Scrub-a-dub Dead. Barbara Colley

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      A smile pulled at her lips when she picked up a polyester red scarf from the floor near the dresser. As she folded it neatly and placed it back on top of the dresser alongside two other identical scarves, she recalled the conversation she’d had the previous day when Carrie had filled her in on the group staying at the hotel.

      “Most of them will check in either late Thursday or early Friday,” Carrie had told her. “We’re ready for the Thursday bunch, so I need you to start on Friday morning. I think the majority of the group are booked for a week, then a different group is due to arrive the following week.”

      Carrie had gone on to tell her that the first group was from Shreveport and called themselves the Red Scarf Sorority.

      Thinking that Carrie had made a mistake, Charlotte had laughed. “Don’t you mean the Red Hat Society?” she’d asked.

      “Oh, no,” Carrie had replied. “That’s a completely different group. Though the two organizations have the same basic concept, the Sorority group is a bit younger—mostly in their forties—and considers themselves to be more socially elite than the Society group.”

      A flicker of gold caught Charlotte’s eye and she examined the scarf more closely. Embroidered with a fine gold thread in the corner were the tiny initials TM. “Well, now that’s different,” she murmured as she checked each of the other two scarves for the gold initials.

      Suddenly the door burst open. Charlotte jumped and whirled to face the intruder.

      “What are you doing in my room?” the woman yelled. “Get out! Get out now!”

      For a moment Charlotte was stunned speechless. For one thing, she wasn’t used to being screamed at by a client, but even more disconcerting, the woman was almost a dead ringer for the comedian Joan Rivers. Couldn’t be Joan Rivers though. The voice was all wrong and this woman was probably in her mid-to-late forties. “Ah—ma’am, I was just—”

      “I said to get out!”

      “I’m the maid,” Charlotte said evenly.

      “I don’t care who you are. I put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. And that means keep out!”

      Charlotte’s gaze slid to the doorknob. Clear as day, the DO NOT DISTURB sign was hanging on the inside of the door, not on the outside. Temptation to point out that the sign was on the wrong side of the door was strong, but Charlotte resisted.

      The customer is always right, her voice of reason argued.

      Even when they’re obviously rude or crazy or downright wrong? she argued back. But Charlotte already knew the answer. Biting her tongue, she quickly gathered her cleaning supplies. And though the words almost choked her, through clenched teeth she said, “Sorry, ma’am,” as she marched out of the room and firmly closed the door behind her.

      To Charlotte’s surprise several women had gathered in the hallway by the cleaning supply cart. It was obvious from the distressed expressions on their faces that they had heard the woman’s outburst. It was also obvious that the small group were members of the Red Scarf Sorority since each woman wore a bright red scarf tied loosely around her neck.

      One of the women stepped forward. Her face was flushed and she was wringing her hands. “Sorry about that.” She tilted her head toward the room. “But please don’t take offense. Tessa—that’s the woman inside—well, she’s just upset right now.”

      Upset? In Charlotte’s opinion, rude was a more apt description, but she summoned a smile and simply nodded.

      “If you’ll wait a moment,” the woman continued, “I’ll persuade her to let you finish cleaning the room.”

      Before Charlotte could object, the woman walked past her, knocked lightly on the door, and then opened it.

      “Tessa, it’s Mary Lou.” Without waiting to be invited inside, Mary Lou motioned for the other women to follow her.

      Since the last woman who entered didn’t bother closing the door, Charlotte had a full view of the room and its occupants and watched with curiosity as the women formed a tight circle around Tessa.

      “Now, honey, we know you’re hurting,” Mary Lou told Tessa. “But remember our creed. We’re here now, and your pain is our pain.”

      “Your pain is our pain,” all of the women chanted softly in unison. “We’re here for you,” they continued. “And you’re here for us, and together, we can face anything.”

      Each woman took a turn hugging Tessa, and before the last one took her turn, tears welled in Tessa’s eyes and she began to sob. Within seconds, all of the women were crying and muttering words of sympathy.

      “Just let it out, honey,” one of the women encouraged.

      “Yeah, let it out,” another one chimed in.

      “Oh, you guys are-are too-too much,” Tessa cried.

      Charlotte simply stared at the group. Oh, brother, she thought, what a crock. Lending sympathy was one thing, but the creed chanting part reminded her of the sister witches on the TV show Charmed chanting one of their spells.

      “It-it’s just th-that I saw Lisa,” Tessa sobbed, “and-and we had words.”

      “Now just what did that husband-stealing hussy say to you, darling?” Mary Lou asked. “You just give the word and we’ll go pull her hair out by its bleached-blond roots.”

      Tessa’s lower lip quivered and fresh tears filled her eyes. “She-she said th-that Frank has asked her to-to marry him.”

      “Nooo,” the women objected in unison, shaking their collective heads in disgust.

      “No way,” Mary Lou reiterated. “That’s just so totally uncouth. For one thing, he’s old enough to be her father, and for another, he’s still married to you.”

      “But, sh-she had a ring and everything,” Tessa cried.

      “Oh, phooey,” Mary Lou retorted. “Ring, fling, doesn’t mean a thing.”

      Clearly still upset, Tessa shook her head. “I should have stayed in Shreveport. I should never have come to New Orleans in the first place. But-but when I found out that Frank was coming down here on business, I-I hoped that by coming, Frank would see how much I still love him, and now…” Her voice trailed away, and she shrugged.

      “That hussy was probably lying through her teeth,” one of the women retorted. “Did you see the ring?”

      Tessa frowned thoughtfully, then slowly shook her head. “No, I didn’t, come to think of it.”

      “Well, there you go,” the same woman said triumphantly. “Yes sir—lying through her pearly whites.”

      Mary Lou placed her arm around Tessa’s waist. “You just hang in there, honey. Frank Morgan might be running the show right now—down here wheeling and dealing and playing the big business man and all—but you just remember that you’re the one who still holds the purse strings. And since you haven’t signed the divorce papers yet, he doesn’t have a СКАЧАТЬ