Polished Off (26 page)

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Authors: Barbara Colley

BOOK: Polished Off
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“And as long as you’re here,” Louis drawled, “you might as well join us.” He waved at one of the chairs. “Have a seat, and I’ll get an extra cup and saucer.”
“Well ... if you’re both sure I won’t be in the way.”
“Judith!” Charlotte and Louis protested at the same time.
“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing. “Make sure you bring an extra dessert plate, too. That cake looks yummy.” With an exaggerated wink at Charlotte, Judith seated herself. “So, Lou, where are you off to?” she asked.
Louis set her coffee and a dessert plate in front of her. “Out-of-town security job in New York.”
Judith raised her eyebrows. “Sounds interesting.”
Louis shrugged, but when he didn’t comment any further, Judith gave him a curious look. When he still didn’t elaborate, she said, “Must be some kind of top-secret or hush-hush job, huh?”
“Not really,” was all he said.
With a shrug of her own, Judith turned to Charlotte. “Afraid I don’t have good news, Auntie.”
Charlotte panicked.
Please, not in front of Louis.
Trying her best to be inconspicuous, she shook her head once in a feeble attempt to discourage Judith from saying anything further.
Though Judith gave Charlotte an odd look, she didn’t take the hint. “I told him about the fight,” she said. “And he got all in an uproar and told me to stay out of his case. Claimed he already knew about the fight, and there was nothing to it, that it had no bearing on the case.”
Judith turned to Louis. “Aunt Charley uncovered some important information concerning Ricco’s murder,” she explained. “Seems Ricco and Mark Webster had a big argument about some money owed to Ricco. We were both kind of hoping that it might be enough to take the pressure off of Daniel and Nadia.”
When Louis nodded slowly and narrowed his eyes, Charlotte held her breath, waiting for what she was sure would be another explosion from him about minding her own business.
“I assume the ‘him’ you’re referring to is Will Richeaux,” Louis said to Judith in a deadpan tone of voice.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth?”
Judith pursed her lips and shook her head. “Of course not. That jerk wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the butt.”
“Who didn’t know that?” Louis said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So, let me take a wild guess here. If I know you and how you operate, I’d venture to guess that you decided to do a little investigating, or should I say interrogating, on your own, in spite of what Richeaux said?”
Judith simply shrugged, neither confirming nor denying Louis’s conclusion.
“Well, little girl, what did the big bad Mark Webster have to say for himself when you questioned him?”
Judith shot Louis a twisted, cynical smile. “You think you’re so smart,
old man.
But to answer your question, he didn’t say diddly-squat. He got all indignant on me. Claimed I was harrassing him. But before he clammed up, he threatened to sic his lawyer and the chief on me. That alone is enough to make
me
suspicious.”
For long seconds Louis and Judith stared at each other. Neither said a word, and Charlotte could feel the tension between them clear to her toes.
Judith was the first to break. “Well, what did you expect me to do, Lou?” She threw up her hands. “What?” she repeated. “This is my brother’s life they’re messing around with, and I don’t intend to sit by, quietly twiddling my thumbs while they railroad him to death row.”
With a sigh that spoke volumes, Louis turned his steely eyed stare on Charlotte. “Meddling again, Charlotte.” It was a statement, not a question. “And where, pray tell, did you learn about this supposed fight between Ricco and Mark?”
Judith frowned and turned to stare at Charlotte, too. “Yeah, come to think of it, how did you find out about that fight?”
Busted.
Charlotte stiffened. Glaring first at Louis, then at Judith, she raised her chin defiantly. “I’d rather not say,” she told them in an attempt to bluff her way through the situation.
Louis heaved a weary sigh. “Which could mean only one thing.” He rolled his eyes, then glanced at Judith. “She’s talked to Nadia.”
“You don’t know that,” Charlotte blurted out.
