Читать книгу Scrub-a-dub Dead - Barbara Colley - Страница 9

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 I’m going to follow you. I love you.”

Lisa! Charlotte’s steps slowed even more. Was it possible? Could this young woman be the same husband-stealing hussy Lisa that Tessa and her Red Scarf sisters had been talking about earlier?

“I told you it’s over,” Lisa snapped. “I’m engaged now.” She waved her left hand in front of his face. On her third finger was a diamond big enough to choke a horse. “This is stalking, and if you keep following me, I tell Frank, and he’ll have you arrested.”

Oh, brother! Charlotte sighed, and with a shake of her head she turned and walked away. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to get away from these people and their problems.

Later that afternoon Charlotte once again approached Tessa’s door. Wanting to give the woman plenty of time to get rid of her so-called migraine, she’d saved finishing up Tessa’s room for last.

Charlotte glanced down at the doorknob just to make sure there wasn’t a DO NOT DISTURB sign. There wasn’t one, so she knocked and waited. Then, just to be on the safe side, she knocked again louder and said, “Housekeeping.” When there was no response, she opened the door with her master key and entered the room. One glance reassured her that the room was empty and also reassured her that it looked much the same as she’d left it. Since she’d already cleaned the bathroom earlier, she began by stripping the sheets off the beds.

Minutes later, she’d just finished putting clean sheets on the second bed when she heard the key mechanism in the door click and the door swung open.

Charlotte immediately recognized the swimsuit-clad young woman. She was the same one who had been arguing with Lisa in the restaurant.

The young woman dropped her tote bag on the floor. “Hi, I’m Belinda,” she said. “This is my mom’s room.”

Charlotte smiled. No wonder she’d looked familiar. She resembled a younger, plumper Joan Rivers with dark hair. “And I’m Charlotte, the maid.”

Belinda tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“I believe you were eating lunch in the restaurant at the table next to mine.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s it,” Belinda replied.

“Is it going to bother you for me to clean?” And though she had to force herself to say it, she added, “I can come back later.”

Belinda shook her head. “Nope. Won’t bother me.” She laughed, and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be in the shower,” she called over her shoulder. “Besides, now is probably a good time to clean while my mom is out. She’s down at the spa getting a facial and a massage.”

While Belinda showered Charlotte worked on cleaning the bedroom. By the time Belinda emerged in a hotel robe, Charlotte had made up both beds with clean sheets and dusted.

“Are you from around here?” Belinda asked as she towel-dried her hair. “You know, like, have you lived here long?”

“I’ve lived here all of my life,” Charlotte answered as she gathered up the dirty sheets.

“So, which restaurants would you recommend?”

Charlotte paused. “Depends on what price range you’re looking for and what kind of food you’re interested in.”

“Price is no object, and as my mother would say, I like anything as long as it’s seafood. I see food, I eat it, and it goes straight to my hips.” She slapped her hip and laughed. “Get it?”

Charlotte got it and forced a smile to be polite. Belinda’s laugh was a pathetic sound without humor, and Charlotte felt sorry for the girl. Personally, she thought that Belinda’s size was just fine. In her opinion too many young women were obsessed with being rail-thin, thanks to the super-models, movie stars, and television.

“Mother is always after me to lose weight,” Belinda continued, “but I figured that since this is a vacation, I should at least sample some of the local food. After all, that’s what New Orleans is most noted for, isn’t it—that and Mardi Gras, and of course now, Hurricane Katrina?”

Charlotte gave a slight shrug. “I suppose. In that case, most any restaurant in the French Quarter is good. And if you want something closer to the hotel, I highly recommend Commander’s Palace. But you might want to check ahead and see if you need reservations.”

Belinda nodded. “Thanks, I will. So, what about places I should see?”

Charlotte felt a jolt to her heart and her arms tightened around the sheets she’d picked up. Sadly, thanks to the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, many historic sites had been damaged. “It would probably be best if you checked at the concierge desk about that,” she said. “I’m sure they would be able to arrange a tour for you.”

Again Belinda nodded. Fluffing her still damp hair with her fingers, she said, “Thanks again. Just one more thing, if you don’t mind. I’m a collector of sorts. I collect old movies, records, and books—stuff like that. So each time we take a trip, I like to add to my collection. Is there anywhere specific that I could find stuff like that?”

Charlotte nodded. “Your best bet would be the French Market, especially on Saturday and Sunday. That’s located down on Decatur, not far from Jax Brewery and Café du Monde.”

