Death Tidies Up (10 page)

“What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked, ignoring her niece's question as she blotted up the coffee off the table.

“I came to offer you a ride to church.” Judith looked pointedly at Charlotte's housecoat. “But since you're obviously not dressed yet, I don't think we're going to make it on time.”

“Don't blame me.” Charlotte turned to glare at Louis. “It's all his fault.”

“She's right,” Louis said. “I came over to ask her some questions and—well—I guess things sort of got out of hand.” He slid his gaze to Charlotte. “Again, I apologize.”

Charlotte stiffened. “As well you should,” she retorted.

“Don't push it, Charlotte,” he warned.

She wanted to say more, was tempted to really give him a piece of her mind. But what good would it do? After all, he had apologized. Now all that was left was to either back down gracefully or come off looking like a shrew.

“Oh, for Pete's sake, this is ridiculous.” She motioned at Judith. “Sit down, and I'll get you some coffee.”

“I guess this means that you're not going to tell me what started the squabble to begin with?”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

Judith stared at her a moment too long, then a tiny smile pulled at her lips as she shook her head. “Have it your way, Auntie,” she said as she seated herself at the table. “I'm sure Lou will fill me in. And no, I haven't had breakfast yet. No time,” she added. “Actually, I'm still working on the Bergeron murder. I intended on dropping you off at church, then I was going to come back here and see if I could pick Lou's brain. I figured that after the service, you could catch a ride with either Mother or Hank to her house.”

Charlotte deposited the paper towel in the trash. “It won't take but a minute to fix some eggs and toast, and since it's too late to go to church—” She shot Louis a quick accusatory glare. “You can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. You can eat and talk to Detective Thibodeaux at the same time.”

Charlotte started toward the pantry, but after a couple of steps, she paused. “Oh, and by the way.” She turned and gave Judith a knowing look. “Offering me a ride was a sweet and thoughtful gesture, but let's get one thing straight. In spite of what you and my son think, one little fainting spell does not mean I need chauffeuring around. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself anywhere I need to go. And one more thing, while I'm at it.” She turned to glare at Louis again. “Though I appreciate your concern for my safety, Detective Thibodeaux, I've been looking out for myself a long time now, and I'm perfectly capable of knowing what's safe and what's not safe.”

Louis' response was a grunt that indicated otherwise. Then, he leaned toward Judith. “Well, I guess she told us.”

Judith nodded gravely. “She always has been a bit on the stubborn side.”

Charlotte simply shook her head in annoyance and busied herself gathering the ingredients she needed from the pantry and the refrigerator for the impromptu breakfast.

Eavesdropping was not something Charlotte ordinarily approved of, but as she prepared the food, there was no way she could ignore the conversation between Judith and Louis.

“So, little girl,” Louis asked, “where's that hotshot partner of yours this morning?”

“Don't start that with me, Lou,” Judith warned. “But if you must know, he's back at the precinct, going over the reports from the crime scene.”

There it was again, Charlotte thought as she cracked the last of a half a dozen eggs, dumped the yolk and egg white into the bowl, then poured in a dollop of milk. Why the contempt every time Louis mentioned Judith's new partner? she wondered as she added a dash of salt and pepper, then began beating the mixture with a fork. What was wrong with Will Richeaux? What had he done that would cause Louis to be so hostile?

Making a mental note to question Judith about it later, she dropped a glob of butter into the skillet she had heating on the stove burner.

By the time she had the eggs and toast ready and had set the table, Charlotte had learned that Drew Bergeron was killed by a single gunshot to the forehead, execution style. The gun used was a twenty-two caliber. Since, according to Louis, it was the type of gun that could be bought just about anywhere, it would be almost impossible to trace.

But what Judith seemed most interested in was Louis' impressions as to why Drew Bergeron would have been in town to begin with, especially after going to all the trouble of faking his own death.

“He had to have known he would be recognized by
someone,”
Judith said. “Surely he wasn't that stupid.”

“That I can't say,” Louis told her. “All depends on if and why he faked his first death to begin with. Have you talked to his wife yet?”

Judith shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you first, then I'm heading over there. And I have to say, that's one chore I'm not looking forward to.”

At the mention of Katherine Bergeron, Charlotte felt her chest grow heavy with pity. She couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to have to cope with something like that.

“Well, there could be all kinds of reasons he showed up here again,” Louis told Judith, “but it would be a safe bet to put money at the top of the list as the number-one reason. Seems like it always boils down to money.”

