Death Tidies Up (15 page)

Charlotte brought the mugs of coffee over to the table and set one down in front of Judith. “I realize it's your job, hon, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.” She seated herself across from her niece. Wrapping her hands around her mug and taking a deep breath, she asked, “So which of my clients are we talking about this time?”

“S
o far there's Katherine Bergeron, Vince Roussel, Marian Hebert, and a woman named Darla Shaw.” Judith rattled off the names of the suspects as if she was reciting a grocery list.

All of them had been clients at one time or another, all except the last one. “Who's Darla Shaw?” Charlotte asked. It was a delaying tactic at best, and from the look on Judith's face, she knew her niece wasn't fooled one bit.

“Actually, she's the best possibility I've got so far. We've done a bit of backtracking and found out that after Bergeron faked his death—”

“You know that for sure?”

Judith shrugged, then laughed humorlessly. “As the old joke goes, nothing in this world is a sure thing, nothing but death and taxes.”

Charlotte winced at her niece's cynicism. More often than not, being a police officer brought her in contact with humanity at its very worst. Add that to the background of being abandoned by her father, then having to grow up with a mother as unstable as Madeline had been after Johnny Monroe broke her heart, and it was no wonder the poor girl had such a jaded view of life.

Only the good Lord knew how hard she'd tried to make both Judith and Daniel feel secure and loved in spite of their parents. But one person could only do so much, and besides taking care of her sister's children, she'd had her own son to raise as well as a business to run so that she could feed all of them.

“Anyway—”

The sound of Judith's voice abruptly jerked Charlotte back from her brief mental journey into the past.

“Bergeron's been holing up on Key West for the past two years. But—as best we can determine—he'd been living with this woman named Darla Shaw for about a year. The theory is that he was just using her. After all, he needed somewhere to stay and probably needed money. Anyway, we figure that somehow she found out about his wife and little girl and followed him to New Orleans.” Judith shrugged. “Maybe once she discovered for sure that he really had lied to her, she killed him in a fit of jealous rage. For now it's the best bet we've got, especially since no one has seen hide nor hair of Ms. Shaw since the murder.”

Charlotte frowned. “But why would he come back to begin with?”

Judith shrugged again. “Who knows? Maybe he had unfinished business or maybe he got homesick.” She shook her head. “It's just a theory. I didn't say it was a perfect one, but—” Judith narrowed her eyes. “Until we track down Darla Shaw, we have to explore all possibilities. Which brings me to Katherine Bergeron.”

“I haven't worked for Katherine for several years,” Charlotte quickly retorted. “But from what I remember about her, I can't imagine that she would be capable of committing murder.”

“Oh, Aunt Charley, after what happened with the Dubuissons, you of all people should know better.”

Charlotte flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder of how she'd been duped once before. Then, after a moment, she finally conceded. “You're right. Of course, you're right. I should know better.”

Judith reached across the table and touched her arm. “I didn't say it to be mean or cruel, Auntie. It's just that…” Her voice trailed away.

“Of course you didn't, hon,” Charlotte reassured her. “I didn't think that for one minute. So—why Katherine? What motive could she have?”

After a moment, Judith nodded, then continued. “From what we've gathered, after Katherine's father died, Drew Bergeron began running things. After a few months, he conned his wife into signing over her shares of the company. Maybe she got suspicious and found out that he was ruining her real estate company and having an affair—who knows? Or maybe she figured he was getting ready to dump her, so she put out a hit on him. Thus, the reason he faked his
first
death.”

Charlotte nodded in understanding. “But somehow she finds out he's still alive. And this time, she kills him herself?”

Judith nodded. “That about sums it up. Only one thing wrong with it, though. Vince Roussel is ready to swear that he and Katherine were together for most of the night that Drew was murdered. Which brings us to yet another suspect. Just how much do you know about Vince Roussel, Auntie?”

“I've actually only spoken to the man once, and that was when I signed the contract to do the Devilier house. All I know about him is what Louis told me—told us—on Sunday morning.”

