Death Tidies Up Page 11

  Again, sadness pulled at her heart, sadness for her unborn grandchild that Hank’s ex-wife had so heartlessly aborted.

  “Everyone’s on the patio,” Carol told her, drawing Charlotte’s attention back to the present.

  After a quick hug, Carol looped her arm through Charlotte’s and urged her toward the kitchen. “Madeline gave us strict instructions to bring you out there as soon as you arrived. But what’s this I hear about you fainting yesterday?”

  Charlotte chose to ignore the question. “I like your hair that way,” she said instead. Normally, Carol wore her dark, shoulder-length hair in a classic pageboy style, but today, she’d pulled it back and secured it with a large barrette, a style that strongly emphasized her high cheekbones.

  “Carol shrugged. “Thanks. This is what happens when I don’t have time to wash it. I worked the evening shift last night and didn’t get relieved until half the night shift was over. I ended up oversleeping because someone we both know and love”—she shot Hank a pointed look—“forgot to call me when he was supposed to.”

  Hank just shrugged. “I figured you needed sleep more than your hair needed washing.”

  Suddenly, a child’s ear-piercing squeal rent the air, and all three of them froze.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Charlotte asked Hank.

  Hank groaned but nodded. “Little Davy, in the flesh. According to his mother, that horrible noise he just made is his latest trick to get her attention.”

  Charlotte grinned. “So Daniel finally did it. I had wondered when he was going to get up enough nerve to invite Nadia and Davy to one of our little gatherings.”

  When Nadia’s live-in boyfriend had been arrested for theft five months earlier, she hadn’t been able to afford an attorney. She’d shown up on Charlotte’s doorstep in tears. She said her son kept crying for his father, and she didn’t know where to turn or what to do.

  Though Charlotte had never cared for Ricco Martinez, she felt sorry for Nadia and Davy, and she had persuaded Daniel to take Ricco’s case pro bono. Daniel had been willing, but once he’d gotten Ricco out on bail, Ricco had abruptly disappeared without a word to anyone.

  At first Daniel had continued seeing Nadia, using the excuse that he was simply lending legal support. But he hadn’t fooled Charlotte. She knew better. She had sensed right away that her nephew had fallen for Nadia and Davy. Nadia had been reluctant in the beginning, but with Ricco out of the picture, Daniel’s persistence and kindness was finally paying off, and nothing could have pleased Charlotte more.

  “How’s your aunt taking it?” Charlotte asked Hank.

  “Better than I would have thought,” he answered. “She was a little distant at first—you know how Aunt Maddie can get—but I think she knows that she doesn’t have much say in the matter. Once my cousin sets his mind on something, he can be every bit as stubborn as you ever thought about being.”

  “Well, he could do a lot worse,” Charlotte avowed, ignoring her son’s gibe. “Nadia is a lovely person, and Davy is as cute as a button. And speaking of children, when are—”

  Hank immediately cut her off. “Don’t even go there, Mother.”

  Charlotte sighed and Carol grinned. It wasn’t the first time she had tried to hint that she wanted a grandchild, and it wouldn’t be the last, she vowed. After all, she certainly wasn’t getting any younger and neither was her son.

  Then Hank, like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be, opened the back door and ushered the two women through to the backyard.

  Though Madeline’s patio and backyard were small, the area was adequate for the small gathering. Daniel was hovering over the smoking barbecue pit near the fence, and Madeline and Nadia were setting out food on the picnic table, while Davy was busy stalking something through the tall grass near the corner of the fence.

  “Hey, Aunt Charley,” Daniel called out. “You’re just in time.”

  Madeline and Nadia glanced up from their tasks. “Not just in time, but about time,” Madeline scolded. “Where have you been? Judith said she left your place over two hours ago. And another thing.” Her stern expression suddenly softened, and a secretive smile played at her lips. “What’s this I hear about Louis being there with you still in your robe?” she teased. “Come on, Charlotte, do tell.”

