Maid for Murder (12 page)
Authors: Barbara Colley
Suddenly, a moan erupted from the old lady’s lips, a moan of pure anguish that sent chills chasing up Charlotte’s arms.
“Oh, my poor, poor Anna-Maria,” she sobbed. “What’s she gonna do when she finds out she’s got a murderer for a daddy.”
Charlotte frowned, finding it harder and harder to follow Clarice’s irrational ravings. “But Jackson’s the one who was murdered, so how could he be the murderer?”
“No, no, no!” Clarice jerked her head from side to side, emphasizing each word. “Not Jackson, you ninny. Brian O’Connor. He’s Anna-Maria’s real daddy.”
Shock waves washed over Charlotte, and she was stunned speechless. Brian O’Connor was Anna-Maria’s father?
But Clarice hadn’t finished, it seemed, and Charlotte could do nothing but stand there and listen. While she was truly mesmerized by what the old lady was revealing, Clarice’s logic was baffling. She’d accused Charlotte of being a gossip, yet here she was now, telling her all the family secrets. Maybe Jeanne was right, after all. Maybe the old lady was going senile.
“He thought he was so smart,” Clarice continued. “But my Andrew was smarter. That stupid boy actually thought he could get that airhead daughter of mine to run off with him—and she probably would have, too, if Andrew hadn’t of stopped him. Stopped him good, too. No one ever defied Andrew and got away with it. He had that boy’s butt thrown in jail.
“But chickens come home to roost,” Clarice added. “They always do.” She sniggered. “Or maybe I should say roosters. That O’Connor boy just couldn’t stay away. And Jackson got his. Serves him right, too.” She suddenly laughed. “The Good Book says that the love of money is the root of all evil. Well, my Andrew loved money, and so did Jackson. Andrew used it to threaten Jeanne and used it to bribe Jackson. Told Jackson if he’d marry Jeanne and pretend that Anna-Maria was his baby, he’d make him a partner.” Clarice laughed again, a maniacal sound that gave Charlotte the creeps. “And now look at the both of them. Both dead. And what good’s all that money now?”
Both dead ... both dead ...
Charlotte shivered. The persistent whispers she’d heard in her mind from the night before were back, and so was the eerie prickle of awareness. But like the night before, when she’d first realized that Jackson had died at his desk, the whispers were just as elusive now as they had been then. And now, as she had last night, Charlotte tried once again to ignore them.
Charlotte shivered. The persistent whispers she’d heard in her mind from the night before were back, and so was the eerie prickle of awareness. But like the night before, when she’d first realized that Jackson had died at his desk, the whispers were just as elusive now as they had been then. And now, as she had last night, Charlotte tried once again to ignore them.
“You’re right,” she told Clarice, hoping she could calm her. “The money’s not much good to either of them now.”
Charlotte should have let it drop right then and there. For the sake of keeping the old lady calm, she should have completely changed the subject. Yet in spite of her good intentions, her curiosity was aroused, and she found she couldn’t simply drop it. Too many unanswered questions crowded her mind, demanding answers.
“Just one thing, though, Miss Clarice. I’m curious. Later on, after Brian got out of prison, why didn’t Jeanne simply divorce Jackson and go off with him, especially after Mr. Andrew’s death?”
Clarice covered a yawn even as she shook her head. “Too late by then,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against the pillows. “By then, Anna-Maria thought Jackson was her daddy, and Jackson threatened Jeanne. Told her if she ever left him, he’d make sure that little girl found out who her real daddy was, said he’d tell her all about how her real daddy was nothing but a no-account jailbird, then he’d tell everyone else.”
Charlotte shuddered inwardly. Only a truly cruel man would even threaten something so mean and contemptible.
The old lady yawned again, and her eyes drifted shut. “Truth ever came out, m
y
Anna-Maria would never be able to take her rightful place in New Orleans society.” Clarice sighed, then murmured. “Be too big a scandal. Nobody suitable would have married her.”
y
Anna-Maria would never be able to take her rightful place in New Orleans society.” Clarice sighed, then murmured. “Be too big a scandal. Nobody suitable would have married her.”
