Barbara Colley - Charlotte LaRue 01 - Maid For Murder p.07

Chapter Twenty
For the next hour, the low buzz of voices filled the foyer, the parlor, and the dining room as friends, acquaintances, and Jackson’s business associates dropped by to pay their respects to Jeanne and Anna-Maria. Charlotte soon lost count as people came and went Many of them she recognized, some she didn’t, as she refilled the platters with sandwiches.
Several times as she picked up the dirty dishes left in the parlor, she overheard someone ask about Clarice. And each time Jeanne’s response was the same. On each occasion, she spun the lie that Clarice had grieved herself sick because of Jackson’s death.
Upon hearing Jeanne’s response, it took every ounce of self-restraint that Charlotte could muster to keep a firm grip on her anger, mostly at herself for having been so blind to the truth all along.
Charlotte was replenishing a tray of sliced turkey sandwiches in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. At first, she ignored it, just as she’d ignored it for the past half hour. Since Judith was there in her official capacity, she had stationed herself in the foyer and had taken over the job of letting visitors in while her partner hovered about in the parlor. It was the sudden break in the steady murmur of voices in the dining room and foyer that got Charlotte’s attention. The quiet moment only lasted a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Charlotte left the half-full tray of sandwiches and walked through the dining room to the foyer. The moment she spotted Sydney and Tony Marriott near the parlor door, she immediately understood the reason for the brief silence.
Many of the same guests at Jackson’s funeral had also attended the Zoo To Do event. Like Charlotte, they had seen Jackson and Sydney dancing and had also witnessed the volatile confrontation between Jackson and Tony.
Had the gossip about the altercation filtered back to Jeanne? she wondered as she discreetly followed the couple from the foyer into the parlor. Did Jeanne know about the incident, and if she did, how would she react to having the couple in her house?
A small group of people were clustered around Jeanne and Anna-Maria, so Sydney and Tony weren’t able to talk to them right away. While the couple awaited their turn, Charlotte took her time gathering the few dirty dishes left by guests and tried to ignore the disturbing presence of Louis Thibodeaux, standing just behind the two women.
When the couple were finally face-to-face with Jeanne, as far as Charlotte could tell, there was no outward sign that their presence bothered her, at least not at first. Ever the gracious hostess, she greeted Sydney and Tony with a polite but sad little half-smile and thanked them for coming.
The first sign of emotion that Jeanne allowed to surface was when the couple started to leave. She warmly embraced Tony. But when Sydney reached out to her, Jeanne stepped back, just out of reach, and shook her head once, but succinctly, her expression cold and forbidding, an expression that spoke volumes about her feelings toward the other woman.
Since Sydney’s back was to Charlotte, she couldn’t see the other woman’s initial reaction. But when Sydney finally turned and walked away from Jeanne, her face was flushed, and her eyes were cast downward, almost as if she were afraid to look at anyone.
At the Zoo To Do, Sydney’s and Jackson’s behavior had been suspect, and at the time, Charlotte had wondered if the couple might be having an affair. But she’d also considered that Tony could have simply been acting the part of the jealous husband.
After witnessing Jeanne’s reaction to Sydney and Sydney’s response, Charlotte decided that it was highly probable that the couple had indeed been involved in an affair. It also seemed highly certain that Jeanne knew that her husband had been cheating on her with Sydney.
Sydney and Tony stayed for only a few minutes more after the encounter, just long enough to be polite. During those few minutes, though, Charlotte couldn’t help noticing that Tony did most of the socializing; Sydney stood by his side with a tight little polite smile on her lips.
Just moments after the Marriotts walked out the door, Charlotte saw Louis Thibodeaux whisper something to Judith; then he left, too.


It was drawing near two P.M. when Charlotte finally decided it was time to have her talk with Judith. The crush of people had thinned out; only a few diehards still lingered in the parlor.
She located Judith keeping vigil just inside the parlor door. Jeanne stood a few feet away, talking quietly to Anna-Maria.
“Ms. Monroe?” Charlotte placed her hand on Judith’s arm. “I wonder if I could have a word with you in private about that matter I mentioned earlier?”
Judith gave her an odd look but nodded and followed Charlotte back to the kitchen.
“What’s with the ‘Ms. Monroe’ business?” she asked when they entered the kitchen.
“Just being discreet,” Charlotte answered. “You did say you didn’t want anyone to know that we’re related.”
Judith closed her eyes and sighed. Then she opened them. “Yes—yes I did, didn’t I? Of course I did. Sorry, Aunt Charley, but it’s this case. It’s driving me crazy. Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I know who killed Jackson Dubuisson, and I have proof.”
For several seconds, Judith simply stared at her aunt as if she were trying to make up her mind whether Charlotte was serious.
