Polished Off (Charlotte LaRue Mystery Series, Book 3) Page 14

  Jane sat in a chair opposite Charlotte. “Oh my, yes. He got me out of a really sticky situation. I was having some work done on the house, and one of the contractors fell off a ladder—well, he didn’t really fall—but anyway, he claimed he did, claimed he hurt his back. He was making all kinds of noises about suing me but offered to settle privately. Said if I just paid him outright, he wouldn’t drag me into court.

  “Well, a neighbor recommended I talk to Daniel, and within a week that contractor was singing a different tune. Come to find out, I wasn’t the only client he’d pulled that on. Daniel did some checking around and found out that he had a scam going, and once Daniel confronted him, the man—”

  Suddenly distracted, Jane glanced toward the doorway. “Oh, hello, honey.”

  Charlotte turned to see a tall, muscular man leaning heavily on a cane. The left side of his face and his throat were still scarred in spite of the extensive reconstructive surgery he’d gone through, and his left arm, totally useless since his accident, rested in a sling.

  Jane stood and walked over to where he was standing. “You remember Charlotte, don’t you, dear?”

  He gave Charlotte a lopsided grin and nodded.

  Jane patted him on the back. “It’s not quite time for your walk yet, honey. Is there something else that you need?”

  Glen Calhoun replied, but his response was too soft and garbled for Charlotte to understand.

  Evidently, Jane had no problem understanding him, though. She turned to Charlotte. “Would you excuse me a moment?”

  Within a few minutes Jane returned. “Sorry about that,” she said as she seated herself. “Poor thing, he’s made a lot of progress, but he still needs assistance at times doing certain things.”

  “He looks well,” Charlotte commented. “A lot better than the last time I saw him.”

  Jane nodded. “He has good days and bad days still, but for the most part, he’s adjusted as well as could be expected.”

  “And you? Have you adjusted?”

  “I’ll admit I was pretty bitter for a while there.” Jane paused. Then her eyes crinkled and she smiled. “But with a little help from Father Thomas and the support of some really good friends, I think I’ve adjusted pretty well for a spoiled-rotten socialite. And speaking of spoiled socialites”—her smile faded—“Professor Mac said you needed some information on Patsy Duhe.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “You know, once upon a time, Patsy and I were really good friends, but...” Her voice trailed away. “Not anymore,” she finally murmured. “Patsy’s a prime example of what bitterness can do to a person. Such a shame, a crying shame. But, as the old saying goes, ‘there but for the grace of God go I.’ ”

  Funny, Charlotte thought. She’d never really thought of Patsy as being bitter or spoiled. A bit odd, yes. And maybe a little spoiled. But bitter? “I take it that her bitterness has something to do with Lowell Webster.”

  Jane nodded. “Of course, that’s only my opinion. But Lowell was the love of her life, or so she thought. They met at school—sat beside each other in Professor Mac’s class. Patsy fell head over heels in love with him almost from the moment she laid eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly my ideal, but for Patsy he was everything she wanted in a man—handsome, intelligent, attentive, and wealthy, or so she thought.

  “The one thing she didn’t know was that he was also an accomplished liar. He’d presented himself as the only son of wealthy parents who lived abroad when all along he was nothing more than a scheming opportunist, just a dirt-poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks who was there on loans and a work scholarship. But Patsy represented everything he wanted for the moment.” Jane motioned with her hands. “Wealth, acceptance in the right social circles—that kind of stuff. Plain and simple, he used her. From the beginning, he never had any intentions of the relationship being permanent. Marriage didn’t fit into his plans—at least not right then. And neither did a baby.”

  “A baby?” Charlotte whispered. “Patsy had a baby?”

  “Patsy got pregnant,” Jane corrected. “It was the happiest I’d ever seen her, for a while anyway. Unfortunately, Lowell didn’t feel the same. When she told him about the pregnancy, instead of asking her to marry him as she had hoped, he insisted that she get an abortion.”