Louis shrugged. “No, I didn’t before—not for sure—but I do now. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s a logical conclusion.” He held up a hand and ticked off each finger as he spoke. “For one, she works for you, so she’d trust you. Two, you’ve been taking care of her kid. And, three, she’d want to check on him if she’s any kind of decent mother at all.”
“Is that true, Auntie? Have you talked to Nadia?”
“And what if I have?” Charlotte argued, figuring there was no use now in denying it. “So what?”
Judith’s expression grew tight with strain. “Well, Auntie, for one thing, I distinctly remember that I asked you to let me know if she called you. For another thing, they’ve probably tapped your telephone. Then, to top it off, there’s a minor little matter they call aiding and abetting, which happens to be against the law. You do know that every cop in the city is looking for her, don’t you?”
“Of course I know,” Charlotte shot back.
Louis cleared his throat. “And do you also know that you can go to jail over this?” he drawled.
Cornered, Charlotte went on the defense. “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” She glared first at Louis, then at Judith. “Do you both think I’m that stupid? For your information, I did not call Nadia. She called me—on my cell phone,” she stressed. “Not my home phone, which I’m sure is bugged. And just in case you’re wondering, and I’m sure you are,” she added sarcastically, “I don’t know where she is. So, see? Nobody has grounds to accuse me of anything.
”
“Oh, Auntie,” Judith said with a groan. “With the right frequency, cell phones can be monitored, too.”
“Humph!” Louis grunted and waved a hand at Charlotte. “And that’s not all she’s been doing,” he told Judith. “Why don’t you ask her about the little visit she paid to Lowell Webster’s office?”
If possible, Judith looked even more horrified. “Oh, Aunt Charley, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t. What on earth were you thinking? And just what in the devil did you hope to accomplish?”
“So what? So what if I did?” Charlotte retorted. “It’s a free country, last I heard. And it’s nobody’s business but my own who I see.”
Judith just groaned again and shook her head. “Wait till Hank hears about this one. Don’t you realize you just can’t go around—”
“That’s enough!” Charlotte objected. “From the both of you,” she added as she abruptly shoved out of her chair and stood. “Like I said, it’s a free country. Tell you what, though.” She motioned at Louis. “Why don’t I let Mr. Blabbermouth tell you all about it. Oh—and another thing—you can get your own pizza tonight.” With one last glare, first at Judith, then at Louis, Charlotte turned and stomped out of the kitchen.
“Wait—hold up, Auntie. Don’t get mad.”
“Charlotte!” Louis called out.
But Charlotte ignored both of them as she marched down the hallway. The second she stepped through the front doorway, she reached back, grabbed the doorknob, and, just for good measure, slammed the door hard.
Chapter Twenty
“
T
he very idea!” Charlotte muttered, as she unlatched the door to Sweety Boy’s cage early Saturday morning. After her confrontation with Judith and Louis Friday af ternoon, she’d gone straight home. There, she’d locked and bolted the front door, and for the remainder of the evening, she’d ignored their repeated phone calls.
She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Not even the knowledge that Louis was leaving and wouldn’t be back for two weeks was enough to cool her anger. He’d left around nine, and all she’d felt was relief.
Then she’d gone to bed. But she’d ended up tossing and turning all night. Even now, almost a whole day later, each time she thought about how Louis and Judith had ganged up on her, treating her like she didn’t have the sense God gave a goose, it stirred up hurt and indignant feelings all over again.
Charlotte extended her forefinger inside the cage, and once Sweety Boy hopped on, she eased the little bird through the door. Finally free, he immediately took flight. After fluttering around the living room a few minutes, he landed on the cuckoo clock.
Charlotte smiled up at the little bird, but her smile quickly faded. “You know, Boy, I just don’t understand it,” she told him. “Just because I’m a maid and not some big hotshot police detective doesn’t make me an idiot. You’d think they would want all the help they could get.”
