Wiped Out (10 page)

At the Adams's front door, Charlotte hesitated before using the key that June had given her. Should she knock first or simply let herself in? For all she knew, no one was at home. But if she knocked and Emma and Justin were home, were still sleeping…Charlotte inserted the key into the keyhole, twisted it, and opened the door. No use waking up the kids.

Sure enough, the house was quiet, without a sign of anyone stirring around. Charlotte locked the door, disarmed the security system, and headed for the kitchen. Whether they were asleep or already up and out somewhere, she was sure she'd find out sooner or later. She'd begin cleaning downstairs first, she decided, and maybe by the time she was ready to vacuum, she'd know if they were home or not.

Except for vacuuming and mopping, Charlotte had finished in the kitchen and was polishing the dining room table when she heard a noise at the front door. Just as she poked her head around the doorway, the front door swung open, and June Bryant stepped inside.

Now why on earth would June have a key, especially if both of the Adams children were home? Then again, maybe they weren't home after all.

Charlotte stepped into the wide hallway just as June turned around. June's hand flew to her chest and she froze. “Oh, Charlotte!” She took a deep breath. “You startled me.”

Charlotte felt like rolling her eyes. After all, surely the silly woman had noticed that her van was parked out front. She forced a smile instead. “Well, you kind of surprised me too,” she said. “I wasn't expecting anyone.”

June held up a key. “Gordon asked me to check on the kids and clean out Mimi's closet.”

At least now she knew that the kids were home, but personally, Charlotte felt it was a bit odd that Mimi's husband had even thought about having her closet cleaned out, especially so soon after her death. Most men wouldn't.
Be nice, Charlotte.
Then again, maybe Gordon Adams was different. Maybe all of the reminders of his wife were just too painful.

“He could at least wait until we bury her!”

The outraged voice of Emma Adams caught both Charlotte and June off guard, and they spun around in the direction of the staircase.

Emma, her eyes narrowed and glaring at June, descended the remaining steps of the staircase with angry deliberation. “No one is touching my mother's things.
No one!
” she shouted. “And I've already told you that Justin and I don't need
anybody
checking up on us. We're both perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“Now, Emma—” June held up a placating hand. “Your dad means well, and I'm just trying to help.”

“That's a lot of bull, and you know it,” Emma shot back. “If he meant well, then
he'd
be here with us,” she argued.

June planted her fists on her hips and glared at Emma. “I think you've said just about enough, young lady. I've tried to be nice to you, tried to consider that you're grieving, but you're not the only one hurting, you know. Fred and I have been friends with your parents for a long time, and your father trusts us. Whether you like it or not, I intend to do what your father asked me to do.”

“We'll just see about that!” Emma yelled. And with one last hateful glare at June, she whirled around and stomped back up the stairs.

“Emma! You come back here,” June demanded.

Emma totally ignored June, and at that moment, Justin, looking as if he were still half asleep, appeared at the top of the staircase just as his sister flounced past him. “Hey, Em,” he called out, “what's all the yelling about?”

“Ask June,” Emma snapped. “She seems to know everything.” Then, like a shot, Emma took off down the hallway and slammed her bedroom door so hard that the front hall chandelier rattled.

Charlotte's heart went out to the girl. She was hurting and hurting badly. June's presence and phony sympathy weren't helping one iota.

Unsure of what, if anything, she should say, Charlotte decided that June probably wouldn't welcome any comments from her and wouldn't be interested in her opinions either. “I'll be cleaning in the dining room if you need anything,” she told June instead.

 

It was just after lunch, and Charlotte was dusting the front parlor when Gordon Adams came home.

“Hello,” he called out. “Anybody home? Charlotte?”

“In the parlor,” she answered, and a moment later, he appeared at the doorway.

“Where is everyone?” he asked her.

“You just missed Justin. He left about ten minutes ago. He said something about buying a suit.”

Gordon nodded. “Good. I told him to get a new one for his mother's funeral. And speaking of the funeral, I don't know if June has asked you yet, but I was wondering if I could impose on you again. Would you be available to help out afterward here at the house? I would really appreciate it if you could.”

Charlotte hesitated, trying to think if she had made any plans for Saturday afternoon.