When Charlotte placed the food on the table, Judith got up to refill everyone's coffee cup.

Once Judith was seated again, she continued her questions. “So, yesterday you said you recognized Bergeron because you'd had dealings with him, Lou. What kind of dealings?”

“Way back when,” he told her as he spooned a generous helping of eggs on his plate, “before his first so-called death, it was rumored that Bergeron was connected with Vince Roussel's crowd. I was investigating a murder that involved one of Roussel's crew at the time—a muscle-bound lowlife that we suspected of being Roussel's enforcer. We'd found this lowlife's body floating in the river. At first we figured that he'd crossed Roussel, and Roussel killed him.

“Anyway—the lowlife had been seen with Bergeron the day before he was killed, so”—Louis shrugged—“I questioned Bergeron. According to what he told me, his only connection to Roussel had to do with a so-called business deal, a real estate venture on the North Shore. He claimed he and Roussel's enforcer just met by coincidence. What he didn't tell me and what I learned later was that his deal fell through and he owed Roussel a ton of money.”

Judith chewed thoughtfully on a piece of toast while Charlotte took a bite of her eggs.

“Think that could have anything to do with why Bergeron might have faked his own death?” Judith finally asked. “From what I gathered, Vince Roussel isn't someone you'd want to be in debt to.”

Louis shrugged. “It's a good place to start. Roussel could have sent the enforcer after Bergeron, and Bergeron offed him, then staged his own accident to get Roussel off his back. But of course there's no way to prove it.”

F
rom what I gathered, Vince Roussel is not someone you would want to be in debt to.

Judith's words still haunted Charlotte long after her niece and Louis had left. As she pulled her van into an empty parking spot at her sister's apartment complex, she wondered what, if anything, she could say or do to persuade Cheré that these people were not the kind that she should be associating with.

Charlotte frowned at she climbed out of the van and locked it. She should have talked to Cheré yesterday about Todd Roussel, when she had the chance.

So why didn't you?

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she walked toward her sister's apartment, and her footsteps slowed. She'd forgotten. Plain and simple, it had completely slipped her mind. Oh, it was easy enough to excuse her lapse of memory, what with everything that had happened at the Devilier house. But this wasn't the first time that she'd forgotten something important lately. There had been other instances over the past few weeks, other tiny details that she'd overlooked.

First the forgetfulness, then the fainting spell. Were Judith and Hank right? Could something be wrong with her?

Charlotte took a deep breath, then released it with a heavy sigh….
just because you're turning sixty doesn't mean you're that old yet…

Though Charlotte didn't usually put much stock in anything her sister said, for once, Madeline was right, she decided. Sixty wasn't really that old, and it certainly didn't automatically mean she was going senile. Not yet. And there was no use worrying about any of it anyway. Worrying was counterproductive and wouldn't change anything.
If
and
when
she found out there was something wrong with her,
then
she'd do whatever had to be done to cope with it. She always had.

Charlotte raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before she got the chance.

“I was watching for you through the window,” her son explained as he reached out and pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. Charlotte breathed in the scent of him and smiled. He was wearing the cologne she'd bought him for his birthday, a brand that smelled similar to the one she'd once given his father so many years ago.

When Hank pulled away, he said, “I missed you at church. How are you feeling today? Any more fainting spells?”

Patience, she reminded herself as she looked up at him.
Patience is a virtue.
Besides, Hank's concern was because he loved her. She smiled. “I'm fine, hon,” she told him, patting his freshly shaved cheek.

A tall and lean man, her son had piercing blue eyes and sandy-colored hair with just a hint of gray at the temples. Just the sight of him filled her to overflowing with a mother's pride, and there were times, like now, when he so resembled his father that it took her breath away.

Charlotte felt her eyes grow misty and her throat tighten. Oh, how she wished her son and his father could have known each other, had wished it a thousand times. She'd often wondered if it would have made a difference if Hank Senior had known he'd fathered a son. Many a lonely night she'd thought that he might have tried harder to stay alive if he'd known.

But he hadn't known. There hadn't been time to tell him. Instead, he'd died, just one of the many first casualties of a war in Southeast Asia that should never have been fought to begin with.

Charlotte swallowed hard and shoved the painful memories back into that tiny compartment of her mind reserved for those she'd loved and lost.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Who all's here?” She peeped around his shoulder. “Did Carol come with you?”

A slim, attractive woman with warm brown eyes suddenly appeared in the doorway leading from the kitchen to the small living room. “Yes, I'm here, Charlotte,” she called out.

