Barbara Colley - Charlotte LaRue 01 - Maid For Murder p.09

Chapter Twenty-seven
On Thursday morning, Charlotte chose a light breakfast of cereal and juice before she struck out for her daily walk. According to the early-morning weather forecast, the day promised to be full of sunshine, with a moderate high of around seventy degrees.
After her walk, she placed a call to Hank. He was in between patients, so his receptionist put her call through.
“Hi, honey. I know you’re busy, but I won’t keep you but a minute. I was wondering if you’d checked on Miss Clarice this morning yet?”
“Yes, ma’am, I checked. I was going to call you later. She made it through the night, but she’s going downhill fast It’s just a matter of time now. Sorry, Mom.”
“Me, too,” Charlotte murmured as her thoughts strayed to Anna-Maria. She wondered how the young woman was holding up with so much tragedy happening in her life in such a short time.
“Are you going to try to see her?”
“I would really like to—but no. Under the circumstances, I don’t think they would want me there.”
“Are you going to be okay, Mom?”
“Yeah, honey. I’ll be okay. Talk to you later.”
As Charlotte hung up the receiver, she thought about their conversation. That Hank hadn’t questioned why the Dubuissons wouldn’t want her to visit Clarice at the hospital came as no surprise. Though she’d chosen not to tell him about her part in the whole affair, Charlotte knew that he and Judith often talked and kept each other apprised of the happenings in their mothers’ lives. Knowing her son, he wouldn’t let on that his cousin had spilled the beans.


After she’d talked to Hank, Charlotte had showered and dressed, but the news about Clarice had cast a pall on the day for her.
When she returned to the living room, she paused to stare out the front window. She longed to be outside, to feel the sun on her back, anything to keep from dwelling on the tragic circumstances surrounding the Dubuisson women.
But life went on, she reminded herself as she turned away from the window. And there was work to be done.
Recording the expenses and receipts she accrued each month was one of her least favorite tasks of running her own business, and she tended to procrastinate.
With a resigned sigh, Charlotte walked over to her desk and sat down. Out of the top right-hand drawer, she pulled out her expense ledger. Then, out of the top left-hand drawer, she removed a bundle of receipts that were secured by a rubber band. It had been a month since she’d bothered to update the ledger, and she groaned when she saw how many she’d accumulated during just a few short weeks.
Charlotte was almost halfway through the stack of receipts when the doorbell rang. Glad for the interruption, she hurried to the front window and peeped out. When she saw that her visitor was Cheré Warner, she quickly opened the door.
“Hey, Cheré. This is a surprise. What are you doing here this time of day?”
Cheré grinned. “Hey, yourself. Sorry for dropping by without calling first, but I came straight from school. I had my last final this morning and finished early.”
Charlotte waved away the girl’s apology. “No problem. Come on in.” She stepped aside, and Cheré walked past her into the living room. “You saved me from a morning of boredom,” Charlotte said as she closed the door and locked it. “Just doing a little bookkeeping.” She motioned for Cheré to be seated. “How about something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”
Cheré shook her head. “No, thanks. Any more caffeine after last night and I’m liable to jump right out of my skin.”
“Now what have I told you about pulling those allnighters?”
Cheré rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but like I said, the test I took this morning was a final, and my grades in that class haven’t been that great this semester.”
“So how did you do?”
The girl shrugged. “I think pretty good. Who knows, though? But hey, listen, I stopped by to tell you the latest on that Devillier job. Unfortunately, Roussel Construction has had a teeny tiny setback.”
Cheré’s bit of sarcasm wasn’t lost on Charlotte. “Uh-oh,” she murmured. “What happened?”
Cheré grimaced. “Seems that the city inspectors didn’t like the wiring job. And among a number of other smaller problems, they also found a couple of substantial cracks in the foundation that have to be fixed.”
It was Charlotte’s turn to grimace. “Sounds like some major stuff.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Todd was in charge of the electrician crew, and his old man is pretty hot. Todd figures that one of the crew must have cut corners and pocketed the money, but when he tried to talk to his dad about it, they got into a big fight. Now they aren’t speaking to each other.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That’s a shame.”
“I’ll say. Most of the wiring has to be pulled, and we’re talking big bucks.”
“Yes, of course—” Charlotte interrupted. “That, too—but what I meant was that it’s a shame that Todd and his father aren’t speaking.”
