Authors: Barbara Colley
Polished Off (23 page)
For Louis, his son’s conviction and imprisonment had been the last humiliating straw in a hayfield of problems. He’d disowned Stephen and had had no contact with him for over twenty years.
Only recently, due mostly to Charlotte’s influence and encouragement, had Louis finally made the move to reconcile with his son. As a result, he now had a relationship with his little granddaughter as well.
Charlotte sighed as she parked the van on the side street that flanked Patsy Dufour’s property. Reasons or not, she still couldn’t conceive of abandoning your own flesh and blood.
She switched off the engine but sat staring straight ahead. If she were honest, though, Louis’s lack of family loyalty was just one of the many symptoms of a larger problem between them. She’d called him a chauvinist pig, and she’d meant it. The crack he’d made about the Dubuissons had been totally uncalled for and had only confirmed what she already knew about him but had chosen to ignore.
“Lord save us from the male ego,” she muttered as she finally climbed out of the van and stomped around to the back to collect the cleaning supplies she would need.
The fact that she, a rank amateur and a woman to boot, had been the one to ultimately solve the Dubuisson murder for him was something he was never going to forget, or forgive. He simply couldn’t let it go. Never mind that the whole thing was over and done with.
Charlotte slammed the back door, locked the van, then headed for the gate. At least she could be thankful that she’d been spared from having to testify at the trial. Even now, just the thought of all the publicity that the trial would have attracted made her cringe. But at the last moment, thanks to some plea bargaining between the district attorney and the Dubuissons’ defense lawyer, her testimony hadn’t been necessary after all.
Charlotte paused at the gate. As a witness, she had been expendable, and the sad fact of the matter was that everyone, no matter who they were, was expendable. No one wanted to admit it, but, then, no one liked to face reality, either, especially if that reality included the death of an illusion about themselves.
A heaviness settled in Charlotte’s chest. Had she been fooling herself all along? Had a relationship with Louis just been an illusion? Had she been so desperate for male companionship that she’d ignored the reality of who he really was?
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, like Scarlett in
Gone With the Wind,
she could “think about that tomorrow.”
Gone With the Wind,
she could “think about that tomorrow.”
Taking a firm grip on the gate, she shoved it open. And in spite of the urge to simply turn around, go home, and bury herself beneath the covers of her bed, she forced herself to march up the sidewalk toward the porch. For today, she still had a job to do, and in light of what she’d overheard in Lowell Webster’s office, there were more important, more urgent matters to consider than her relationship with Louis
Thibodeaux.
Thibodeaux.
At the front door Charlotte raised her hand to ring the doorbell, then froze, her forefinger just inches from the bell.
Out of nowhere, it occurred to her to wonder why Patsy had canceled the Tuesday cleaning on the spur of the moment, without prior notice or a reason. Could it have been because Charlotte’s nephew had been arrested for Ricco’s murder?
Not likely, but possible, Charlotte decided. After all, Patsy was, as Jane had pointed out, a spoiled socialite. She might not want to be associated with anyone who had a jailbird in the family. And though Charlotte couldn’t recall offhand if she’d ever mentioned Daniel as being her nephew, she was pretty sure that Nadia had probably done so.
But there was another possibility, too. What if Patsy had conspired to taint Lowell’s reputation and used Ricco to do it, maybe even paid someone to murder him and put him in that urn. Knowing that Daniel, who was innocent, was Charlotte’s nephew, Patsy might not want Charlotte around as a reminder.
Suddenly the front door swung open, giving Charlotte a start. As if her thoughts had conjured Patsy up, there she stood in the doorway.
“I thought I saw you drive up,” Patsy said. “Come on in.” She stepped back to allow Charlotte to pass.
Because Patsy seemed the same as always, Charlotte began to have second thoughts about the reason Patsy had canceled on Tuesday. As usual, she figured she’d let her imagination get out of hand.
But if nothing was different, then why did she feel so uneasy, so self-conscious all of a sudden? Whether the reason was because of the gossip she’d uncovered about Patsy and Lowell or because of what she’d overheard in Lowell’s office, she couldn’t be sure.
Probably just guilt, she concluded as she followed Patsy down the hallway. Guilt because she’d broken one of her cardinal rules and had given in to the temptation to gossip and be an all-around nosy busybody.
“I have to leave in a few minutes,” Patsy said once they were in the kitchen. “I’ll probably be gone most of the day, but I should be back by the time you finish up.”
Charlotte had always found the physical labor involved in cleaning to be soothing, and by the time Patsy returned from her errands after lunch, Charlotte was packing up her supplies, and her melancholy mood, along with her paranoia about Patsy, had abated somewhat.
At the van, she had just finished loading her supplies when her cell phone rang. Charlotte slammed the back door of the van closed, retrieved her phone from her purse, and pressed the TALK button.
“Maid-for-a-Day. Charlotte speaking,” she said as she walked around to the driver’s side.
“Aunt Charley, it’s me.”
Judith. Now wouldn’t it be just like Louis to call and blab about her early-morning escapade in Lowell Webster’s office to Judith.
“I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time, Auntie.”
“No, hon. I’m just finishing up at Patsy Dufour’s house.” Though tempted to outright ask Judith if Louis had called her, Charlotte held her tongue. If by chance, he hadn’t, then Judith would want an explanation as to why she’d asked in the first place.
“Well, I don’t have but a minute to talk,” Judith continued. “But I wanted to let you know that I plan on picking up Davy to give you a break tonight.”
Charlotte frowned and leaned against the van. “Are you sure, hon? He really hasn’t been any trouble.”
“I’m sure,” Judith replied. “I figured he and I would spend tonight at Mom’s, just in case I get called out. I think she’s ready now to take on some of the responsibility for him.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Did your mother put you up to calling me?”
