Scrub-a-dub Dead. Barbara Colley
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“Dear Lord in heaven,” she whispered, her insides still heavy from the throes of the dream. First, the nightmare about drowning during Katrina, and now she was dreaming about Hank. What in the world was going on?
Dreaming about the horrors of the hurricane she could understand, but why on earth would she be dreaming about Hank and something that happened over forty years ago?
Mack, she decided, blinking back tears as she pulled the covers to her chin and burrowed farther down in the bed to ward off a sudden chill. The combination of seeing Mack again, then hearing the argument between Louis and Joyce, must have stirred up all of the old, painful memories that she’d tucked away years ago, she decided.
Hearing Joyce and Louis argue had reminded her of the last night she’d spent with Hank before he’d left. It had been one of the few times that they had disagreed over anything. Too bad she hadn’t realized then how sweet the making up afterwards could be or she might have instigated more arguments.
Relegating the memories back to where they’d come from, Charlotte turned her head to check the time. Reliving the past only made her sad. When she saw the numbers on the illuminated dial of the clock, she sighed. “Time to get up anyway,” she grumbled. No sooner had the words left her mouth than the alarm buzzed.
When Charlotte stepped out on her front porch, she noticed that Louis’s car was gone. As she locked the front door, she wondered if he had stayed out all night? If so, where had he stayed? Of course it was always possible that once he’d cooled off he could have come home then left again later. Though possible, not likely, she decided, as she crossed the porch, descended the steps, and headed for the van. Lately, any time he had to go out of town on business or catch an early flight, he let her know about it, just in case Joyce had an emergency.
With a shrug and reminding herself that what Louis did or didn’t do was really no concern of hers, she unlocked the van, climbed inside, and drove to the hotel.
Most of Charlotte’s day passed quickly without incident, and by midafternoon she only had one room left to clean before going home. She’d tried to clean it earlier but the occupant had put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign.
When she approached the door, she noted that the sign was gone, but just as she held up her arm and curled her fingers into a fist to give the courtesy knock, a woman from inside shouted, “I told you it was over, so leave me alone.”
Charlotte dropped her arm and backed away from the door. Though muffled, she could still hear a man shout back at the woman. “And I told you that it’s only over when I say it’s over. I love you, and I don’t intend for another man to raise my baby!”
“Well, I don’t love you!” the woman cried. “And for your information, my baby will be raised by who I choose. And I don’t choose you. Now, get out! Get out or I’ll call the police!”
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” the man yelled. “For now,” he added. “But I’ll be back.”
The door abruptly opened, and a man stalked out into the hallway. Without a glance Charlotte’s way, he stormed past her.
All that Charlotte could do was stare at the man, the same man whom she’d seen arguing with Lisa the day before. As she watched him disappear around the corner leading to the stairwell, she narrowed her eyes. Christopher. If she remembered right, that was what Lisa had called him. So, did that mean that the room belonged to…
“I don’t need the room cleaned today.”
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Charlotte jerked her head around to see Lisa standing in the open doorway. The robe-clad woman’s eyes were puffy and red. Probably from crying, Charlotte figured. Unable to help herself, her gaze lowered to Lisa’s midsection. If Lisa was pregnant, she didn’t show it yet. So, did Frank know about Lisa’s condition?
“I said that I don’t need the room cleaned today.”
Lisa’s words snapped Charlotte out of her reverie. “Yes, of course. Would you like for me to come back—” Before Charlotte had time to finish her sentence, Lisa slammed the door shut.
“Guess not,” Charlotte muttered. Fine with her. She was tired anyway. Grabbing hold of the handles of the cleaning cart, Charlotte wheeled it toward the elevator. With one less room to clean, she could go home early and rest a bit before her dinner date with Mack. But as the elevator carried her to the ground floor, she couldn’t stop thinking about the argument she’d overheard between Lisa and Christopher. And she couldn’t stop wondering if Frank Morgan knew that his fiancée was carrying another man’s baby.
Chapter 4
When Charlotte pulled into her driveway, she noticed that Louis’s car was still missing, and later that evening, when she left again for her date with Mack, Louis still hadn’t returned.
Where are you, Louis?
As prearranged, Mack was waiting for Charlotte inside the vestibule near the front door of the restaurant.
“You look gorgeous,” he said as he took her hands and kissed her on the cheek. Charlotte bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Once again she’d opted for her little black dress, the gold chain, and gold hoops.
Though returning the compliment would have been the polite thing to do, “Thanks” was all that Charlotte said.
Personally, she thought that Mack looked like he’d been through the wringer. Besides having bags under his bloodshot eyes, his dark suit hung on him like a sack…or like he’d slept in it, his shirt was wrinkled, and unless she was mistaken, that spot on his tie looked suspiciously like dried-up ketchup or spaghetti sauce.
“You’re welcome,” he responded. Then, looking very uncomfortable, he said, “Before we go into the restaurant, I have a confession to make.”
Uh-oh, here it comes.
“We’ll be joining a few others tonight for dinner. I would have told you last night, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come. Frank—he’s my son-in-law—is having a dinner for the staff of his CPA firm, and since I’m the managing partner for the firm, I’m expected to attend as well.”
Though Charlotte forced a smile, inside she was seething. If it had been anyone but Mack, she would have immediately turned around and gone home. “I don’t like surprises, Mack,” she warned.
A flush stole up Mack’s cheeks, and he looked so uncomfortable that Charlotte took pity on him. “But what’s done is done,” she said. “Just don’t ever do that again. Now, shall we join the others?”
The oblong table was located near the front of the restaurant in an alcove near huge windows that overlooked the sidewalk and street. The others they joined included Belinda, Lisa, two men, and another woman.
Mack escorted her to where one of the men was seated at the head of the table. On either side of the man, facing each other, were Belinda and Lisa.
Belinda smiled at Charlotte, but the expression on Lisa’s face was anything but welcoming. And no wonder, thought Charlotte. Once Lisa had realized who she was, she had probably also realized that there was a good possibility that Charlotte had overheard the argument she’d had earlier with Christopher.
“Frank, this is Charlotte LaRue,” Mack said. “She’s the friend that I told you about. Charlotte, this is Frank Morgan.” Mack’s gaze slid to Lisa then back to Charlotte. “Frank is my son-in-law as well as the head of Morgan and Associates, the firm I work for.”
When Frank Morgan smiled, stood, and Charlotte clasped the hand that he proffered, she suddenly realized why his wife Tessa was so obsessed with youth and beauty. Frank was an extremely handsome man in a dark brooding sort of way, and unless Charlotte missed her guess, he was also a bit younger than Tessa.
“Nice to meet you, Charlotte,” he said, giving her hand a firm but gentle squeeze. “Glad you could join