isn’t available at the moment. May I have her return your call?”
“No—no thanks.” Charlotte hung up the receiver. Satisfied that the woman was who she said she was, Charlotte opened the front door. Motioning for the real estate agent to come inside, she said, “This had better be quick. I have to get to work.”
Flora Jennings’s face lit up. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed, and immediately stepped through the doorway. “I really appreciate this opportunity. What kind of work do you do?” But even as she asked the question, her eyes were eagerly taking in every nook and cranny of the living room area.
Charlotte placed her purse on the coffee table and pulled off her sweater. “I own Maid–for–a–Day, a domestic cleaning service.”
“Oh…how interesting.”
To Charlotte’s ears, the distaste in the woman’s tone belied her words, but after forty-something years of being a maid, she’d gotten used to it. The insinuated snub no longer bothered her as it had when she was younger. She did honest work for honest pay, and there was no shame in that.
“The house is about a hundred years old,” Charlotte said evenly. “And the double on the other side is almost an exact duplicate of this side.”
Flora frowned. “You and your husband do own the entire house, don’t you?”
Unwilling to admit to this perfect stranger that she didn’t have a husband, Charlotte simply smiled, and said, “I own the house. Free and clear. I rent out the other side, and it’s occupied right now.”
Flora shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. Just give me a minute to measure this room, and then you can show me the rest of this half.” From her handbag, she pulled out a pen, a notebook, and a measuring tape; then, she placed the handbag on the chair near the front door.
Once Flora had measured the living room, Charlotte gestured with her hand. “Through this doorway is the kitchen–dining room.”
Flora nodded approvingly. “It’s nice and roomy.” She began measuring and jotting down numbers in her notebook, and after a moment, she glanced up and said, “I noticed when I drove up that it looks like you have a nice deep backyard.”
“Yes, I do,” Charlotte murmured.
“Well, let’s see the rest of the house.”
Charlotte hesitated. “Don’t you need to know the size of the lot or something?”
“Yes, but I’ll measure that after we’ve finished inside.”
Charlotte nodded. “Okay.” She motioned for Flora to walk ahead of her. “Over here are the bedrooms. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom.”
“This one must be the master bedroom,” Flora said, her eagle eyes scanning the room from top to bottom.
“Yes, it’s the larger of the two.” Charlotte had just recently redone her bedroom décor and had settled on a country look. She was really proud of the butterfly-pattern quilt she’d purchased at the annual Destrehan Plantation Arts and Crafts Festival upriver. Using it as a bedspread had provided just the right inspiration for decorating the rest of the room.
Within a few minutes, Charlotte had shown Flora the other bedroom and the bathroom. Each time, Flora measured and jotted down numbers in her notebook. That she also insisted on measuring the closets seemed kind of odd to Charlotte, but since she had never had her home appraised before, she didn’t say anything.
Back in the living room, Flora picked up her handbag. “I really appreciate you doing this,” she told Charlotte. “And I’ll get back to you in a couple of days with your free price analysis.”
“No hurry,” Charlotte assured her as she opened the front door.
“Talk to you later, then,” Flora said, but she paused at the front door. “You did say that you and your husband both live here, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Charlotte replied. “But I don’t see where that’s relevant, one way or another.”
Flora stared at her a moment, then said, “It’s not.” Then she smiled. “I was just curious. Bye now.” Then she turned and bustled out the door.
Once Charlotte had closed the door behind Flora Jennings, she walked over to the birdcage near the front window. “Well, that was a bit strange,” she told the little green parakeet perched inside. From the corner of her eye, she saw a cream-colored car back out of her driveway. Figuring it had to belong to Flora Jennings, she said, “Guess she didn’t have to measure the lot after all, huh, Sweety. Funny that she would measure the closets, but not the property.”
The little bird sidled over to the side of the cage and stretched his head first one way, then another, a sign that he wanted to be petted.
“Oooh, you’re such a good little birdie,” Charlotte said softly as she stuck her finger through the cage and gave the parakeet a gentle head rub.
Though Charlotte had never entertained the idea of having a bird for a pet, after over two years of sharing her home with the little parakeet, she couldn’t imagine not having him. Of course he looked far healthier now than when she’d found him. She’d discovered him after a deadbeat tenant had skipped out owing her money, and the poor little thing was in pitiful shape, half-starved and sick. Not anymore, though. Now he was as healthy as could be, and she’d even taught him how to say a couple of phrases.
Charlotte glanced over at the cuckoo clock on the wall behind the sofa. “Oops, time to go. Now you be a good little bird, and I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
As Charlotte hurried out to her van, she couldn’t help noticing a black SUV parked diagonally across the street from her house. The lone man in the SUV didn’t look familiar and he was simply sitting there.
So, why was he just sitting there?
What if he was a thief casing the neighborhood? Though her neighborhood wasn’t a wealthy one by any stretch of the imagination, she and most of her neighbors still had a few valuables—TVs, stereos, jewelry, and such.
With an uneasy feeling crawling down her back, Charlotte pointedly glared at the man before she climbed into the van.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she murmured. “Get a grip. Not everybody is one of the bad guys.” First Flora Jennings, and now…“Probably just another real estate agent looking for property,” she grumbled.
Even so, once she’d backed out of the driveway, she made it a point to get a good look at the car’s license plate, noting that it was a rental car. She also made sure that she got a good look at the man as she drove slowly past his car. Too bad she was already running a bit late, or she’d stop and ask him what he was doing.
Yeah, right, Charlotte, you big coward.
“Well, I would,” she muttered, countering the aggravating voice in her head.
Getting her bank account straightened out that afternoon had taken longer than she’d expected, but then everything seemed to take longer since Hurricane Katrina. By the time Charlotte turned down her street, it was almost four o’clock.
She glanced over at the bag of used books on the passenger seat, a gift from her client Bitsy Duhe. Since the death of Bitsy’s husband, the elderly lady had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with, and though she filled most of her time on the phone gossiping, she also loved to read.
Bitsy knew how much Charlotte enjoyed reading too, and they both loved a good mystery. Even though she had a stack of to-be-read books on her bedside table, she could hardly wait to get home and go through the books.
With a sigh, Charlotte shook her head and snickered. It had been a while since she’d cleaned for Bitsy Duhe, and though Bitsy was generous to a fault, she could also be a real pain to work for.
During Katrina, Bitsy had evacuated first to Shreveport,