d just remembered her aunt’s presence. “Why did someone kill him if he was already unconscious?”
Charlotte nodded.
“That’s the million-dollar question right now. But if what we suspect holds true, then we just might be on the right track to catching his killer.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “You know who did it?”
“Let’s just say that we think the barbiturates were in the bottle of scotch. It’s being analyzed now. And I personally think that papers were missing out of the safe because there was something in there that had to do with the money Jackson had been taking from the firm, money that—”
“Tony Marriott?” Charlotte exclaimed. If Tony Marriott was on the hot seat now, that meant that suspicion had shifted from Jeanne. “But what about his alibi?”
“Yes, well, that is a sticky point, and unfortunately, no fingerprints other than Jackson’s were found on the bottle. Louis is down at the marina now trying to find someone who might be able to blow holes in Marriott’s alibi.”
“Well, if anyone can bully the truth out of someone, that partner of yours can.”
Judith frowned thoughtfully. “You don’t like him very much, do you?”
“Like who?”
“Come on, Aunt Charley. You know who I mean. Lou—Louis Thibodeaux, my partner.”
Charlotte shrugged and felt her cheeks grow warm. “What’s to like? Or dislike,” she quickly added. “I don’t even know the man.”
Judith’s eyes narrowed. “Or could it be that you like him a little too much?” she said shrewdly.
Charlotte felt a full-fledged flush inching up her neck and tasted a hot denial on her tongue. Then she recalled some old saying about a person protesting too much and decided against reacting to Judith’s question at all. She made a show of checking her watch instead.
“Good grief,” she said. “Look what time it is.” She abruptly stood and gathered her purse and the sack with her leftover sandwich. “I’m supposed to help your mother clean up the other half of the double this afternoon. Hopefully, Hank and your brother can move her in this weekend. But she’s already upset Sweety Boy once this morning, and I don’t want him upset again.”
Charlotte knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. But even worse was seeing the knowing grin spreading on Judith’s face.
“He’s not married, you know,” Judith told her. “And he’ll have a pretty decent pension once he retires.”
“That’s enough, young lady. It’s not nice to tease an old woman.”
“You old? Ha! That’s a funny one if I ever heard one.”
“Getting older by the moment,” Charlotte groused. “Only five more months and I’ll turn the big six-o.”
Judith shoved out of her chair and walked over to Charlotte. “You’ll never be old, Aunt Charley.” She hugged her. “And I’m sorry for teasing you.” She pulled away and smiled. “Forgive me?”
“Of course,” Charlotte replied, then grinned. “After all, you are my favorite niece.”
Judith laughed. “Just like Daniel’s your favorite nephew and Hank’s your favorite son.”
Judith walked Charlotte back down the hallway to the elevator by the front desk. To Charlotte’s surprise, her niece stepped into the elevator with her, then punched the first-floor button.
“I’ll ride down with you,” she said as the doors closed. “Besides, I almost forgot to tell you that we haven’t caught up with Brian O’Connor yet, but we did talk to his father. I’m afraid that’s another brick wall, though. His father claims that Brian took him to visit some out-of-town relatives that night. Like everyone else involved in this case, he has an alibi, too.”
Charlotte just shook her head. “You certainly have your work cut out for you, don’t you, hon?”
Judith nodded. “Goes with the territory. It’s in the job description.”
The elevator arrived at the first floor, and the doors slid open. Charlotte stepped out, but Judith stayed inside, her finger on the OPEN button. “Speaking of jobs,” Judith said. “Specifically my mother’s new so-called career.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “What about it?”
“Well, I know it’s none of my business, and I love her dearly, but we both know how my mother operates.” Judith grimaced. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, just don’t let her take advantage of you, not again.” She paused, and suddenly looking uncomfortable, she added, “And one more thing, Auntie. I know I don’t have to say it, but I really shouldn’t have discussed the details of this case with you—policy and all that—so—”
Charlotte nodded, then made a zipping motion with her finger across her lips. “My lips are sealed.”
Chapter
Fifteen
Fifteen
C
harlotte was climbing into her van when a familiar-looking blue Ford Taurus pulled into an empty parking space beside her. When the driver’s door opened and Louis Thibodeaux got out, she cringed, recalling Judith’s teasing. For a split second, the urge to duck down out of sight came over her.
harlotte was climbing into her van when a familiar-looking blue Ford Taurus pulled into an empty parking space beside her. When the driver’s door opened and Louis Thibodeaux got out, she cringed, recalling Judith’s teasing. For a split second, the urge to duck down out of sight came over her.
But Charlotte never had been the type to hide or run from a confrontation of any kind, whether real or imagined. Still thinking about Judith’s teasing remarks, she ignored the butterflies jumping in her stomach and forced herself to sit there and wait, just to see if he would notice her.
He didn’t notice her ... or anything else for that matter. He didn’t even glance her way. His craggy face was a picture of intense concentration as he hitched up his pants, then strode purposefully toward the station house.
She waited until he disappeared around the corner of the building before she started the van. Feeling relieved yet oddly disappointed, she drove out of the parking lot and into the street.
Or could it be that you like him a little too much?
Charlotte thought about Judith’s words all the way down Martin Luther King Boulevard to St. Charles Avenue. While she waited at the stop sign for a break in the traffic, she wondered if it were possible to be both repelled and attracted to someone at the same time.
“I’m too old for this stuff,” she muttered, tapping her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Besides, if she’d guessed right and the messy desk next to Judith did belong to Louis Thibodeaux, the man was a total slob. What’s more, she’d had her love of a lifetime with Hank’s father. Though she’d had several relationships since, when all was said and done, no one had ever measured up to the memories of her son’s father. No one had ever even come close to tempting her into the more permanent institution of marriage.
The blast of a car horn shook her out of her reverie. Ignoring the little voice that said she could be wrong, that the desk might not have been his and Louis Thibodeaux might measure up if given a chance, Charlotte pulled onto St. Charles Avenue.
For the rest of her drive home, Charlotte shied away from thinking about her niece’s partner and tried concentrating on what she’d learned from Judith instead. As she dissected each piece of information about the ongoing investigation into Jackson’s murder, especially the part about the barbiturates in the Scotch, something niggled at the back of her mind. But the more she tried to pinpoint what bothered her about it, the more elusive it became.
Then there was Brian O’Connor, she thought, slowing to a stop for a red light. She could still see the intent look on his face as he’d watched Anna-Maria and James. Had she imagined it, or had that look been more than simple curiosity or admiration for a pretty girl?
Sneaking around down on the porch . . . spying.
Spying on whom? Charlotte wondered as Clarice’s accusations came to mind. Spying on Anna-Maria because he’d somehow found out that she was his daughter? Or spying on Jackson to learn his habits because Brian had more sinister things on his mind? More sinister things, like murder?
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