“Yeah, Todd’s pretty bummed out about it,” Cheré agreed “But hey—” She shrugged. “They’ll get over it. Anyway, the bottom line is that the wiring, along with all the other changes, will probably delay the whole project a good three to six months”
Charlotte winced. “Guess that means the bidding for the cleanup will be delayed, too.” Which also meant that for the time being, she could kiss the chance to make some extra money for her retirement account good-bye.
Cheré nodded. “I’m really sorry.”
“Me, too, hon, but it’s not your fault. Stuff happens.”
Again Cheré nodded, then stood. “I hate to drop the bad news on you and then leave, but I’m scheduled to clean the Parkers’ house at two this afternoon” Cheré headed for the door. “I’m meeting Todd for lunch first, and I have to pick up some clothes at the dry cleaner after that”
By the time Charlotte closed the door behind Cheré, she felt as if she’d just survived a whirlwind. The energy level of the girl was unreal, and it made Charlotte tired just thinking about the hectic schedule Cheré kept.
“Time for another cup of coffee,” she muttered, heading for the kitchen. But the coffeepot was empty, and as Charlotte was debating on whether to brew another pot, the phone rang.
The caller was Judith.
“Hi, Auntie. I don’t have but a minute to talk, but I thought you’d like to know what we found when we checked out that information you gave Lou. Seems you were right on the money,” she continued. “I was able to verify that the Dubuissons did—in fact—buy a piece of property just outside Gould, Colorado, just about a month ago.”
“That would be just about the time that Brian moved back to New Orleans,” Charlotte said.
“Exactly, Auntie. And by checking the phone records of all the calls placed from the Dubuissons’ house, I hit pay dirt. There was one call made to the residence of a Mr. and Mrs. Earl Langly, an elderly couple who live just outside of Gould. I talked to Mr. Langly, and he told me that right after Jackson bought the property, he’d hired the Langlys to keep a check on things. When I asked about the recent phone call, he claims it came from a woman who said she was Jackson’s secretary. She told him to lay in some supplies and ready the place for some friends of Jackson who wanted to borrow the place for a while.”
Judith paused for a moment. “But this is the kicker, Auntie. Not only does Jackson’s secretary deny making such a call, but that call was placed the day after Jackson was murdered. And since the call was made from the house, we can pretty well assume it was made by Jeanne.”
Mixed emotions churned within Charlotte, and she didn’t know quite how to feel about her niece’s news. “So what happens now?” she asked.
“Even as we speak, the feds are on their way to Gould. And with any luck, Jeanne Dubuisson and Brian O’Connor will be in custody before the sun sets.”
After Charlotte hung up the phone, she had to keep reminding herself of all of the reasons that Jeanne and Brian should be caught and punished.
Jeanne had committed murder. She’d murdered both her father and her husband. She’d also caused her daughter heartache that not even time would mend.
Then there was Brian. Regardless of how much Jeanne had protested Brian’s involvement, he had to have known what was going on. Charlotte was no lawyer, but she was pretty sure that by knowing and doing nothing to prevent it, he’d made himself an accessory to Jackson’s murder.
But there was a part of Charlotte, a tiny part, she finally admitted, albeit reluctantly, that was glad the couple hadn’t been caught right away. Jeanne would get her punishment soon enough. Of that, Charlotte was more sure now than ever before. But at least she’d had a week to finally be with the man she had loved for almost a lifetime.
Was it worth it? Charlotte wondered. When Jeanne and Brian were brought back in handcuffs and put on trial, when they were found guilty, then sentenced to either life imprisonment or death, would Jeanne think it had been worth it all?
Only Jeanne could answer that question, she decided.


Chapter Twenty-eight
By the hardest, Charlotte was able to finish recording her business receipts and expenses by noon. She’d even managed to choke down a sandwich for lunch.
After lunch, she decided that if she didn’t get out of the house, she was going to start climbing the walls.
It took a while, but she finally located her gardening gloves in the back corner of the shed. Within twenty minutes, sweat was dribbling down her back as she yanked on the stubborn crabgrass that had encroached upon her flower bed near the porch steps. Yet, in spite of the heat and physical exertion, her thoughts kept returning to Jeanne and Brian.
Had the feds caught up with them yet?
