“Derek!” Kathy scolded him. “You nearly gave us all a heart attack!”
“Who was the one who screamed?” Derek asked, a sneer playing on his lips.
Ada stared at him in stony silence.
“It was Ada,” Lily said, seriously. “But I don’t blame her. That was really scary. Perhaps you should do tours around here. You would be great at scaring the tourists half to death. Some people like that kind of thing.”
“That’s an idea,” Derek said. He dug Lily in the ribs with his elbow. She frowned and moved away from him.
Roxy was absolutely furious. He was sabotaging her outing, turning it into a highly unpleasant experience. How could he be so mean? “Does anyone want to make a wish?” she asked to distract them from Derek’s prank. “When you make your wish you have to turn around, shout it out, and mark your “X” on the tomb. When it comes true the custom is to return here, circle your “X,” and leave a gift. That’s why there’s all these flowers and beads. Is anyone going to make a wish?”
“I don’t know if I dare,” said Sylvia.
“Oh, I will!” said Kathy. “I will ask for justice for my son.”
Kathy walked up to the tomb, turned around and shouted out, “Justice for my son’s murder! Dashiell Davies!” She took a pen from her bag and marked an X on the grave. “The Voodoo Queen better help me,” she muttered. “I hope she and Jesus work together!”
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” said Ada.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
KATHY TURNED TO Ada, her eyes devoid of any life. She didn’t even smile, not even a forced one. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” she said. “When your child has been murdered, then and only then will you be qualified to give me advice.”
Ada had the decency to mutter, “Sorry.”
Roxy took that as a cue to leave the cemetery and took them to an Italian restaurant for lunch. Pasta and pizza was always a comforting choice, and it felt like they all needed some solace. The restaurant she took them to—Mandinelli’s—was famous for suffusing traditional Italian food with Creole and Cajun spice to make a truly unique New Orleans foodie experience.
As they settled down to eat, Roxy checked her phone. There was a message for her on the Funky Cat Instagram profile. A private message. She clicked on it. She guessed it was to discuss a booking. But it wasn’t. Check this out, the message read. Attached was a video. Looking furtively around to see if any of the group was watching, Roxy pressed “Play.”
All she saw was a jerky video of a pair of men’s booted feet. But then she heard the audio.
Do you see how you’re talking to me?
Roxy thought it might have been Dash’s voice, but she wasn’t sure.
I’m recording you!
The voices were quiet, so Roxy brought the phone up to her ear. She kept switching between listening and looking at the screen.
Stop that!
This time it was a different voice. The camera jerked upward, and there was Michael, glaring into it. She was sure the other voice was Dash’s now. Michael called Dash a name and slapped the camera out of his hand so that the view from the device jerked and twisted. It ended up facing a ceiling.
“No way,” Roxy whispered to herself. Maybe Kathy had been right about Michael after all. Maybe he wasn’t so nice.
Why are you so against the Hilton idea?
It was Dash’s voice again. He sounded perplexed and angry.
Michael replied. Because the Hilton idea is ridiculous! You and I agreed we wouldn’t go down the commercial route because…
No, you decided, and I have to go along with it like I always do! But I’m not doing it anymore, Michael. I’m not! I swear to you!
Dash was really angry now. Roxy heard Michael let out a growl of anger, and the video cut off.
Roxy sat still, her heart thumping.
“Are you okay, Roxy?” Kathy said, leaning over toward her.
Roxy moved the phone out of her view. “Oh yes, I’m fine,” she said quickly, smiling at her.
Kathy frowned. “You don’t look okay.”
“I was…well, someone messaged me about a booking and asked for a discount for a certain number of nights. I was just trying to do the math in my head.” She forced a laugh. “Math isn’t my strong point.” Neither was lying.
“Oh, let me take a look,” said Kathy, holding her hand out for the phone. “I used to be a middle school math teacher.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” said Roxy with a smile. “I’ve forwarded it to my work email already. It’ll be fine. Now I just need to head to the bathroom real quick. Please excuse me.”
Roxy dashed to the restroom at the back of the restaurant. She wanted a minute alone with the phone to reply to the direct message. But she couldn’t. There was no bar for her to type her reply into. She looked at the profile of the account that had sent her the video. It was clearly a fake one. There was no profile picture and only the name ‘XgXgXg’ which, of course, meant nothing.
Roxy slipped the phone into her pocket and sighed deeply. She cast a glance at herself in the mirror. She looked the same as she always did—slim, slight, and small, with a blond pixie haircut and a face that others told her was beautiful, but which looked just ordinary to her. There was a strength, a steeliness, to Roxy’s eyes though. Just then the door to the bathroom burst open. She flinched. Kathy barreled through the door.
“I have to use the little girl’s room too,” Kathy said. “And I thought I could help you with that math.”
