Dusted to Death (14 page)

But Nick hadn’t fooled Laura Pate, thought Charlotte. And from what Charlotte had learned so far, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree where Nick Franklin was concerned. But when it came down to it, nothing that Dawn had said so far was going to be any help. “So, about that party,” Charlotte said, trying to steer Dawn back on track. “Were you at that party?”

Dawn shook her head. “No, ma’am. Like I said, back then I wasn’t exactly what you’d call one of the in-crowd—you know, one of the popular kids—so I wasn’t invited. I really didn’t know anything about the party until later, and that’s what I wanted to tell you. Not long after Alex Scott was tried and convicted—and this was before Nick’s father was murdered—Nick wanted to go up to Jackson to a rock concert. Marti’s parents wouldn’t let her go, so he invited me. Afterward, he got drunk and said some things that made me believe that he and Marti, not Alex, were the ones who had taken Alex’s car for a joyride the night that Alex’s sister was killed.”

Dawn shuddered, and after a moment, she took a deep breath and said, “Nick, not Alex, was the one who ran over Alex’s sister. Nick was the one driving the car.”

M
omentarily stunned, Charlotte stared at Dawn. “But wait!” she exclaimed, once she found her voice. “I don’t understand. Wasn’t Alex—the girl’s brother—arrested
and
convicted?”

When Dawn nodded, Charlotte said, “But how can that be? If Nick was the one who was driving, then surely there had to be evidence in the car, fingerprints and such.”

Dawn shook her head. “Nick bragged about wiping off all of their fingerprints and fooling the cops.”

“But surely there must have been witnesses. Some of the other kids at the party must have seen something.”

Dawn shook her head. “All the kids were in the back around the swimming pool. The car was out front on the driveway.”

Before she thought it through, Charlotte blurted, “So, once you knew what really happened, why didn’t you go to the police? For that matter, if it was an accident, why didn’t Nick or Marti go to the police?”

Dawn shook her head. “Both of them had been drinking that night. Nick had already had a couple of run-ins with the law and had spent time in a juvenile detention facility. A hit-and-run conviction could have landed him in prison for most of the rest of his life. Also, with Angel’s father being a minister and all, a scandal like that would have ruined him. As for me, I thought about going to the police. I wanted to go,” she stressed, “but it would have been my word against both Nick and Marti’s—my word against the bank president’s son and a minister’s daughter. Who do you think the cops would have believed?”

Dawn could be right about the police not believing her, but—“Why didn’t you at least tell your parents?”

Dawn sighed. “Then I would have to have told them about my trip to Jackson with Nick. I knew they didn’t want me dating him and I also knew that if I had asked to go with him to that concert, they would have said no. So I didn’t ask. I lied and told them I was spending the night with a girlfriend. By the time I’d worked up enough courage to tell my parents, Nick had sobered up and realized what he’d told me. He threatened to kill me and my parents if I ever breathed a word of what he’d said to anyone.” Dawn’s lips quivered. “And I believed him,” she whispered.

Dawn blinked several times, but a tear slipped down her cheek anyway. “The whole thing has bothered me for years, especially the thought of Alex serving time for a crime he didn’t commit. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to tell someone, but I’m ashamed to admit that I’m a coward at heart. Then, today, when I read that article on the front page of the newspaper, I knew that I could finally tell the truth. Not that it really matters anymore or helps Alex. Nick is dead and Alex got out of prison a couple of years ago. Still, it doesn’t seem right that the truth will never be known.”

Charlotte was at a loss for words as she sat there, staring into space, trying to make sense of everything that Dawn had revealed.

“Guess y’all think I’m a pretty rotten person, huh?”

Dawn’s quivery voice drew Charlotte’s attention, and she immediately reached out to pat the young woman’s hand. “No, of course not,” she soothed. “You were just a kid and got caught up in a no-win situation. It took a lot of courage for you to finally share this.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte spotted Joe Harper headed their way. From his grim, bordering on angry expression, Charlotte figured he’d noticed Dawn was upset and probably thought that she and Benny were the blame.