I’d rather die first than go to jail.
Had Jeanne meant what she’d said, or had she just been spouting off a bunch of nonsense? Would Jeanne and Brian put up a fight? she wondered. She couldn’t imagine Jeanne in a shoot-out with the police. But she’d never imagined that Jeanne was the type who would kill anyone, either.
Then a horrible thought came over her. What if Jeanne and Brian had planned some type of suicide pact?
Behind her, a car door slammed. Grateful for any kind of distraction from the awful stuff she was imagining, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder.
“Making any headway?”
Charlotte swallowed hard at the sight and sound of Louis Thibodeaux. Grabbing hold of the rail of the porch steps for support, she got to her feet. “Not a lot,” she answered as she pulled off her gloves and tried to brush away the grass and dirt that stubbornly clung to the knees of her pants.
The detective approached her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d take a chance that you might be home. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s no problem. I usually keep Thursdays free to run errands and catch up on stuff,” she explained. “But I do have a phone, you know. You could have called at any time,” she added.
“I could have, I suppose, but I like to see what I’m getting.”
At first, Charlotte thought she’d heard him wrong. “Pardon me?”
“Oops! That didn’t exactly come out right, did it?”
Raising one imperious eyebrow, she said, “I guess that depends on what you think you’re getting.”
“Yeah ... well, what I’m trying to say is that I’m interested in renting the other half of your house—if it’s available. Judith told me she thought it was empty and that you sometimes rent it out”
Even as Charlotte began shaking her head, disappointment washed through her. In spite of the heat, she felt her face grow even warmer. Up until that very moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped that whatever he’d wanted to talk about was a bit more personal. So much for silly daydreams, she thought “I haven’t really considered renting it again anytime soon,” she finally said.
He nodded. “Yeah, she told me about your last renters, how they tore up the place, then skipped out on the rent. You wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, though. Think of the advantages of having a cop living next door.”
She could think of plenty of advantages of having him living next door even if he wasn’t a cop. Then a picture of the messy desk where she’d sat at the police station came to mind. “I don’t know,” she hedged.
“I just need somewhere to stay for a few months,” he explained. “I’m building a camp on some property I own on Lake Maurepas. At the end of the year, after I retire, I plan on moving out there pennanently I’d also planned on staying in my house till the camp was finished, but I got an offer—one of those kind that are too good to refuse.” He shrugged “So, how about it?”
At the mention of his retirement, she was reminded of her own retirement looming in the near future. The extra money from his rent would be a nice addition to her account. “When would you want to move in?”
Pure devilment danced in his dark eyes. “Like I said before, I like to see what I’m getting.”
“Well, you know the old saying,” she quipped. “What you see is what you get. And right now I have to get the key” She started up the steps. “Be right back,” she said over her shoulder, and as she stepped inside the door, she heard the trill of his cell phone ringing.
Once she’d located the key, she took a minute to glance in the mirror on the wall near the front door. Only a complete overhaul would help, she decided with a frown as she wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek, then did a quick finger-comb through her hair. “Oh, well,” she muttered. “Too bad.”
Charlotte turned away from the mirror. When she stepped outside, he was waiting for her on the porch, his cell phone still in his hand. From the look on his face, she figured that the call must have been bad news.
She was curious about who had called him, but for once, she was determined to mind her own business. “Here’s the key,” she said, holding it up for him to see. “I just aired the place out last week, but it needs a good cleaning.” She stepped toward the door of the vacant half of the double.
“Charlotte—wait.” He slipped the cell phone into his pocket. “That was Judith on the phone.”
A feeling of foreboding came over her. “Wh—what did she want?”
“She was calling to let me know that the feds came up empty at the house in Colorado”
“Empty?”
“Yeah, as in no one at home. They found evidence that someone had been there, though—been there probably as recently as last night”
“So close yet so far away,” she murmured.
“Yeah, but close only counts in horseshoes.”
“Hmm, maybe ... maybe not—not if Jeanne got worried enough about her mother to check on her in person.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she immediately realized her mistake.
“Why would she do that?” Louis narrowed his gaze and stared hard at Charlotte. “We’ve kept the old lady’s condition out of the news. We’ve also got a tap on all the phones. So far, Jeanne hasn’t tried to contact anyone, so there’s no reason to think that she even knows about her mother’s collapse.”
