Free Death Tidies Up by Barbara Colley

rest of the meal, as she tried concentrating on eating the gumbo, she kept thinking about what Louis had said. The gumbo tasted just fine, and in fact, was surprisingly good, almost as good as her own. But Louis’ revelation about the Roussels had succeeded in chasing away any appetite she’d had. Though she managed to eat what was in her bowl, her concern for Cheré took all of the enjoyment out of the meal.
    To Charlotte, her employees were like an extension of her family. And Cheré in particular was dear to her heart. She’d long admired the young woman’s spunky approach to life. Like herself, Cheré hadn’t had an easy time of it, but had made the most of what life had dealt her.
    Once they had finished, to her relief, Louis quickly cleared the table. Then he dragged out every sample of tile and carpet that he’d collected, along with several brochures on cabinets, kitchen appliances, and bathroom fixtures.
    â€œWhy don’t you show me what appeals to you?” she suggested. “Then I’ll try and give you the pros and cons about it.”
    â€œI think I’d rather see what appeals to you first,” he countered.
    Charlotte stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then she narrowed her gaze and a shrewd smile pulled at her lips. “You haven’t picked out anything yet, have you?”
    A sheepish look came over his face. “Caught red-handed,” he admitted. “But I like how your place looks,” he hastened to add. “It’s comfortable but nice without being fussy.”
    â€œFussy?”
    Louis waved a dismissive hand. “You know, frilly, woman-type stuff.”
    She was certain that in his mind, he thought he was paying her a compliment, and though she wanted to point out how chauvinistic he sounded, she held her tongue and tried not to take offense.
    Going through the samples and brochures did serve a good purpose, though. Not only did she get some ideas for updating her own home, but it took her mind off the disturbing revelation about the Roussels and provided a brief diversion from her concerns for Cheré.
    Â 
    When Charlotte returned to her own half of the double, the cuckoo clock was signaling the hour. “Great,” she muttered, when she realized that it was already ten o’clock. “That’s just great,” she added tiredly.
    All too soon, it would be time to go to work again…to the Devilier house. As she locked her front door, it suddenly hit her that she never had told Louis about the open window or the intruder.
    â€œTomorrow,” she told Sweety Boy, who was perched on his favorite spot on top of the cuckoo clock. “I’ll call Marian and report it tomorrow.”
    But Sweety ignored her and continued squawking with each sound the cuckoo made. “Not that you care, huh, you little rascal?” Charlotte shook her head and laughed. She’d long suspected that the silly little parakeet thought the cuckoo was a real bird, but what she couldn’t figure out was if Sweety was jealous or simply starved for companionship.
    While she listened to her phone messages, she coaxed the little bird back into his cage. Once she’d covered him for the night, she prepared the coffee pot and set the automatic timer. The last thing she always did before climbing into bed was brush her teeth and wash her face, and tonight was no exception, despite her exhaustion.
    She’d told her crew to meet her at the Devilier house at seven Saturday morning, so she set her alarm clock for five-thirty, figuring that an hour and a half would give her plenty of time to go through her regular morning routine. Then she automatically picked up the book sitting beside the clock.
    There were few things she enjoyed more than burying herself in a good mystery novel, and she tried to make time to read at least a little each night at bedtime.
    But not tonight, she decided as the words blurred and swam before her eyes