“Okay,” she finally said. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know”
Charlotte began by explaining about the missing phenobarbital tablets and the crushed powder she’d found in Clarice’s bathroom. Then she told Judith about the scuff marks made by Clarice’s walker in the bathroom as well as on the stairs. She also revealed that Clarice was the one who had told her about the relationship between Brian O’Connor and Jeanne.
Suddenly, Judith tilted her head and gestured for Charlotte to be silent She eased over to the dining-room door and peeked inside. With a shrug of her shoulders, she stepped back into the kitchen. “I thought I heard someone in the dining room,” she said. “Just in case, though, talk a little softer, Auntie. We don’t want to tip our hand.”
“I can’t explain right now, but tipping our hand is exactly what we want to do,” Charlotte told her. “Just go with the flow for now.”
Before Judith could question her or object and ignoring her niece’s admonition to talk softer, Charlotte launched into an explanation. “I had my suspicions all along, but when I found the glass embedded in the nightgown this morning, I knew for sure.”
Judith rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and sighed. “You should never have touched any of it, Auntie. You’ve probably contaminated the only decent evidence we have.”
“I’ll have you know I was extremely careful,” Charlotte retorted. “Besides, with the medicine bottle it doesn’t matter, anyway. My fingerprints were already on it. But I was still careful. I wore rubber gloves, and I used a paper sack for the gown and the bottle, which—by the way—is safely tucked away in the back of the pantry. I’ll give it to you when you’re ready to leave.”
Judith stared at Charlotte, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It all makes sense, and it’s what I’ve suspected all along, but I need to talk to Louis about—”
“Charlotte?”
Both Judith and Charlotte froze at the sound of Jeanne’s voice. When they turned, she was standing in the doorway leading to the dining room. Though she looked a little pale, her face was composed, and nothing about her expression indicated that she’d overheard any of their discussion. Her gaze slid from Charlotte to Judith, then back again. “Is everything okay in here? Is there a problem?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No—”
Judith cut in. “No problem, Mrs. Dubuisson. I just had a few more questions I wanted to ask Charlotte.”
Jeanne switched her attention to Judith. “Questions? About what?”
Judith made a dismissive gesture. “Nothing important.”
Jeanne slowly nodded. “In that case—” She turned to Charlotte. “I wanted to let you know most everyone has left. If you will finish clearing out the dishes in the parlor and pick up the serving platters in the dining room, then you can go, too.”
Again Judith interrupted. “Has Detective Thibodeaux returned yet?”
Jeanne shrugged. “I guess I didn’t realize he’d left to begin with, but no, I haven’t seen him lately.”
Charlotte picked up an empty tray from the cabinet. “It shouldn’t take me long to clear away what’s left,” she said. Then, with butterflies beating a nervous rhythm in her stomach, she purposely stood there and waited for Jeanne to make the first move.
Jeanne hesitated only a moment before she led the way back to the parlor. “How’s Miss Anna-Maria holding out?” Charlotte asked in an attempt to maintain some sense of normalcy.
“Not too good, I’m afraid,” Jeanne answered, an edge to her tone. “Which reminds me, in case anyone asks, she’s gone to her room to rest, and I don’t want her to be disturbed. Once everyone has left—if they ever do,” she muttered, “I intend to do the same.”
Charlotte took her time gathering up the few remaining dishes, and Judith stood near the window, her gaze following Jeanne as she escorted the last of the guests to the foyer.
Charlotte heard the front door close. When several moments passed and Jeanne still hadn’t returned, Charlotte walked over to Judith. She held up her forefinger against her lips to indicate silence, then motioned for Judith to follow her.
Jeanne wasn’t in the foyer, nor was she in the dining room. With Judith trailing close behind her, Charlotte entered the kitchen just in time to see Jeanne slip out the back door.
Charlotte made a beeline for the pantry. The sack she’d placed inside on the floor earlier was gone.
“She took the bait,” Charlotte told her niece.
“Bait? You mean the evidence?”
Charlotte pulled Judith over to the window that overlooked the back deck. “Let’s just watch and see what she does with it”
Outside, Jeanne set the sack she’d taken from the pantry down on the deck near the gas grill. She opened up the grill, turned on the gas, and lit it with a match. Then she snatched up the sack and dropped it on top of the burners. Within seconds, flames engulfed the sack.
“We’ve got to stop her!” Judith cried.
She started toward the door, but Charlotte grabbed her by the arm. “No,” she told her. “It’s okay. Just watch and listen.”
“But Aunt Charley!” Judith tried to pull away, but Charlotte held firm and shook her head.
“I promise it will be okay.”
“But she’s burning the evidence.”
Charlotte shook her head again. “No, she’s not. She just thinks she is. And stop looking at me like I’ve suddenly gone senile. I know how Jeanne thinks, and I know what I’m doing. This is the only way we’ll get the truth out of her.”