Charlotte’s stomach turned sour. She was trapped, trapped by her own duplicity. And now there was no way out, no way she could tell him that Jeanne did know about her mother, not without admitting she’d talked to her. And admitting she had talked to her would make it look as if she’d been helping Jeanne all along.
“Charlotte? Is there something you’re not telling me? Something I should know?”
She never had been good at lying, and she never had been good at poker. But for once she was going to have to lie through her teeth and bluff her butt off.
“Uh-oh, you caught me.” Charlotte forced a laugh. “I hate to admit it, but lately I’ve been having a lot of what they call ‘senior moments.’ I’d forgotten that Jeanne escaped before Clarice was taken to the hospital.”
From the expression on the detective’s face, there was no way to tell if he’d bought her excuse. Until he said otherwise, Charlotte decided to pretend he had. “Ready to look around next door?” She held out the key again.
While Louis Thibodeaux inspected the other side of the double, Charlotte waited in agony on the porch swing. She figured that Jeanne was smart enough to realize that the phones would be tapped Considering the relationship between mother and daughter all these years, Charlotte also figured that Jeanne wouldn’t be able to stand not knowing her mother’s condition, even at the risk of being caught.
The more Charlotte thought about it, the more it made perfect sense that Jeanne just might show up at the hospital, especially if she’d somehow found out that Clarice was probably dying.
Somehow, someway, the police needed to know, needed to be watching for her to show up. Charlotte sighed. But how? How could she tip them off without admitting to the phone call, without incriminating herself?
When the solution came to her, her stomach began churning with anxiety and indecision. She pushed out of the swing and began pacing. Knowing a way out was one thing. Actually doing something about it was an entirely different matter.


Chapter Twenty-nine
Charlotte hated hospitals. It had been two years since she’d last been in one to have her gall bladder removed. Despite the newer laser technology that had been used on her, she could still remember how sore she’d been after the surgery.
As she passed up the main information desk and headed straight for the elevators, she kept a sharp eye out for anyone who looked even vaguely familiar. She wasn’t that worried about being recognized. With the help of an old, loose-fitting dress that hid her shape, a black wig, and heavy makeup, a shade darker than she normally wore, she’d hardly recognized herself once she’d finished donning the disguise. But she was hoping to recognize Jeanne if, in fact, Jeanne did show.
At the elevator, Charlotte punched the ARROW button that pointed up and waited. It had been a couple of hours since Louis Thibodeaux had left. Once he’d inspected the other side of the double, it hadn’t taken him long to decide that he wanted to rent from her. He’d hastily written out a deposit check, then hurried out the door with the excuse that he had some work to catch up on.
The elevator bell dinged. When the door slid open, Charlotte stepped inside. Scanning the floor numbers on the panel, she selected the fourth floor, where the ICU was located. The elevator doors closed, but Charlotte couldn’t stop thinking about the way the detective had rushed off. Right up until he’d received the phone call from Judith, he’d acted as if he had all the time in the world.
The elevator was slow. When it finally reached the fourth floor and stopped, it seemed to take forever for the doors to open. Charlotte reached up to adjust her purse strap. Like her dress, the purse was old. But it was the only one she owned that was big enough to tote around the hardcover book she was reading. She’d figured it was going to be a long night, so she might as well catch up on her reading while she waited.
Once the doors opened, Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped out into a wide hallway.
Her plan had been a simple one in theory. She would disguise herself and stake out the ICU area. When and if Jeanne did show up, Charlotte would make an anonymous call to the police, then leave before they got there.
If anyone questioned her about her presence on the floor, she’d decided to pretend she was there sitting with a neighbor who had a relative in ICU.
As Charlotte quickly glanced around to size up the place, a set of wide double doors across the hallway suddenly swung open. A nurse, accompanied by a doctor, walked through. Something about the way the doctor walked seemed vaguely familiar, but Charlotte couldn’t get a good look at him, because he still had on the mask and cap of surgery scrubs.
But she did get a good look at the ICU area beyond the doors before they closed. Somewhere on the other side of the doors was poor Clarice.
Would Jeanne show up? she wondered yet again. And if she did, would she get there in time, before her mother died?
The doctor and nurse who had come out of the ICU were slowly walking away from her down the hallway. Behind Charlotte, the elevator doors slid open. Her back was to the elevator, but she automatically stepped to the side to make way for anyone getting off.