Glaring at Charlotte and Benny, Joe placed a protective hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “Dawn, honey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Dawn turned her head and looked up at him. “I’m okay, Daddy.” She glanced at Charlotte, then at Benny. Finally, giving Joe a shaky smile, she said, “There’s something I need to tell you.” She shoved her chair back and stood. To Charlotte, she said, “If y’all need anything else, you can find me at the nursing home.”

Charlotte smiled encouragingly at the young woman. “Thank you for your help. Also, I don’t think it’s in anyone’s interest, especially Marti’s, right now to go to the police.”

“Police?” Joe sputtered.

Ignoring him for the moment, Charlotte continued. “Like you said earlier, Nick is dead, and Marti certainly isn’t going to risk incriminating herself further at this point. Without proof, it’s just hearsay.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Charlotte reached inside her purse and pulled out her business card. She held out the card to Dawn. “Just in case you think of anything else, please give me a call.”

Dawn took the card and nodded. Then she turned to Joe. “Daddy, it’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you close the store and let me take you to lunch, for a change? I’ve got a story to tell you.”

“What now?” Benny asked a few minutes later, his hand on the door handle of the passenger side of the limo.

Charlotte frowned in thought. “I’m not really sure. It seems that we’ve certainly opened up a can of worms here. One thing I am sure of is that if what Dawn says is true—and I do believe her—then that’s our proof that Nick was blackmailing Angel. At least now we know why Angel was so tight-lipped about Nick. Proof that he was blackmailing her would only be more motive for her to kill him. Even so, and if for no other reason than clearing that Scott boy’s name, I think we need to find out for sure.”

“No!” Benny shook his head.

“What do you mean, no?”

“That would be like nailing the lid closed on Angel’s coffin. In fact, we need to tell Dawn and her stepfather to keep their mouths shut about this.”

Benny’s dark angry expression sent a shiver up Charlotte’s spine, and she didn’t like it one bit. What she needed was to calm him down before things got out of hand. “Whoa, Benny,” she said evenly, but with force. “Take it easy.” She reached up and gently squeezed his upper arm. “I’m on your side, remember? And I did suggest to Dawn that it wasn’t in Angel’s best interest right now to go to the police. At the moment this all seems like it’s really bad news, but I don’t intend to do anything that’s going to hurt Angel. We came here to
help
her, and I have to believe that once the whole truth comes out, in the end, Angel will be exonerated.”

At the moment, she wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince Benny or herself. All she knew was that she had to keep a lid on things, especially Benny’s temper, and hope and pray that everything worked out for the best.

She paused a minute to let what she’d said sink in. For long minutes, Benny silently stared past Charlotte into space. From his agonizing expression he seemed to be fighting some inner demon. Then, out of the blue, it came to her. Why, oh why, hadn’t she seen it before? It was right there in front of her nose the whole time. Benny’s protectiveness of Angel went way beyond mere friendship or even their employer-employee relationship. At some point he’d fallen in love with her.

But at what point? And what about Heather? He had already confessed that he was in love with Heather. Charlotte thought on that a moment. The logical answer was that Benny had been in love with Angel from the beginning, a love that, in his mind, was hopeless. After all, she was a big movie star and Benny was only the chauffeur. Maybe Heather had been his second choice, right up until the time that Nick had interfered.

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.
”

Benny’s words echoed in Charlotte’s head. Evidently, because of Heather’s fixation on Nick, she hadn’t felt the same way about Benny as he had about her. Poor guy just couldn’t seem to catch a break in his love life.