Still looking a bit skeptical, after a moment Judith grudgingly gave in. “Okay, Auntie, you win for now, but I sure hope you know what you’re doing. If you don’t, we could both be in big trouble.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Charlotte assured her niece as she finally released her hold on Judith’s arm.
In no time at all, the hot flames of the grill reduced the sack and its contents to ashes. With Charlotte and Judith watching, Jeanne continued staring at the grill long after there was nothing left to burn. After what seemed like forever, she finally shut off the burners and then closed the lid.
When Jeanne reentered the kitchen, Charlotte and Judith were standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her. Sending up a silent prayer that she was doing the right thing, Charlotte confronted her. “You burned the wrong sack,” she told her. “The real evidence is locked in my van.”
Watching Jeanne’s reaction was like witnessing a balloon slowly deflate. “Charlotte, I—I—” She glanced at Judith, then back again at Charlotte. Her eyes filled, and tears spilled over onto her cheeks. Her lips quivering, she whispered, “I didn’t want to do it, b-but there was no other way.” A haunted expression crossed her face. “Don’t you see? I couldn’t let Mother—”
“That’s enough, Jeanne!”
At the sound of Clarice St. Martin’s stem voice, all three women jerked their heads around. The old woman was standing in the dining-room doorway. She was leaning heavily on her walker, her face was flushed, and for a moment, she seemed to gasp for each breath she drew. Finally, her breathing slowed to normal. “I’d say you’ve said more than enough,” she muttered, a warning look in her eyes.
“Mother, I—”
Clarice shook her head. “I said enough, and I meant it!”
Jeanne’s lower lip quivered, but she finally gave in.
Clarice gave her a curt nod, then turned to glare at Judith. “Leave my daughter out of this,” she warned in a harsh, raw voice. “It’s no secret that I despised my son-in-law, so it won’t be a stretch for you to believe that I killed him.”
“Mrs. St. Martin—” Judith stepped toward the old lady. “Are you confessing to the murder of Jackson Dubuisson?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“If that’s the case, then I have to advise you that you have the right—”
Clarice sliced the air with her hand. “I know what my rights are, young lady, and I don’t need you or anyone else telling me.”
“That may be,” Judith shot back, undaunted and not the least bit intimidated, “but by law I still have to do this, so just indulge me. Clarice St. Martin, you’re under arrest for the murder of—”
“No! Stop it!” Jeanne demanded. “She’s lying—just like before.” Her eyes fierce with defiance, she glared at her mother and shook her head. “Not this time, Mother.”
“Shut up, Jeanne!”
“I won’t shut up. I can’t let you take the blame this time, not again.” She whirled to face Charlotte. “But you already knew that, didn’t you, Charlotte?”
Charlotte felt her throat grow tight with emotion as she nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to believe it, Jeanne. I still don’t want to believe it, but—”
“Wait a minute,” Judith interrupted. “What’s she talking about? What did you already know?”
With her eyes on Jeanne, Charlotte took a deep breath, then let it out in a defeated sigh. “Not only did Jeanne kill Jackson, but she killed her father, too.”
Judith’s eyes widened. “Her father?”
“That’s a damned lie!” Clarice shouted. “We want a law-year!”
Judith leveled a warning look at Clarice. “Be quiet, Mrs. St. Martin.”
“You have to allow us to call our lawyer.”
“I’m not denying you counsel,” Judith retorted. She pointed her finger at the old lady. “But if you say another word, I’ll confine you to another room.”
Clarice opened her mouth.
“Just one word,” Judith warned.
Her eyes shooting daggers, Clarice snapped her mouth shut again and pressed her lips into a tight line of anger.
Finally satisfied that Clarice wouldn’t interrupt, Judith motioned for Charlotte to continue.
“Andrew St. Martin was Jeanne’s father,” Charlotte explained. “He was murdered about fifteen years ago. You remember me telling you about Brian O‘Connor? Well, it was Miss Clarice who gave me that information—deliberately, I’m sure—in an attempt to shift suspicion away from Jeanne. I suspect that Miss Clarice somehow found out that you’re my niece and hoped that I would leak the information about Brian to you. Between her trying to throw suspicion on Brian O’Connor and some gossip I got from another client of mine, I was able to fill in the blanks, so to speak.”
Judith narrowed her eyes skeptically. “So to speak?”
Undaunted, Charlotte continued. “Almost twenty years ago, Brian O’Connor, the son of a gardener, had a summer job working for the St. Martins.” Charlotte motioned toward Jeanne. “He and Jeanne fell in love. Then Jeanne came up pregnant.
“Besides being a socially prominent attorney, according to rumors, Andrew St. Martin was also an abusive, controlling man. His future plans for his daughter didn’t include having an uneducated gardener’s son for a son-in-law But St. Martin knew better than to simply forbid the union. He knew he had to get rid of Brian, so he set him up—had him arrested for stealing. And with the help of a judge, who just happened to be one of Andrew’s old buddies, Brian was sent to prison.