“Orandmother’s internist said he thought she was a little better when he did his rounds at noon”
Charlotte’s pulse jumped. Even without turning around, she immediately recognized Anna-Maria’s voice. Praying that her disguise would be enough, she stood frozen to the spot until Anna-Maria, accompanied by James, walked past her toward the double doors across the hallway. James reached out and tapped a square metal plate on the wall, and the doors immediately swung open.
For long seconds after the doors closed behind the couple, Charlotte still couldn’t move.
They always get better before they die.
Charlotte shivered as the old saying came to mind. How many times had she heard of a terminally ill patient who would rally around and appear to be improving just before they died?
She was still lost in her reverie when a sudden prickly uneasiness came over her. It was the same feeling she’d experienced the day she’d been walking and Louis Thibodeaux had followed her in his car.
Someone was watching her.
As casually as she could, she glanced to her right, then to her left. The doctor and nurse she’d seen earlier were still standing in the hallway. Both were staring at her.
Charlotte stared back. When she nodded and smiled, the nurse broke away and walked toward her.
“Can I help you?” she called out.
“I certainly hope so,” Charlotte said, pitching her voice a bit lower than normal. “I’m looking for the ICU waiting room.”
The nurse nodded. “Do you have a relative in ICU?”
“No, but my neighbor does. I’m just here to keep her company.”
The nurse pointed to Charlotte’s right. “Go down to the end of the hall. It’s on your left. You can’t miss it.”
Charlotte nodded, and as she followed the nurse’s instructions, she could feel the woman’s eyes watching her as she walked away.
The nurse had been right. The ICU waiting room was plainly labeled. The outside wall of the room was mostly glass. Except for a teenager sprawled out asleep on one of the small sofas, the room was empty. Charlotte chose to settle in a chair near the glass wall. Seated in the chair, she had an excellent view of the rest of the room as well as a view of the main elevators.


Except for a quick trip to the hospital cafeteria for a bite of supper and the three times Charlotte had gone to the restroom, she’d kept her vigil of watching and waiting.
Charlotte glanced up at the large round clock on the wall. Both hands were almost straight-up midnight. So far, none of the women or the men she’d seen going in and out had even come close to resembling Jeanne.
Other than Anna-Maria and her fiancé, the only person she’d recognized so far was the nurse who had approached her earlier. A couple of times, Charlotte had seen her pass by in the hallway, but other than glancing inside the waiting room, to Charlotte’s relief, the woman had ignored her.
Anna-Maria and her fiancé had only left the ICU once as far as Charlotte could tell. An hour after they’d left, they had returned, and she hadn’t seen them since. From one of the women in the waiting room, Charlotte learned that it wasn’t that uncommon for the nursing staff to allow close family members to stay in the room with a loved one who was dying.
Charlotte’s heart ached for Anna-Maria, and she was at the point where she was beginning to question why she was even there in the first place. She was exhausted, so exhausted that she’d fallen asleep a couple of times despite the fact that she was sitting in a chair that only a sadist could have designed. The book she’d brought along had turned out to be boring, and not even the numerous cups of coffee she’d consumed had helped.
“Enough’s enough,” she grumbled. Charlotte stuffed her book back into her purse and headed for the elevator. It was time to call it quits and go home.
The elevator doors were already standing open, so Charlotte walked right in. She’d just stepped closer to the selection panel when she heard footsteps slapping against the tiled floor in the hallway ... someone running. When Charlotte turned her head to see what was going on, a tall, dark-haired woman charged into the elevator.
“Move!” the woman yelled as she shoved Charlotte away from the floor-selection panel.
“Hey!” Charlotte grabbed the wall rail to keep her balance.
The woman ignored her as she frantically slapped at the button that closed the doors.
Unease crawled through Charlotte as she stared at the woman, and she backed away from her. The doors began sliding closed. Charlotte eyed the opening, wondering if she should make a run for it.
Suddenly, a doctor burst through the double doors of the ICU. “Stop her!” he shouted, bolting for the elevator.
The elevator doors slammed closed. Only a second passed before it registered who the doctor really was, but by the time Charlotte realized he was Louis Thibodeaux, it was already too late.
The woman whirled to face Charlotte and drew back her arm. In her hand was a scalpel.
