The bathroom was almost as large as the one in her house. Not only did it contain a lavatory and toilet, but an oversized shower as well. Beside the shower was what appeared to be a small closet.
Curious, Charlotte opened the door. Just as she’d suspected, there were a couple of suits, some shirts, and sweat suits hanging inside on a rod. On the floor a pair of dress shoes and a pair of tennis shoes peeked out from beneath the hanging clothes.
Ever aware of the passing time, with a shake of her head, she closed the door, set her supply carrier on the floor, and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.
The first thing she did was pour a healthy measure of pine cleaner into the toilet bowl. Leaving it to soak, she Windexed the mirror and the faucets, then wiped down the sink and the shower. She’d just begun to scrub the toilet when she heard the phone ring in Lowell’s office. It rang a second time before he finally answered it.
“Yeah, Kimberly.” He paused. “No, I’ve told you before that I don’t want to talk to him.” There was a moment of silence, then he said, “Nol Hell, no! I don’t want him coming up here.” After another short silence, Lowell let loose a string of curse words. “Okay, okay,” he finally relented. “I’ll talk to him. Put him through.”
Charlotte tapped the toilet brush against the rim, and after quickly rinsing it under the faucet, she placed it in the sink to drip-dry. Barely breathing, she tiptoed closer to the door so she could hear better.
“How many times have I told you not to call me here?” Lowell snapped at the caller. There was a slight pause; then, his voice rising in anger with each word, he began ranting. “I don’t want to hear it. That woman is out to ruin me—has been for years. Why the hell didn’t you get rid of her, too, along with that two-bit hustler she hired?” Another pause. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” Lowell snapped at the caller. There was another silence, then, “Tell you what, buddy,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft, menacing drawl, “if I go down, I’m dragging you with me.” Again his voice rose to a shout: “And the next time I hear from you, it had better be good news or else!”
The crack of the receiver being slammed down jolted Charlotte into action. After what she’d just heard, the last thing she needed was for Lowell to suspect that she’d been listening in on his conversation. In hopes of allaying any suspicions that she’d been listening, she quickly flushed the toilet.
With her insides churning and her mind swirling with bits and pieces of the conversation she’d overheard, Charlotte decided she should wait a few minutes before she left the bathroom.
She eased over to the toilet, closed the lid, and sat down.
That woman is out to ruin me—has been for years.
“That woman” had to be Patsy ... didn’t it? Of course there was always the possibility that he’d been talking about someone else, maybe even his wife, but Charlotte didn’t think so. Everything that she’d read about his wife indicated that she was his biggest supporter.
Why the hell didn’t you get rid of her, too, along with that two-bit hustler she hired?
Charlotte shivered. If “get rid of her” meant what she thought it meant and “that woman” was indeed Patsy, then Patsy was in big trouble.
Another thought brought a frown to Charlotte’s face. Again assuming “she” was Patsy, then it stood to reason that the “two-bit hustler” could be Ricco.
Charlotte reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Trying to figure out this mess was giving her a headache. After a moment, she realized that it had been a while since she’d heard any noise coming from the outer office. Maybe Lowell had left, and maybe it was time for her to be thinking about doing the same.
Relief washed through her when she saw that the office was indeed empty. Since she hadn’t heard Lowell leave, she figured he must have left when she flushed the toilet.
Charlotte stared longingly at the door that led out into the hallway. If her suppositions were right, then she’d heard what she came to hear, or at least enough to confirm in her own mind that Lowell was capable of almost anything, including murder. And if she had any sense, she’d leave now, just as fast as her legs could carry her.
Charlotte closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow down.
No
.
Too suspicious. It would look too suspicious to leave now.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly set about dusting and straightening the office. Just as soon as she finished up Lowell’s office, she’d make up some kind of excuse, then hightail it out of there.
She had just begun dusting the file cabinets when she heard a commotion in the outside hallway.
“She’s in there,” Charlotte heard Kimberly say as the door abruptly swung open.
Charlotte was speechless when the uniformed security guard stepped into the room. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her heart began pounding in her chest.
What on earth was Louis Thibodeaux doing there?
Chapter Sixteen
T
he shocked expression on Louis’s face was almost comical, but laughing was the last thing Charlotte felt like doing at the moment.
Louis pointed at Charlotte. “Is this the woman?”
Kimberly gave Charlotte a Cheshire-cat grin; then she turned to Louis and nodded. “That’s the one. I took the liberty of phoning the janitorial service we use. They assured me that the regular cleaning lady was on her way, and they also confirmed that they hadn’t sent out any substitutes today. I don’t know what this woman thinks she’s doing here, but I want her removed from these premises immediately.”
Louis took a step closer to Charlotte, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, and Charlotte’s mind raced with possible excuses she could use.
The best defense is an offense. In for penny, in for a pound.
Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at Louis. “What’s going on here? Isn’t this Mr. Lawrence Webster’s offices?”
The look Louis gave her said she wasn’t fooling him in the least. “No, this is Mr.
Lowell
Webster’s offices.”
Charlotte feigned surprise and embarrassment. “Oh, my goodness.” She turned to Kimberly. “I’m so sorry. I thought this was—I mean—this is such a huge building and all, I guess I got confused.” She bent down and picked up her supply carrier.
To Louis, she said, “If it isn’t too much trouble, maybe you could direct me to Mr. Lawrence Webster’s offices? I’m sure they’re wondering why I haven’t shown up yet.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but he held out his arm anyway. “Be glad to, ma’am,” he drawled.
With one last faked apologetic look at Kimberly, Charlotte gladly took his arm and let him escort her out of the office.