Roxy smiled. She was starting to feel a little irritated. “Seriously, it’s all right,” she said. “Have you decided what you’re ordering?”
“No, it all looks too delicious to choose!” said Kathy. “I do have a favor to ask you, though.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“You know we’ve been talking about holding a celebration of Dash’s life?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Well, we’ve decided to hold a large outdoor event on the weekend. I spoke to the city about it this morning. Since Dashiell admittedly did love a good time, we thought a street party would be the right thing to do. That way, we can invite his fans as well as his friends.”
“I think he’d have loved that.”
“So my question is, can you be one of the caterers? I know you can’t do everything—I’ll get other people to cook food too—but I’ve so enjoyed the cuisine at your place that I’d love for you to get involved.”
Roxy hugged her. “Of course, Kathy. We’d be honored.”
They went back to the table, and Roxy played the role of carefree host with apparent ease. But inside, her mind was tick tick tick with ideas. Who had sent the video? It had shown her a very dark side of Michael. Maybe Dash and he weren’t such great friends, after all. Maybe, just maybe, Michael had faked his own attack. Maybe it hadn’t happened like he said at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“EXCUSE ME!” JOHNSON said. “Attention!” He looked annoyed. “And turn off that darned radio.”
“Yes?” Evangeline said, twisting toward him, her hands on her hips. “What is it?”
Unannounced, Detective Johnson had arrived at the Funky Cat on the morning of the street party to celebrate Dash’s life.
He turned up at the worst possible time—when everyone was hard at work in the kitchen. Lily looked stylish and impractical in slacks, heels, and a silk blouse, but she had brought her own apron and rubber gloves. Sylvia was there in dungarees and a work shirt. Derek showed up cloaked in a hoodie. The guests had generously offered to help with the food preparations. They’d eaten breakfast at 6 AM so they could be in the kitchen by 7, and no one had made a murmur of complaint. Even the glamorous Ada, who wore a Versace tracksuit, hadn’t pitched a fit when she was splashed by the crab boil.
Evangeline, of course, was the kitchen manager and behaved in a way that was rather Gordon Ramsay-esque, although without the incessant cursing. She certainly wasn’t g
oing to pamper Sylvia, Lily, and Ada just because they were Instagram stars. Roxy bit her lip at times when she heard Evangeline barking orders at them, but the truth was no one seemed to mind.
It was an all-hands situation so they rolled up their sleeves, literally in Sylvia’s case, and got on with their tasks. Evangeline’s old radio blasted out happy jazz tunes that had them dancing around the kitchen, and there were back slaps and shouts of laughter as they happily went about making cornbread patties, stirring gumbo, and assembling po’ boys. Everyone seemed enthused by the prospect of a party. Derek almost raised a smile at one point. His mother, Kathy, was with Sam. They were setting up at the site of the party—hanging flags, arranging the stage, and organizing where all the caterers’ tables would go while back in the Funky Cat kitchen Roxy teamed with Lily to make what seemed like a million oysters en brochette.
Sharing the tasks, Roxy and Lily skewered the oysters, bacon, and onion before rolling each skewer in cornflour. Later at the event, they would deep-fry them. They would also cut toast into triangles and brush them with a Meunière sauce made from parsley, lemon, brown butter, and red wine vinegar. After they had been fried, the cooked oysters, onion, and bacon would be served on top of the toast, and a twist of salt and pepper would complete the dish. Roxy had only made it once and that time under Evangeline’s watchful eye, but today Evangeline had some ten other dishes going. They were on their own, but there was an easy, warm atmosphere of camaraderie in the kitchen and they were all focused on their tasks. Roxy’s mind was as far away from Dash’s murder or any other disaster as it could get.
That was until Detective Johnson showed up. Immediately the happy bubble around them burst with a pop. It was almost like Johnson carried a big pin with him.
“Look, I don’t know what it is with this place, but any time something happens around here it seems to involve y’all. So I’m here to tell you no messing around today, y’hear? No funny business. This event is for Dashiell Davies. The police department has been liaising with his mother, and if anything untoward happens, the attention of your local law enforcement will snap onto the Funky Cat faster than you can say ‘Instagram’. Is that clear?”
Roxy peered around to see the influencers looking taken aback. Ada glared at Johnson, Lily looked as though there was a nasty smell under her nose while Sylvia, like Evangeline, stood with her hands on her hips. Derek seemed to attempt to merge with the pots and pans as he tried to make himself invisible. They clearly weren’t used to being spoken to like that. Roxy, on the other hand, had a little more experience. She walked up to the detective and kept her voice low. “Of course, Detective,” she said quietly. She hoped he would match her tone. She was mistaken.