Bottom line, once again, whether on Heather’s behalf or Angel’s behalf, she had to ask herself if Benny was capable of murder. As before, she came up with the same answer. Back when he’d been a troubled teenager, when he’d been surrounded by people who would kill for their next drug fix, such a thing might have been possible. Anything might have been possible then, but not now. Benny had changed. He’d broken away from that environment and severed all the ties with his horrible family. Now he was a completely different person, a good person, so the answer was a resounding no. Besides, there was that other little problem called motive. Though Benny might have had cause to want to murder Nick, he had no motive to frame Angel for that murder.

Charlotte squeezed Benny’s arm again. Emphasizing each word, she repeated her earlier statement. “Benny, I’m not going to do anything that will hurt Angel.” She held her breath, waiting for his response. For more than one reason, she needed his cooperation, the least of which was transportation to get back home again. Several tense moments passed, but he finally nodded.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she said, “Well, okay, then. Tell you what, it’s lunchtime and I need to eat. Why don’t we find a nice fast-food restaurant, like that place we saw near the Oakdale Nursing and Care Center? I don’t know about you, but now that all of Oakdale probably saw that article in the newspaper about Angel and Nick, I’d just as soon not run into anyone who might ask questions. In fact, if it’s okay with you, we could use the drive-through and take the food back to the hotel.”

Once again, Benny nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get inside.

Though the day was warm, there was a nice breeze blowing, so by mutual consent, Charlotte and Benny ate their food outside by the hotel’s pool area. It was a really nice setup, complete with a small diving board, a slide, and bright yellow and blue umbrella-covered tables. Best of all, no one was using the pool at the moment, so they had the area all to themselves.

Benny had ordered hamburgers and fries, and Charlotte, ever mindful of her diabetes, had settled for a side salad and chicken nuggets.

The lunch was a quiet affair, with little conversation, and both were content to simply enjoy the meal beneath the shade of one of the umbrellas. Even so, once Charlotte finished eating, she felt the need for some time alone to think things through.

As she stuffed the napkins, the plastic salad bowl, and the cardboard container into her sack, she said, “Benny, I’m feeling a bit drained. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to my room for a while and rest.” She glanced at her watch. “Why don’t we meet up again about three o’clock, and then decide where to go from there?”

Benny gathered up his food wrappings and napkin, then stuffed them into a sack. “Sounds good to me,” he told her. “I need to gas up the limo anyway and check the tires, so I’ll see you back here at three.” They both stood, and he reached for her bag of trash. “I’ll dump these in the garbage on the way out.”

Once inside her hotel room, Charlotte made sure that the door locked behind her. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out on the bed. As she stared up at the ceiling she thought about everything that both Laura Pate and Dawn Sanders had told them, and she thought about Benny. None of what they’d learned so far would help prove Angel’s innocence. In fact, like Benny had said, all of the information that they had gathered could very well nail the lid shut on her coffin.

Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed. So why, no matter how hard she tried, did she keep coming back to the blackmail thing? And why the nagging need to confirm what Dawn had said about Nick’s drunken confession, as well as the things that Laura had told them?

Then there was the Scott boy to consider. If what Dawn had said was right, he was yet another one of Nick Franklin’s victims. And like Angel, didn’t Alex Scott also deserve justice?

Startled by the thought that suddenly flashed through her mind, Charlotte froze. Beneath her breasts, her heart pounded like a jackhammer. Yes, Alex Scott deserved justice, but maybe, just maybe, he or someone close to him thought he deserved revenge.

C
harlotte sat straight up in the bed, her heart still pounding. One of the problems all along had been the lack of motive to frame Angel. All of the suspects that she and Benny had come up with had a motive to kill Nick, but none of them had a motive to kill Nick
and
frame Angel for the murder. None until now, none except Alex Scott. According to what they had learned, Alex Scott had a motive to kill Nick and a motive to frame Angel: Nick, for committing the crime that Alex had been convicted of, and Angel for not coming forward with the truth.

Charlotte climbed off the bed and, hands on her hips, paced the small hotel room. She needed to remember exactly what Dawn Sanders had said about the Scott boy. Something about Nick being dead now and…

“Alex got out of prison a couple of years ago.”