“If it's the money,” Gordon said, “I'll pay you well.”

She shook her head. “No, no, it's not the money. I was just trying to remember if I had anything else going on. I'm pretty sure I don't, though, so I'll be glad to help.”

“Thanks, that's a load off my mind.” He suddenly frowned. “Is Emma still locked up in her room?”

Gordon's question caught Charlotte off guard, and she frowned. Had Emma called her father? Or had June? “Afraid so,” she finally answered. “Poor thing. She's really hurting right now.”

He nodded. “I know she is, but that's no excuse for being rude to June. And what about June? Is she still here? Not that I'd blame her if she weren't,” he added.

Charlotte nodded. “I believe she's up in the master bedroom. She's, ah…she's packing up Mimi's clothes.”

As if the very mention of June's name had conjured her up, she suddenly appeared behind Gordon.

“I've finished packing up the clothes,” June said. Gordon turned to face her. “And I'm sorry you had to come home. As if you didn't already have enough on your mind,” she added. “Believe me, I didn't want to have to call you, but I didn't know what else to do after Emma pitched her little tantrum. Why, she wouldn't even come down for lunch.”

Little tantrum?
The woman was an idiot, Charlotte decided.

“I'm sorry about that, June,” Gordon said. “Emma owes you an apology, and I'll talk to her.”

“Speaking of lunch, have you had yours yet?” June asked.

Gordon nodded. “I had a bite earlier.”

June placed her hand on Gordon's forearm. “You look exhausted. After you talk to Emma, you should really try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long, hard day for everyone. And I don't want you worrying about dinner tonight. I'll take care of that for you. I always cook more than Fred and I can eat anyway.”

 

The conversation between June and Gordon stayed with Charlotte during the rest of her time at the Adams's house. She also wondered about June's husband and her son, wondered what they must think about her absence and her generosity toward the Adams family. Of course, her son had been shipped off to military school, if she remembered right. But what about her husband? Did he even know or care that June had completely taken over Gordon and his children? He might, she finally decided. He might care if he knew how June had been acting all afternoon.

But it wasn't just June's fawning, ingratiating attitude toward Gordon or that she kowtowed to his every wish that was so strange. It was one thing to be helpful, but June carried things to the extreme. What aggravated Charlotte the most was the way June had followed her around all afternoon, giving her orders. She'd reminded Charlotte of Bitsy Duhe, except that Bitsy was much nicer, and Charlotte had had just about all she could stomach.

Using the excuse that she had an appointment, Charlotte decided to leave a few minutes earlier than she was supposed to. It was either leave or say something to June Bryant that she was sure to regret later.

 

It was still pouring rain when Charlotte pulled the van into the parking lot beside the beauty shop. She was early for her appointment and in no hurry to get drenched.

She shifted into park but left the van running. The thump-thump rhythm of the windshield wipers broken only by the swishing sound made by passing cars through the flooded street was hypnotizing as she stared out at the gloomy weather with unseeing eyes. She would have liked nothing better than to go home and crawl into bed, to forget everything and everybody just for a little while. At times like this she often wished that the good Lord had included a tiny button on the side of her head that she could push to turn off her thoughts.

Charlotte recognized the feeling for what it was and readily admitted to herself that she was depressed. Being tired had a lot to do with it, and the gray, rainy day didn't help, but she knew that those were just excuses for what was really bothering her. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that Mimi's murder had more of an effect on her than she'd thought it had and was just now catching up to her. But why, she wondered? It wasn't as if she really knew the woman.

Charlotte sighed deeply, then reached down and turned off the engine. Maybe a haircut and a little pampering would make her feel better.

 

An hour later, Charlotte, sporting a new haircut covered by a rain hat, made a mad dash through the rain back to the van.

Being pampered by her beautician had made her feel somewhat better. But not even a new haircut could dim the fact that yet another of her clients had been murdered or that any one of a number of people she'd come in contact with over the last few days could be Mimi's killer.

Charlotte drove the van slowly through the flooded parking lot. She had finally figured out what was really bothering her, though. If she kept losing clients, she wouldn't have to worry about Hank nagging her to retire. At the rate she was going, it wouldn't be long before no one would want to hire her for fear of being murdered.

