Authors: Barbara Colley
Polished Off (27 page)
“But I also figured you’d be interested in knowing the latest development in this Ricco murder mess,” she said.
“Now, why on earth would someone like me be interested? ” Charlotte retorted.
“Aw, come on, Auntie. Don’t be like that.”
After a moment, Charlotte finally relented, but only up to a point. “Okay, you’ve apologized, Judith. Now, if you’ll excuse me ...”
When Charlotte didn’t budge or say anything further, Judith crossed her arms and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“Auntie, can I please come inside?”
It was rare that Judith ever resorted to pleading, and to hear her do so made Charlotte feel like the wicked witch of the West.
Feeling guilty and ashamed, Charlotte shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She stepped back, and once Judith was inside, Charlotte closed the door and locked it. Then she faced her niece. “As long as you’re here, we might as well have some iced tea.” Without waiting for Judith’s reply, she turned to head for the kitchen.
“Aw, come on Auntie.” Judith cried as she stomped her foot. “Like I said. Enough’s enough, and I’ve had enough of that cold-shoulder routine from my mother to last a lifetime. ”
Being compared to Madeline brought Charlotte up short and sparked her temper all over again. She whirled to face Judith. “First I get treated like a moron by you and Louis, and now you’re comparing me to your mother. Well, for your information, young lady, I am not a moron. And I don’t appreciate being compared to your mother, either. I don’t deserve that, not after all I’ve done for you and your brother over the years.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Charlotte immediately wished them back again, and, to add further humiliation, sudden unwanted tears sprang into her eyes. The last thing she’d meant to do was to suggest in any way, shape, or form that she resented her role in Judith or Daniel’s lives. Hoping that Judith hadn’t noticed her tears, she bowed her head and blinked furiously.
But it was too late. Judith took a firm grip on Charlotte’s arm. “Oh, Auntie, don’t—I’m so, so sorry. And you’re right—you didn’t deserve what you got. Not yesterday, and certainly not that crack about my mother. Not any of the rest of it, either,” she whispered as her voice trailed away.
It wasn’t so much what Judith said, but how she’d said it that made Charlotte’s chest grow tight with even more regret and made her wish again that she could take back her angry words.
When she lifted her head to face Judith and saw tears well within Judith’s eyes, she pulled her niece into her arms. “I’m sorry too, hon.” She hugged her hard. “For yesterday, and for all the yesterdays. You and Daniel are like my own children, and I don’t want you to ever think—not for a moment—that I resented helping raise you, because I didn’t. I love you and your brother.” She pulled away and tilted her head, searching for some kind of response from Judith. But Judith had closed her eyes. “Are you listening to me?” Charlotte asked. “Do you hear what I’m saying?”
After a moment, Judith sniffed, then finally opened her eyes. “I guess deep down, I’ve always known that, but it’s just that—”
“No buts!” Charlotte firmly shook her head. “We’re family, and families have their ups and downs, and their squabbles. And they sometimes say foolish things that they don’t mean. That’s just being human. But that doesn’t mean they love each other any less. Okay?”
Only when Judith finally nodded did Charlotte release her. “Now, why don’t you go to the bathroom and blow your nose, then tell me about this new development?”
Within minutes, Judith joined Charlotte in the kitchen. “Thanks,” she said as Charlotte placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of her. Once Charlotte was seated, Judith began. “I got a call from the chief early this morning. He wanted me to come in for a talk.”
“Sounds serious.”
Judith shrugged. “Serious enough, I guess. What he called talking ended up being a speech which was really a lecture and warning, one that was short and to the point. It seems that there’s been a complaint filed against me by Mark and Lowell Webster—for harassment, of all things. Bottom line, I’m forbidden to go anywhere near either one of them again.”
“But I thought you only questioned Mark Webster. So why would Lowell Webster file a complaint, too? Especially for harassment.”
Judith shook her head. “Search me. All I did was ask Mark Webster a few pointed questions. I swear, that’s all I did.”