“Yes!” she murmured, doubling her fist and pumping her arm in a triumphant gesture. That was it! According to Dawn, Alex Scott had been a free man for two years or more, plenty of time to plot revenge. And what better revenge than to kill the man who had murdered his sister and, at the same time, frame the woman who had been his so-called accomplice.

But how did he do it? Even if it was true and even if it made perfect sense to her, the information they had now was not enough to take to the police. What did the prosecution on
Law & Order
call it? Was it hearsay or circumstantial evidence? Whichever, that’s what she and Benny had right now. What they needed was proof—real proof.

“But how to get it?” she murmured, dropping back down on the bed. As she lay there staring up at the ceiling and pondering what to do next, once again she mentally reviewed all of the suspects that she and Benny had discussed. They had talked about Angel’s manager, Simon Clark, Angel’s makeup girl, Heather Cortez, her bodyguard, Toby Russell, and last but certainly not least, Bruce King, the sleazy tabloid reporter.

Charlotte frowned. Seemed like there was someone else as well. Her brow furrowed in thought, she finally remembered that Benny had mentioned Nick having some heavy gambling debts. She shook her head. “No way,” she whispered. There was no way that his gambling debts had anything whatsoever to do with this particular scenario.

Charlotte rolled onto her side and stared at the flowery print hanging on the wall. There was another problem as well. So far, none of the suspects were Alex Scott; else Nick or Angel would have recognized him.

Once again, something niggled at the back of her mind, something that Benny had mentioned, but what? Something about a stalker or a crazed fan, if she remembered right. Even so, if, and that was a big if, the stalker had been the Scott boy, wouldn’t Nick or Angel have recognized him?

Charlotte sighed, and after a moment she decided that granted, it was a bit far-fetched, but still possible that maybe they did recognize him. Hadn’t Benny said something about Nick having an altercation with the stalker in a restaurant, and about convincing Angel to take out a restraining order?

Charlotte shook her head from side to side. Too many questions and not enough answers. First things first, she decided. And the first thing she needed to do was somehow confirm the story that Dawn had told them.

But how?

Find Alex Scott.

Again, how? she wondered. So far, the only lead she had was Dawn Sanders.

Charlotte eyed the clock on the bedside table. Then her gaze strayed to the telephone. Dawn had said if they needed anything, she would be at the nursing home, hadn’t she? There was still an hour left before time to meet up with Benny.

“Plenty of time to make a telephone call,” Charlotte murmured as she sat up, then scooted to the edge of the bed. After a brief search through the drawers in the bedside table, she located a local telephone directory. She thumbed through it until she found the telephone number for Oakdale Nursing and Care Center and dialed it.

“I’d like to speak to Dawn Sanders,” she told the receptionist, then added, “She’s the nurse who takes care of Mrs. Pate.”

“Who’s calling, please?” the receptionist responded.

“Charlotte LaRue.”

“Can you hold a moment, Ms. LaRue?”

“Yes, I can.”

For several moments, Charlotte was subjected to a recorded advertisement for the nursing home; then the message stopped and she heard a ringing in her ear. On the third ring, a woman’s voice answered, “Mrs. Laura Pate’s room. How may I help you?”

The voice sounded so formal that at first Charlotte wasn’t sure it was Dawn. “Dawn? Is this Dawn Sanders?”

“No, sorry. Dawn called in sick today.”

“Oh, I see. Could you give me her home phone number?”

“No, ma’am. That’s against the rules.”

With a sigh, Charlotte said, “Okay. But if you talk to her before I reach her, could you please tell her that I called?”

“Sure, what’s your name?”

“Charlotte LaRue, and thanks.”

Charlotte hung up the receiver and reached for the phone directory again. After a moment, she closed the directory. There was no listing for a Dawn Sanders. Was it possible that she still lived with her parents?

