Authors: Barbara Colley
Polished Off (31 page)
In spite of Hank and Carol’s pampering, after they left Charlotte was unable to get to sleep right away. She tried drinking a glass of milk, and she tried reading, but nothing seemed to help.
Over and over she kept reliving each harrowing moment of her ordeal. And over and over in her mind’s eye she kept seeing Will Richeaux slip in the oil and fall. And she kept hearing that awful sound, that cracking sound when his head had hit the edge of the pantry shelf.
Finally, as a last-ditch effort, she gave in and took one of the pills that Hank had left for her.
“Just to help you rest,” he’d told her once he’d determined that the injury to her head wasn’t critical.
It was the sound of the phone ringing that awakened her on Sunday morning. “Hello,” she mumbled into the receiver, noting that daylight was peeking through the miniblinds in her bedroom.
“Charlotte? Did I wake you?”
“Hmm, yeah, Maddie,” she answered, still groggy.
“You doing okay?”
“So-so.”
“Guess you aren’t going to church this morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten-fifteen.”
“Guess not. Had trouble getting to sleep, so I took a pill Hank gave me last night.”
“Well, go back to sleep. I just called mostly to tell you that I’m really not up to doing our Sunday family dinner thing, not with Daniel still in jail, and Nadia ...”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Charlotte mumbled. “Just as well,” she added. “I don’t think I’m up to going anywhere, not even for a free meal. Talk to you later.”
“Charlotte, wait—don’t hang up yet. Listen, I—I just want to—I—Oh, shoot. I’m glad you’re okay. I love you. Now go back to sleep.”
“Love you too, Maddie. Thanks.”
It was almost noon before Charlotte woke up again. She was tempted to pull the covers over her head and stay in the bed, but she forced herself to get up.
By midafternoon, she was on pins and needles. Had Judith been able to question Patsy yet? And if she had, did Patsy corroborate what Charlotte had told the police about everything? Had the police talked to the Websters yet? And the biggest question of all, would Daniel finally be released from jail?
To get her mind off everything, Charlotte tried to read. But concentration was impossible. Then she tried watching television, but there was nothing on but the same old tired reruns she had already seen several times.
She’d just about made up her mind to go for a walk around the block in hopes of working out some of the soreness left over from her ordeal when she heard a car pull into her driveway. Rushing to the window, her pulse jumped when she saw that her visitor was Judith. Charlotte hurried to the door and opened it just as Judith was approaching the steps.
One look at her niece and sympathy welled up within Charlotte. Judith looked tired. Her clothes were rumpled, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.
“Come in, come in,” Charlotte told her. “No offense, but you look like you could use one of those pills that Hank gave me last night to sleep.”
“Humph. I wish. No rest for the weary, though.” Judith stepped past Charlotte into the living room. “Too much going on.”
“Please tell me you have some news.” Charlotte closed the door.
“Good news and bad. Got any coffee?”
“No, but I’ll make some. I could use a cup myself. Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
“Just coffee, but thanks.”
While Charlotte got the coffeepot going, Judith talked. “The bad news is that the lab boys couldn’t enhance the last part of that tape enough to even tell who was talking. Sorry, Auntie.”
Disappointment settled in Charlotte’s stomach like a rock. “And the good news?” she asked as she turned the coffeepot on.
“Patsy backed up everything you said, especially after I told her that you had recorded everything. She even confirmed what you said about Will Richeaux working for Lowell Webster. But I’m afraid there’s even more good news, bad news.
“The Websters
were
questioned,” Judith went on. “For all the good that did,” she scoffed. “Of course they both denied having anything to do with Will Richeaux. And the powers that be have decided that since the only evidence against the Websters is hearsay, they’re laying the blame for Ricco’s death on Will Richeaux.”
were
questioned,” Judith went on. “For all the good that did,” she scoffed. “Of course they both denied having anything to do with Will Richeaux. And the powers that be have decided that since the only evidence against the Websters is hearsay, they’re laying the blame for Ricco’s death on Will Richeaux.”