“So why would they feel the need to file a complaint just because you asked a few questions involving a murder investigation? ” Charlotte probed. “Very interesting ... and suspicious, if you ask me. I hope you reminded that chief of yours that asking questions is what you get paid for.”
Judith’s face went grim. “Oh, I reminded him all right. But all he did was repeat what he’d said to begin with, only louder. Then he ordered me out of his office.” Judith leaned forward. “But that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Now get this. I’m on my way out of the chief’s office when guess who I run into?” Before Charlotte could respond, Judith answered. “None other than Will Richeaux. Now tell me, Auntie, just what do you think the odds are of that happening bright and early on a Saturday morning? I’m here to tell you the odds are zero, which leads me to believe that Richeaux already knew about my talk with the chief ahead of time.” She narrowed her eyes. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet my last dime from the way he was smirking that he’s the one behind that meeting and the complaints.”
“But why? Just to tick you off because of your—your—”
“Affair, Auntie. The word’s affair. And that’s certainly a good possibility. Sour grapes and all that. But there’s no way of knowing. Not for sure, anyway. And if that’s true, why now? It’s been months since I stopped seeing him. That’s a lot of trouble to go to just to get back at someone who dumped you.”
“Hmm ... maybe not,” Charlotte murmured as she stared at her glass of tea and drummed her fingers against the tabletop. If she could believe the gossip, Patsy Dufour had been waiting for almost a lifetime to get back at Lowell Webster. But when Charlotte conjured up a mental image of Patsy, all she saw was the fear on Patsy’s face when Will Richeaux had first arrived on the scene the day they’d discovered the bones.
“Ah, Aunt Charley? Hello, earth to Aunt Charley.”
Charlotte glanced up and blinked. “Oh, sorry, hon. I was just thinking about something.”
“Auntie, what’s this?”
The notebook
Charlotte swallowed hard. Judith was staring at the notebook she’d left on the table.
Charlotte swallowed hard. Judith was staring at the notebook she’d left on the table.
“Oh, that—that’s nothing.” Charlotte reached for the notebook, but Judith scooped it up first.
“I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘nothing,’ ” Judith said, scanning the page. “In fact, I’d call it v-e-r-y interesting, especially this last part here about Will Richeaux.” Judith read from Charlotte’s notes. “ ‘Ask Patsy about Will Richeaux.’ ” Judith laid the notebook back on the table. “Why ask Patsy Dufour about him? Is there some connection between the two of them?”
Now what?
“Well ... er ... there might be.”
“Well ... er ... there might be.”
“What kind of connection? And don’t give me any of that client confidentiality crap, either.”
“Judith!”
Judith held up a hand. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”
“Well, you know I don’t like that kind of language.”
“Aunt Charley!”
Charlotte waved vaguely at the notebook. “It’s probably nothing anyway. Mostly just one of those gut feelings you get sometimes.”
Judith rolled her eyes. “Grrrr, this is like pulling teeth. Look, Auntie, knowing you, there has to be
some
reason you got that feeling, so spit it out.”
some
reason you got that feeling, so spit it out.”
Charlotte shrugged. “It was when he came in the house to question us—you know, after we’d discovered the bones. If you could have seen the look on Patsy’s face. It was—she looked like she’d just seen the devil himself. Granted, she was already upset,” Charlotte hastened to add, “but this was different.”
“Scared?”
Charlotte nodded. “More like terrified.”
Judith frowned. “That’s not really that unusual, Auntie. Believe it or not, there are some people who are terrified at having to deal with the police, period. Kind of like being scared of an IRS audit.”
“No ... ” Charlotte shook her head. “It was more than that.”
With a frown marring her face, Judith stared at Charlotte. “But what other reason would she have, then?”
Chapter Twenty-one
W
hat other reason would she have, then?
Charlotte never had answered Judith’s question. She’d simply shrugged and said she didn’t know. And she didn’t know. But even now, long after Judith had left, the question still nagged at her as she slipped on an apron and began cleaning the kitchen.
hat other reason would she have, then?
Charlotte never had answered Judith’s question. She’d simply shrugged and said she didn’t know. And she didn’t know. But even now, long after Judith had left, the question still nagged at her as she slipped on an apron and began cleaning the kitchen.
