Wiped Out (7 page)

The moment she entered the kitchen, her parakeet began to chatter. “Missed you, missed you.”

Leaving her purse and lunch bag in the kitchen, she walked into the living room. Near the window, her little bird launched into his regular routine of chirping and fluttering his wings as he pranced back and forth along his perch in the cage, all designed to get her attention.

“Hey, Sweety Boy. I missed you too,” she told the little green bird. “You're such a good little bird.” Near the front door, she slipped out of her shoes and stepped into the soft suede moccasins she used as house shoes.

Out of habit she glanced at her answering machine. Sure enough, the light was blinking, indicating that she had a message. Ignoring Sweety Boy's acrobatic antics, she walked to the desk and pressed the PLAY button.

The machine beeped, and a mechanical voice announced that one message had been received at two forty-five
P.M
. The machine beeped again.

“Charlotte, this is June Bryant.” June's voice was flat, without inflection. “I guess by now you've heard about poor Mimi. Please call me as soon as possible at—”

Charlotte grabbed a pen and jotted down the number. As soon as the machine beeped and the mechanical voice said, “End of message,” she tapped out June's phone number. The call was answered on the fourth ring by a deep male voice whom she didn't recognize.

“Hi, this is Charlotte LaRue,” she said. “I'm returning June Bryant's call.”

“Just a second,” the voice told her, and though muffled, Charlotte heard him call out, “June, phone call. Someone named Charlotte LaRue.”

A moment later Charlotte heard the click of an extension being picked up. “Charlotte?”

“Yes, hi, June. I got your message. I'm so sorry about Mimi. I know that you two were really good friends.”

June sniffed, and with a slight catch in her voice, she whispered, “Thank you.” A moment passed, she cleared her throat, and then she said, “I-I can hardly believe it.” She sniffed again.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Charlotte asked.

“Why, yes—yes there is. Gordon asked me to make some calls for him and you were on the list. Now, more than ever, he's going to need someone to come in, someone to keep the place clean, and he was hoping that you'd still be willing to work for him. Same hours, same days.”

Charlotte hesitated before answering. One other time, early in her career as a maid, she'd had a man for a client. She was a lot younger then, and she learned a hard lesson. The arrangement lasted only a month before she decided that fighting off the man's amorous advances wasn't worth what he was paying her. But that was then, and she wasn't young and naive any longer. Besides, she figured that the last thing on Gordon Adams's mind would be fooling around with a woman who was probably almost old enough to be his mother.

“Tell Mr. Adams that I'd be happy to keep working for him.”

“Oh, good,” June said. “I'm sure he'll be very relieved—just one less problem to worry about right now. And, Charlotte, one more thing. We were wondering if you might, by chance, be able to come in tomorrow as well as on Friday. Just this week,” she hastened to add. “The police have been crawling all over the place, and it's a mess. One of the detectives has assured Gordon that they will be finished before tomorrow, though. Justin and Emma will be coming home, and what with people dropping by and all, he wanted the place to look decent.”

“Tomorrow won't be a problem,” Charlotte told her.

June's sigh of relief whispered through the phone line. “That's great,” she said. “I'll meet you there in the morning at nine and give you a house key.”

Charlotte could tell from June's tone that she was ready to end the conversation, and though she hesitated, she just couldn't let her, not without knowing exactly what had happened to Mimi. “Ah, June, could I ask you something?”

“Sure,” June answered.

“What happened? The newspaper said Mimi had died of undetermined causes. Just what does that mean?”

“Oh, Charlotte, it was just awful. I knew that Mimi wasn't feeling well during the meeting, and I knew that, more than likely, Gordon was working late, so I called around seven that evening to check on her. She-she sounded just terrible,” June said tearfully. “If-if only I'd done something then, she might still be alive.” Several moments passed before she could talk again. “Gordon didn't get home until really late,” she continued. “When he went to bed he noticed something wasn't quite right about her breathing. When he tried to wake her and couldn't, he panicked and called 911. They rushed her to the hospital, but by then she was already in a coma. She-she never d-did regain consciousness, and-and she died Tuesday morning, just before noon.”

June began to cry softly. “The ER doctor suspected that she'd been poisoned. She d-died of-of poisoning,” she sobbed.

“Poisoning!” Charlotte repeated in shocked disbelief. “As in food poisoning, like salmonella or botulism?”