By the time Charlotte got home, showered, and changed clothes, she still had a few minutes before it was time to leave again for her dinner date with Hank and Carol, just enough time to satisfy her curiosity about something that Gordon had mentioned the day before.

In the living room, she had two matching bookcases, both filled with her favorite books. Most of the books were ones she couldn't bear to part with—her keepers—and some were even autographed by the authors. In addition to the books, there was an up-to-date set of encyclopedias.

Once Charlotte had located the
J
volume, she pulled it out and took it over to the sofa. She switched on the lamp, then sat down and thumbed through the book until she found jimsonweed.

Along with the short text about the plant, there was a small color picture of the plant. As Charlotte stared at the picture, a strange, cold dread filled her being.

C
harlotte drummed her fingers against the page of the encyclopedia. There was no doubt about it. The same weed-looking plants that Mimi had used to replace her dead tree were jimsonweed.

Mimi…poison…jimsonweed…Sally Lawson…the dead trees…

In spite of Sally Lawson's so-called version of her relationship with Mimi, had there been a feud between Sally and Mimi after all? Had Sally lied?

Charlotte glared at the color picture of the deadly weed. Even if Sally had lied, surely a silly feud over a couple of dead trees wasn't enough motive to commit murder.

But what if there were more to the feud than just the trees. What if Sally were the one having an affair with Gordon instead of Rita? What if Sally had decided she wanted more than just an affair?

Charlotte frowned. After motive, there had to be opportunity, so
how
would Sally have poisoned Mimi? Charlotte's frown deepened. What was it that June had said? Something about Mimi never locking her back door when she was home. What if Sally had sneaked into Mimi's kitchen during one of the HHS meetings and…

“Yeah, right!” Charlotte shook her head in denial. Even if Sally had sneaked into Mimi's kitchen without getting caught, there was no way she could have poisoned her, not without poisoning the rest of the HHS members as well. Was there?

Charlotte could feel the beginning of a headache. She abruptly slapped the encyclopedia closed and turned her head from one side to the other, then forward and back, to release the tension in her neck and ward off the headache. Time to go to dinner.

 

Prytania Street was almost covered with water and still the blowing rain kept coming down. As Charlotte drove ever so slowly down the street, her mind still raced with possibilities about Mimi's murder. Someone had poisoned Mimi. But who? Who would do such a thing? Gordon? What reason could he have, unless, as Mimi had suspected, he was having an affair? But even if he were having an affair and wanted to be rid of Mimi, why not simply divorce her?

“Money,” Charlotte whispered.
The love of money is the root of all evil.
And for someone like Gordon, a divorce could prove to be expensive. Charlotte sighed. Yes, a divorce could cost Gordon, but according to Bitsy, he had more money than he could spend in a lifetime.

So, if Gordon didn't do it, then who did? Though Sally didn't exactly have opportunity, Charlotte couldn't completely dismiss her. But there were others as well: Rita Landers, Karen Douglas, Doreen Mires, and possibly even June. No, not June, she decided. June had no motive, at least none that was apparent.

Charlotte figured that out of the bunch, Rita Landers was the best choice. Revenge was always a viable motive, and there was no question that Rita had it in for Mimi.

Charlotte frowned, trying to remember what Mimi had said about Rita. Then it came to her. Something about Rita getting back at Mimi for her so-called affair with Rita's husband, Don. Even Mimi herself had believed that Rita was out for revenge.

Of course, maybe she shouldn't completely dismiss Karen Douglas or Doreen Mires, especially Doreen.

Please-please don't hold what happened against George—not because of me…
Charlotte could still hear Doreen pleading with Mimi. Doreen had known that Gordon had fired Rita's husband because Rita had maligned Mimi. It stood to reason that she would be fearful of the same punishment.

Charlotte slowed the van for a pedestrian crossing the street. Once the pedestrian was safely on the other side, she continued down the street.

Even if Doreen had wanted to poison Mimi, Charlotte couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how she could have done it or even how any of the others could have done it. And as long as she was going over the list, why not include Mimi's gardener as well?

Charlotte winced.
Now you're really getting ridiculous.
What earthly motive could the gardener have, or, for that matter, what real motive could any of them have?

