Free Wiped Out by Barbara Colley

home, but what if Mimi got worse? There would be no one to check on her, not for a while anyway, at least not until her husband got home.
    He’s been coming home later and later each night. Mimi’s complaint popped into Charlotte’s head. Maybe if he knew his wife was ill, he might try to get home earlier. Then again, maybe not. If what Mimi suspected were true—that he was having an affair—he might not even care that his wife was ill. And Mimi might not bother to call him.
    Charlotte narrowed her eyes and glared at the doorknob. What if she called him? If someone other than his wife called him, for appearance’s sake, he might feel obligated to come home and check on his wife.
    Mind your own business.
    â€œOh, for Pete’s sake,” she muttered. Why was she standing there even debating the whole matter? Besides, hadn’t Mimi told her just to let herself out when she was finished? For all she knew, Mimi had already called her husband. Even now he could be on his way home.
    Charlotte pulled the door firmly shut.
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    For most of her life, Charlotte had lived on Milan Street, a narrow, one-way street in the Uptown neighborhood of New Orleans. Charlotte’s maid service catered exclusively to clients in the Garden District, and since Milan was just on the outskirts of the Garden District, it was the perfect location.
    As her van bumped down the uneven street, thoughts of her newest employer still nagged her. In spite of all reasoning, she still felt as if she should have stayed with Mimi a while longer, just to make sure she was doing okay. Of course, she could always call and check on her.
    Charlotte shook her head as she turned the van into her driveway. Calling wasn’t really a good idea. The woman was sick, and sick people needed all the rest they could get.
    She parked the van, switched off the engine, and for a moment, she simply sat there. It was good to be home…finally.
    To Charlotte, her home was her sanctuary and her security. The small Victorian shotgun double had been built in the early 1900s. She and her younger sister, Madeline, had been raised in the house and had inherited it after their parents’ untimely deaths. Unlike Madeline, who, after her first marriage, had long ago sold her half of the double to Charlotte, Charlotte had never felt the urge or the need to live anywhere else.
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    On weekdays, Charlotte usually only skimmed the headlines of the newspaper before going to work. On Wednesday morning, she had awakened earlier than usual, though, early enough, she decided, for a leisurely cup of coffee and to actually read the newspaper.
    In the kitchen, she switched on the coffeepot. On her way through the living room, she stopped long enough to uncover her little parakeet’s cage, and then she retrieved the Times-Picayune from the front porch steps.
    Once back in the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee. To make sure she allowed enough time to eat breakfast, dress, and get to work, she set the kitchen timer for forty-five minutes. Then she settled at the kitchen table with the newspaper and her coffee.
    Charlotte read through a good bit of the paper and then came upon the obituary section. Unlike Bitsy Duhe and others Charlotte knew who always read every word of the death notices, she found the obituaries morbid and depressing. But just as she reached to turn the page, one of the pictures caught her eye.
    Charlotte gasped, and a deep hollow feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the picture. “No way,” she whispered. It just wasn’t possible.

Chapter 6
    M imi Adams was dead.
    Above the picture of Mimi, the headline read, MARY LOU ( MIMI ) ADAMS , NOTED COMMUNITY ACTIVIST .
    Charlotte quickly scanned the article below the picture. Mimi had died Tuesday of undetermined causes, and funeral arrangements were pending. The article went on to say that she had served on many boards of charitable organizations, among