  Charlotte gasped, unable to believe her ears. “That must have been horrible for her.”

  “Yes it was, but that’s not the worst of it. For weeks Patsy refused to believe that he really meant it. She kept making excuses for him and hoping that he would change his mind once he got used to the idea.” Jane shook her head. “He didn’t. And in the end, she finally agreed. By the time that she realized he’d never intended on marrying her in the first place and that he’d just been using her to make society connections, it was almost too late, though.”

  Charlotte stiffened and a chill ran through her. “She had an abortion?”

  Jane shrugged. “What choice did she have?”

  Choice? Charlotte forced herself to swallow the sharp retort that was on the tip of her tongue, and she slowly counted to ten instead.

  Once upon a time, she, too, had been faced with a similar situation. She had once found herself unmarried and pregnant. The only difference was that Charlotte knew that the love of her life would have wanted their baby—if he’d had a choice. Unfortunately for both of them, Vietnam had taken away his choices about anything, along with his life. Even so, the thought of aborting her baby had never once entered her mind. She’d as soon have torn out her heart.

  “When Patsy did finally relent,” Jane continued, “the so-called doctor that Lowell found to perform the abortion botched it and botched it good.” Jane visibly shuddered. “Patsy almost hemorrhaged to death,” she whispered. “And then infection set in.” She cleared her throat. “As a result, once she recovered she learned that she would never be able to conceive another child.” Jane paused and sighed heavily. “That’s when the bitterness set in. That’s when she swore that one day Lowell would pay for what he’d done to her.”

  After Charlotte left Jane Calhoun’s, Jane’s revelations about Patsy and Lowell were all she could think about. She could understand Patsy being bitter, and she could even understand her blaming Lowell—but only up to a point. After all, no one had put a gun to her head and forced her to sleep with Lowell in the first place. And in spite of Jane’s belief that Patsy didn’t have a choice about the abortion, Charlotte disagreed. It was true that Patsy didn’t have an easy choice, but she’d had a choice. She could have chosen life, life for her baby, whether it was with her or with one of the many eager couples who would have gladly given the baby a loving home through adoption.

  That’s when the bitterness set in. That’s when she swore that one day Lowell would pay for what he’d done to her. Jane’s words played through Charlotte’s mind as she pulled alongside the curb in front of Loving Care Day-Care. For long moments she sat staring straight ahead.

  Thirty years was a long time. Was it possible for a person to hold on to bitterness for that length of time?

  Possible? Yes, came the answer. The same way it’s possible for you to still love a man who’s been dead for over forty years.

  So, if that was possible, then, logically, it stood to reason that Patsy could have been simply biding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pay Lowell back.

  And what of Lowell? If what Jane said about him was true, and Charlotte had no reason to doubt that it was, then Lowell Webster was the worst kind of liar and a far cry from the pillar of society that most people believed him to be.

  If his own flesh and blood had meant so little to him that he could ruthlessly dispose of it without a qualm, how much less would someone mean to him that he thought might be a threat to his ambitions? Someone like Ricco.

  For most of her life, Charlotte had unfailingly adhered to the philosophy that there were two sides to every story. Judge not lest you be judged. So, did Lowell have a side? she wondered as she slowly climbed out of the van. Had
there been circumstances that could possibly explain his actions or motivations involving Patsy? Charlotte couldn’t see how; still, anything was possible. But how on earth could she find out for sure?

  Charlotte climbed the steps to the porch. In the past, she’d always considered herself a pretty good judge of character. Until the Dubuissons.

  But that was different, she argued with herself. With the Dubuissons she had become personally involved with the family, whereas she had never even met Lowell Webster. Since she didn’t know the man, it stood to reason that she should be able to be objective about him.