Just stop it! Stop it right now!

Charlotte had always considered herself both blessed and cursed with the gift of imagination, and at times like tonight, she leaned heavily toward it being a curse.

Up ahead, she caught sight of the restaurant. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. Eating dinner with Hank and Carol was just the distraction she needed to stop thinking about the whole mess for a while. Besides, if she didn't stop thinking about it, she wouldn't be able to eat a bite. If she didn't eat, Hank would wonder why.

Just thinking about the grilling that Hank would give her if he found out that yet another of her clients had been murdered made her cringe. Thank goodness she hadn't told him. Being interrogated by her son was the last thing she needed.

Suddenly, a horrible thought struck Charlotte. What if Hank already knew? What if Judith had told him? Charlotte loved her niece like a daughter and, in fact, had helped raise her, but she also knew that Judith had a big mouth at times, especially when it came to family matters.

Charlotte sighed. If Judith had blabbed to Hank, then the damage was done, and there wasn't much she could do about it. For now, she'd just have to play it by ear.

 

Charlotte had hoped to find a parking spot close to the restaurant. August Moon was one of her favorite places for Chinese food, but parking could sometimes be a problem. But parking anywhere in New Orleans was usually a problem. And the rain just made things worse.

“With this awful weather, you'd think everyone would stay home,” she grumbled.

You didn't stay home.

“Yeah, yeah.” Charlotte glanced at the dashboard clock. “Great! Just great!” Thanks to the rain she was late.

Charlotte gripped the steering wheel tighter. She'd drive around the block one more time, she decided, and if she didn't find somewhere to park this time, then she'd have no choice but to go farther up Prytania.

You should have let Hank pick you up like he offered.

“Should've, would've, could've,” she muttered. “And hindsight's a wonderful thing.”

With still no luck after the second time around the block, she drove farther up Prytania. Halfway up the block, she finally found an empty parking space.

Once she parked, she grabbed her purse and umbrella. No doubt about it, though, umbrella or not, she was going to get wet. She pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and tucked the purse beneath her armpit.

“Could be worse,” she whispered, keeping an eagle eye on the flow of traffic in the side-view mirror. The pumps could break and everything could flood, or the silly storm could decide to head for New Orleans instead of Mobile. After all, the weather forecasters weren't infallible. They had been wrong with their predictions before.

Charlotte finally spied a break in traffic. In one awkward move, she wrenched open the door, stuck the umbrella outside, and released the spring. When it popped open, she hit the door lock, clamored out of the van, and slammed the door. Once she rounded the front of the van, she eyed the two-foot span of water that had collected in the gutter. Either she could wade through the water and spend the rest of the evening with wet feet or she could jump across it.

Make up your mind, Charlotte, before you get soaked.

With a quick prayer that she wouldn't fall and break her neck, she jumped to the sidewalk. Juggling the umbrella and her purse, she fished out several quarters, but just as she was about to shove them into the parking meter, she remembered that paying to park wasn't required after six
P.M
.

For the most part, the overhang of the buildings, along with her umbrella, protected her from the blowing rain and kept her upper body dry. By the time she reached the restaurant, though, the bottoms of her slacks and her shoes were wet, despite her earlier acrobatics to avoid the water.

Hank was waiting for her just inside the entrance. She smiled at him as he opened the door for her.

At times, it was still hard to believe that her son was a grown man. It seemed like only yesterday that she was a frightened young woman, alone in the world, and that Hank was just a precious toddler. Thanks to the nasty conflict in Vietnam that had taken his father's life, there had been many times she'd wondered how she was going to raise Hank by herself.

But they had both survived those early years, and her little boy had turned into a handsome and successful man, one any mother could be proud of.

Even so, he didn't look his age. In spite of his demanding medical practice and rigorous surgical schedule, he made time to keep himself physically fit. Tall and lean, with sandy-colored hair and piercing blue eyes, he was the spitting image of his father, a man he'd never known except through Charlotte's memories and a few pictures she'd kept.

“I was beginning to get worried about you,” he told her, as he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “You should have let us pick you up.”

“My thoughts exactly, hon.” She shivered in the cooler air of the restaurant. “Sorry I'm late. I guess I should have called, but,” she motioned toward the door, “I didn't count on such nasty weather.” She craned her neck and glanced around the restaurant. “Where's Carol?”