“Andrew then arranged for Jeanne to marry a young protégé of his who worked for him. He promised Jackson Dubuisson a partnership in his law firm if he would marry Jeanne and claim her unborn baby as his own. Then he threatened to cut Jeanne off without a penny unless she agreed to the arrangement.” Charlotte turned to Jeanne. “Am I right so far?”
Jeanne hung her head. “I didn’t want to marry Jackson,” she mumbled. “But what choice did I have? I was only eighteen. Without a college education or job skills and with Brian in prison, I couldn’t support a baby . . .” Her voice trailed away.
“But Brian didn’t stay in prison forever,” Charlotte said, resuming her explanation. “Five years later, when he was released, I figure that Jeanne saw her chance to finally be with the man she loved. But she made a mistake—either that or she slipped up and somehow her father found out that she had plans to divorce Jackson. I have my suspicions about what he threatened her with that time.” Again she turned to Jeanne. “Probably the disinheritance thing again—but it didn’t work, did it, Jeanne? What else did he threaten you with?”
Jeanne lifted her head, and her gaze slid to Clarice. “I couldn’t let him do it,” she said, her voice rising with anger. “He said he would sign everything over to Jackson and leave my mother without a penny.”
Clarice opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it, but before she bowed her head, Charlotte saw the single tear that trailed down her pale cheek.
Charlotte swallowed hard against the ache in her own throat. “I figure he also made some kind of threat against Brian again, too,” she said softly. “None of which Jeanne could allow to happen. Once again he’d cornered her, but Jeanne was no longer a schoolgirl he could intimidate. She was older and wiser. She figured that the only way out was to get rid of the threat once and for all. And Clarice—” Charlotte turned her gaze to the old lady. “After years of being subjected to an abusive, controlling husband, she covered for her daughter, as any mother would—provided her with an alibi. Just as she’d tried to cover for Jeanne this time when Jeanne murdered Jackson.”
Suddenly, Clarice jerked herself upright and glared at Charlotte. “That’s all a bunch of hogwash!” she shouted. She turned to Judith. “There’s not a shred of proof of anything she’s saying,” she told her. “My husband was killed by a burglar, and the police never proved otherwise” She thumped herself on the chest. “And I killed that no-good, two-timing bastard Jackson” She shook her finger at Judith. “And it’s your duty to take me in.”
Charlotte shook her head, and in spite of herself, she felt sorry for the old lady. “It’s no use, Miss Clarice,” she said softly, in her most reasonable voice. “This time you didn’t do as good a job of covering up for Jeanne as you did the first time. I found her nightgown in your dirty-clothes hamper—the one she wore the night she killed Jackson. It still had slivers of glass embedded in the sleeve. Those slivers could only have gotten there one way. Jeanne used the sleeve of the gown for protection against getting cut when she punched in the pane of the French doors.”
“That’s a lie,” Clarice shouted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And who’s going to believe you, anyway?” she sneered. “Why, you’re a nobody—nothing but a maid. You—”
“That’s enough!” Judith glared at the old lady. “She may be only a maid, but she’s one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever known, so just watch your mouth. I told you once, and I won’t tell you again. I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless I ask you a question. Do I make myself clear?” When Clarice refused to reply, Judith made a menacing move toward her. “I said, Do I make myself clear?”
Even as Clarice nodded, she paled and swayed against the walker.
“Stop it!” Jeanne cried. She rushed over to Clarice. “Can’t you see that she’s not well?” She placed her arm around her mother’s waist to steady her and urged her toward a nearby chair. “Here, Mother, sit down before you fall down.”
Charlotte expected Clarice to give Jeanne an argument. The fact that the old lady obeyed her without a protest was a clear indication of how exhausted she was becoming.
“Maybe she should go to bed,” Charlotte suggested.
“I think you’re right,” Jeanne agreed. “If you helped me, we could probably manage to get her up the stairs.”
“Ah, excuse me!” Judith interrupted, sarcasm dripping with each word. “I’m trying to conduct a murder investigation here, and no one’s going anywhere until I get some more answers.”
“You have all the answers you need,” Clarice said in a weak, raspy voice. “Arrest me and be done with it.”
Judith rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and sighed wearily. “Give me patience,” she whispered.
Charlotte patted Judith’s arm. “What else do you need to know, hon?”
“For starters, I need a reason, Aunt Charley. Motive. Why’d she do it?” She glared at Jeanne. “If you killed your father to be with Brian, why didn’t you go ahead and divorce Jackson then? Wasn’t that the whole point?”
Jeanne shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Judith challenged.