Louis didn’t utter a sound all the way to the elevator. Nor did he say anything while they both watched the panel above the elevator doors as they waited for it to arrive.
Finally the bell dinged, and when the elevator doors slid open, a lone woman stepped out wearing a uniform with a Zachary Carter’s Janitorial Services logo on the front. For a second, Charlotte was tempted to tell the woman that Lowell’s bathroom had already been cleaned, but Louis was nudging her toward the inside of the elevator.
Oh well
,
too bad.
With a sigh, Charlotte gave the woman a quick smile, and with Louis right on her heels, she stepped inside.
Louis punched the GROUND FLOOR button, and once the elevator doors slid closed, he turned to face her. “There is no Lawrence Webster office in this building,” he said. “As you well know,” he added pointedly. “And you didn’t fool anyone back there with that trumped-up excuse about the names. For Pete’s sake, woman, Lowell Webster’s name was right on his offices door in plain sight.”
Charlotte’s cheeks grew warm and she groaned. “Oops! Forgot all about that,” she muttered.
Louis glared at her. “Want to tell me what’s going on here?”
For a split second Charlotte considered trying to bluff her way through the situation. But only for a second, Trying to bluff Louis would be like lying to the pope during confession. Not an advisable thing to do.
“If you’ll walk me to my van, once we’re out of the building I can explain,” she finally told him.
“Yeah, I’ll just bet you can,” he said, sarcasm oozing with each word. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”
Spring had always been one of Charlotte’s favorite times of the year. Outside the sun was shining, promising to be another beautiful morning, but all that Charlotte could think about was the phone conversation she’d overheard in Lowell’s office.
While Charlotte and Louis walked, she did her best to explain, beginning with the call she’d received from Nadia. By the time they reached the van, she had finished her explanation with recounting her visit to Jane Calhoun.
Charlotte unlocked the back door of the van. “After talking to Jane, I wasn’t sure who or what to believe,” she said as she loaded her supply carrier into the van. She stepped aside to close the door. “I just thought that—”
Louis suddenly grabbed the door and slammed it so hard that a passing couple stopped to gawk.
Oblivious to the couple, Louis took a menacing step toward Charlotte. “Thought what, Charlotte?” The harshness of his voice shocked her to her toes, especially since, up until that very second, he hadn’t given the slightest indication that he was anything but mildly interested in what she’d been telling him.
“Let me guess,” he drawled sarcastically. “You thought you could just waltz in there, and Lowell Webster would outright confess to being a prick, or—no, wait: you thought he’d just outright confess to being a murderer!”
“No, of course not,” she sputtered. “I—”
“You never learn, do you, Charlotte?” He shook his head. “The Dubuisson mess was bad enough, and now this! Do you have any idea who you’re messing with? Lowell Webster could eat you up, spit you out, and never blink an eye, not to mention that he’s got a whole army of lawyers who could keep you tied up in court for the rest of your natural life on defamation of character charges alone.”
He poked her shoulder with his forefinger, then leaned down until he was right in her face. “Stay out of it, Charlotte. Let the police do their job. Let Judith handle it. If Daniel is innocent, then—”
“Just what do you mean ‘if’?” Charlotte snapped. But she didn’t give him time to answer. She’d tried hard to control her temper during his tirade, tried hard to ignore the fact that he was almost shouting at her and treating her as if she didn’t have the sense God gave a goose. But enough was enough. There was no way she could ignore his sneering remark about Daniel.
“There is no
if
!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Daniel is innocent!” She poked him hard in the chest. “Do you hear me, you—you—you chauvinist pig? My nephew is innocent!”
With the heels of both hands, Charlotte hit him square in the chest to shove him out of her way. Caught off guard, he stumbled back long enough for her to get around him, and she hotfooted it to the driver’s side of the van.
She wrenched the door open, scrambled inside, and slammed it shut. In the side-view mirror, she saw him heading toward the driver’s side of the van. For good measure, just in case he decided to try to keep her from leaving, she hit the automatic door lock.
By the time she jabbed the key into the ignition switch, he was right beside her window.
“Charlotte!” he yelled. “Open this door!” He pounded on the glass.
Ignoring him, Charlotte switched on the engine, and the van roared to life. With one last contemptuous glare at him, she stomped on the accelerator, forcing Louis to either move or get bumped. He jumped back, and with the tires burning rubber, Charlotte pealed out into the street.
Brakes squealed and car horns blared in protest at being cut off, but Charlotte was oblivious to everything but the anger burning a hole in the pit of her stomach.
The short drive to Patsy Dufour’s house passed in a haze of fury, laced with humiliation. To even think that she’d ever, for the slightest moment, considered Louis Thibodeaux as someone she could possibly spend the rest of her life with only fueled her anger even more. And she
had
thought about it, thought about it more than once.
“Well, no more!” she muttered. One thing she didn’t need in her life was some overbearing know-it-all who had no conception of what family loyalty was all about.
The fact that he’d disowned his own son, his only child, should have given her a clue. Oh, he’d had his so-called reasons, reasons he thought justified what he had done.
Stephen had been a problem child. Louis’s wife, unable to cope with their son’s problems and no longer able to tolerate the long hours required by her husband’s job as a homicide detective, had deserted them both, leaving Louis to deal with Stephen by himself.
Then, when Stephen was a teenager, he’d gotten mixed up with a group of homeless runaways. One night Stephen and a couple of boys from the group mugged a tourist The tourist died from injuries they’d inflicted on him, but before he’d died the man had been able to give a description of Stephen and one of the other boys. As a result, they had all been caught, convicted, and imprisoned.