Carol Jones was a nurse whom Hank had been seeing for several months, and Charlotte had high hopes that any day now, Hank would announce their engagement and impending marriage. Unlike her son's ex-wife, Mindy, Carol was a generous, caring woman who was sensible as well as practical, all traits that strongly appealed to Charlotte. And, in Charlotte's opinion, Carol was the best shot she had of ever becoming a grandmother. Carol loved children.

Again, sadness pulled at her heart, sadness for her unborn grandchild that Hank's ex-wife had so heartlessly aborted.

“Everyone's on the patio,” Carol told her, drawing Charlotte's attention back to the present.

After a quick hug, Carol looped her arm through Charlotte's and urged her toward the kitchen. “Madeline gave us strict instructions to bring you out there as soon as you arrived. But what's this I hear about you fainting yesterday?”

Charlotte chose to ignore the question. “I like your hair that way,” she said instead. Normally, Carol wore her dark, shoulder-length hair in a classic pageboy style, but today, she'd pulled it back and secured it with a large barrette, a style that strongly emphasized her high cheekbones.

“Carol shrugged. “Thanks. This is what happens when I don't have time to wash it. I worked the evening shift last night and didn't get relieved until half the night shift was over. I ended up oversleeping because someone we both know and love”—she shot Hank a pointed look—“forgot to call me when he was supposed to.”

Hank just shrugged. “I figured you needed sleep more than your hair needed washing.”

Suddenly, a child's ear-piercing squeal rent the air, and all three of them froze.

“Is that who I think it is?” Charlotte asked Hank.

Hank groaned but nodded. “Little Davy, in the flesh. According to his mother, that horrible noise he just made is his latest trick to get her attention.”

Charlotte grinned. “So Daniel finally did it. I had wondered when he was going to get up enough nerve to invite Nadia and Davy to one of our little gatherings.”

When Nadia's live-in boyfriend had been arrested for theft five months earlier, she hadn't been able to afford an attorney. She'd shown up on Charlotte's doorstep in tears. She said her son kept crying for his father, and she didn't know where to turn or what to do.

Though Charlotte had never cared for Ricco Martinez, she felt sorry for Nadia and Davy, and she had persuaded Daniel to take Ricco's case pro bono. Daniel had been willing, but once he'd gotten Ricco out on bail, Ricco had abruptly disappeared without a word to anyone.

At first Daniel had continued seeing Nadia, using the excuse that he was simply lending legal support. But he hadn't fooled Charlotte. She knew better. She had sensed right away that her nephew had fallen for Nadia and Davy. Nadia had been reluctant in the beginning, but with Ricco out of the picture, Daniel's persistence and kindness was finally paying off, and nothing could have pleased Charlotte more.

“How's your aunt taking it?” Charlotte asked Hank.

“Better than I would have thought,” he answered. “She was a little distant at first—you know how Aunt Maddie can get—but I think she knows that she doesn't have much say in the matter. Once my cousin sets his mind on something, he can be every bit as stubborn as you ever thought about being.”

“Well, he could do a lot worse,” Charlotte avowed, ignoring her son's gibe. “Nadia is a lovely person, and Davy is as cute as a button. And speaking of children, when are—”

Hank immediately cut her off. “Don't even go there, Mother.”

Charlotte sighed and Carol grinned. It wasn't the first time she had tried to hint that she wanted a grandchild, and it wouldn't be the last, she vowed. After all, she certainly wasn't getting any younger and neither was her son.

Then Hank, like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be, opened the back door and ushered the two women through to the backyard.

Though Madeline's patio and backyard were small, the area was adequate for the small gathering. Daniel was hovering over the smoking barbecue pit near the fence, and Madeline and Nadia were setting out food on the picnic table, while Davy was busy stalking something through the tall grass near the corner of the fence.

“Hey, Aunt Charley,” Daniel called out. “You're just in time.”

Madeline and Nadia glanced up from their tasks. “Not just in time, but about time,” Madeline scolded. “Where have you been? Judith said she left your place over two hours ago. And another thing.” Her stern expression suddenly softened, and a secretive smile played at her lips. “What's this I hear about Louis being there with you still in your robe?” she teased. “Come on, Charlotte, do tell.”

At that moment, Charlotte could have happily choked her sister. When she ventured a quick glance at her son and found him staring at her with an amused but curious expression on his face, she felt a slow flush creep up her neck.

