Maid For Murder. Barbara Colley
Читать онлайн книгу.
took a deep breath, counted to ten, and reminded herself that Bitsy was a client as well as an old lady. Even so, enough was enough for one night.
She motioned vaguely toward a crowd of people huddled around a food table. “I think that’s my son signaling to me over there,” she lied. “Thanks for the drink, but I’ve got to run now. See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”
As Charlotte hurried away, she heard Bitsy calling after her, but she ignored her. Now if only she could find Hank and Carol . . .
Minutes later, Charlotte finally spotted Carol standing near the front gates. But Hank was nowhere in sight.
The second Carol saw Charlotte, her face lit up, and she rushed over to her. “Thank goodness!” she exclaimed. “I was beginning to think I never was going to find you.”
Charlotte laughed. “I was looking for you, too.”
“Well, now that we found each other, Hank asked me to give you a message. He said to tell you that he got a call from the hospital and had to leave.”
“What a rotten shame,” Charlotte said with feeling. “I know you two were having a good time. As for me, though, it’s just as well. I was really looking for that son of mine to tell him that I have to be going.”
Carol frowned. “Oh, darn! I was hoping you’d stay and keep me company. The evening is still young,” she added in a wistful, coaxing tone.
For a moment, Charlotte was tempted to stay a while longer. Because Hank had interrupted their earlier chat, she’d only had time to ferret out a couple of facts about Carol. For one, she’d learned that Carol was a nurse who worked for one of Hank’s associates. She’d also learned that Carol had once been engaged but had ultimately decided against marrying the man.
With Hank gone, Charlotte figured she just might be able to find out more. She might even be able to work the conversation around to the subject of children.
Charlotte glanced at her watch, then groaned. “The evening might still be young,” she said regretfully, “but I’m not—not young, that is, and I have to be on a job by seven tomorrow morning.”
“Well, you’re certainly not old, either, not by today’s standards.”
Charlotte grinned. “I wish you’d help me convince my son of that. He thinks I need to retire and let him take care of me”
“I know,” Carol told her softly. “But Hank just loves you, Charlotte. He really hates seeing you work so hard”
So they had discussed her, thought Charlotte. Interesting. Interesting indeed.
“And what do you think?” Charlotte asked.
“I think you should do what you want to do, and I’ve told Hank as much.”
On impulse, Charlotte gave the younger woman a quick hug. “Carol, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
Carol returned the hug eagerly. “I hope so. I certainly hope so.”
Charlotte stepped back. “But hey, listen. Just because Hank and I have to leave doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stay and enjoy yourself.”
Carol shook her head. “Nope! If you’re not staying, then I’m not, either. It just wouldn’t be any fun without Hank or you.”
Bitsy Duhe lived on the same street as the vampire novelist Anne Rice. Charlotte glanced at the author’s house as she passed it the following morning. Though vampires weren’t exactly her choice of reading material, she still hoped one day to meet the famous lady who wrote about them. A grin tugged at her lips. She’d even had a fantasy or two about working for her.
A few houses farther down, Charlotte parked in front of Bitsy’s house. Surrounded by huge azalea bushes filled with dark pink blooms, the house was a very old raised-cottage-style Greek Revival.
Bitsy was already outside, standing on the front gallery. As usual, Bitsy had on yet another of her flowered dresses. With her were two men dressed in jeans and matching khaki shirts.
Also as usual, Bitsy was talking a mile a minute. Even as she waved a greeting to Charlotte, her mouth never stopped moving.
Charlotte immediately recognized one of the men as Joseph O’Connor, a well-known Garden District gardener. Joseph occasionally worked for Bitsy, but he also worked for several of Charlotte’s other clients.
Who was the younger man with Joseph? she wondered. And why did the tall sandy-haired man look vaguely familiar? As far as she knew, Joseph worked alone most of the time. Of course, it was always possible that the gardener had finally decided to hire a helper, especially since he was getting on in years.
“But aren’t we all?” Charlotte grumbled as she stepped out of the van.
After gathering the supplies she would need, Charlotte took a deep breath of the cool morning air. Too bad it wouldn’t stay cool, she thought as she locked the van, then approached the steps leading up to the front gallery. By afternoon, the heat of the sun, combined with the humidity, would rival a sauna. And before the month of May ended, even the early mornings would be hot and muggy, typical New Orleans weather.
Even as Charlotte nodded at the two men when she passed them, the feeling that she knew the younger man grew even stronger. He was older than she’d first thought. Up close the fine lines around his piercing green eyes were more visible and defined, and she detected just a bit of gray around his temples.
Where had she seen him before?
Charlotte prided herself on her keen awareness of details, especially the faces of people she met and the names that went along with those faces. Being unable to recall where she’d seen the younger man before was puzzling. She should have been able to shrug it off, but for reasons she couldn’t fathom, it disturbed her that she couldn’t identify him.
Chapter Four
Though Bitsy’s house was large, it wasn’t hard to maintain. A strong believer in the old cliché, a place for everything and everything in its place, she was basically a neat lady. In spite of her efforts, however, the house, like its owner, was old. Coping with the accumulation of dust and cobwebs was an ongoing battle.
In the kitchen, Charlotte filled the sink with warm water and added a healthy measure of degreaser. Bitsy’s kitchen was a nightmare, containing every modern kitchen gadget imaginable. She’d even had additional shelves built so she could display the vast collection, all of which seemed to draw dust and grease like metal drew magnets.
“Charlotte! Oh, Charlotte, where are you?”
Charlotte flinched at the sound of Bitsy’s squeaky voice. Giving the electric juicer one last swipe, she then started wiping down the bread machine. She had hoped the older lady would spend a bit more time with the gardener and leave her in peace.
“Charlotte!”
“In the kitchen,” Charlotte called out.
Seconds later, Bitsy bustled through the doorway. “Did you see my new carousel rotisserie?” She patted a large dome-shaped machine near the end of the cabinet. “It just arrived day before yesterday and makes cooking chicken a breeze. If you’ll remind me before you leave, I’ll give you a sample to take home with you.”
“That’s very generous of you, but—”
“Not generous,” Bitsy said matter-of-factly. “Just practical. I don’t like to eat frozen stuff, and I can’t possibly eat the three chickens I experimented on by myself.”
Charlotte hid a smile as she moved over to the sink to rinse out the washcloth she’d been using. It would never occur to Bitsy to cook only what she could eat, especially when she was trying out one of her new gadgets.
The sudden intrusion of noise from the lawn mower in the backyard should have made further conversation impossible. Not so with Bitsy.