“But that’s just not true. What about the phone call Will made right after he shot Patsy? All they had to do was check his cell phone records to verify that he called Lowell. Isn’t that hard evidence?
“And the tape,” she continued. “Even if it can’t be heard, both Patsy and I can verify what Will said when he denied that he had killed Ricco himself. We both heard him as much as admit that Lowell Webster hired someone else to take care of Ricco.
“Then there’s the fact that Lowell owned that warehouse where the artifacts were found.” Charlotte seated herself at the table. “Besides,” she continued, “Will Richeaux didn’t even know Ricco, did he?”
“None of that matters, Aunt Charley. They’re saying that they have evidence that Will was the one behind the cemetery thefts. Patsy even admitted that Will was the one who sold her the urn. Of course, at the time she didn’t know that he was a police officer.
“Remember? You said that when the police arrived after the bones were discovered and she saw Will, she acted funny—like she was scared or something. Well, she admitted that she was scared, scared because she recognized him as the one who had sold her that urn in the first place. Right then and there she knew something was wrong about the whole setup.
“Anyway, the theory they’ve come up with is that Will killed Ricco to keep him quiet about his involvement with the thefts.”
“But that’s just not true,” Charlotte protested again.
“Sorry, Auntie. True or not, it makes for a much tidier package than dragging someone like Lowell Webster into the mess, especially since Will is dead and can’t defend himself. But that’s just between you and me, so don’t go telling that to anyone else.”
“Humph!” Charlotte stood and walked over to the cabinet. “Sounds to me like no one wants to rock the Websters’ boat.” No one but Patsy, she added silently as she poured two cups of coffee.
Judith shrugged. “Maybe so. But the one thing we have to keep in mind is that at least this way, Daniel and Nadia are off the hook. Speaking of which”—she glanced at her watch—“can I take that cup of coffee with me? I want to be there when Daniel is released.”
“Today! He’s being released today?” Charlotte felt like laughing and crying at the same time. “That—that’s wonderful!”
Judith smiled and nodded. “In just about an hour, I figure. Only problem now is how to get word to Nadia that she can finally come home.”
“Maybe Daniel will know where she’s been hiding out.” Charlotte reached inside the cabinet and selected one of several insulated coffee mugs she kept on hand. Then she dumped the contents of one of the cups into the mug. She handed Judith the mug.
“I hope so, Auntie, but just in case, if she happens to call you again ...”
Judith’s voice trailed off and Charlotte nodded.
Tuesday morning found Charlotte dragging her feet. It was her day to work for Bitsy, and she dreaded having to listen to what she was sure would be endless questions from the elderly lady. But having to contend with Bitsy was just part of her problem, she finally admitted to herself as she headed for the living room.
She should have been satisfied with the way everything had turned out. After all, Davy’s precious Daddy Danol was finally home with him. And within an hour of Daniel’s release from jail on Sunday afternoon, Nadia had miraculously, if not mysteriously, showed up at home, too.
On Monday evening the family had gathered at Daniel’s for an impromptu pizza party celebration. Each time the matter of Nadia’s whereabouts was mentioned, though, Nadia had remained closemouthed and promptly changed the subject.
Charlotte, along with everyone else, was left wondering where Nadia had been hiding out and how she’d known about Daniel’s release so soon.
But what did it matter in the long run? All that really mattered was that all the little chickies were back in the roost where they belonged.
Charlotte grimaced. So why the nagging feeling that something was still missing?
“ ’Cause no one should get away with murder,” she told Sweety Boy as she checked his food and water containers. As far as she was concerned, that’s exactly what had happened in spite of the final police report. By his own admission, she heard Will Richeaux say that he hadn’t murdered Ricco, and at the point he’d said it, he’d had no reason to lie about it.
Then who had?