When long seconds passed and it became obvious that Jeanne wasn’t going to answer, Charlotte intervened. “Jeanne’s right,” she told Judith. “You wouldn’t understand, not unless you had a child. According to Miss Clarice, Jackson used Anna-Maria to hold Jeanne. He told Jeanne if she ever left him, he’d make sure that Anna-Maria found out all about how her real father was an ex-con; then he’d tell everyone else, too. Now you have to remember,” Charlotte added, “that Anna-Maria was only about five and thought that Jackson was her real father.”
Judith made a face and shook her head. “You’re right. I don’t understand. Be that as it may, I still don’t consider any of that a real motive for killing Jackson, though Lord knows, people have been murdered for a lot less.” She stared hard at Jeanne. “Why now? You’ve lived with the man for almost twenty years? Was it jealousy? Was your husband cheating on you? Was he?”
“To be jealous, you have to give a damn,” Jeanne snapped.
“Aha, I see,” Judith said sagely. “What happened, Mrs. Dubuisson? Did he cut your allowance?”
Jeanne’s eyes suddenly blazed. “My-my allowance!” she sputtered.
Though Charlotte was careful to hide her thoughts, she silently applauded her niece’s interrogation tactics. Judith had just pushed the right buttons.
“Of all the absurd—” Jeanne shook her head violently. “It was all mine to begin with!” she shouted. “He was stealing from me! After everything I’ve put up with—his affairs, his—his—after my father handed him the firm on a silver platter—But that wasn’t good enough. Oh, no! He wanted it all so he and his tootsie could run off together. When Brian first told me, I didn’t believe him. But I checked, anyway. I may not be a lawyer, but I’ve lived around them all of my life. He wasn’t quite as clever as he thought he was, and I found out about his little account in the Cayman Islands. He was going to leave me—leave us—with nothing.”
“So Brian O’Connor helped you?”
“No!” Jeanne cried. “Brian had nothing to do with any of it.”
“Then how did he know Jackson was stealing your money?”
Jeanne glared at Judith. “I’m not saying another word without an attorney.”
A cackle of laughter suddenly erupted from Clarice. “You’ve already said too much, you idiot!” She laughed again and glared at Charlotte and Judith. “And you’re all a bunch of fools if you believe anything my daughter says. Can’t you see that she’s a fruitcake—a damn fruitcake. Why, if you put her brain in a mockingbird, he’d fly backwards.”
“Mother! Stop it!”
“I won’t stop it!”
“That’s enough from the both of you!” Judith quickly closed the distance between herself and the two women. “And you—” She grabbed Jeanne by the arm and pushed her away from her mother. “Why are you trying to protect Brian O’Connor? Did he help you murder your husband? Maybe it was his idea to begin with.”
Jeanne wrenched her arm free and shook her head violently. “I want an attorney.”
“She’s protecting him because she loves him,” Charlotte said softly. “But Brian didn’t kill Jackson. All Brian wanted was to be near his daughter. Isn’t that right, Jeanne?”
Jeanne’s eyes darkened with pain, then filled with tears again. “All he wanted was to see her...” Her voice erupted in a sob..
“At night he would sneak onto the gallery,” Charlotte continued, “just outside the library. That’s where he’d sit and wait for Anna-Maria to come home from one of her dates. I figure Jeanne’s telling the truth at least about that part. All he wanted was to get a glimpse of the daughter he was cheated out of. On one of those nights, he could have very well overheard Jackson talking on the phone inside the library to Sydney. Am I right, Jeanne?”
The younger woman covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders shook with sobs. “I—I should have listened to him from the beginning. He—he told me to get a lawyer. But by the time I finally started listening, it was too late. Jackson had already transferred almost everything—almost all of it.”
“But if Jackson died, then you—as his widow—would get it all back, wouldn’t you?” Charlotte asked.
Jeanne scrubbed at her eyes, then lifted her head. Ignoring Charlotte, she told Judith, “I want an attorney. You haven’t arrested me or read me my rights, so none of what I’ve said or what my mother has said can be construed as any kind of admission of guilt.”
Several tense moments passed before Judith finally nodded. “Jeanne Dubuisson, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of your husband, Jackson Dubuisson. You have the right to remain silent—”
“No, no, no!” Clarice moaned. With a strength that took them all by surprise, she launched herself out of the chair and grabbed Judith around the neck. “Run, Jeanne!” she cried out. “Run!”
For the moment, Charlotte was too stunned to move. Jeanne hesitated, clearly torn between her concern for her mother and her chance to escape.
“No, Jeanne!” Charlotte tensed. “Don’t do it!”


Chapter Twenty-one
To the amazement of everyone, instead of bolting for the door, Jeanne marched over to where Judith was still struggling with Clarice.