Judith nodded. “The real estate deal stuff. Yeah, I looked into that and it's certainly enough motivation, given Roussel's reputation. Louis was right about there being a deal between Roussel and Bergeron, a deal that went sour a year before Bergeron faked his first death. From everything I found out, Bergeron persuaded Roussel to back a real estate venture, an exclusive, gated neighborhood and country club along the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. Vince was supposed to double the return on his investment once the houses sold. No one really knows what happened. Maybe Bergeron blew the investment money or gambled it away. Whatever happened, it's possible that Roussel finally demanded his money or else, thus the reason Drew decided to fake his death.

“So—for whatever reason, Bergeron comes back, Roussel finds out, and this time Roussel makes sure Bergeron pays…with his life. Of course there's also the relationship between Katherine and Roussel to add fuel to the fire. Maybe Drew somehow found out about the affair, and maybe he came back to warn Katherine. Roussel got wind of it and killed him to get rid of him once and for all. But since Roussel is Katherine's alibi, that makes Katherine his alibi too.”

“That's a lot of maybes, and a lot of conjecture.”

Judith nodded. “I know that,” she admitted. “That's why I'm hoping you can tell me something that might point me in the right direction…which brings me to Marian Hebert.

“Admittedly, she's the weakest suspect of all, but Ms. Hebert had plenty of reason to hate Drew Bergeron, the main reason being that he'd fired her husband. Though she didn't come right out and say it when we interviewed her, it was more than evident that she blamed Drew Bergeron for her husband's state of mind before his so-called accident. And I say so-called because there's been a lot of speculation about his death despite what our investigators found. Everyone we've talked to thinks he committed suicide.”

In spite of what the police said, I don't think Bill's death was just an accident, and I still have nightmares. It haunts me, and now it's haunting my son too.
Charlotte grimaced. And now Marian's words were haunting her.

“What is it, Auntie? Why the look?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Just remembering something Marian said. For what it's worth, she doesn't think her husband's death was an accident either. Like everyone else, she suspects he committed suicide. But unlike everyone else and for the sake of her children, she doesn't
want
to believe it. She's a very troubled lady.”

Judith nodded. “Yes—yes, she is, but I strongly suspect she's got other problems as well.” She shrugged. “It's either drugs or alcohol—I'm not sure which, and maybe it's both.”

When Judith leveled a look that invited Charlotte to offer her own observations, Charlotte hesitated.

“Aw, come on, Auntie. You work for the woman three days a week. Surely you've noticed
something.”

As Charlotte battled with revealing what she suspected about Marian's abuse of alcohol, the perfect solution to the problem abruptly presented itself. “Marian couldn't have killed Drew, so none of this makes a difference anyway.” She gave Judith a shrewd look. “As I recall, she had a dinner appointment with Jefferson Harper Friday evening. But then, you already know that, don't you?”

Judith sighed heavily. “Yes—unfortunately, that's true.”

“Then why all the prying into her personal life?”

“There's an old saying, Aunt Charley. Knowledge is power.”

“Yes, Judith,” she retorted. “I'm very familiar with that saying.”

“So—in keeping with that saying—is there anything else, anything at all that you can tell me further about Katherine Bergeron, Vince Roussel, or Marian Hebert that might help?”

“Judith, hon, please don't think I'm just being obstinate, but—” She held up her right hand, and, using the forefinger of her other hand, she emphasized each point by ticking off each of three fingers. “For one, I haven't worked for Katherine in over four years. Two, I only met Vince Roussel once, and three, there's no point in discussing Marian since she has an alibi.”

Judith grunted in disappointment. “Humph! I should've known. Lou warned me I wouldn't get anything useful from you. But silly me, I thought that since you were my aunt…” She shrugged, leaving the sarcastic words hanging in the air.

“Judith Marie Monroe! Shame on you.”

“Uh-oh, guess I'm in trouble now, huh?”

“If I knew anything helpful I'd tell you, young lady,” Charlotte retorted. “And furthermore, I resent this—this attitude of yours and Louis'. Besides, we both know that Louis is more than a bit prejudiced when it comes to me. It still galls him that I was the one who solved the Dubuisson murder.”