Someone
had gotten away with it. But who?
Someone
had gotten away with it. But who?
The obvious answer was Lowell Webster. At least to Charlotte it was.
Charlotte paused to stare out the living room window. The day was overcast, and rain was predicted. But Charlotte was staring with unseeing eyes. In her head, she kept hearing what Will Richeaux had said about Lowell.
I don’t usually dirty my hands with that kind of work. Mr. Webster has other people who take care of stuff like that.
What other people? she wondered.
What other people? she wondered.
Lowell may not have actually murdered Ricco with his own hands, but he’d hired it done; therefore, he was just as guilty as the person who had actually pulled the trigger.
As far as murder plots went, Lowell had planned well. For years Patsy had been a thorn in Lowell’s side, and more recently Ricco had become a problem. It made sense that Lowell had decided to take care of both of them in one fell swoop, kill two birds with one stone.
He’d had Ricco murdered and stuffed into the urn, then he’d had Will Richeaux sell the urn to Patsy in hopes that the body would be discovered and that it would serve as a warning for her to back off from her smear campaign. In fact, with everything that had happened, it wouldn’t have surprised Charlotte in the least to find out that Lowell had even made sure there was a crack in the bottom of the urn.
The cuckoo clock sounded, and with a shiver Charlotte turned away from the window and glanced at the clock. Time to go to work.
Bitsy was waiting at the door when Charlotte pulled up alongside the curb in front of her house.
“Now, be nice,” Charlotte muttered, dreading what she knew was coming as she gathered her cleaning supplies. Bitsy was going to have a field day with everything that had been happening.
“Be charitable. She’s just a lonely old lady,” Charlotte whispered to herself.
The words proved to be Charlotte’s silent mantra as the morning progressed. As she’d expected, Bitsy followed her around almost every step of the way, asking endless questions and chattering nonstop.
But when Bitsy followed her into the bathroom, Charlotte almost lost her temper. Only by concentrating on counting to a hundred was she able to control herself.
By lunchtime Charlotte’s patience had worn thinner than a frazzle. Relieved and ever so grateful that the one thing that Bitsy never missed was the midday news, Charlotte took her lunch and headed straight for the front porch.
Outside it was pouring rain, but she figured that on the porch she could at least eat her sandwich in peace. Besides, the sound of the rain was kind of soothing and relaxing after listening to Bitsy all morning. But, then, almost anything would have been preferable to listening to Bitsy.
As Charlotte settled herself in one of the two rattan chairs, she spread out the contents of her lunch on the small glass-topped table. She had just taken a bite of the turkey sandwich she’d brought with her when the front door swung open and Bitsy stuck her head out.
“Charlotte, hurry! Come see. It’s all over the news. Lowell, Webster has been murdered!”
Chapter Twenty-four
“
M
urdered?” Shock waves ricocheted through Charlotte. But before she could question Bitsy, the old lady had already disappeared back inside the house. By the time Charlotte raced to the TV room, the segment about Lowell’s murder was over.
M
urdered?” Shock waves ricocheted through Charlotte. But before she could question Bitsy, the old lady had already disappeared back inside the house. By the time Charlotte raced to the TV room, the segment about Lowell’s murder was over.
“You missed it,” Bitsy told her, waving at the television set. “They said he was found dead in his office early this morning. Someone shot him, but according to the reporter on the scene, it was evident that Lowell put up a fight. They said that his office was in shambles, and a trail of blood led out the door to the elevator. They also found a brass letter opener that had blood on it near Lowell’s body, so they’re pretty sure he stabbed and wounded his killer before he died.”
Bitsy moaned and sank down onto the sofa. “I just can’t believe he’s dead. Who would want to murder such a fine, upstanding man like Lowell Webster?”
Who indeed? Charlotte wondered.
According to the news early Wednesday morning, the police still hadn’t uncovered a suspect for the murder of Lowell Webster.
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