Belinda grinned. “Oh, cool. I’ll check it out, but guess for now I’d better get my hair dried.”

With the sound of the hairdryer whirring, Charlotte finished cleaning the bedroom. By the time she’d vacuumed, Belinda had dried her hair and applied makeup. When Belinda came out of the bathroom, she frowned. “Are you leaving?”

Charlotte nodded.

“But you haven’t cleaned the bathroom yet.”

“I cleaned it earlier this morning,” Charlotte explained. “But your mother was here and said she had a migraine and asked me to come back and clean the bedroom later.”

With a panicky look on her face, Belinda’s gaze shifted from the bedroom to the bathroom, then back to Charlotte. “Could you please, please clean the bathroom again? I kind of made a mess in there. I thought you were going to clean it, so I wasn’t as neat as I could have been. If Mother sees that mess, she’ll be on my case big time.”

Charlotte’s knee-jerk reaction was one of indignation. Just because Belinda had thought that the maid was going to clean it was no excuse to be sloppy. On the other hand, having experienced Tessa’s wrath herself and ever mindful that whatever she did or didn’t do would reflect on Carrie, Charlotte took pity on the girl and nodded, earning her a huge smile of relief from Belinda.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Belinda gushed.

Out in the hallway Charlotte gathered the necessary supplies from the cleaning cart. Since she’d already given the bathroom a thorough cleaning earlier, she figured it wouldn’t take long to go over it again. Then she could finally go home.

As she wiped down the mirror, countertop, and sink, she thought about Belinda and her relationship with her mother. From the little Belinda had told her, it seemed to Charlotte that Tessa still treated her like a teenager. Then again, it was always possible that earlier, down in the restaurant, she had miscalculated Belinda’s age to begin with. Girls looked so much more mature than they really were nowadays that it was sometimes hard to tell their age.

Charlotte sprayed cleaner on the tile surrounding the bathtub and was wiping it off when she heard a loud knock at the outer door. Then she heard Belinda ask, “Who’s there?” Though she couldn’t hear the muffled reply, she did hear Belinda’s greeting to the visitor. “Hey, Granddaddy.”

“Hey, baby girl,” a gruff voice responded. “Is the coast clear?”

In the bathroom Charlotte paused. She’d heard that voice before, but where?

“Yeah, the coast is clear,” Belinda said. “Come on in. Mother is down at the spa.”

The moment that the door clicked closed the man asked, “Did you talk to Lisa?”

“Yeah, for all the good that did. I tried to make her see reason, Granddaddy. Honestly, I tried,” she reiterated. “But she wouldn’t even listen to me.”

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” her grandfather drawled, sarcasm dripping with each word. “If she goes through with it and calls in the cops I’ll be ruined. But there’s no way I can do what she wants. No way,” he repeated.

Charlotte’s nerves tensed and her mind raced. What in the world was going on with these people? First Tessa, then Belinda, and now Belinda’s grandfather, and in the middle of it all was this woman named Lisa. Charlotte figured that she could be wrong, but it sounded suspiciously like this Lisa person was the puppet master pulling everyone’s strings. In fact, the whole thing smelled of…blackmail.

You do not want to hear this. Mind your own business. Charlotte reached across and flushed the toilet to drown out the conversation in the next room.

But even above the sound of the rushing water she still heard the man ask, “I thought you said that your mother wasn’t here.”

“I did—I mean she’s not,” Belinda reassured him. “It’s just the hotel maid cleaning the bathroom. She’s a really nice lady. But back to Lisa, I don’t think she’ll actually go through with it. I know her, Granddaddy, and she’s just blowing smoke. I thought I’d give her a little time to cool off, then talk to her again. One way or another, I’ll persuade her to change her mind. I promise. And if I have to, I’ll talk to Daddy myself. Why, without you, the company would have been bankrupt a long time ago.”

“Uh-uh,” the man protested. “You’ve done enough, honey. I don’t want to put you in the middle between your father and me. I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place. I just thought that with you and Lisa being old friends she might listen to reason if you talked to her.”

I’m not listening…I’m not listening…mind your own business…mind your own business…. But even as Charlotte silently chanted the litany, she strongly suspected that they were indeed talking about blackmail, and she couldn’t help wondering what kind of threat Lisa could be holding over the man’s head, nor could she help wondering what Lisa wanted him to do.

