Wash And Die. Barbara Colley

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СКАЧАТЬ grinned to herself. She’d chosen to start with the walk-in closet in the master bedroom first. By the time she’d finished making Sandra choose what to keep, what to throw away, and what to give to charity, Sandra had changed her mind about cleaning the rest.

      The day had warmed up considerably, and was so beautiful, that on her way home Charlotte lowered the driver’s and passenger windows almost halfway down to let fresh air into the van. If not for the errands she had to run later, it would have been the perfect day to sit out on the front porch and read one of the books that Bitsy had given her.

      Except Joyce will probably be there.

      Charlotte groaned. Maybe not…Maybe Joyce was still out apartment hunting. She could always hope.

      That’s not very nice.

      “Great,” she muttered. “Here we go again.” All day long, she’d been fighting with her conscience over Joyce, and she was good and tired of it. All she wanted was a little peace and quiet. Surely wanting some alone time couldn’t be so terrible, she thought as she turned onto Milan Street.

      She was several houses down from her driveway when she noticed the black SUV parked across the street from her house. If she wasn’t mistaken, the SUV was the same one that she’d seen the day before.

      Just before she turned into her driveway, she got a good glimpse of the license plate and the driver. Sure enough, it was the very same car and the very same man sitting in the driver’s seat.

      Maybe it was time to find out just what he was up to, Charlotte decided as she shoved the gear into park and switched off the engine. Between having to worry about everyone that came to her door and putting up with Joyce, she’d just about had enough.

      And if he’s up to no good?

      “Time to find that out too,” she muttered.

      Chapter 3

      Though determined to find out what the man was up to, Charlotte decided it would be really careless not to take precautions. After digging in her purse, she finally located the small canister of pepper spray she always carried with her.

      Now what? She couldn’t just walk up to the SUV with the pepper spray in full view. But how to hide it? Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her sweater. Though the morning had started out cool, the day had warmed up considerably, typical New Orleans weather. She didn’t really need the sweater now, but it would help disguise the pepper spray.

      Pepper spray in hand, she pulled on her sweater. After slipping the canister into the right pocket of her sweater, she dug out her cell phone and dropped it and her van keys into the left pocket. Then she climbed out of the van.

      Casually, she slid both hands into the sweater pockets. With her right hand, she took a firm grip on the pepper spray and positioned her forefinger on the release button. That way, the pepper spray was hidden, but she could pull it out quickly if she needed it. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the van.

      Though the man’s head was bowed, as if he were reading something, Charlotte knew good and well that out of the corner of his eye, he could see her coming.

      Once she’d crossed the street, she was careful to stop just out of reach by the driver’s window.

      “Ah, excuse me,” she said.

      When the man turned his head toward her, the first thing she noticed was his coal black hair and the really dark sunshades he wore. Then she noticed his face, at least the part she could see. His smooth skin was tanned, and he had a square jaw, with a shadow of a dark beard. He had an aquiline nose and a strong but rigid profile.

      Young and handsome, she thought. Too bad he was hiding his eyes behind the sunglasses. You could tell a lot about a person just by looking into their eyes.

      “I don’t mean to be rude, young man, but I saw you sitting here yesterday morning. And now, here you are, back again. This is my neighborhood, and I want to know what you’re doing.”

      The man sat up higher in the seat, and when he pulled off his sunglasses, she couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were the most brilliant blue that she’d ever seen.

      “Ma’am, I apologize if I alarmed you,” he said smoothly.

      Then, before Charlotte could even think about pulling out her pepper spray, he slipped a badge from the inside of a jacket pocket and held it up at the window. It could just as easily have been a gun, she thought, feeling a bit unnerved. If she hadn’t been so upset about Joyce, she would have used the good sense God gave her and called the police first to check the man out, instead of…

      “I’m a police detective.”

      His statement interrupted her thoughts and she breathed a sigh of relief. Though she tried to read what was written on the badge, he quickly slipped it back into his jacket pocket before she had enough time.

      “If you don’t mind,” he continued, “I’d like to ask you a few questions pertaining to an investigation that I’m working on.”

      The moment the detective said “investigation,” to Charlotte’s chagrin, Joyce’s name was the first one that popped into her head. Her next thought was that she should be ashamed for automatically assuming such a thing about Joyce. But she consoled herself with the fact that after all of the trouble Joyce had caused, her automatic assumption was just a natural reaction.

      Suddenly, the detective opened the door and stepped out of the SUV.

      He was taller than she’d expected. Keeping a cautious eye on him, Charlotte took a step backward and her fingers tightened on the canister of pepper spray. He’d claimed to be a police detective, so why was she still so jumpy around him? Maybe she should ask to see his badge again.

      “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

      Still not quite trusting the so-called police detective, Charlotte hesitated. What if this was just a ploy to gain entrance to her house? So he could do what?

      Immediately, all of the horror scenes from the television series Criminal Minds flashed through her head. For more years than she cared to remember, Charlotte had been both blessed and cursed by her imagination. Now she felt it was more a curse than a blessing.

      She finally motioned toward her house. “It’s turned out to be such a beautiful day—how about we sit on my front porch?”

      And what if he says no?

      Before she could think of an alternative, the detective nodded his head.

      “Your front porch will be just fine, ma’am.”

      Once on the porch, and wanting to keep a healthy distance between herself and the detective, Charlotte hurried over to the swing and sat down in the middle of it.

      The detective gave her a knowing look, and without blinking an eye, he settled on the porch landing near the steps. Once seated, he stretched out his long legs and leaned back against the porch column. “I’m looking for a woman who’s a key part of my investigation,” he said as he pulled a pen and a small spiral notebook out of his jacket pocket.

      Disappointment ripped through Charlotte. Has to be Joyce, СКАЧАТЬ