“In the restroom. Our table is over there by the window.” He pointed toward the side window. Within moments after she was seated, a waiter appeared to take their drink order. “Iced tea, Mom?” When Charlotte nodded, Hank told the waiter, “Three iced teas.”

“Oh, look,” Charlotte exclaimed, “isn't that a new one?” She pointed at the wall opposite their table. Besides the wonderful food at August Moon, one of the things she loved about the place was the décor, especially the luminous, framed pictures on the walls. Each picture was different and each scene was constantly changing within the frame. The one she'd pointed at was a waterfall scene, a moving picture within a frame, only better.

Hank shrugged. “Could be new.”

Charlotte continued to stare at the waterfall. “If I ever find out where to buy those things, I'm going to get me one.”

“Get what?” Carol Jones asked, as she approached the table. A slim woman, Carol was a little taller than Charlotte and had warm, brown eyes and dark, shoulder-length hair. She was a nurse Hank had met through one of his associates. From the first time he'd introduced her, Charlotte had immediately liked her. But Carol wasn't just another woman with a pretty face. Unlike some of the women Hank had dated, she was also sensible, the kind of practical nature that Charlotte admired. And, unlike Hank's ex-wife, Mindy, Carol loved children, another trait that had endeared her to Charlotte.

Both Charlotte and Hank stood. Hank pulled out Carol's chair, and Charlotte leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “I'd like to get one of those moving pictures,” Charlotte explained, motioning to the one she'd been admiring.

“Those are nice, aren't they?” Carol responded. “My personal favorite is the one over there of the ocean. That one actually has sound effects.”

“Yeah, I like that one too,” Charlotte said, and as she seated herself again with Hank's assistance, she noticed the dress Carol was wearing, a classic silk chemise. “You look lovely, hon,” Charlotte told her. “Royal blue is definitely your color.”

Carol smiled as she sat in the chair to Charlotte's right. “Thanks. You'll never guess where I got it.” When Charlotte shrugged, Carol cupped her hand over her mouth, leaned toward Charlotte, and whispered, “Don't tell Hank, but I found it at the Junior League thrift shop.”

Hank shot her an exasperated look. “I heard that,” he said, as he settled back into his chair. “How many times have I told you—”

Carol shook her finger at him, and with narrowed eyes, she said, “Don't even go there.” She turned to Charlotte. “He gets all uptight about me buying secondhand clothes, but I honestly don't see what the big deal is. I think of it as recycling, and a lot of those clothes, especially the ones at the Junior League, have hardly been worn at all.” She shrugged. “Besides, there's a good chance that even those that are supposedly brand new in the department stores have been tried on by someone. In a sense, they're secondhand too.”

Charlotte glanced over at Hank and fought to keep from grinning. “She does have a point, son.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Women! If I live to be a hundred, I'll never understand them. I've told her time and time again that if she wants to go shopping, she can charge it to me. I even gave her a charge card—which she's never used, I might add. She's more stubborn than you are about taking money from me. But all that's going to change after we're married—”

“Married!” Charlotte cried. “Did I hear you say married?”

Hank grinned and winked at Carol. “Yes, Mother, you heard right.” He motioned at Carol. “Show her, honey.”

Beaming, Carol held out her left hand. On her ring finger was a sparkling solitaire diamond ring. Charlotte was no expert on diamonds, but the pear-shaped diamond that was set on a wide band of what appeared to be either white gold or platinum had to be at least three carats.

“That's part of the reason we wanted you to join us for dinner tonight,” Carol told her. “We're hoping that you approve.”

Charlotte's throat grew tight, and to her horror, her eyes filled with tears. When Carol's face fell in disappointment, Charlotte shook her head. “No, hon—” She picked up her napkin and blotted her eyes. “Tears of joy,” she tried to explain in a choked voice. She cleared her throat, grabbed Carol's hand, and squeezed it. “Of course I approve. Nothing would make me happier.” She turned to Hank, and with her other hand she cupped his cheek. “Congratulations, son. It's about time.”

“Don't blame me,” he shot back. “I asked her six months ago and she turned me down flat.”