  At that moment, Charlotte could have happily choked her sister. When she ventured a quick glance at her son and found him staring at her with an amused but curious expression on his face, she felt a slow flush creep up her neck.

  Telling herself that she was too old to be embarrassed so easily over a bit of teasing, and that the warmth that had now reached her cheeks was not a blush, she smiled sweetly. “Police business, sister dear. Detective Thibodeaux had some more questions about yesterday.”

  “Yeah, right,” Madeline quipped with a giggle. Then she quickly sobered. “Speaking of yesterday,” She made a face. “As usual, my daughter was tight-lipped and wouldn’t tell me any of the real juicy stuff when she called.” She nudged Nadia with her elbow. “Maybe now we can get the real scoop.”

  Nadia simply smiled indulgently. “Not if I know Charlotte. She’s the last person you’ll get to gossip about anything.”

  Little Davy chose that particular moment to let out another of his earsplitting squeals, diverting everyone’s attention.

  “Oh, Davy, honey, no-no.” Nadia rushed toward her son. In his pudgy fingers was what appeared to be a small green lizard, wriggling frantically in an attempt to regain its freedom. “Let that poor thing go,” Nadia told him as she pried his fingers apart.

  Evidently none the worse for wear, the tiny reptile promptly scurried away. When it disappeared in the grass, Davy screwed up his face and began to wail as if his little heart had been broken.

  Seizing upon the opportunity to avoid discussing the events of the previous day, Charlotte hurried over to help comfort the little boy.

  “Hey, little man,” she cooed. “What’s all this crying about?” She knelt down beside him, and seeking something to distract him, she pointed at his T-shirt. “I sure do like your shirt, but who’s that silly-looking bear on it? I’ll bet his name is Tigger.”

  Davy shook his head. “Not Tigger,” he whimpered.

  Charlotte pretended to be confused. “Maybe Piglet?”

  “Pooh Bear,” the little boy declared, the lizard forgotten momentarily. He patted the figure on his shirt. “Name Pooh Bear.”

  “Hey, Davy—” Without warning, Daniel suddenly appeared beside them and scooped the little boy up in his arms. “How about an airplane ride?” Amid Davy’s giggles of delight, Daniel lifted the little boy above his head. Making a guttural roaring noise, Daniel began loping back and forth around the small backyard.

  With Davy distracted, Madeline continued as if she’d never been interrupted. “You know that after Drew Bergeron’s father-in-law died, the firm I work for began handling City Realty’s bookkeeping,” she said.

  In spite of her earlier reluctance to discuss the matter, Charlotte found herself curious. “His father-in-law was Maurice Sinclair, wasn’t he?”

  Madeline nodded. “After the old man’s death, Drew stepped in and took over City Realty, and the first thing he did was move their account to our firm.”

  “I wonder why,” Charlotte murmured.

  “Probably had something to do with the deal he was working on with Roussel Construction,” Madeline said. “My boss and Vince Roussel go back a long way, and since we handled their books, I guess he figured it would be easier all the way around.”

  “Do y’all still handle City Realty?”

  Madeline shook her head. “A couple of months after Drew’s funeral, his wife switched everything back to the firm her father had always used before.”

  “Hey, Mom,” Daniel called out, interrupting them. “Davy and I think the chicken looks like it’s about done, so could you bring that platter over?”

  “I’ll take it,” Nadia volunteered.

  “Thanks,” Madeline told
her. “And I guess that means I need to get the rest of the food out so we can eat.”

  “I’ll help you,” Charlotte offered.

  “And Hank and I will put ice in the glasses,” Carol volunteered.

  By the time they had all settled around the table and said the blessings, much to Charlotte’s relief the Devilier house and Drew Bergeron’s murder were forgotten for the moment…or so she’d thought.

  While everyone stuffed themselves with Daniel’s barbecued chicken and Madeline’s sour-cream potato salad and baked beans, conversation turned to All Saints’ Day and Halloween.

  “I wonder which cemetery they’ll bury Drew Bergeron in this time,” Madeline commented, tongue in cheek. “Whichever, he couldn’t have picked a better time to have another funeral.”