She picked up the directory again and found the number for the Coffee Corner. She dialed the number and waited. On the fourth ring, a gruff male voice answered, “The Coffee Corner.”

“Ah—hello. Is this Joe Harper?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mr. Harper, this is Charlotte LaRue, and I’m trying to get in touch with your stepdaughter Dawn.”

“Sorry, Ms. LaRue, but Dawn took a few days off and went out of town.”

“Oh…well, do you know how I can reach her? Maybe a cell phone?”

“No, I don’t, and she doesn’t have a cell phone.”

“Well, ah, thank you anyway.”

Strange, Charlotte thought as she hung up the receiver. Very strange indeed, especially since the woman at the nursing home had said Dawn was sick, and now here was Dawn’s stepfather telling her that Dawn had gone out of town for a few days.

With a shrug, Charlotte reached for the telephone book again and turned to the S listings. She’d hoped that Dawn could help her, but there was more than one way to track down a person. Surely Alex’s parents would know where he was.

The listing for the Scott family was easy enough to find. There was just one Scott family listed in the whole town of Oakdale. Relieved that she’d only have to make one call, she tapped out the phone number.

“Scott residence,” a pleasant female voice answered.

“Hi, is this Mrs. Scott?”

“No, I’m the housekeeper.”

Charlotte cleared her throat in preparation for the lie she was about to tell. “I’m an old friend of the Scotts, just in town for a short visit, and I thought I’d say hello. Is Alex at home?”

“Nooo.” The housekeeper drew out the word, her tone suspicious. “He isn’t home.”

“When do you expect him?”

“Is this a reporter?”

“Oh, no. Like I said earlier, I’m an old friend of the family.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire
. Charlotte winced. She hated lying and only hoped that the ends would justify the means.

“Well, Mr. Alex doesn’t live here any longer; he hasn’t been home in years. And I don’t expect him to visit any time soon.”

“What about Mr. or Mrs. Scott? Could I please speak to one of them?”

“Sorry, but no. They’re out of town on an extended business trip, but I’ll be glad to let them know that you called. What did you say your name was?”

The last thing Charlotte wanted was to leave her name. Instead of answering the question, she said, “Do you happen to know where Alex is living now?”

The housekeeper hesitated a moment, then said, “You sound like a reporter. Are you sure you aren’t one?”

“No—I promise—I am not a reporter.” At least that much was the truth, she thought.

“Well, no one knows where Mr. Alex is now, but the last time we heard from him, he was living somewhere in California.”

California. Nick and Angel lived in California.

Yeah, but California is a big place.

Charlotte swallowed her disappointment. The fact that all three lived in California didn’t mean anything. Not really.

“Thanks,” she told the housekeeper. “Sorry to have bothered you.” Charlotte quickly hung up the receiver before the housekeeper could ask for her name again.

Now what? she wondered, as she stared at the telephone. She still needed information, but where else could she look? Where else could she find information about Alex Scott?

She supposed she could always start by checking a telephone directory in and about Hollywood or she could call directory assistance, just to see if he happened to be living in that area.

A few minutes later with disappointment sinking deeper inside, Charlotte hung up the phone receiver again. According to the operator, there were no less than fifty Alex or A. Scotts living in the greater Hollywood area. To get a listing of all of the telephone numbers, the woman suggested that she could either go online or go to a library, since many libraries had a collection of directories from other cities.

Frustrated, Charlotte sighed. To look something up online would require a computer, along with someone who had expertise using a computer. Though she had learned a little bit about search engines and such from her sister, by no means did she feel competent for the job.

As for the library, she doubted seriously if the local Oakdale, Mississippi, library would have any telephone directories at all for California, much less Hollywood.

“Dead end,” she muttered. Glancing at her watch, she decided that by the time she freshened up a bit, Benny would be knocking at her door.