“Mother, stop it!” Jeanne demanded. She grabbed the old lady’s arms. “That’s enough!” She forced her mother’s arms loose. “I’m not running,” she told her firmly, “so give it up.”
Clarice took one look at Jeanne, then crumpled in her daughter’s arms as great sobs shook her frail body. “Oh, Jeanne, girl,” she whimpered, “what are we going to do now? What’s to become of us?”
Rubbing her neck, Judith backed away from the two women. Though she was none the worse for wear after her wrestling match, Charlotte could tell that she was shaken.
“Oh, Mother, don’t,” Jeanne cried, tears streaming down her face as she held Clarice close. “It’s going to be okay. I promise everything will be okay.”
“Mother—Grandmother—”
Except for Clarice, all eyes turned to the doorway of the foyer, where Anna-Maria stood with a bewildered look on her face that was intensified by the fear in her eyes.
“Ha-has something happened?” She rushed over to her mother and grandmother. “Mother, what’s going on? Is Grandmother ill? Please,” she pleaded, “say something. You’re scaring me.”
Jeanne swallowed hard. “It’s okay, darling,” she finally choked out. “We—we’re okay. Here, help me—” She glanced over at Judith. “Could we move my mother to the sofa in the parlor ... please?”
“Mother, I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Grandmother?”
“Not now, darling. Your grandmother will be just fine, and I’ll explain it all, but first let’s get her settled where she can rest.” Again she looked at Judith, waiting for permission, and with a tight grimace, Judith finally nodded her consent.
While Jeanne and Anna-Maria struggled to get Clarice to the parlor, Judith reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone as she followed close behind. Clarice began moaning, and Charlotte couldn’t hear who Judith called or what was said.
By the time they had settled Clarice onto the largest of the parlor sofas, the old lady was alarmingly pale, and her breathing was shallow.
Judith took one look at her, then asked Jeanne, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
Jeanne hesitated, then shook her head as she covered her mother with an afghan. “No, I don’t think so—not yet.” She turned to Anna-Maria. “Get your grandmother a glass of orange juice from the kitchen and get me a wet washcloth.”
Charlotte stepped forward. “I’ll get the juice and washcloth.”
“No, Charlotte.” Jeanne gave her a pointed look. “I—I need you to do something else. Let Anna-Maria get it.”
The moment that Anna-Maria disappeared through the doorway, Jeanne said, “I didn’t want her to hear, Charlotte.” She turned to Judith. “I know I don’t have any right to ask favors, but could you please let me have a few minutes alone with my daughter before you take me away? I—I’d like to try and explain things to her.”
Judith frowned. “I—”
“If I was going to run, I would have done so earlier. Please ... It’s all going to be such a shock to her.”
Still Judith hesitated, and at that moment, the peal of the doorbell sounded.
“I’ll get the door,” Charlotte offered, relieved to have something to do.
“I hope it’s Louis,” Judith muttered. “But if it’s anyone else, get rid of them.”
Charlotte nodded and rushed from the room.
The person at the door was Louis Thibodeaux. Standing just behind him were two uniformed police officers.
By way of greeting, he nodded curtly to Charlotte. “Where’s Judith?” he asked gruffly.
Charlotte stood to the side and motioned toward the parlor. “In there,” she said. “She’s been looking for you.”
“I know” was all he said before he turned to the two officers behind him. “Ted, you take the back door, and Barry, you stay here. No one comes in or out without my permission.” Then, without a word to Charlotte, he brushed past her and strode down the foyer toward the parlor
Charlotte closed the front door and turned to follow, but a movement to her left caught her eye.
Anna-Maria stood in the dining-room doorway, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a washcloth in the other. The look of confusion on her pale face turned quickly to fear as she followed the stocky detective with her eyes. Her hand that held the juice began to shake, and Charlotte quickly stepped closer and took the glass from her.
“What’s happening?” the younger woman whispered. She turned to Charlotte. “Please, won’t someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Just try and stay calm, hon. Right now your mother needs you to be strong.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“Anna-Maria, your mother is in trouble. Just remember that no matter what happens, she loves you more than life itself.”
“Why won’t you just tell me what’s happening?”
“Because it’s not my place, hon. Your mother will explain everything. Now let’s get this juice and washcloth in there to your grandmother.” Charlotte nudged her toward the parlor with her free hand.
As if in a trance, Anna-Maria let Charlotte guide her. As soon as they entered the room, Jeanne grabbed the juice. Once she’d gotten Clarice to take several swallows, she directed Anna-Maria to place the washcloth over Clarice’s brow. Then she leaned down and kissed the old lady on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. When she straightened, she looked at Judith.
“You’ve got thirty minutes,” Judith told her. “Detective Thibodeaux will be right outside the door. Don’t make me sorry that I’m allowing this,” she warned.
“Thank you,” Jeanne whispered. With a sideways glance at Louis Thibodeaux, she turned to her daughter and held out her hand. “Come along to the library with me, darling. We need to talk.”