“Yes, p-poisoning, of all things. But they're not sure what kind. She-she could have been poisoned on purpose. And now poor Gordon can't even have her funeral until the coroner does an autopsy.” She paused again, then, with a deep sigh, said, “I almost forgot. The police wanted a list of everyone who was at the HHS meeting on Monday, so I gave them one.” She cleared her throat. “I'm sorry—I hate to tell you this—but I had to give them your name too. So don't be surprised if you get questioned. Like I said, I'm sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I would have been surprised if they hadn't wanted to talk to me.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Charlotte heard a sharp rap on her front door.

“Ah, June, there's someone at the door. I have to go now, but I'll see you in the morning. Nine o'clock.”

“Yes, of course. See you tomorrow.”

Charlotte hung up the phone and walked over to the window. Pulling the curtain back, she peeked out, her gaze scanning the driveway. Even with the pouring rain, she could tell that the car parked there was one she didn't recognize.

Another sharp rap sounded at the door, and she sighed. “Okay, okay,” she muttered. “Just keep your shirt on.” She went to the door. “Yes,” she called out, “who is it?”

“It's Judith, Aunt Charley.”

Charlotte frowned. Had her niece bought a new car? No one in the family had mentioned it. “Just a second, hon.” She unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. “You didn't tell me that you bought…” Charlotte's voice trailed away. Standing beside her niece was a man whom she had never seen before. “A new car,” she finished her sentence.

Judith flashed her a smile. “I didn't. The car belongs to Brian.” She motioned toward the man. “Auntie, this is Brian Lee. Brian is my new partner.”

Charlotte nodded at the younger man. She knew for a fact that Brian Lee wasn't exactly “new.” According to Madeline, Brian had been Judith's partner for at least three months or so, and also according to Madeline, he was a handsome devil.

Madeline had been right about him being handsome, Charlotte decided. But then Madeline was a huge Tom Cruise fan, and Brian Lee could win hands down in a Tom Cruise look-alike contest.

Madeline had been right about the devil part as well, Charlotte suspected. It was Brian's eyes, she decided, jade in color and jaded by life—old, world-weary eyes that belied his age. And there was only one reason why Judith would show up with him now.

Charlotte tilted her head to look directly up at him. “I would say it's nice to meet you, Brian,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I've got a feeling that this isn't a social call.”

“N
o, ma'am, this isn't a social call,” Brian Lee said. “This is official police business. Can we come in? We'd like to ask you some questions.”

Charlotte nodded. “Just leave the umbrellas on the porch and wipe your feet.” She pointed at the welcome mat outside the door.

Once Brian and Judith had obediently propped their dripping umbrellas against the wall of the porch and wiped their feet on the rug, Charlotte motioned for them to come inside. “Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, as she closed the door behind them. “Coffee or iced tea?”

“Nothing for me,” Brian said.

Judith shook her head. “Me neither, Auntie,” she said, as she seated herself on the sofa.

Brian sat down beside Judith, so Charlotte chose the chair opposite the sofa.

Brian leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “We understand that you worked for Mary Lou Adams on Monday.”

Charlotte nodded.

“What time did you leave?”

“My hours are from nine to three-thirty, but I stayed until around four-thirty on Monday because of the HHS meeting.”

“Tell us about the meeting.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Like what?”

“Like, for instance, the food and drinks. Who provided it, what was served, and who served it?”

“Fudge brownies, wine, and coffee,” Charlotte told him. “Different members provided different items, and I served it all. But if you're thinking that the poison was in any of those things, then everyone there would have been sick.”

Brian narrowed his eyes. “No one has said anything about poison. Why would you think Mrs. Adams was poisoned?”

His tone was insolent with a suspicious edge, and Charlotte saw red. Two could play that game. “Because that's what I was
told,
” she retorted, her tone just as insolent as his had been. She glared at him. “For your information, young man, I just got off the phone with June Bryant, and she
told
me that she had already been questioned and that you all suspected that Mimi had been poisoned.”

Judith held up both hands, palms out. “Whoa—hey, just take it easy, Auntie. No one here is accusing you of anything. There was no way for us to know that you had talked with Mrs. Bryant.” She dropped her hands back into her lap, then twisted around to another position.

The nervous fidgets.
Any time Judith began fidgeting was a sure sign that she was nervous.

“And speaking of Mrs. Bryant,” Judith continued, “according to her there was a bit of conflict going on in the group. What can you tell us about that?”

“Was she poisoned or not?” Charlotte asked, ignoring Judith's question.

“Yes, she was, Auntie, but we're still not sure if it was an accident or on purpose. Now, what can you tell us about the conflict going on at the HHS meeting?”

“What did June tell you?”

Brian spoke up. “We'd rather hear your version, ma'am.”

“Well, there's not much to tell. Like I said, I was serving, so I wasn't privy to everything that was said.”