Charlotte quickly glanced around then gathered all of her cleaning supplies. The bathroom was clean enough, and it was past time for her to leave. For one, she didn’t want to hear any more talk about blackmail, and for two, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew the man in the other room. Maybe if she saw him, face-to-face…

When Charlotte stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom the man glanced her way, their eyes met and held, and she froze. Decades had passed since she’d last seen him, and like her, he was older. But there was no mistaking the identity of the man Belinda had been talking to.

“Charlotte? Is that you?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Mack?” Charlotte murmured in disbelief. “Mack Sutton?”

“Hey, you two know each other?” Belinda asked.

Charlotte set down the cleaning supplies, and neither she nor Mack answered Belinda as Mack rushed across the room and grabbed Charlotte up in a bear hug.

“Dear Lord in heaven,” Mack cried when he finally released her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm’s length, and stared down at her. “Talk about a blast from the past,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“To say the least,” Charlotte whispered, her mind racing back over the past forty years. No wonder his voice had sounded so familiar. Because of Mack she’d met her beloved Hank, the man she was supposed to have married.

During her short time as a student at Tulane University she had dated Mack, until he’d introduced her to Hank, his best friend and college roommate. Once she’d met Hank, it had been love at first sight, and Mack, along with all other men, paled in comparison after that. But Hank and Mack had gone to Vietnam, and Hank had been killed shortly after arriving there. Sadly, he’d never known that before he’d left, their one night together had resulted in a son.

Over the years she’d often wondered what had happened to Mack. Since she’d never heard from him again, she’d even wondered if he, too, might have died there.

“It’s so good to see you, Mack,” she exclaimed, truly happy to know that he was alive and well. “You look great.” In his younger days Mack had been a very handsome man with coal-black hair and equally dark eyes. He still stood at least a head taller than her own five-foot-three frame but now his hair had more gray in it than black.

“And you look as beautiful as ever,” he told her, the compliment making her blush like a schoolgirl. “Like I always said, if Sally Field had been blond and blue-eyed, you could have been her twin.”

Charlotte laughed. “And you were always full of baloney.”

“Ah, excuse me.” Belinda interrupted.

Mack released Charlotte, and they turned their heads toward her.

“I take it that the answer to my question is yes.”

Mack frowned. “What question, honey?”

Belinda rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I asked if you two know each other, but it’s obvious that you do.”

Mack grinned. “Yeah, we do. Charlotte and I are old friends.” He laughed. “And I do mean old.”

“Hey, you, watch it,” Charlotte warned good naturedly.

“Charlotte, this is my lovely granddaughter, Belinda. And I want you to meet my daughter, Tessa, too.”

“Belinda and I have already met,” Charlotte responded. “And I met Tessa earlier this morning. Of course at the time I didn’t know that she was your daughter.”

Mack grinned. “Good, that’s good.” He tilted his head. “So what about you? Did you ever marry, have kids—I mean, after Hank—you know?”

“Yes, I know,” she said, fully understanding his meaning. Since she’d never heard from Mack, besides wondering about his fate, she’d also wondered if he’d known about Hank’s death. And now she knew that he had. Even so, she wasn’t comfortable discussing something so private as her relationship with Hank before he’d left for Vietnam or the fact that she’d never found a man worthy enough to fill Hank’s shoes. “I have a son,” she answered, purposely avoiding the topic of a husband and careful not to mention her son’s name. Mentioning that her son’s name was also Hank would require explaining things that she wasn’t yet comfortable explaining, especially not in front of Belinda.

“That’s great.” Mack paused and his eyes narrowed. “And your husband? Do you think he’d mind if you had dinner with an old friend tonight?”

Charlotte smiled, and once again avoiding the subject of a husband, she said, “I think dinner would be just fine.” There would be plenty of time later to talk about Hank Senior and Hank Junior. “How about I meet you back here at the hotel restaurant, say around six-thirty,” she said as she knelt down and picked up the supplies that she’d set on the floor earlier.

Mack nodded. “Six-thirty sounds great. See you then.” He opened the door for her. As he closed it behind her, she heard him tell Belinda, “Just in case we don’t talk again, the other reason I came by was to let you know that your father expects you to join him and the rest of the staff for dinner tomorrow evening.”

Before the door clicked closed, Charlotte caught sight of Belinda’s resentful expression. Though the girl’s response was muffled, it was clear from the look on her face that she wasn’t happy about the command invitation to dinner.