  “Madeline!”

  “Mother!”

  Ignoring Charlotte’s and Daniel’s gasps of disbelief, Madeline shot them a defiant look. “Well, it’s true,” she said. “Why, just last Friday, I noticed a group already working in Lafayette Number One.”

  Lafayette Number One, located on Washington Avenue, was just one of over thirty aboveground cemeteries located throughout the city. As in most of Louisiana, the two weeks leading up to All Saints’ Day was a time when everyone gathered to pay homage to their dead by cleaning and beautifying the cemeteries. Armed with buckets of whitewash, scrubbing brushes, and gardening tools, families would gather in the cemeteries and spend hours laboring away so that the tombs and grounds were tidy and neat for All Saints’ Day.

  Madeline cast a wary eye toward Charlotte. “Are you going this year?”

  Though Charlotte was Protestant, Hank’s father had been Catholic. For years Charlotte had honored his memory by attending the special All Saints’ Day services held at the cemetery where his remains had been buried.

  “If Mother wants to go this year, I’ll take her.”

  Charlotte gave her son a grateful look, and he, in turn, gave her a knowing smile.

  “Better you than me,” Madeline quipped. “Those places give me the creeps. It’s still hard to believe that people used to go there at night and do those weird rituals and stuff.”

  “They weren’t weird,” Charlotte argued. “Lighted candles were blessed by the priests, then placed on the tombs, and a mass was held. The priests performed what they call the ancient rites for the souls of the departed.”

  Madeline shuddered. “I don’t care what they called it.” She shuddered again. “No way would you ever catch me there after dark.”

  Sensing that a change of subject was needed, Daniel turned to Davy. “Davy and I are going trick-or-treating this year for Halloween, aren’t we, big guy?”

  Since Charlotte had a couple of errands to run after she left Madeline’s house, it was late that afternoon before she finally returned home. Waiting for her was a fractious Sweety Boy and several messages on her answering machine.

  “I know, I know, Boy,” she told the little parakeet as she opened the cage door. “You’re tired of being penned up in there, aren’t you, fellow?”

  His answer was a squawk as he scurried through the open cage door and spent several minutes flying back and forth from one corner of the room to the other. When he finally settled on top of the cuckoo clock, Charlotte walked over to the desk and hit the play button of the answering machine.

  The first message was from Bitsy, and Charlotte sighed.

  “My goodness, Charlotte, where are you?” the old lady said reprovingly. “I didn’t hear about Drew Bergeron until this morning at church, what with Jenny’s being here and all. And by the way, Jenny and I had a lovely visit. But I’ll tell you all about it when you come on Tuesday.” Bitsy paused a moment, then said, “You are coming on Tuesday, aren’t you? Someone said that you were the one who found poor Drew dead and that when you found him, you fainted. What a dreadful experience. I do hope you’re okay.”

  “Oh, great!” Charlotte exclaimed as Bitsy paused again. Already the rumors were circulating. Inaccurate rumors to boot.

  “Well—anyway,” Bitsy continued. “Give me a call as soon as you get home.”

  “Not likely,” Charlotte muttered as the message ended and the beep sounded.

  The machine beeped again, and the next message began.

  “Ms. LaRue. Vince Roussel here. Just calling to tell you that I’ll be in touch as to when your crew can finish up at the Devilier house. The police are dragging their feet, though, and I doubt you can get back in there before next weekend.”

  The brief, but curt message reminded Charlotte of what Louis and Judith had told her about Vince Roussel and his son, and it left her with an uneasy feeling as well as a sense of urgency. The sooner she talked to Cheré, the better, she thought.

  “Speak of the devil,” Charlotte murmured when the machine beeped and she recognized Cheré’s voice as her last caller.

  “Just checking up on you, Charlotte, to see how you’re feeling today. Give me a call if you have time.”

  Long after the message ended, Charlotte continued staring at the machine. Even though she had already decided to talk to Cheré about Todd Roussel, the thought of interfering in her employee’s personal life left a bad taste in her mouth.