“Please, ma'am, just tell us what you do know.”

Charlotte heaved an impatient sigh. “There was some disagreement over which charity would benefit from the HHS fall plant sale. But that kind of thing happens in any organization,” she hastened to add and then shrugged. “Mimi's side lost. But that's certainly not enough motive for anyone to kill her.”

Several silent seconds ticked by, and when Charlotte didn't offer any further information, Judith groaned. “I told you to let me do the questioning,” she told Brian. After a tense moment between Judith and her partner, Brian finally nodded his concession. Judith nodded back, then faced Charlotte. “Did you notice anything unusual about Mrs. Adams, Auntie? Did she seem ill or anything while you were there?”

“She did complain about having a headache and being thirsty. And later, once everyone had left, she went straight to bed.”

Judith pursed her lips, then said, “Do you remember about what time she began complaining about the headache?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe…Hmm, let me see now. The meeting started around two, and she began complaining about a headache during the refreshment break. I'd say that was probably around a quarter of three or so.”

Judith nodded. “Good. That's exactly what we needed to know. Now, Auntie, earlier you said there was some contention in the group, a disagreement. Do you know the names of the women who disagreed with Mrs. Adams's side?”

When Charlotte didn't answer immediately, Judith released an exasperated sigh. “Aunt Charlotte, please. I know all about your confidentiality, no-gossip policy, or whatever you call it, but this is important. If you know their names…”

Charlotte glared at her niece for a moment. One of her cardinal rules was never to discuss her clients with anyone. She had three women who worked for her full time and one part-time employee, and each had been apprised of Charlotte's rule when they had hired on. Any infraction was grounds for immediate dismissal.

“Aunt Charlotte! Please.”

“Oh, okay.” She rattled off the names. “Rita Landers, Karen Douglas, and Doreen Mires. There, are you satisfied?”

“Not quite yet,” Brian interjected. “How long have you worked for the Adams family?”

“Monday was the third time I had cleaned for them,” Charlotte answered.

“In that time, did you know of or get the feeling that anyone else had a grudge against Mrs. Adams?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean by ‘exactly'?” Judith asked.

Though she'd rather eat worms than repeat something a client had told her, Charlotte went on to explain about the feud between Mimi and her neighbor Sally Lawson. “But mind you,” she said when she'd finished, “that was just Mimi's version, and there are always two sides to every story.”

“Okay, okay,” Judith said. “Let's get back to the food and drink. Do you remember who brought what?”

Charlotte grimaced but nodded. “I believe June Bryant brought the brownies that day, and either Rita Landers or Karen Douglas furnished the wine.”

“Either?” Judith asked.

“I'm not sure which one. I just remember Mimi saying that one of them—and she didn't remember which one—was supposed to furnish the wine that day.”

“And what about the coffee?” Brian asked.

Charlotte glared at him. “What about it?” she repeated. “I'll have you know that I made the coffee, and for your information, I opened a fresh bag that day.”

“Okay, Auntie, just take it easy. Like I said before, no one here is accusing you of anything. Let's talk about the wine. Had any of the bottles been opened or were all of them new?”

Charlotte shrugged. “There were a couple of bottles that had been opened, bottles left over from the Friday meeting. The rest were new.”

Charlotte paused, suddenly torn by indecision as to whether she should mention the special bottle of wine that Rita had brought with her. “I don't know how important this is,” she finally said, “but Rita Landers bought Mimi a special bottle, a particular brand that was supposed to be Mimi's favorite. Rita said it was a peace offering, an apology from all three women for the disagreement they'd had at the previous meeting.”

Judith sat forward. “Could you point out the so-called special bottle?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, after the meeting was over, Rita took what was left home with her.”

Brian narrowed his eyes. “Didn't you just say that it was a gift?”

“No, that's not what I said. I said it was a peace offering.” Then Charlotte explained about the meeting and how Rita, Karen, and Doreen had ganged up on Mimi to push through their own agenda. “Mimi was upset, and Rita said that Mimi would probably just throw out what was left in the bottle anyway, so she took it home with her.”

At that moment, Judith's beeper went off, and once she checked it, she made a quick phone call. “We've got to go,” she told Brian, as she hung up the phone. To Charlotte she said, “We'll talk some more later, Auntie, but thanks for the information, and if you think of anything else, give me a call.”

Within minutes, Judith and Brian were out the door. As Charlotte stood on the porch and watched them drive away, it suddenly occurred to her that no one had mentioned the fact that Mimi had eaten lunch with Gordon on the day in question. Didn't it stand to reason that something she ate during lunch had been poisoned?