Judith nodded at her partner. “You go with them, Lou, and I’ll tell Barry to station himself outside, on the porch in front of the French doors.”
“Something tells me that this isn’t a good idea,” he muttered, but he did as Judith requested and followed Jeanne and Anna-Maria.
“I can stay with Miss Clarice,” Charlotte offered.
“Thanks, Aunt Charley.”

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Charlotte waited alone with Clarice. The house was still and quiet, so quiet that she could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer.
A part of her was glad that Judith had given Jeanne and Anna-Maria a few minutes alone. Her heart ached for Anna-Maria, but all she could do was pray that the girl would be strong enough to bear what was ahead. Even so, for once, Charlotte had to agree with Louis Thibodeaux. Something about the whole thing just didn’t feel right.
She glanced at her watch and estimated that at least fifteen of the thirty allotted minutes had passed. So where was Judith? And why hadn’t she returned yet?
Then she eyed Clarice, and the unease she’d felt grew. The old lady was staring straight up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. She had a pasty pallor to her skin that didn’t look right to Charlotte, and she’d yet to utter a sound since Jeanne had kissed her. The only way Charlotte knew for sure that she was still breathing was the faint movement of her chest.
She moved closer to the sofa. “Miss Clarice, how are you feeling?” When the old lady didn’t answer or even acknowledge her in any way, warning spasms of alarm erupted within Charlotte. Clarice had already suffered one stroke. What if she was in the throes of another one?
Charlotte leaned over the old lady and gently shook her shoulder. “Miss Clarice, please say something?” Clarice rolled her eyes but offered no other response.
“Aunt Charley, is something wrong?”
Charlotte looked up. “Oh, Judith, thank goodness you’re back. I think we’d better call an ambulance.”
Clarice moaned, as if in protest, then tried to talk. But her words slurred together and came out garbled.
Judith glanced at Charlotte, and her eyes reflected Charlotte’s own fear.
“Oh, God, I think you’re right, Aunt Charley.” Judith whipped out her cell phone and hit 911.


Chapter Twenty-two
“Stay with her, Aunt Charley,” Judith told her. “I need to let Louis know what’s happening, and I need to tell Barry to show the paramedics in when they arrive.”
From a first-aid class she’d taken once, Charlotte knew that the only thing she could do for the old lady was to watch her breathing and keep her quiet and warm. Kneeling beside the sofa, she tucked the afghan closer around Clarice’s frail body.
“Just hang in there, Miss Clarice. Help is on the way.” She removed the washcloth, refolded it, and placed it back on Clarice’s forehead. How long? she wondered as minutes seemed to drag by. How long before the ambulance would come?
Raised voices in the hallway drew her attention. “Now what?” she murmured. The voices grew louder, and with a worried look at Clarice, she pushed herself up and hurried to the doorway.
Anna-Maria, flanked by Louis Thibodeaux, was standing in the foyer. She had tears streaming down her face and was sobbing incoherently while Judith was snapping out questions.
“Where’s your mother?” she demanded.
“Sh-she’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
Anna-Maria whimpered and shook her head as she covered her face with her hands.
When Judith realized she wasn’t getting anywhere with the girl, she turned to Louis Thibodeaux. “What happened, Lou? How can she be gone? Barry swears she didn’t come out his way.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” he snapped. “I told you I had a bad feeling about this, and unless she’s a damned ghost, she didn’t come out my way, either.” He glared at Anna-Maria. “You’d better start coming up with some answers, young lady. Now stop that blubbering and tell us where your mother went.”
When Anna-Maria cowered away from him, all of Charlotte’s maternal defenses went up. The man was nothing but a bully. With one last worried glance at Clarice, she rushed over to the group. “Both of you, stop badgering her,” she demanded. She purposely stepped between Louis Thibodeaux and Anna-Maria, then gathered the younger woman into her arms.
“Oh, Charlotte,” Anna-Maria cried, burying her head against Charlotte’s shoulder. “What am I going to do?”
“Hush, now, hon.” Charlotte smoothed the younger woman’s hair. “The first thing you need to do is calm down,” she told her gently. “There, there, that’s better.” After a moment more, she placed her hand beneath the younger woman’s chin and tilted her head up. “Remember what I said about being strong?”
Anna-Maria blinked several times, then nodded.
“You can do it,” Charlotte encouraged. “Just try to answer their questions the best you can.”
With one last shaky sob, Anna-Maria scrubbed at her face, took a deep breath, and pulled away from Charlotte. “My-my mother left,” she told Judith. “Sh-she left through the secret passage.”
Judith eyed her skeptically. “Secret passage! What secret passage?”
Anna-Maria looked at Charlotte, and Charlotte nodded encouragement. “Tell her, hon.”