“Well, I—yes, ma’am, she did.”
“Because she knew that I’d give her the third degree,” Charlotte grumbled. “She hasn’t exactly kept it secret how she feels about Daniel’s marriage or his new stepson.”
“If it will make you feel any better, I’ll be there to run interference, Auntie.”
“I suppose I have very little choice in the matter, as I’m sure that your brother insisted that she take her turn or else.” Knowing how forthright Daniel could be, Charlotte was positive that was exactly what he’d done.
“I’m pleading the fifth on that one,” Judith responded, which in and of itself, was an admission, Charlotte figured.
“Ah, Judith, what about his clothes and his toothbrush? And his toys,” she added.
“We’ll just make do for tonight, and if things work out, then I’ll pick them up tomorrow. But right now, I do have to run. Love you, Aunt Charley. And we’ll be talking.”
“Love you too, hon. Bye now.” Charlotte slowly lowered the phone and pressed the button that ended the call. Slipping the phone into her purse, she shoved away from the van and climbed inside.
She’d only had Davy a few days, and she should be grateful for a break. So why did she feel as if she were abandoning him? Why the sudden feeling of loss? And why, after over twenty years of living by herself, did the thought of returning to her empty house alone suddenly bother her?
Charlotte started up the van and pulled away from the curb. Maybe she should give Hank a call tonight. Talking to her son might help. And even better, maybe it was time for her to come right out and tell him she wanted a grandchild instead of just hinting around about it.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered. “Even the thought of such a conversation with her uptight son brought a smile to her lips, a smile that lasted all the way to Milan Street.
As she approached her house, her smile quickly faded. Sitting on the front-porch swing was Louis Thibodeaux. Charlotte grimaced, and only then did she face the real truth about the reason for her depressed mood.
Chapter Seventeen
“
R
idiculous” Charlotte muttered. But even as she tried to deny that Louis was the reason for her melancholy mood as well as the main reason she hadn’t wanted to go home, the thought of another confrontation with him was more than she could handle at the moment.
R
idiculous” Charlotte muttered. But even as she tried to deny that Louis was the reason for her melancholy mood as well as the main reason she hadn’t wanted to go home, the thought of another confrontation with him was more than she could handle at the moment.
For a split second she was sorely tempted to simply keep on driving past her house. But to what purpose? She’d have to go home eventually anyway.
Charlotte slowed the van and turned into her driveway. Unlike Nadia, she’d never believed that running away from a problem solved anything. Avoiding Louis wasn’t the answer. Besides, the house belonged to her. And there was nothing written in stone that said she had to talk to him right that moment. Later, when she’d had time to deal with her feelings about the situation, then she’d talk to him.
The minute she switched off the engine, she grabbed her purse, climbed out of the van, and hurried around to the back door. Once inside, she locked the door and headed straight for the shower.
Even with the shower running full blast, she heard him pounding on the front door. Too bad, she thought. He could pound on it until his knuckles bled for all she cared, but she wasn’t talking to him until she was good and ready.
The pounding finally stopped, but by the time she’d dried off, the phone was ringing. Her first instinct was to answer it, just in case the call was about work or news about Daniel. Grabbing her robe, she hurried into the living room just as the answering machine picked up the call.
After the initial greeting, the machine beeped, and, “Charlotte, this is your friendly chauvinist pig calling.”
In spite of herself, a grin pulled at Charlotte’s lips, and she unconsiously began fingering the satin trim of her robe.
“I know you’re home,” he continued, “and I know you’re avoiding me on purpose.”
“You got that right,” she muttered, glaring at the machine.
“I guess I can’t much blame you after this morning, but all I want is to apologize. Honest.”
Her fingers stilled, then balled into a fist. “Too bad,” she grumbled.
“I guess I—” He hesitated for what seemed like forever, then, “Just give me a call when you’re ready to talk.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she told the machine as it beeped and clicked off. Oh, she’d call him eventually. There was no way of avoiding it forever. But only when she was good and ready.
Without Davy around, the house seemed strangely quiet and empty that evening, and Charlotte couldn’t help worrying about him and wondering how he was adjusting to his new surroundings. Even Sweety Boy seemed to sense that something was amiss. Inside his cage he paced restlessly back and forth along his perch.
“Aw, you poor thing.” Charlotte approached his cage. “Maybe you need some exercise. Want out for a while?” She opened the cage door, and the little parakeet immediately made a dash for the opening.
The moment Sweety Boy was free, Charlotte watched in amazement as she followed his flight from room to room. Was it possible that Sweety was searching for Davy?
Only after he’d been in each room did he finally settle down enough to light on the cuckoo clock above the sofa, his favorite out-of-cage perch. After watching the antics of the little bird, Charlotte concluded that, yes, such a thing was possible. Like her, the little bird missed Davy.
During the long evening, Charlotte tried her best to occupy herself with a bit of reading and television, anything to keep from dwelling on Davy, or on Louis, or especially on the conversation she’d overheard in Lowell Webster’s office.
She was mentally and physically tired, and to add to her problems, her blood-sugar level was higher than normal. Since she couldn’t think of anything that she’d eaten that could have caused the higher level, she figured the reason had to be stress.
Time and time again she found herself heading for the phone with the intention of calling her sister to check on Davy. But each time she walked away without doing so. For all intents and purpose, Madeline was his grandmother now, and the sooner the two of them got used to each other without interference, the better.
Exhausted, she’d finally made up her mind to simply go to bed, but as she was coaxing Sweety Boy back into his cage, the phone rang.
Charlotte recognized Nadia’s voice right away. “Turn on your cell phone,” Nadia told her. Then she hung up.
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