Making a mental note to call Judith later, Charlotte went back inside the house.

 

It was still raining when Charlotte arrived at the Adams's house on Thursday morning. Since there was no sign of June waiting for her, Charlotte sat with the van idling for several minutes, as she listened to the weather forecast on the radio. A tropical storm was building southwest of New Orleans in the Gulf of Mexico. Conditions were such that it was possible that the storm could become a hurricane.

Charlotte killed the engine and stared through the windshield at the rain. If she remembered right, she was low on batteries and bottled water, and she needed to check her supply of canned goods as well, just in case the storm did turn into a hurricane, and just in case it headed for New Orleans.

She glanced at the porch again, then checked her watch. She was a few minutes early, but not
that
early. So what now? she wondered. She could just sit in the van and wait or she could brave the rain, unload her supplies, and wait on the porch.

“No time like the present,” she murmured. Pulling the hood of her raincoat over her head, she climbed out of the van, hurried around to the back, and unloaded her supply carrier and vacuum cleaner.

She set the vacuum cleaner down on the porch near the front door, and just as she bent over to put the supply carrier beside the vacuum cleaner, the door swung open and June stepped out onto the porch. At the sight of Charlotte, June jumped and squealed with fright.

“It's just me, June.” Charlotte pushed the hood of her raincoat off her head and stood up.

“Oh, good grief, Charlotte! You scared the daylights out of me.”

“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I didn't see anyone when I drove up and decided to wait on the porch. It simply didn't occur to me that you might already be inside waiting.”

“I got here early to check things out,” June said, her tone snippy. “And I thought I would hang around while you cleaned. It's not that I don't trust you but,” she hastened to add, “it's just that someone might call or come by, and I promised Gordon I would see to things for him. And speaking of trust…” She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a key and a piece of paper. “This is the key to the front door. Just don't lose it.”

June placed the key in Charlotte's hand, and from the look on June's face, Charlotte felt as if she'd just been handed the key to the Fort Knox gold bullion depository.

“And I've written down the alarm code for you.” June handed Charlotte the piece of paper. “For heaven's sake, don't lose that either.” Then, with one last meaningful look, June turned and walked back inside the house.

It's not that I don't trust you but…Just don't lose it.
Charlotte felt her temper flare as she glared at June's retreating back. In all her years of running Maid-for-a-Day, she'd never had a customer question her trustworthiness nor had she ever lost a key or misplaced the numbers for an alarm code that had been entrusted to her, and she truly resented the insinuations.

Drawing in a deep breath and counting to ten, Charlotte slipped the piece of paper into her pants pocket and pulled out a key ring. Once she'd hooked the key onto the ring, she dropped the key ring back into her pants pocket. Later, she'd tape the paper with the alarm code into her appointment book. Feeling a bit more in control, she picked up the vacuum cleaner and went inside.

June was waiting for her near the dining room entrance. Now what? Charlotte wondered, as she shut the door. Maybe if she ignored June…With a brief grimace that Charlotte hoped passed for a smile, she walked past June and headed straight for the kitchen.

So much for ignoring her, Charlotte thought, when she heard footsteps behind her. So what else was on her mind? she wondered. Whatever it was, Charlotte was pretty sure it didn't have anything to with the key.

They were almost to the kitchen when June asked, “Have you talked to the police yet?”

Charlotte entered the kitchen, her gaze taking inventory of the mess as she set down the supply carrier and the vacuum. “Yes, I have,” she answered, momentarily distracted by the sink full of dirty dishes and the food-splattered stovetop. “I talked to the detectives right after our phone call yesterday.”

Charlotte had a good idea of what was coming, so hoping that June would take the hint and leave her alone, she walked over to the dishwasher, opened it, and began filling it with the dirty dishes stacked in the sink.

June didn't take the hint, and to Charlotte's annoyance, she followed her across the kitchen. Stopping at the cabinet, June leaned against the countertop near the sink and crossed her arms. “What did you tell them—I mean, what kinds of questions did they ask you?”

Charlotte felt like saying,
none of your business,
and she felt her temper flare again. She had work to do and wasn't in the mood for yet another interrogation after enduring the one from Judith and Brian, especially not from June. In hopes of discouraging June from further questions, she simply shrugged and said, “Just the obvious questions. Probably the same ones they asked you.”

“Well, I hope you told them about that little stunt that Rita, Karen, and Doreen pulled. And about that awful Sally Lawson too. You did know about her, didn't you?”

“Not a lot,” Charlotte hedged. “Only what Mimi told me, something about some dead trees.”