As Charlotte stood there, trying to absorb all that Clarice had revealed, the old lady’s breathing slowed until it became deep and even. But her last words kept swirling through Charlotte’s head.
Nobody suitable would have married her.... Nobody suitable would have married her....
The more she thought about the implications of such a statement, the angrier she grew.
Nobody suitable would have married her.... Nobody suitable would have married her....
The more she thought about the implications of such a statement, the angrier she grew.
Just like Jeanne, Charlotte had never married the father of her child, so did that make him unsuitable? According to Clarice’s screwed-up standards, it did. Never mind that he was a devoted, loving son. Never mind that his morals were above reproach. And never mind that he had become a well-respected, much sought-after surgeon, a doctor who people entrusted their very lives to.
Charlotte glared at the old lady, now fast asleep and completely oblivious to the turmoil her careless words had caused. Why was she letting such hogwash get to her? she wondered even as she reminded herself that Clarice’s priorities were not only way off but out-and-out wrong.
Having come from working-class people, Charlotte had never been a part of, nor had she been able to understand, all of the rites of passage connected with so-called New Orleans wealthy society. Coming-out parties, the debutante thing, all designed to showcase young women of wealth, to parade them in front of young men who were their so-called contemporaries. To Charlotte, it was a lot of rigmarole that amounted to nothing truly important.
Love, responsibility, family, and friends were what was truly important Putting food on the table and paying the bills were important. And above all, one’s faith in God was the most important.
Clarice emitted a raunchy snore, and a slow smile pulled at Charlotte’s lips. People like Clarice, people of wealth and social standing, were no better than anyone else. They just had more money. So why were they held in such esteem by those who had less money?
The love of money is the root of all evil.
The love of money is the root of all evil.
Charlotte grimaced. No truer words were ever written. Of course, to be fair, she thought, she supposed that if she’d grown up on the other side of the fence, she might feel very differently about the importance of such things.
Charlotte tiptoed out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her. She might feel differently, but she couldn’t imagine that she actually would. She was simply too practical-minded. Always had been.
From behind the closed door, the old lady snored peacefully. Outside in the hallway, Charlotte fretted over what Clarice had revealed.
Was any of it true? Or was it all simply the fabrications of a confused old lady? Was Brian O’Connor truly Anna-Maria’s father instead of Jackson? Could he have murdered Jackson in cold blood as some sort of retribution for the past? Men had killed for a lot less.
But why now? Why, so many years later?
Charlotte thought about calling her niece and telling her what Clarice had said about Brian O’Connor. Then she thought about all of the questions Judith would be obligated to ask, questions that could prove both embarrassing as well as stressful to Jeanne, especially if none of it was true.
And proof. Judith would want some kind of proof. But short of asking Jeanne to confirm or deny what Clarice had revealed, there was no way of proving that the old lady was telling the truth. Judith would more than likely write it off as simply the ramblings of an embittered, senile old woman.
No, Charlotte finally decided. She just couldn’t do that to Jeanne. Not only would doing such a thing be a betrayal of confidence, but telling tales on clients was highly unprofessional, in Charlotte’s opinion. Besides, even if she asked Jeanne, more than likely she would deny everything, especially if what Clarice had said were true and she had sacrificed herself by settling for a loveless marriage so that she could protect her daughter’s paternity. Jeanne already had enough to contend with, anyway, she decided.
With a heavy sigh, Charlotte trudged down the hallway. As long as she was already upstairs, she could make a start at cleaning the other bedrooms.
When Charlotte entered Anna-Maria’s room, she was shocked at what she saw. Normally, the girl was tidy and took pride in both her surroundings and her appearance, but the pink-and-white princess room, as Charlotte thought of it, looked as if a hurricane had blown through it.
Several pairs of jeans, a pile of T-shirts, along with an array of lacy bras and panties, were strewn across the floor near the closet. The embroidered silk duvet was in a jumble on the bed, spilling onto the floor. On the dresser was a collection of dirty glasses and mugs. The mugs were empty, but a couple of the glasses still contained a dark liquid that she suspected was Coke, since that was Anna-Maria’s drink of choice. Charlotte counted four plates stacked together on the floor in front of the dresser. The top plate had a half-eaten slice of pizza on it, and from the uneven way the plates beneath were stacked, she suspected they still contained food, too.
