Читать книгу Death Tidies Up - Barbara Colley - Страница 10

Charlotte had only worked for Marian for five months. From the beginning, she’d discovered that the younger woman not only seemed fragile at times, but she often over-reacted to stressful situations. She’d thought Marian’s wide mood swings strange at first. But judging by the various vials of antidepressants and antianxiety medications she’d found when cleaning Marian’s bathroom one day, she’d decided that her employer was either bipolar or suffered from acute clinical depression.

Usually the medications kept Marian on an even keel. There had been times, though, like now, when Charlotte had smelled liquor on her breath, a definite no-no for someone with her mental problems, and to Charlotte’s way of thinking, a definite no-no for anyone at eight o’clock in the morning.

Marian pulled a tissue from her housecoat pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m at the end of my rope with that boy.”

“Now, now,” Charlotte soothed. “You’re upset right now, and when we’re upset, things sometimes seem a lot worse than they really are, especially when it concerns our children.”

“Oh, Charlotte, I—I just don’t know.” Marian shook her head. “You raised a son. Are they all so—so—” Marian threw up her hands.

“Unpredictable?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows as she filled in the blank. With a chuckle, she gave an exaggerated nod. “At times they are, along with aggravating, messy, loud, and just plain ornery, not to mention that they’ll eat you out of house and home. All boys go through a rebellious stage when they hit fifteen. And girls too.” Charlotte smiled, hoping to reassure the distraught woman. “Being rebellious is part of the requirement for being a teenager.”

“Even Hank?”

Charlotte nodded. “Even Dr. Hank LaRue, the great surgeon.” She grinned. “But don’t tell him I said so. He hates it when I remind him that he’s a mere mortal like the rest of us.”

A tiny smile pulled at Marian’s lips, just the reaction Charlotte had hoped for. Though it was true that Hank had rebelled in his own way during his teenage years, it was also true that he’d never truly caused her the kind of heartache that Marian seemed to be experiencing with B.J.

Charlotte had always considered herself fortunate. Raising a child as a single parent wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination even under the best of circumstances. But unlike B.J., who’d at least had the benefit of having a father for the first fifteen years of his life, her Hank had never known his father.

Hank’s father…Don’t even go there, she told herself as she immediately slammed the mental door on the precious memories of her son’s father. Opening that door only made her sad, and she was depressed enough.

“And B.J.’s no different, just a typical teenage boy,” she continued. “It’s just his way of coping with changing hormones.” But even as Charlotte tried to reassure Marian, she was beginning to have her doubts.

“I don’t remember having all this trouble before Bill—before he—” Marian swallowed hard and pressed her lips into a tight line.

Charlotte patted her on the arm. “I’m sure that’s part of it. B.J. misses his father too. And I’m equally sure that some of his behavior is due to coping with his loss, but he’s a good boy and he’s going to be okay.”

“I wish I could believe that, but—” Marian shook her head. “I just can’t, not when things seem to be going from bad to worse. He’s failing in school, and just last week he got suspended for smoking. And now—now this!”

“This?”

Marian nodded. “He sneaked out again last night after curfew.”

“Again?”

Marian waved her hand. “I caught him sneaking out once before, but this time it was the police who caught him. Did you know the police have a Curfew Center on Rampart?” Without waiting for an answer, Marian shook her head. “Well, I didn’t, but I do now. I had to drag poor Aaron out of bed at midnight and go all the way over to Rampart to pick up B.J.—and that’s another thing. I’m going to have to cancel and reschedule an important appointment with a new client this morning because Aaron is—”

“Mom! Hurry!”

At the sound of the plaintive cry from Marian’s eight-year-old, she groaned, “Oh no, not again.” Giving Charlotte a harried look, she rushed down the hallway toward the boy’s bedroom. “Some kind of stomach virus,” she called over her shoulder. “He’s been throwing up off and on all night.”

Just seconds after Marian disappeared into the boy’s bedroom, Charlotte heard an awful retching sound. Poor little guy, she thought as she headed toward the kitchen. She’d have to remember to use gloves when she stripped Aaron’s bed and make sure she used disinfectant when she cleaned his bathroom. The last thing she needed or wanted was to catch a stomach virus.