In the bathroom, she fluffed up her hair, then brushed her teeth. As she applied a fresh coat of lipstick she thought back on what she had learned in the past hour. “Humph! Not much,” she muttered, other than the fact that Alex was living somewhere in California.

Charlotte shook her head, and wondering if the local library had computer access, she put away her lipstick and walked back into the main room to wait for Benny.

Outside the only window in her room, there was a great view of the pool area. While she watched two young children frolicking in the pool, an idea popped into her head. Even if the local library didn’t have a Hollywood phone directory or a computer for its patrons, most libraries did keep back copies of old newspaper articles, if not on a computer, then on microfiche. She might not be able to locate Alex Scott now, but more than likely she could read about the death of his sister and his subsequent trial. Who knew? Maybe something somewhere would lead to a clue that would help locate him. At the very least, she could get the whole story on what had happened back then.

Eager to get started, she glanced at her watch. It was ten past three, so where was Benny? Frowning, she thought back to their last conversation. Though she didn’t think so, maybe she was supposed to meet him downstairs in the lobby.

Just as she made up her mind to go down to the lobby, there was a sharp rap on her door. Charlotte rolled her eyes and as she collected her purse on the way to the door, a little song from the
Bullfrogs and Butterflies
CD album that she’d bought for the twins played through her mind. The name of the song was “Have Patience.” Though the peppy tune was meant for little children, Charlotte thought that a lot of grown-ups, including herself, could benefit from listening to it as well.

When she opened the door, Benny grinned. “How about a cup of coffee down in the diner?”

“Sounds good,” she told him, “but I have an errand I’d like to run first, if that’s okay with you?”

Benny shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want. Where to?”

“The local library, wherever that is. I’m sure someone from the hotel staff can give us directions, and we need to go now, just in case they close early.”

On the way downstairs to the front desk, Charlotte told Benny about the phone calls she’d made and explained to him the reason she wanted to go to the library.

“You don’t happen to know your way around the Internet, do you?” she asked as they stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby.

“I’m not what you’d call a computer nerd or anything.” Then he nodded. “But I know my way around good enough to get what we need. And if the library doesn’t have public access to a computer, then I’m sure the hotel can accommodate us.”

“Let’s check out the library first.”

The library, like most everything else in town, was only a few blocks from their hotel and was located in a beautiful old antebellum-styled home that, according to the hotel manager, had been donated to the town for the express purpose of housing a library. Charlotte figured that the house had to be at least 150 years old, yet had been kept in pristine condition.

During the short drive, Charlotte and Benny came up with what they thought was the most probable year that Alex’s sister had been killed. Just in case their calculations were a bit off, though, Charlotte decided that she would ask for copies of the local newspaper for both the previous and the following year. Since there was only one weekly newspaper in town, she figured the library should have every copy ever printed. If not, then she could always pay a visit to the local newspaper office.

Inside the library, much to Benny’s delight, the front parlor was solely dedicated to media, including a bank of state-of-the-art computers.

Charlotte was truly impressed with the entire facility as well as the eager, gracious staff. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” the librarian at the information desk asked with a smile. “Not being nosy, mind you. It’s just that I was born and raised here and know just about everything that’s happened in the past forty years.”

A smile pulled at Charlotte’s lips. The woman was a perfect cliché of a little old lady librarian, complete with blue-gray, bouffant-styled hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

Shades of Bitsy Duhè
.

Like Bitsy, Charlotte had no doubt, she made it her business to know everything that went on in Oakdale.

Confiding in the woman would probably speed up her research process, and though she was sorely tempted, after a moment’s hesitation, Charlotte shook her head. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. But what I’m looking for is the type of thing that I’ll recognize when I see it, if you know what I mean.” Which was the truth, sorta kinda. Besides, for all she knew, the librarian could be best friends with Alex’s mother, or worse, a relative of the Scotts. One thing that she’d learned about Oakdale, the citizens seemed to stick together and protected their own. Nope, best not to go there or stir up that hornet’s nest.