“It-it’s behind one of bookcases,” Anna-Maria said, her answer directed at Judith. “It was once a part of an underground-railroad route used to help hide runaway slaves.”
Louis Thibodeaux glared at Charlotte, and in a voice as cold as his eyes, he said, “Did you know about this so-called secret passage?”
Hands on her hips, Charlotte whirled to face him. She’d had just about enough of the insufferable man. “Just what are you suggesting, Detective Thibodeaux?” she challenged.
“Louis, don’t,” Judith warned. “My aunt is not a suspect here.”
He gave Judith a level look. “Come on, Monroe. She’s worked for them for several years. Don’t you think it stands to reason that if she’s cleaned their house for that long, she’d know the ins and outs of it?”
Though Charlotte knew the history of the secret passages and had heard that some of the old homes in the District still had them, no one was more surprised than she about the existence of one in the Dubuissons’ library. And she strongly resented the detective’s implication, especially after all she’d done to help prove Jeanne had murdered Jackson.
“What I think is that we’re wasting time,” Judith snapped. “We need to check out this so-called secret passage.”
“You won’t find her.” Anna-Maria’s voice shook with emotion. With a trembling hand, she held out a piece of paper, offering it to Judith.
“What’s this?” Judith snatched it from the girl.
“A-a letter,” Anna-Maria stammered. “My-my mother said to give it to you.”
As Judith skimmed the letter quickly, her face grew dark with fury. “Well, isn’t that just peachy?” she sneered. “Forget the secret passage. She’s long gone.” She held out the letter to her partner.
He took the paper, glanced over it, then handed it back. “I’ll put out the APB,” he told her. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”
They? Jeanne and who else? Though Charlotte had her suspicions and was dying to know what was in the letter, at that moment the distant sound of a siren drew her attention. “I hope that’s the ambulance,” she muttered.
Anna-Maria’s eyes grew wide. “Ambulance?”
Charlotte thrust out her hand to the younger woman, and ignoring both Judith and Louis Thibodeaux, she said, “Come along with me, hon. Your grandmother is ill, and we need to check on her.”
Back in the parlor, Charlotte was relieved to see that Clarice’s condition seemed to be about the same. While Anna-Maria murmured encouragement and hovered over the old lady, Charlotte stood by and waited. Outside, the siren grew louder, and for the moment, both Judith and her partner had disappeared.
When the siren finally ceased its incessant wailing, within minutes two paramedics, followed by the officer named Barry, rushed into the room.
It didn’t take long for the EMTs to determine that Clarice had indeed suffered another stroke. While they prepared the old lady for a transfer to St. Charles General Hospital, Charlotte kept a wary eye on Anna-Maria.
To her surprise, the girl held up like a trooper. She thoroughly questioned the medics about her grandmother’s condition, then made a quick phone call to her fiancé. After a brief explanation, she asked him to meet her at the hospital.
For the first time that afternoon, Charlotte felt as if Anna-Maria were going to be okay. But she was worried about Clarice.
Just before they wheeled the old lady out on the stretcher, Anna-Maria leaned over and kissed her on her pale cheek. “They’re going to take you to the hospital, Grandmother. They won’t let me ride in the ambulance with you, but I’ll be following in my car. You just hang in there and I’ll see you at the hospital.” Then she leaned down close to the old lady and whispered something in her ear.
Charlotte strongly suspected that Anna-Maria said something to her grandmother about Jeanne, but she couldn’t be sure. Whatever she said caused Clarice to whimper and close her eyes. Then her lips thinned, and one side of her mouth turned up slightly at the corner. Charlotte could have sworn that the old lady was smiling as the paramedics took her away.
Anna-Maria watched from the doorway as they rolled her grandmother through the foyer, out the front door, and down the gallery steps. Once they were gone, she turned to face Charlotte. “Thank you for your help with Grandmother,” she said stiffly. She paused for a moment, as if unsure what to say next Then she grimaced. “To be honest, I don’t know whether to hate you or hug you.”
Charlotte felt her throat tighten and tears threaten. She blinked back the tears and swallowed to relieve the tightness in her throat. “If it’s any help,” she told her gently, “I understand. And I’m sorry—” She hesitated. To say she was sorry for blowing the whistle on Jeanne would be a lie. None of what Jeanne had been through was reason enough to murder her father or her husband in cold blood. “I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this,” Charlotte finally said, her voice trailing away as she waited anxiously for Anna-Maria’s response.
The younger woman’s lower lip began quivering, and she blinked rapidly. Then she cleared her throat. “I need to get to the hospital, but I stayed behind on purpose because I have a message for you.” She paused long enough to make sure that no one was within hearing range. Finally satisfied that they wouldn’t be overheard, she looked Charlotte straight in the eyes and said, “I have a message for you from my mother.”