Maybe she should have told Judith the other stuff she’d learned about Patsy as well, especially the scandal concerning Patsy and Lowell Webster’s relationship.
Then again, the scandal about Patsy and Lowell was just gossip. Granted, the gossip came from what she considered reliable sources, but, knowing her niece, Charlotte was sure Judith wouldn’t see it that way. She’d see it as just gossip, strictly hearsay.
Besides, after the ridicule and humiliation she’d suffered on Friday from Louis and Judith, she couldn’t see submitting herself to that kind of derision again.
As Charlotte loaded the last of her lunch dishes into the dishwasher, she thought about the other things that Nadia had told her as well. According to Nadia, there was a definite connection between Mark Webster and Ricco Martinez. Nadia had said that Mark Webster was behind the cemetery thefts and he’d involved Ricco. She’d also said that the two men had argued over money that Mark owed Ricco—probably money from some shady deal they had going, or maybe even money they had gotten from the cemetery thefts.
Charlotte poured detergent into the slot in the door of the dishwasher. If she remembered right, it was about that time that Patsy had questioned Nadia about her bruises and found out about the two men’s connection.
Patsy again. To Charlotte it seemed that everything kept circling back to Lowell and Patsy. “And where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” she murmured.
But was there fire?
According to Jane Calhoun there was. Jane had said, “That’s when she swore that one day Lowell would pay for what he’d done to her.”
What if Patsy had finally found the perfect vehicle for revenge after all these years? What if she’d either murdered Ricco herself or had hired someone to murder him, then stuffed him into the urn. Bitsy had more or less implied that Patsy had just been putting on a show with all of her screaming, and a dead body being discovered in a stolen urn in Lowell’s warehouse would go a long way toward sullying his reputation and possibly ruining his chances to become mayor.
Charlotte shook her head as she closed the dishwasher door. “Talk about a conspiracy theory,” she muttered. Wouldn’t Judith and Louis have a field day with that one? “Wouldn’t work, anyway,” she murmured, deep in thought. Why would Patsy stuff Ricco’s body in an urn then buy the urn for herself? Unless ... she’d hired someone else to kill him and didn’t realize he’d been stuffed into the urn. Someone could have found out and decided to turn the tables on Patsy—someone like Lowell.
Charlotte shook her head. “Too, too weird,” she murmured. But even as she dismissed her theory as being too far-fetched, an idea began to form. Whether Patsy had anything to do with Ricco’s death or not, she was mixed up in the mess in some way. So why not simply come right out and ask her about Will Richeaux, Ricco, and Lowell Webster?
Yeah, right. And what makes you think she’d give you a straight answer?
Charlotte shrugged away the thought and latched the dishwasher door. But for long moments, she stood there, staring out the window above the sink. More than likely, Patsy would either tell her to mind her own business or deny knowing anything at all. She might get upset enough to even fire her.
Charlotte shrugged away the thought and latched the dishwasher door. But for long moments, she stood there, staring out the window above the sink. More than likely, Patsy would either tell her to mind her own business or deny knowing anything at all. She might get upset enough to even fire her.
Then again, if asked the right questions in the right way, Patsy might be just itching to tell someone all about it, someone other than the police.
“Assuming there’s anything to tell,” Charlotte muttered. Finally dismissing the idea as ludicrous and foolhardy, she turned away from the window and headed for her desk so that she could finish entering the expense receipts into the weekly log.
But once seated at the desk, she hesitated, and the idea of confronting Patsy with what she’d learned began to take root and grow. Then, like an ugly weed determined to choke off the root, another thought occurred. Even if Patsy wasn’t guilty of murdering Ricco, it was clear that she was involved in some way. And if Patsy was involved, confronting her might make her panic. It could be just the thing to push her into doing something rash.
Charlotte shivered, remembering another time she’d confronted a client who had been involved in a murder. She’d had to fight for her life that time.
“But you won,” she muttered.
Yeah, and you had nightmares about it for weeks afterward.
Yeah, and you had nightmares about it for weeks afterward.
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