Telling herself that she was too old to be embarrassed so easily over a bit of teasing, and that the warmth that had now reached her cheeks was not a blush, she smiled sweetly. “Police business, sister
dear.
Detective Thibodeaux had some more questions about yesterday.”

“Yeah, right,” Madeline quipped with a giggle. Then she quickly sobered. “Speaking of yesterday,” She made a face. “As usual, my daughter was tight-lipped and wouldn't tell me any of the real juicy stuff when she called.” She nudged Nadia with her elbow. “Maybe now we can get the real scoop.”

Nadia simply smiled indulgently. “Not if I know Charlotte. She's the last person you'll get to gossip about anything.”

Little Davy chose that particular moment to let out another of his earsplitting squeals, diverting everyone's attention.

“Oh, Davy, honey, no-no.” Nadia rushed toward her son. In his pudgy fingers was what appeared to be a small green lizard, wriggling frantically in an attempt to regain its freedom. “Let that poor thing go,” Nadia told him as she pried his fingers apart.

Evidently none the worse for wear, the tiny reptile promptly scurried away. When it disappeared in the grass, Davy screwed up his face and began to wail as if his little heart had been broken.

Seizing upon the opportunity to avoid discussing the events of the previous day, Charlotte hurried over to help comfort the little boy.

“Hey, little man,” she cooed. “What's all this crying about?” She knelt down beside him, and seeking something to distract him, she pointed at his T-shirt. “I sure do like your shirt, but who's that silly-looking bear on it? I'll bet his name is Tigger.”

Davy shook his head. “Not Tigger,” he whimpered.

Charlotte pretended to be confused. “Maybe Piglet?”

“Pooh Bear,” the little boy declared, the lizard forgotten momentarily. He patted the figure on his shirt. “Name Pooh Bear.”

“Hey, Davy—” Without warning, Daniel suddenly appeared beside them and scooped the little boy up in his arms. “How about an airplane ride?” Amid Davy's giggles of delight, Daniel lifted the little boy above his head. Making a guttural roaring noise, Daniel began loping back and forth around the small backyard.

With Davy distracted, Madeline continued as if she'd never been interrupted. “You know that after Drew Bergeron's father-in-law died, the firm I work for began handling City Realty's bookkeeping,” she said.

In spite of her earlier reluctance to discuss the matter, Charlotte found herself curious. “His father-in-law was Maurice Sinclair, wasn't he?”

Madeline nodded. “After the old man's death, Drew stepped in and took over City Realty, and the first thing he did was move their account to our firm.”

“I wonder why,” Charlotte murmured.

“Probably had something to do with the deal he was working on with Roussel Construction,” Madeline said. “My boss and Vince Roussel go back a long way, and since we handled their books, I guess he figured it would be easier all the way around.”

“Do y'all still handle City Realty?”

Madeline shook her head. “A couple of months after Drew's funeral, his wife switched everything back to the firm her father had always used before.”

“Hey, Mom,” Daniel called out, interrupting them. “Davy and I think the chicken looks like it's about done, so could you bring that platter over?”

“I'll take it,” Nadia volunteered.

“Thanks,” Madeline told her. “And I guess that means I need to get the rest of the food out so we can eat.”

“I'll help you,” Charlotte offered.

“And Hank and I will put ice in the glasses,” Carol volunteered.

By the time they had all settled around the table and said the blessings, much to Charlotte's relief the Devilier house and Drew Bergeron's murder were forgotten for the moment…or so she'd thought.

While everyone stuffed themselves with Daniel's barbecued chicken and Madeline's sour-cream potato salad and baked beans, conversation turned to All Saints' Day and Halloween.

“I wonder which cemetery they'll bury Drew Bergeron in this time,” Madeline commented, tongue in cheek. “Whichever, he couldn't have picked a better time to have another funeral.”

“Madeline!”

“Mother!”

Ignoring Charlotte's and Daniel's gasps of disbelief, Madeline shot them a defiant look. “Well, it's true,” she said. “Why, just last Friday, I noticed a group already working in Lafayette Number One.”

Lafayette Number One, located on Washington Avenue, was just one of over thirty aboveground cemeteries located throughout the city. As in most of Louisiana, the two weeks leading up to All Saints' Day was a time when everyone gathered to pay homage to their dead by cleaning and beautifying the cemeteries. Armed with buckets of whitewash, scrubbing brushes, and gardening tools, families would gather in the cemeteries and spend hours laboring away so that the tombs and grounds were tidy and neat for All Saints' Day.

Madeline cast a wary eye toward Charlotte. “Are you going this year?”