  From the beginning, she’d always made it a rule to mind her own business when it came to employees or clients. Unless an employee sought out her help or asked for advice, as Nadia had done, Charlotte never interfered in their personal lives. More times than not, and knowing human nature, uninvited meddling just caused hard feelings and resentment.

  But if Louis and Judith were right…if the Roussels were mixed up with the mob…

  Suddenly another thought hit her. What was it that Louis had said about some kind of business dealings between Vince Roussel and Drew Bergeron? Something about a real estate deal that had gone sour, if she remembered right.

  Charlotte frowned, deep in thought. But there was something else that Louis had said about Vince Roussell too. Something—Then she remembered.

  We’d found this lowlife’s body floating in the river…we figured he’d crossed Roussel, and Roussel killed him.

  As Louis’ words played through her mind, Charlotte’s knees grew weak, and she stumbled to the sofa. It was obvious that Louis thought that Vince Roussel was capable of murder, and if that was true, then…

  Charlotte shivered. Was it possible? Could Vince Roussel have murdered Drew Bergeron?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sky was overcast and dreary, and the air was once again heavy with humidity by Monday morning, none of which helped the depressed mood that threatened to overwhelm Charlotte as she locked her house and climbed into her van. Already, she felt as if she’d put in a full day’s work, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she could simply stay home and climb back into bed.

  Within reason, Charlotte knew that her lethargy and depressed mood were simply the results of lack of sleep after a restless night of tossing and turning due to worry.

  After much soul searching, she had finally placed a call to Cheré before she’d gone to bed the night before. But Cheré wasn’t home, and Charlotte had been forced to leave a message on the young woman’s answering machine. Charlotte’s message had been short and to the point. She’d simply told Cheré that she needed to see her right away. Then, Charlotte had suggested that Monday around five would be a good time if Cheré could drop by her house.

  To make matters worse, along with worrying about Cheré, no matter how hard she’d tried, she kept thinking about Drew Bergeron. Recurring visions of how he’d looked, all slumped over and wearing nothing much more than that silly feathered mask, kept haunting her.

  But underlying all of her other worries were the nagging thoughts about her health…the tiredness she’d felt lately, the forgetfulness, and the fainting spell. Each symptom could be excused or explained away individually, but all of them together…

  “Stop it,” she muttered as she turned the van down the street where Marian lived. “Just s
top it right now.”

  Hank had set her up with an appointment to see a colleague of his on Tuesday afternoon, she reminded herself again. Until then, there was no use in even speculating about it, just as there was no reason to speculate about Drew Bergeron’s death. How or why he had been murdered was none of her concern. As for Cheré, she would have her talk with her that afternoon, but ultimately, the young woman would have to decide for herself what was best.

  Firmly shoving the thoughts aside, Charlotte pulled in front of Marian’s house and parked. From the back of the van, she gathered her cleaning supplies along with two of the candles that she’d bought after leaving her sister’s house the day before.

  All the talk about All Saints’ Day and candles had started her thinking. There were all types of scented candles now that were designed to alter moods. Maybe there was one she could get for Marian, one that might help calm her. Since she’d been on Magazine Street anyway, she’d decided to stop in at one of the specialty shops and check it out.

  While in the shop, she had noticed a display that was devoted solely to aromatherapy. There were also brochures explaining the theory behind mood-altering scents. When she’d read how the scent of lavender had the power to soothe, she’d immediately purchased several lavender-scented candles.

  “Should have used the candles myself,” she muttered as she locked the van.

  Within mere seconds of ringing Marian’s doorbell, the front door swung open. One look at Marian, and Charlotte figured the poor woman needed more than a few candles to calm her down.

  Once again she was still in her nightgown and robe, but unlike on Friday, today there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair was tangled and in dire need of a good shampooing. But it was the wild look in Marian’s eyes that disturbed Charlotte the most.

  “Oh, Charlotte, come in, come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”