Читать книгу Maid For Murder - Barbara Colley - Страница 10

Chapter Three

For once, Charlotte had to agree with Bitsy. Even if Tony Marriott’s swarthy looks hadn’t reminded her of every cliché she’d ever associated with a mafia hit man, his reputation alone would have been enough for Charlotte to steer clear of him.

Charlotte’s nephew, Daniel, had once worked as an assistant D.A. before going into private practice. From listening to Daniel talk, Charlotte knew that Tony specialized in representing clients no one else would touch, mostly big-time drug dealers. And more often than not, he always won in court and was paid well for his services.

Bitsy tugged on Charlotte’s arm. “Let’s get closer. I can’t hear what they’re saying from here.”

Charlotte firmly removed her arm from Bitsy’s grasp. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Evidently, neither did the people dancing near Sydney and the two men. All around the men, couples had stopped dancing and were backing away.

Bitsy craned her head. “Oh, Lordy, me. Do you think they’re gonna fight?”

Charlotte abhorred violence in any form, and the eager anticipation in Bitsy’s voice was more than she could stomach.

“Shame on you,” Charlotte told the old lady. “Of course they’re not going to fight.” At least she hoped not. But if she had to bet on which man would win in a fight, she’d lay odds on Tony. No contest. Jackson was the taller of the two men by several inches, but Tony was more muscular looking and probably outweighed Jackson by at least thirty pounds. And from all accounts, Tony was a lot meaner than Jackson and fought dirty, at least in the courtroom.

Even as the music played on, muting the heated conversation between the two men, Charlotte could feel the tension emanating from them like the vibrations from the strings of a too tightly strung violin.

But the drama was short-lived. Tony’s verbal attack abruptly ended when he jerked his wife out of Jackson’s arms. Pulling her and half-dragging her along behind him, he stalked off through the crowd. Charlotte followed the couple’s exit until they disappeared in the crowd. When she looked back to see Jackson’s reaction, he was gone.

“Oh, phooey!” Bitsy grumbled. “I thought for sure we would get to see a fight.”

Charlotte 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.