The moment Charlotte stepped into the kitchen, she froze. From the looks of the room, it was hard to believe that she’d left it spotless on Wednesday, just two days ago. The entire kitchen was a disaster area. The stovetop was splattered with what appeared to be spaghetti sauce and grease, and there were dirty dishes everywhere…on the table, strewn along the countertops, piled haphazardly in the sink.

Charlotte frowned. How on earth could just three people use so many dishes? she wondered. Then she glanced at the floor and her frown deepened. She’d swept and mopped on Wednesday and had left it shiny clean. Now the light gray ceramic tile was marred with splotches of some unidentifiable dark liquid that had been spilled in front of the refrigerator, then again near the table. No one had bothered to wipe it up, and the stuff had congealed into a gooey glob.

Only one explanation for the mess made any sense, she decided. In spite of all the medications Marian was taking, her condition was getting worse. And that, along with B.J.’s escalating behavior problems, spelled real trouble.

Wondering how Marian would feel if she suggested that they might all benefit from some family counseling, Charlotte set down her supply carrier, then shoved up her sleeves.

It took almost an hour before Charlotte finally had the kitchen back in order. Giving the room a final inspection and a nod of approval, she turned her attention to the connecting family room.

Separated from the kitchen by a row of cabinets and an island, the large room was messy but not really dirty the way the kitchen had been. After she’d straightened and dusted the room, she made a quick trip to her van to bring in her vacuum cleaner. Years of experience had taught her to use her own equipment, equipment she knew she could rely on to do the job right.

She had just shut off the vacuum cleaner when Aaron wandered in.

“Mom said if it was okay with you, I could watch Cartoon Network.”

“That’s fine, hon,” she told him, unplugging the vacuum. “I’m finished in here anyway.”

With his blond hair and blue eyes, the boy reminded her a lot of her nephew, Daniel, when he was Aaron’s age. Though not as mischievous as Daniel had been, Aaron was usually rosy-cheeked, full of life, and extremely talkative. Today, though, the eight-year-old was pale and listless as he wandered over to the sofa.

“How are you feeling?”

The boy gave a one-shoulder shrug then mumbled something that sounded like, “Okay.”

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

He shook his head. “Mom said I couldn’t have anything for a while. She’s afraid I’ll throw up again.” From the sofa table, he picked up the TV clicker and pointed it at the television set. Sounds of Tweety Bird and Sylvester soon filled the room.

Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to clean Aaron’s room, Charlotte unplugged the vacuum. Retrieving her supply carrier and dragging the vacuum along behind her, she headed down the hallway.

The little boy’s room was a large one, and almost every inch of the floor was covered with either Legos, Hot Wheels, or the DragonballZ and Gundam Wing action figures that had been made famous by Japanese cartoons.

The moment she stepped inside, Charlotte wrinkled her nose against the distinctive sour smell. Since the bed had been stripped down to the mattress, and the sheets and comforter were piled in a corner, it didn’t take her long to figure out that Aaron had been sick all over the bed during the night. She figured that the bedding was more than likely the source of the stench.

The pine-scented disinfectant she always used would go a long way in making the room smell better, but a good airing out would help even more, she decided, eyeing the large window.

The wood-framed window proved to be stubborn, but after tugging on it for several frustrating minutes, she finally got it raised. Almost immediately, a steady breeze filled the room with fresh air.

After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, Charlotte gathered the pile of soiled bedding and clothes, then carried the bundle to the laundry room, located just behind the kitchen. While the washing machine filled with hot sudsy water, she separated the sheets from the comforter.

A large lump of something was tangled in the corner of the fitted bottom sheet. When Charlotte shook the sheet, a small teddy bear tumbled out, its dark brown furry covering matted and wet.

As Charlotte gingerly picked up the bear, she smiled. Hank had slept with a teddy bear too until he was just about Aaron’s age. Her smile widened. Hank had named his bear Company, and she wondered if Aaron had given his bear a name too. She’d once asked her son why he’d named it such an odd name, and he’d simply grinned and told her that he hadn’t. Then he’d reminded her that each night when she’d tucked him into bed, she’d always included the bear and told him it would keep him company, so he’d simply assumed that Company was the bear’s name.