With a frustrated shake of her head, Charlotte removed the soiled paper from the birdcage and stuffed it into a garbage bag. Then she removed the water and food containers. “And here I thought we were all supposed to be on the same side,” she murmured. “Daniel and Nadia’s side. Guess that’s what I get for thinking, huh, Boy?”
Charlotte took out the perch and swing. Setting them aside, she lined the bottom of the cage with clean paper. Once she’d scrubbed the perch and swing in soapy water and rinsed them thoroughly, she dried them off, then affixed them back inside the cage.
With one last eagle-eyed inspection of the now-clean birdcage, she attached a new cuttlebone and replaced the water and food containers.
For long moments afterward, she simply stood there, staring out the window. The sun was shining, and what bit of sky she could see was blue and cloudless.
Could Daniel see the sky from his jail cell? she wondered. Was there a window in his jail cell?
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. She’d considered visiting him, but even if she was allowed to, she simply couldn’t do it. Just the thought of seeing her beloved Daniel locked up behind bars was more than she could bear.
“Wimp,” she muttered. “You’re nothing but a big wimp, Charlotte LaRue. A coward.”
As if Sweety Boy had somehow sensed her morose mood, he flew down from the cuckoo clock and after circling her a couple of times landed on her shoulder. Though Charlotte allowed him to stay there for a few minutes and felt some measure of comfort from his presence, the little bird couldn’t be still. He kept prancing back and forth across her shoulder, his tiny claws tickling her through her blouse.
Charlotte held her forefinger near the little bird’s feet. “Come on, Boy. Time for me to get off my pity pot and get busy.”
Her mind raced ahead to the list of chores she still had to do. There were clothes that needed to be washed, the bathroom needed a good cleaning, and it was way past time to clean the stovetop and oven. There were also receipts from the past week she still needed to record as well—plenty to do to keep her busy the whole day.
“You know the old saying,” she told the little bird. “ ‘Busy hands are happy hands.’ ”
If only it were true, she thought as the little parakeet hopped onto her finger. “Sorry, Boy. I hate to do this to you, but it’s also time for you to go back inside your cage.”
Several months earlier, Sweety Boy had decided to join her in the shower and had ended up knocked out cold in the bottom of the tub from the force of the spray. She’d been reluctant to let him loose without supervision ever since. And for today, the last thing she wanted to have to worry about was the safety of the little parakeet.
“Now, now, there you go.” She eased him back inside his cage and quickly latched the door. With one last glance at the little bird and ignoring his squawks of protest, she turned and headed for the bathroom to gather the dirty clothes.
By midmorning, she had finished most of her personal cleaning tasks and was ready to tackle the neglected bookkeeping. She had just settled at her desk to begin recording receipts when she heard a car pull into the driveway. Moments later a door slammed. Since Louis was gone, the visitor had to be for her.
“Great,” she muttered. “Just what I don’t need right now.”
In no mood for entertaining unexpected company, she was sorely tempted to simply ignore whoever was outside. But in the end her curiosity got the best of her. Just a peek out the window would tell her who the unwanted visitor was. Reluctantly, she shoved away from the desk. Before she could get to the window, though, there was a sharp rap on the front door.
For several moments, Charlotte stood in the middle of the room and debated whether to ignore the unwelcome visitor or to give in to her curiosity again and open the door.
Then the door handle rattled. “Open up, Aunt Charley,” Judith’s muffled voice demanded. “Enough’s enough. I know you’re in there, and, remember, I also know where the spare key is.”
With a sigh, Charlotte trudged to the front door. Everyone in her family knew that she kept a spare key beneath the fat ceramic frog in the flower bed near the front comer of the house. She supposed she should be grateful that Judith hadn’t already used it to let herself inside.
Charlotte unlocked the door and opened it. “What do you want, Judith?”
“I want to apologize, and I want you to stop being so angry with me.” Judith shifted from one foot to the other, a sure sign she was under stress. Any time she was nervous, uncomfortable, or in a tense situation, she resorted to what Charlotte thought of as the nervous fidgets.

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