  If only she could figure out some way to make contact with him or be around him, she felt sure she could learn more about him. Just simple observation could sometimes tell you a lot about a person. But how on earth could she, a mere maid, hope to make contact with him? After all, they certainly didn’t travel in the same social circles.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Charlotte entered Loving Care Day-Care, there were only a few children in the large playroom, and those that were there were seated around a television set watching Barney. The only adult in the room was a young woman who looked to be an older teenager.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  Charlotte nodded and smiled. “I’m here to pick up Davy Martinez.”

  “He’s probably with the others out back on the playground,” the girl offered. “Just go that way.” She motioned toward a door.

  The door opened to a short hallway, which led to another door. The moment Charlotte stepped outside she was greeted by sheer bedlam. The playground was a small area enclosed by a chain-linked fence that appeared to be about six feet tall. Noisy children of all shapes and sizes squealed and laughed as they clamored for turns on the various jungle gym equipment and the riding toys.

  It took Charlotte a few minutes to locate Davy, but she finally spotted him sitting alone in a sandbox in a comer of the play area near the back fence.

  As she made her way through the children, she noticed that although Davy was surrounded by plastic buckets, shovels, miniature dump trucks and draglines, he wasn’t playing with any of the toys. Instead, he was staring through the fence toward the narrow alley that ran alongside the playground.

  “Davy!” Charlotte called out. “Time to go.”

  When Davy turned his head toward her and frowned, Charlotte tried telling herself that he was probably just disappointed that his mother wasn’t the one who had come to get him, and his disappointment had nothing to do with her personally. At least she hoped that was the case.

  Charlotte knelt down beside the little boy and smiled at him. “Hey, buddy, you ready to go?”

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Ah... he’s still busy, trying to help the police,” she told him, unable to think of anything else at the moment. There was simply no other way that she could think of to explain about Daniel being in jail. “But he’ll be home real soon,” she hastened to add and prayed it was true. “Until then, though, he wants you to stay with me. Remember? Me and Sweety Boy,” she said, hoping to distract him.

  He stared at her for what seemed like forever, then he finally nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go.” Taking Davy firmly by the hand, she led him back through the maze of children to inside the house, where she signed him out. Though he went with her without protest, the solemn expression on his little face worried her. Any minute she expected him to burst into tears. Only when she’d settled him in the van did he finally speak again. She breathed a sigh of relief as he began chattering away, telling her all about how some kid named Tommy had bit another kid and left a big boo-boo on his arm.

  During the drive home, Charlotte made noises to reassure Davy she was listening to him, but she was only half listening. Her thoughts kept swirling around Lowell Webster and the possibility that he’d either murdered Ricco himself to cover for his son Mark or he’d had him murdered.

  But even if she found a way to meet Lowell, to be around him, what then? What purpose would it serve? It wasn’t as if she could just come right out and ask the man if all the gossip she’d heard about him from Nadia and Patsy was true. And she certainly couldn’t ask him outright if he’d murdered Ricco Martinez. Even if there was a way of asking him, he’d be a fool to admit to any of it, given his present political ambitions.

  The more Charlotte thought about it, the more frustrated she grew. Davy was still chattering away when she pulled into the driveway. As she switched off the engine, out of nowhere a possible solution to her dilemma dawned on her, a way to spy on Lowell without him even knowing who she was or that she was spying. And she knew just the person who could help her out.

  When Charlotte and Davy entered the house, Sweety Boy began his usual chatter and squawking, vying for attention.

  “Play with Weety, Aunt Chardy? Me play with Weety?”

  Charlotte set her purse down. “Tell you what,” she said as she slipped out of her shoes and pulled on her moccasins. “Aunt Charley needs to make a few phone calls first. If you’ll be a good boy and watch TV for a little while, then I promise I’ll let Sweety out of his cage. And if you’re very, very good, I might even let you pet him.”

  Davy grinned from ear to ear and thumped himself on his chest with his fist. “I be good.”

  “I know you will. You’re a good boy,” Charlotte told him as she turned on the television and settled Davy in front of his favorite afternoon show.