In spite of the thick-rimmed glasses and the dyed black hair that had been cut in a shorter style, Charlotte knew the woman was Jeanne. Somehow she’d missed her. Either Jeanne had already been there, she decided, or she’d come in when Charlotte had gone to the cafeteria or the restroom.
“Don’t make any sudden moves and you won’t get hurt.” Jeanne reached back and punched the emergency STOP button. The elevator bumped to a stop, and an alarm went off.
Charlotte’s hand tightened on the rail. According to the number showing, they were stopped somewhere between the third and second floor. She figured she only had two choices. It was obvious that Jeanne hadn’t recognized her, so she could keep her mouth shut and wait to see what she was going to do next. Or she could reveal who she was and try talking her into giving up.
But Jeanne was a desperate woman with nothing to lose, Charlotte reminded herself. She’d already killed two men, and she’d told Charlotte that she’d rather die than go to jail. So what was one more murder, especially the murder of the woman who had gathered the evidence against her to begin with?
Charlotte quickly decided on the first choice. She would wait Jeanne out, wait and pray that either Louis Thibodeaux or some other policeman would be there when the elevator doors opened again.
As if she’d read her mind, Jeanne glared at her. “When this elevator stops the next time,” she said, “you’re going to be my ticket out I won’t kill you because I need you as a hostage” She waved the scalpel. “But this little knife can cause a lot of pain. Understand?”
Charlotte nodded that she understood.
“Now—” Jeanne motioned at Charlotte. “Very slowly, move over here in front of me.” Jeanne raised the scalpel threateningly.
Charlotte’s thoughts were racing almost as fast as her pulse. Like a flash, in her mind’s eye she saw into the future of the next few minutes. It was a long walk to the entrance of the hospital and an even longer one to the parking facilities at the back of the hospital. The police would be waiting for them when the elevator doors opened.
Once again in her life, Jeanne was desperate and cornered, and she wasn’t thinking things through. Despite her hastily conceived hostage plan, the NOPD had sharpshooters who wouldn’t hesitate to take a shot if one came open. One or both of them was going to end up dead ... unless ...
Jeanne waved the scalpel again. “I said get over here!”
Charlotte nodded even as she took a firmer grip on her purse. Only about three good steps separated them. Charlotte made the first step slowly. When she stepped out again, she brought up her purse and smacked it hard against the hand holding the scalpel.
The purse hit its mark, and the scalpel flew out of Jeanne’s hand. Before Jeanne could recover, Charlotte lowered her shoulder. Using her elbow like a battering ram, she slammed it into Jeanne’s stomach.
When Jeanne clutched her stomach and doubled over, Charlotte jumped back and searched frantically for the scalpel. She spotted it on the floor in the opposite corner and quickly scooped it up..
With wary eyes on Charlotte, Jeanne struggled to get to her feet. “Please,” she gasped. “Don’t hurt me. I—I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Charlotte wasn’t exactly sure why, but something told her to keep quiet and not give herself away. Charlotte drew back her arm, and using the scalpel in the same threatening manner that Jeanne had used it, she motioned for her to move away from the elevator’s control panel.
Jeanne backed away toward the opposite corner. “I have money,” she cried. “If you help me, I’ll pay you. Please!” she begged. “Please help me.”
Charlotte only hesitated a moment. Then she firmly shook her head and reached for the emergency STOP button. Once she’d pulled it, she hit the first-floor button. When the elevator began moving again, Jeanne burst into sobs. Covering her face with her hands, she crumpled to the floor.
Within seconds, the elevator stopped again, and the doors slid open. The first person Charlotte saw was Louis Thibodeaux. He was half-hidden, crouched behind the edge of the doorway leading into the hospital gift shop.
“NOPD!” he yelled. “Drop the scalpel, lady. Drop it now!”
Charlotte was so relieved to see him that if it hadn’t been for the gun he was pointing at her, she would have hugged him. Then, suddenly, it seemed as if there were police everywhere, all pointing their guns at her.
Only then did Charlotte remember that she was in disguise, that neither Louis nor anyone else knew who she was. She dropped the scalpel, and it clattered to the floor.
“Now kick it out here,” he demanded.
Charlotte did as he asked As soon as the scalpel cleared the door of the elevator, an officer darted over and grabbed it.