But Hank was no longer a little boy like Aaron who slept with teddy bears. Nor was he a teenager like B.J. Charlotte’s smile faded, and a stab of longing knifed through her. Her Hank was a grown man now, almost forty-two. And you will be sixty in a few days.

Charlotte swallowed hard to ease the sudden tightness in her throat as she checked the tag on the Aaron’s teddy bear to see if it was washable. Once she’d determined that it was, she dropped it into the washing machine with the sheets.

Cleaning Aaron’s room was always a challenge. In Charlotte’s opinion, the boy had been overindulged since his father’s death and had enough toys for ten kids. Yet another sign of Marian’s instability, she thought as she separated the Legos from the Hot Wheels and dropped them into brightly colored plastic tubs that had been placed on a low shelf against the wall.

Before Charlotte began on B.J.’s room, she returned to the laundry room and transferred the sheets and bear from the washer to the dryer. When she came out of the laundry room, the sight of Marian standing near the kitchen counter gave her a start.

“Oh, Marian.” She placed her hand on her chest above her racing heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Marian waved at the toaster and loaf of bread. “Aaron says he’s hungry, and I thought some dry toast might be better for his stomach than a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. I don’t want to even imagine the mess that would make if he threw it up,” she added with a shudder as she removed a slice of bread from the loaf and dropped it into the toaster.

“Me either,” Charlotte agreed, noting that Marian had finally dressed. An attractive woman in her late thirties, Marian was wearing a lightweight royal blue sweater and matching slacks that flattered her already slim figure.

What a difference a little makeup and the right clothes made, Charlotte thought, noting that the particular shade of blue was a perfect foil for the younger woman’s dark hair and flawless, ivory complexion. “How about some oatmeal to go along with the toast?” she suggested.

Marian shook her head as she turned on the toaster. “Thanks, but not yet. Maybe later, after we see if he can keep the toast down. And, Charlotte—” She hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I apologize for leaving such a mess in here, but the last couple of days have been pretty hectic. A terrific opportunity came up out of the blue—one of those offers too good to refuse. But I’ve had to really scramble to finalize the deal.”

Charlotte smiled and waved away her apology. “Hey, that’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”

Marian didn’t answer but gazed just past Charlotte to a window. “With Aaron sick, I need to make a call and cancel my luncheon appointment with Jefferson Harper,” she said, clearly distracted, as if talking to herself. “Maybe I can reschedule for tonight. B.J. could stay with Aaron…maybe have dinner with Jefferson instead of lunch.”

The toaster dinged and the slice of bread popped up, all evenly brown and crisp. Marian stared at it as if she had never seen it before. Then she shook her head and groaned. “Too many distractions,” she mumbled. “And too much to do.” She removed the toast and placed it on a saucer.

“Jefferson Harper,” Charlotte murmured. “Hmm, why does that name seem so familiar?” But as soon as she voiced the question out loud, she suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name before. “Isn’t he the nephew that inherited the old Devilier house on St. Charles?”

Marian nodded. “That’s the one. Jefferson’s mother was Foster Devilier’s sister. She and her husband died when Jefferson was just a young boy—a car accident I think—and Foster raised him. Since Foster never had children of his own, he left everything to Jefferson. Then about a year ago, Jefferson decided to renovate the old family home and turn it into luxury apartments. A friend of a friend recommended my firm to handle the leasing of the apartments.”

“Such a small world,” Charlotte murmured.

Marian frowned. “Excuse me?”

Charlotte waved a hand.

“Sorry, just thinking out loud. One of my employees has been dating the son of the man who did the Devilier renovations, and Maid-for-a-Day won the contract for the clean-up. I’ve scheduled the cleanup for tomorrow and Sunday. In fact, when I finish here today, I intend to go over to the Devilier house and take one last walk-through.”

“No kidding?”

Charlotte grinned. “I kid you not.” She stepped closer and took the saucer of toast from Marian’s hand. “Now you go ahead and make that call, and I’ll see that Aaron gets his toast. And what about a small glass of apple juice to go with it? We don’t want him to dehydrate.”