“Good!” he bellowed even louder than before. “And don’t think that because y’all are some kind of famous in the strange world you live in that I won’t zero in on you. Behave, alright? The law has no respect for celebrity or anything else. Law’s the law.”
“Thank you, Detective Johnson,” said Roxy calmly. “We’ll make sure to remain law-abiding. You have my word on that.”
“Don’t you rush me!” he said. “It is very likely the murderer will be in the crowd today so we’ll be keeping a close but discreet eye on the proceedings. Watch yourselves, okay?”
Roxy heard the word “murderer” with a jolt.
Johnson continued, “The toxicology reports are back. Mr. Davies was incapacitated with a form of poison, then suffocated.” Johnson proceeded to stride around the room, thumbs tucked into his belt loops that sat under his large belly. He looked at each person carefully, and the food they were preparing, before moving on. He reminded Roxy of a Wild West sheriff inspecting his usual suspects.
It got so quiet in the kitchen as he did this that every single bubble popping at the top of a boil could be heard. Roxy could hear tap-tap-tap as Derek gently banged his model airplane against the chrome counter. Despite the news of the manner of his brother’s death, he seemed unfazed.
Eventually, Johnson said, “Alright,” but very warily as he watched Roxy out of the corner of his eye as if she were some criminal mastermind and the three influencers and Derek were her henchmen. “Well, I’ll be seeing y’all later.”
Roxy shook her head as soon as he was out the door.
“What was that about?” Nat burst out when he’d gone. She shook herself like a dog. “I can’t stand that guy!”
“Neither can I,” Ada said.
Their view of Johnson was something both Nat and Ada could agree on. They looked at each other a little more warmly.
“Let’s try and forget about him,” Roxy said, switching the music back on. The radio station was playing a compilation of popular Nat King Cole tunes. The lively melody of Route 66 rippled from the radio. Evangeline and Sylvia starting singing softly along, shaking their hips as they continued to prepare the food. Soon they were all moving at least one body part in time to the music. Well, not Derek, but even he didn’t leave the room.
“Sing us something, Nat, cher,” Evangeline said.
“Nah, I have to save my voice for later. They like the big tunes do this crowd. Besides I can’t do better than ole Nat, now can I?”
“You’re singing at the event?” Roxy asked.
“Yep, with Sam and Elijah. Kathy asked us.”
“Ah, that’s nice.”
Roxy would have been perfectly happy to while away the rest of the morning making oyster skewers with Lily, listening to some mellow jazz, and forgetting about everything else. The repetitive rhythm of the cooking was cathartic, and the smells of Creole spices were so soothing. But it wasn’t to be. A short while later, Kathy bustled into the kitchen looking for her. She flashed a huge smile, hooked her arm into Roxy’s, and pulled her out of the kitchen. “Come with me, girl.”
They walked out of the front door and into the cobbled street.
“Wow!” Roxy said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ROWS AND ROWS and rows of flags had been hung, strung from one side of the alleyway to the other, in every color Roxy could imagine. When they came out onto the main street, Roxy could see that the flags continued, tied to streetlights and storefronts and electricity poles, anything that was high enough. They continued as far as Roxy could see.
“Look,” Kathy said, “they run all the way from your door to the party.
“Kathy!” Roxy said. “Dash would have loved this!”
Immediately, Kathy’s cheerful smile turned into heartrending sobs. She collapsed onto Roxy. Being that Kathy was the bigger woman and Roxy was tiny, Roxy staggered backward under the heavier woman’s weight. With some effort, she managed to right herself, but Kathy crumpled down onto the sidewalk. She stayed there and curled up in a ball, her head on her knees. She began to cry and cry and cry. She just didn’t stop.
At first, Roxy patted her on the shoulder, and said, “Kathy, Kathy,” but her voice was drowned out by Kathy’s cries. Eventually, Roxy sat next to her, her arm around her shoulder and her heart hurting as she listened to Kathy’s sobs, unable to do anything or say anything to help.
They stayed sitting on the curb for what seemed like an age. Vehicles passed by, their drivers and passengers staring at them, and Roxy was so glad not to see Mariah Morales and her ilk prowling around with their cameras, ready to capture the scene and splash it all across the state news. There was no sign of any reporters at all.
As Roxy continued to comfort Kathy, she spotted the priest who had performed Dash’s memorial service as he came around the corner. He walked toward them.
“Father John!” Roxy called out.
Kathy looked up.
The priest picked up his pace when he recognized them and with gentle hands brought Kathy to her feet. He wiped her tears away with his soft, fat fingers. “May the Lord bring you peace, my child.”
Kathy blubbed, “I…don’t…think…that’s…possible, Father!”
“It will be, with time,” he said. “Put your trust in the Lord. Choose to
put your trust in the Lord.”
“Okay,” