Scrub-a-dub Dead. Barbara Colley
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A minute or so later Margaret appeared at the doorway. In her hand was a small paper sack. The bright purple logo of several triangles and a tulip on the white sack caught Charlotte’s eye. Beneath the logo was the name of a store she’d never heard of before.
“I’ve got to leave for a while,” Margaret said. “Please, don’t bother anything on the desk, and don’t forget to leave me an extra pack of decaf.”
Charlotte nodded and a moment later she heard the outer door open and shut.
Though Charlotte tried to concentrate on her cleaning and tried to ignore the one-sided phone conversation she’d overheard, she couldn’t help wondering who the “she” was that Tessa had mentioned. And what was it that “she” had overheard? But even more curious, why was Tessa seemingly so upset by it?
As Charlotte reached down and flushed the toilet, parts of the conversation between Tessa and her Red Scarf sisters played through her mind. She frowned. What was it that Mary Lou had said to Tessa?
Aw, come on now, there’s got to be something else.
And Tessa had answered, I can’t talk about it. Not now. Not yet.
Was it possible that whatever Tessa couldn’t talk about to Mary Lou had something to do with the phone call she’d made to Margaret?
Charlotte groaned and shook her head. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, just mind your own business.”
Chapter 2
The double parlor of the old house-hotel had been converted into a restaurant. The moment Charlotte stepped inside the room a thin, pale woman who looked to be in her thirties approached her. “Hi, my name is Simone, and I’m your hostess today. May I help you?” she asked, her gaze raking over Charlotte’s uniform.
Charlotte returned the gaze, noting that in addition to having below-the-shoulder-length black hair, the woman also wore a black, flowing dress that was mid-calf length. Though Charlotte was sure the woman was striving for an elegant, sophisticated look, in her opinion she looked like a leftover cast member from Interview with a Vampire.
“I’d like a table for one, please,” Charlotte told her. “I’m one of the temporary maids. My name is Charlotte.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlotte. All of our tables inside are occupied at the moment, but if you don’t mind eating on the patio, I believe there’s a table available out there.”
Charlotte glanced around the room. Sure enough, all of the tables were occupied, mostly by women wearing red scarves.
“The patio is fine,” Charlotte told her.
The woman nodded. “Just follow me.”
Charlotte followed her through a side door onto the porch that had been extended into a covered deck area.
The woman stopped at an empty table. “Your waitress will be right with you.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte murmured, seating herself at the table. Though not as cool as the air-conditioned restaurant, the striped awning blocked the high-noon sun and the ceiling fans stirred the humid air, making the outside part of the restaurant comfortable.
Within minutes, a waitress appeared and handed Charlotte a menu. “What can I get you to drink, ma’am?”
Charlotte smiled up at the perky young woman. “Unsweetened tea, please.”
“And what about an appetizer?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, thanks. By the way, my name is Charlotte LaRue. I’m the temporary maid, and I was told that meals in the restaurant were one of the benefits of working here.”
The waitress nodded. “That’s correct. You can choose anything on the menu up to ten dollars.”
With a concentrated frown, Charlotte stared at the menu. She didn’t recall anyone mentioning a limit.
“Tea, coffee, and soft drinks are free to the staff,” the waitress added. “Why don’t you go ahead and look over the menu and I’ll be right back with your tea.”
“I’ll go ahead and order,” Charlotte told her. “I want the shrimp po-boy.”
“Dressed or undressed?”
“Just the shrimp, lettuce, and tomatoes,” Charlotte replied. “No mayo or onions.” Lately, every time she’d eaten anything with onions she’d ended up with indigestion, and she didn’t need the extra fat or calories from the mayonnaise. “And please add extra lettuce and tomatoes.”
“Okay, be back in a jiffy with your tea.”
While she waited, Charlotte glanced around at the other tables. Most of the guests on the patio were women. Though their choice of clothes varied from slacks to dresses, the majority of them, like the ones seated inside the restaurant, wore a red scarf tied in a variety of ways around their necks. As far as Charlotte could tell, there were only two tables where the occupants weren’t wearing the signature scarves: three men in suits occupied a table near the doorway, and two scantily dressed young women were seated at the table next to hers.
Both of the women wore short-shorts and halter tops and looked to be in their early-to-mid-twenties. One was blond, small, and petite, while the other had reddish brown hair, and though not exactly fat, she wasn’t exactly petite either.
Pleasantly plump, Charlotte decided, her eyes narrowing. She couldn’t remember ever meeting the young woman, but there was a vaguely familiar look about her. And from the hostile glares passing back and forth between the two, neither woman was very happy about whatever they were discussing.
Probably the heat, Charlotte decided. For those who weren’t used to the humid August heat, it sometimes played havoc with their emotions and tempers grew short.
At that moment, Charlotte’s waitress reappeared, a tall glass of iced tea in hand. “Here you go,” she said, setting the glass in front of Charlotte. “Be back in a jiffy with your po-boy.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte said.
True to the waitress’s word, within minutes, she reappeared with Charlotte’s sandwich.
“Enjoy,” the waitress quipped as she placed the plate in front of Charlotte.
Charlotte smiled, her mouth watering at the sight and smell of the small loaf of French bread stuffed full of fried shrimp, lettuce, and tomatoes. “I intend to do just that,” she said.
Savoring every delicious bite of the sandwich, Charlotte took her time eating. In between bites, she found her gaze returning to the two young women. Both seemed oblivious to their surroundings and the half-eaten sandwiches on their plates. Though Charlotte was unable to hear them very well, she figured that the blond one must have been winning the argument from the smug look on her face.
Just as Charlotte finished the last bite of her sandwich, a young man approached her table.
“I don’t mean to be rude or interrupt your meal, ma’am, but I noticed that you had finished eating. Since this place is so crowded and all, I was wondering if you’d mind if I claim your table? But only if you’re finished,” he hastened to add.
Though Charlotte thought the request was indeed a bit rude, she nodded, took a last sip of her tea, blotted her mouth with her napkin, and then stood. “Be my guest,” she told him with a forced smile. “I have to get back to work anyway.”
“Thanks.” Suddenly his gaze shifted to her left and Charlotte turned in time to see the young blonde who had been arguing with the other woman from the next table approach.
“Christopher, what are you doing here?” she cried, clearly upset by his appearance. “How dare you follow me!”
With a frown, Charlotte slowly backed away from the table.
“Aw, Lisa, don’t be like that. Of course