Judith held up her hands. “Okay, okay, Auntie, I surrender. And I'm sorry,” she added meekly.

“As well you should be. And speaking of Louis—what's all this nonsense between him and your new partner, Will? What's he got against him?”

For long moments, Judith simply stared at her. Then, looking decidedly uncomfortable, she crossed, then uncrossed her legs, all the while drumming her fingers against the tabletop again.

“I'm not trying to pry,” Charlotte assured her. “My main concern is your safety. Though Louis aggravates the tar out of me, I do respect his opinions, and it's very clear that he has a low opinion of your new partner.”

“Ah—er, my safety isn't exactly the issue here, Auntie, so there's no need for you to worry about that.”

“So—what is the issue, then?”

“Why don't we just say that Lou doesn't believe in mixing business and pleasure and leave it at that?”

Charlotte slowly shook her head. “Why don't we
not
leave it at that? Are you or are you not involved with this Will? And if you are, what's wrong with him that Louis would be so—so—”

“Oh, good grief!” Judith released a long-suffering sigh. “If you must know, yes—yes, we're involved. And the reason Lou is being such a stinker about the whole thing is because Will has a wife and kid.”

“Oh, Judith, no…”

“It's not like that, Aunt Charley. Will is separated and getting a divorce. His wife's the bitch from hell, and he's trying to get custody of his little girl. Will doesn't want to do anything that would jeopardize his chances, so we have to be…careful right now.”

“Like being seen in public with you? Oh, hon, don't you know, that's the oldest line in the world?”

 

Long after Judith left, a tumble of confused thoughts and feelings plagued Charlotte as she mulled over everything they'd discussed.

“So what do I do now?” she asked Sweety Boy as she stood by his cage, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular outside the window. Within reason, she knew there was nothing to be done about Katherine or Marian, or even Vince Roussel being suspects in Drew Bergeron's murder investigation. They all had alibis. Besides, she'd learned her lesson once already, learned to mind her own business and leave police concerns to the experts, thanks to the Dubuisson family.

But Judith was another matter. Judith was family, and Charlotte loved her like a daughter, had, in fact, helped raise her and her brother.

More times than she cared to remember, while Madeline had been drowning in one of her depressive episodes, Charlotte had been the one who had nursed Judith and Daniel through chicken pox, measles, and stomach viruses. She'd been the one who had encouraged Judith to try out for high school cheerleader, and she, not Madeline, had been the one who had cheered Daniel on when he'd won the lead role in the school play.

“So how can I persuade her that this relationship is wrong, Sweety? How can I make her see that in the end, it's going to break her heart?”

Though the little bird chirped and squawked, it took Charlotte several moments before the sounds actually penetrated her self-absorption. Suddenly she grinned from ear to ear.

“Missed you.
Squawk.
Missed you, Charlotte. Squawk.”

Charlotte felt like shouting. Sweety's words weren't exactly as clear as a bell, but they were clear enough for her to understand them. She wanted to jump up and down or dance a jig. For months she'd been trying to get the little stinker to say something besides “crazy” and had been just about ready to give up. And now…

Afraid to distract him, Charlotte tried not to move or even breathe heavily, for fear the little parakeet would stop.

But stop he did, and no matter how much she tried to coax him into repeating what he'd said, she finally had to give up.

Without the little bird for a distraction, her thoughts quickly returned to the conversation she'd had with Judith.

Over the years Charlotte had learned that the best therapy for worry and confusion was to either sleep on it or do something positive or productive instead of giving in to whatever was bothering her.

A nap was out of the question now, she decided as she glanced at the cuckoo clock and saw that it was almost three o'clock. With the house clean and her bookkeeping done, she could either read, go shopping, weed the flower beds, or cook. Reading didn't appeal to her at the moment, and neither did shopping. And the last time she'd looked, there were relatively few weeds. That left cooking.

Maybe she'd cook something to take to Louis. After all, he was sick, and she owed him a meal anyway…sorta kinda. Something nourishing but not too spicy or rich, she decided. Comfort food, like chicken and dumplings, maybe.