“Now come on out of there.” Louis motioned at her with his gun. “And you—on the noor—you get out here, too”
The moment Charlotte stepped out of the elevator, she was seized by an officer who was waiting, out of sight, on the side of the elevator doors. He yanked her purse off her shoulder, then grabbed her by the arm and twisted it up behind her back. Charlotte winced with pain when she felt the handcuffs tighten around her wrist Then he yanked her other arm behind her back and cuffed that wrist, too.
Still sobbing, Jeanne stumbled out and stopped just behind Charlotte. Another officer seized her and performed the same ritual.
Once they were both handcuffed, Louis bolstered his gun and approached them. Pointing at Jeanne, he told the officer standing beside her, “Read her her rights, then take her to lockup. She’s the one wanted for murder.”
The officer nodded, and as he pulled her toward the front hospital entrance, he began reading Jeanne her rights.
“What about this one?” the officer beside Charlotte asked.
Louis shook his head. “I’ll take care of her.” With a shrug, the officer handed over Charlotte’s purse and walked away.
Louis tucked the purse beneath his arm, then turned and watched until Jeanne was well out of earshot. When he faced Charlotte again, the angry look on his face made her flinch. He narrowed his eyes. “I’m taking you in personally.”
With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. Left with little choice but to stumble along beside him, Charlotte panicked. “Louis—wait.” She tried to shrug loose, but with her hands handcuffed behind her back, there was no way to dislodge his grip. “Don’t you recognize me?” she cried. “Please!”
Suddenly, he stopped. Yanking her to a standstill, he rounded on her. “You bet I recognize you, Ms. Charlotte LaRue. And I was right all along. You’ve been involved in this mess from the beginning, haven’t you? You’ve been helping her every step of the way.”
Sudden bone-chilling fear seized Charlotte. “No!” she cried. “No—you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Oh, have I, now?” he drawled nastily. “If I’ve got it all wrong, just how did you know Jeanne would show up at the hospital tonight? Just what in blue blazes did you think you were doing?” His dark eyes were full of contempt as they swept over her from head to toe. “Of all the harebrained, idiotic stunts you’ve pulled so far, this one takes the cake. Maybe this will teach you to stay out of police business from now on.”
Charlotte was taken aback by his vehemence. She’d seen him angry before, but this was different. This was overkill. But why?
Maybe this will teach you ... Out of the blue, it suddenly dawned on Charlotte what he was doing. If he had meant to arrest her, he would have already done so. Plain and simple, he was trying to throw a scare into her. Yet again, she had to wonder why.
No pat answer presented itself, but Charlotte’s insides churned with a bevy of warring emotions. She was confused as well as annoyed with him. But she was angry, too, angry enough to chew nails.
Just who did he think he was, anyway, trying to teach her a lesson as if she didn’t have good sense? No one had ever dared talk to her as he had and got away with it. And no one, but no one, had ever accused her of being harebrained or idiotic.
Charlotte doubled her hands into tight fists. Enough was enough. More than enough. Her temper seething, she glared up at him. “Are you arresting me, Detective?”
“I ought to.”
“On what charges?” she demanded.
“Aiding and abetting a murderer, for starters,” he snapped.
“Ah, pu-lease,” she said, sarcasm dripping, “give me some credit. I wasn’t born yesterday. Either do it or take these handcuffs off.”
For what seemed like an eternity, he did nothing but glare right back at her. But Charlotte was in no mood to play his stupid game.
“Take them off now!” she demanded With one last scathing look, she deliberately turned her back to him and waited.
Several tense moments passed before he finally grabbed her hands and unlocked the cuffs. The moment he pulled them off, she jerked her hands free and whirled to face him.
“My purse.” She stuck out her hand, palm up, and tapped her foot impatiently.
“Charlotte, I—”
“Give me my purse!” she yelled.
“Okay, okay Here!” He handed over the purse.
She should have left well enough alone. After all, she’d called his bluff and won. But everything about the man personified the prejudices she’d been up against most of her life, and it was high time that someone put him in his place.
She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “Just in case no one has informed you, Detective,” she sneered, “this is the twenty-first century. Women not only have the right to vote now, but most of us have even learned how to get along in this world without a great big macho man to take care of us”
With one final, contemptuous glare, she whirled around and stomped off toward the entrance doors of the hospital.