Marian nodded. “Thanks, Charlotte. And good idea about the apple juice, which reminds me—Aaron’s pediatrician is another call I need to add to the list,” she grumbled, clearly distracted once again. “Just to be on the safe side, I’d like for the doctor to check him over,” she added, still muttering to herself as she headed toward the door that led to her office. “That’s assuming that I can get an appointment.”

Charlotte simply shook her head and opened the refrigerator. The poor woman just couldn’t seem to get it all together this morning, she thought as she removed the bottle of apple juice.

Taking a glass out of the cabinet, Charlotte poured it full. Just as she put the bottle of juice back into the refrigerator, Marian rushed back in the kitchen.

“Oh, Charlotte,” she cried, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes bright. “I just had the most fantastic idea. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with a gimmick to advertise those apartments. Between you and me, the price Jefferson wants for them is outrageous. So what if—as an added incentive—I offered the prospective clients free weekly maid service? That would make them even more exclusive, and the monthly rent could be padded just a bit to absorb the cost. So what do you think?”

If the monthly rent was already outrageous, Charlotte wasn’t sure that adding an additional fee, even if it was for maid service, would be any more appealing. But Marian’s excitement was infectious, and a slow grin pulled at Charlotte’s lips as her mind raced with the possibilities. As it stood, her schedule was pretty packed already. She’d have to hire a couple of extra employees. But that wouldn’t be a problem, and over the long haul, the added income might be well worth it.

“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Charlotte finally told her. “But only if Maid-for-a-Day supplied the service. Otherwise, I think it’s a terrible idea,” she added with mock seriousness.

Marian burst out laughing. “Silly woman. Well, of course Maid-for-a-Day would supply the service. Now, if I can just sell the idea to Jefferson Harper—but first I need to see if he can meet for dinner tonight instead of lunch.”

The more Charlotte thought about Marian’s proposition over the next couple of hours as she cleaned, the more excited she became.

When noon rolled around, she chose to take her lunch break out on Marian’s front porch. While she ate the smoked turkey sandwich and apple she’d brought along with her and savored the deliciously cool air and sunshine, she mentally weighed the pros and cons of Marian’s idea.

Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, a tiny, persistent voice of reason warned her. “I’m not,” she muttered. “I’m simply thinking ahead.” But when she pulled the notebook out of her apron pocket to do a bit of calculating, she saw the reminder she’d written earlier about calling the beauty shop, and she frowned.

She’d fully intended to call early in hopes that her beautician could work her in around the time she finished up at Marian’s, but now…

Charlotte pulled out her cell phone and quickly punched in the number of the beauty salon.

Her call was answered on the third ring.

“Lagniappe Beauty Salon, Valerie speaking.”

“Valerie, this is Charlotte LaRue—”

“Oh, hey, Charlotte. I’ve been meaning to call you—to thank you.”

Charlotte frowned. “To thank me—thank me for what?”

“Not what, silly. Who. Why, none other than Mrs. Bitsy Duhe is now a regular customer of mine. She said she’d always admired the way your hair looked, and her regular hair-dresser wasn’t that dependable.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Had she ever mentioned Valerie to Bitsy? She didn’t remember doing so, but then lately there seemed to be a lot she didn’t remember.

“And she wants a standing appointment,” Valerie continued. “Every Friday morning. Isn’t that terrific?”

Though she wasn’t exactly sure why, Charlotte felt a bit funny about Bitsy using the same beautician that she used. But she forced an enthusiasm she didn’t feel anyway. After all, it was a free country. “That’s great, hon,” she told Valerie. “And speaking of appointments, I need one. And I’m afraid I’m in a bind. If at all possible, I desperately need a haircut today.”

“Hmm, I’m looking at my afternoon appointments here. I can probably work you in around four.”

Charlotte frowned in thought. A haircut and blow-dry shouldn’t take more than an hour. If she finished up at Marian’s by three forty-five, she should still have enough time to check out the Devilier house before dark. “Four sounds great,” Charlotte told her. “See you then.”

As she slipped the cell phone back inside her pocket, Charlotte’s frown deepened. Was her memory getting worse of late? Should she be concerned? What if she was going senile, or what if, heaven forbid, she was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s? What if…

Stop it, Charlotte. Stop it right now.