By the time that Charlotte finished cleaning Anna-Maria’s room, it was almost noon, time for lunch, and she almost panicked. With Jeanne gone, it would be up to her to fix Clarice’s noonday meal.
After a quick peek at the old lady, Charlotte hurried down the stairs, her hands filled with the dirty glasses and dishes from the girl’s room.
Thank goodness Clarice was still sleeping, she thought. Maybe she would have time to come up with something really appetizing for her, something that would entice her to eat. And wouldn’t that be a nice surprise for Jeanne, for her to know that her mother was finally eating again.
But what to fix? she wondered. What would Clarice be more likely to eat? Charlotte was almost to the kitchen door when she heard a noise and suddenly froze.
Someone was in the kitchen.
Visions of the broken pane of glass in the library and the bloodstains on the desk danced in her head. She gripped the dishes tighter to keep them from rattling.
Chapter Nine
C
harlotte fought down the panic that was making her legs weak. Should she stay, or should she run? And if she ran, then what about Clarice?
harlotte fought down the panic that was making her legs weak. Should she stay, or should she run? And if she ran, then what about Clarice?
She wanted to run. Oh, how she wanted to run, screaming into the streets. But there was no way in good conscience that she could leave the poor defenseless old lady at the mercy of the intruder.
The police. What she needed to do was call for help ... call 911. A phone. Where was the closest telephone, the one that was farthest away from the kitchen?
Her eyes glued to the kitchen doorway, Charlotte slowly took a step backward. If she could just get to the back parlor without alerting the intruder, then—
Charlotte froze when she heard footsteps from the kitchen ... decisive footsteps headed her way.
“Who’s out there?” a voice called out.
Jeanne’s voice. No intruder. Just Jeanne.
Relief washed over Charlotte like a warm spring shower. “It’s Charlotte. Jeanne, it’s just me.”
Jeanne stepped into the doorway. “My goodness, Charlotte! What are you doing sneaking around out here? I thought you were upstairs. You gave me a terrible fright.”
“That makes two of us,” Charlotte quipped. “I heard a noise in the kitchen and thought—Well, I thought—”
“You thought, and I thought—”
Charlotte nodded. “I’m sorry I frightened you. I was just on my way to fix lunch for Miss Clarice.” She nodded at the wicker tray Jeanne was holding. “But I see that you beat me to it.”
“Yes—yes I did, and I’m the one who should apologize. I should have let you know I was home again. How is Mother, by the way?”
Charlotte hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other one. Now would be the time to tell Jeanne about the things that her mother had said. Jeanne really needed to know. But one look at the shadows of fatigue beneath the younger woman’s eyes and she knew she couldn’t do it; she just couldn’t add to her worries, not right now.
“She was still sleeping a few minutes ago when I looked in on her,” Charlotte told her instead. “And speaking of sleep. When was the last time you slept? You look really tired.”
Jeanne shrugged, then shifted her gaze to stare at the floor. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever sleep again,” she said. “And I am tired.”
“Of course you are, you poor thing.” It was bad enough that Jeanne had to cope with her husband being murdered and deal with making arrangements for his funeral, but she’d also had to contend with being questioned by the police like some ordinary criminal as well, thanks to Judith and Louis Thibodeaux. “Anyone would be tired after going through what you’ve had to go through,” Charlotte told her gently. “Tell you what.” She set the glasses and dishes she was holding down on the dining-room table. “Why don’t you let me carry that tray up for you and you go take a nice long nap.” She reached to take the tray from the younger woman, but Jeanne shook her head no.
“That’s very kind of you,” Jeanne said, “but there’s something I have to discuss with Mother ... something that I really need to take care of first.”
Charlotte let her hands fall to her sides, and she stepped back. “Well, if you’re sure ...”
Jeanne gave her a weary smile. “At this point, I’m not really sure about anything.”
“All the more reason you need to rest,” Charlotte insisted.
Jeanne sighed. “I know you mean well, and there’s nothing I would like more right now. But you know what they say—no rest for the weary. Maybe later, though—after I make sure that Mother eats. Then maybe I’ll lie down for a while. But I do appreciate your concern,” she added.
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