  Satisfied that he’d be content for a little while, she headed for the phone. But as she drew near the desk, her footsteps slowed, and she began to have qualms about the solution she’d come up with and about contacting her old friend Carrie Rogers.

  Involving Professor Mac and Jane Calhoun was one thing. At least they knew Daniel and had sympathy for his situation. But what she was contemplating doing now was a different matter. Carrie didn’t know Daniel, and she didn’t know about his predicament. Even so, if anyone had an “in” with whoever cleaned Lowell’s offices, Carrie would.

  Still Charlotte hesitated. First gossiping, and now lying and subterfuge as well. Just how far was she willing to go, and where would it all end?

  Charlotte glanced over at Davy, but in her mind’s eye she was seeing Daniel holding Davy with one arm, his other arm wrapped around Nadia, all three of them standing at the foot of her table on Easter Sunday as Daniel announced that they were now a family.

  The truth. It will end with the truth. Ruthlessly tamping down her feelings of guilt, she turned her attention to the phone. Beside the phone, the light on her message machine was blinking. At first she tried to ignore it.

  Just do it. Make the call before you lose your nerve. But the blinking light beckoned, and she hesitated. What if the call was news about Daniel or Nadia? Or it could be business.

  If you had Caller I.D., you wouldn’t have to wonder who had called. She had considered having Caller I.D. service installed, but since she already had the answering machine, she’d never been able to justify the added expense—until now. Maybe it was time to reconsider.

  “Probably just one of those stupid telemarketing calls,” she muttered. But there was only one way to find out. With an exasperated sigh, she tapped the MESSAGE button of the answering machine.

  “Hi, Charlotte, it’s me.”

  Madeline.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here when you called Sunday.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she muttered.

  “And I appreciate you keeping Davy,” Madeline continued. “I—I just couldn’t handle everything at the time. I’ve been so upset and worried about Daniel, I can hardly think straight Anyway, I thought you might like to know that I was able to see Daniel today. It—it wasn’t easy seeing him there ... in that—that place.” Her voice choked up, and it was a moment before she continued her message.

  “Oh, Charlotte, what are we going to do? Daniel says everything will work out, but what if it doesn’t? What if—” She choked up again. Then, after a brief pause,
she continued, her voice almost a whisper. “Daniel told me about Nadia—about her being pregnant. He also told me he was worried about her and Davy.” Madeline stopped to clear her throat. “In fact,” she said, “that’s one of the reasons I called. I can help out with Davy ... if you need me to.” She paused as if waiting for an answer, then said, “Well, just let me know. Call me, okay?”

  The machine beeped, signaling the end of the message. With mixed emotions churning inside, Charlotte glanced over to where Davy sat entranced with the TV actions of Barney, the big purple dinosaur.

  Charlotte wanted to believe Madeline was sincere, wanted to believe the best about her sister with all of her heart. But how could she? From the beginning, Madeline had made it crystal clear how she felt about Nadia and Davy.

  More than likely, the reason she was changing her tune had more to do with Daniel shaming her into making the offer to help. Either that, or Daniel had laid it on the line to his mother: my way or the highway type of stuff. It was a sure bet that Madeline’s offer wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart. Madeline thought only about her own welfare, and in Charlotte’s experience a leopard didn’t change its spots, at least not overnight.

  Charlotte worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She could take Davy to Madeline. Doing so would certainly make her own life less complicated. But how would yet another upheaval in his young life affect the little guy, especially since he seemed to have finally adjusted to staying with her?

  On the other hand, maybe she was letting past experiences with her sister prejudice her judgment. Maybe, just maybe, once Madeline was around Davy and saw what a darling little boy he was, she might have a change of heart.

  And maybe pigs can fly.

  Tormented by conflicting emotions, Charlotte closed her eyes and shook her head.

  When in doubt about what to do, do nothing. Charlotte wasn’t sure where she’d heard the adage or if she’d read it somewhere or whether she’d simply made it up herself, but regardless, she decided that it was good advice.