With a shake of her head, she ripped the reminder note off the pad, wadded it up, then stuffed it in her pocket. The new job. Think of the job Marian was talking about earlier.

All along, even before she’d known for sure she had won the Devilier contract, she’d planned on adding the profits from the job to her retirement account. By doing the job on the weekend, she’d figured she could utilize all of her regular employees without having to hire extra help, thereby ensuring a larger profit margin.

But the Devilier job was a onetime deal. What Marian was proposing could be a continuous income for several years to come, and would go a long way toward ensuring her financial independence.

She quickly scribbled down some numbers, calculating the amount she would need to charge. A moment later, she looked up from the number figure she’d come up with and stared with unseeing eyes at the passing traffic in front of Marian’s house. For months Hank had been pressuring her to retire and let him take care of her. Though she half suspected that her son was just a wee bit embarrassed because his mother still worked as a maid, she knew that deep down, he truly had the best of intentions.

The fact that Hank could well afford to support her wasn’t even a consideration. As far as Charlotte was concerned, the whole idea of retirement was simply out of the question. To begin with, she had no plans for retiring any time soon. Retire to what? What on earth would she do with herself all day long, day in and day out? Why, she’d be bored silly. But besides boredom, just the thought of having to depend on Hank or anyone else, for that matter, gave her the willies. Doing such a thing, in her opinion, would be the ultimate admission that she truly was getting old.

Since Marian’s office was Charlotte’s least favorite room to clean, she always saved it for last.

Marian seemed to have a real knack for dealing in real estate, and by all accounts had turned her husband’s failing business into a profitable venture. But in Charlotte’s opinion, the woman’s organizational skills left a lot to be desired.

Since the very first day that Charlotte had worked for Marian, the younger woman had made it clear that nothing was to be moved around in the office, so cleaning the room was a real challenge. And dusting it was a nightmare due to the stacks of papers and mail that were piled on every available surface.

But Charlotte had learned a few tricks over the months. Each stack was dealt with on a one-by-one basis. First she’d carefully move the stack; then, after dusting and waxing the space where it had sat, she placed it in the same position she’d found it to begin with. That way, she could leave the room looking exactly the same, only clean and free of dust.

As usual, Marian was seated at the computer when Charlotte entered the office. By mutual consent, normally neither woman spoke or disturbed the other while working, so it was a complete surprise when Marian turned away from the computer and struck up a conversation.

“So far, so good,” she said.

Charlotte frowned. “Pardon?”

“Aaron,” Marian qualified. “Since he was able to keep the toast and juice down earlier, I gave him some chicken noodle soup and crackers for lunch, and so far, he hasn’t throw it up yet. Maybe—just maybe, the worst of this awful virus is over.”

Charlotte smiled and set down her supply carrier. “We’ll certainly hope so for Aaron’s sake. Poor little guy.”

Marian nodded in agreement. “I’m still taking him to the doctor though, just as a precaution. I was able to get an appointment for this afternoon—Oh, and by the way, I was also able to change my appointment with Jefferson Harper as well.

“Before my meeting, though, I’d like to rework my original proposal to include a rough estimate for the maid service we discussed earlier. Later, we’ll draw up an official contract, of course, but what I need right now is an amount—just a ballpark figure—for what you would charge for supplying weekly service for each apartment.”

Charlotte stepped closer to the desk. “I understand there are four apartments in the building. Is that correct?”

When Marian nodded, Charlotte pretended to do a quick mental calculation. After all, business was business, as Hank was always reminding her. These people are your clients, Mother. They’re not your friends. It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way, dealing with her former clients, the Dubuissons. And, in all fairness to her son, she had to agree that it was just plain good business sense not to let a prospective client know how eager she was about a job.

With just four apartments, she’d already figured out that she’d only have to hire one additional full-time employee. She pointed at a pen and pad of paper. “May I?” she asked.

When Marian nodded, Charlotte picked up the pen and proceeded to jot down the figures she’d done earlier. The first figure she came up with was a calculation of the number of hours per week needed to service the four apartments. Then she multiplied the resulting figure by the hourly wage she normally charged a client. Built into that figure was her margin of profit, an allowance for cleaning supplies, and insurance, as well as the employee’s hourly wage and benefits. Circling the final figure, she pointed at it with the pen.

“This total per week should be pretty accurate,” she told Marian.

Marian stared at the figure for several seconds, then nodded. “Good. At least now I have something to work with.”

When the phone jangled, both women jumped at the unexpected intrusion. Just as Marian reached for the receiver, Aaron cried out.

“Mom! I’m sick again!”

With a long-suffering but worried look, Marian shoved away from the computer and stood. “Guess I spoke too soon,” she said, casting an irritated glare at the phone as it rang again. “That could be a call I’m expecting.”

“Mom! Hurry!”

“I’m coming, Aaron,” she yelled. To Charlotte she said, “Could you get that for me?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she rushed toward the door. “Just take a number,” she said over her shoulder, “and tell them I’ll call them right back.”

As Marian disappeared through the door, Charlotte picked up the phone. “Hebert Real Estate. May I help you?”

There was no response for several seconds, then…“Charlotte? Is that you, Charlotte?”

“Ah…yes. May I ask—”

“So now Marian has you answering the phone too. Or have you gone into real estate instead of the cleaning business?”

Charlotte frowned, trying to place the familiar female voice. When a mental image of a former client named Katherine Bergeron suddenly clicked into place, her frown turned into a warm smile. “No, Katherine,” she answered. “I still run Maid-for-a-Day. I wouldn’t know the first thing about selling real estate. But my goodness, what has it been, at least a couple of years since I’ve seen you? I’m amazed you recognized my voice.”

“Process of elimination, Charlotte. Marian probably didn’t mention it, but I’m the one who recommended you to her in the first place. We’ve known each other for years. Why, Bill and Marian grew up with my husband, and we were all the best of friends. Bill even once worked for my father. Then after Daddy died and Drew took over the firm, Bill worked for him as well until he decided to jump ship and form his own company.”

Charlotte already knew about Bill Hebert’s association with her former client, thanks to Bitsy. Once Bitsy had learned that Charlotte was working for Marian Hebert, she’d been quick to fill Charlotte in on all the gossip concerning Marian’s husband. And according to Bitsy, Bill’s and Drew Bergeron’s parting had been a bitter one, though Bitsy didn’t know exactly why.

“But, Charlotte,” Katherine continued, “I would have recognized your voice anyway. You know I’ve never forgiven you for leaving me, especially in my delicate condition.”

“Now, Katherine, that’s not fair and you know it. There’s no way I can work exclusively for anyone, besides which, with you threatening to miscarry and all, you needed specialized help at the time. And speaking of your former delicate condition, how is that baby girl of yours? What is she now? Almost four?”

“She’ll turn four in November. And she’s not a baby anymore. What she is, though, is a handful. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled her rotten ever since…”

…ever since Drew’s death…. Charlotte mentally completed Katherine’s sentence. It had been a tragic accident—Drew Bergeron’s small private plane had gone down in a storm over the Gulf of Mexico two years earlier—made even more tragic since his body was never recovered. And knowing the reason for the sudden silence on the other end of the phone, Charlotte rushed in to fill the gap. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think a little spoiling will hurt her,” she offered.

“Oh, Charlotte, that’s what I truly miss about you. You always seemed to understand and know just the right thing to say. If it wasn’t for Daisy being such a jewel, I’d try to steal you back from Marian in a heartbeat.”

“I take it that Daisy is still with you then.”

“Yes—yes, she is, and I can never thank you enough for recommending her. In fact, in a roundabout way, she’s the reason I’m calling Marian. Daisy told me she’d heard that Marian is handling the Devilier apartments. Daisy knew that I’ve been looking for something to use as a guest residence for out-of-town friends during Mardi Gras and the Jazz Fest. Since those apartments are just down the block from me, they would be a perfect location. Is Marian in?”

Charlotte glanced up and was surprised to see Marian standing in the doorway. How long had she been standing there? Charlotte wondered. How long had she been listening and watching? And why the strange look, a seething look of bitterness that was totally out of character?

Charlotte shifted uneasily, and though she averted her gaze, she couldn’t shake the image of Marian’s expression or the uncomfortable feeling it gave her.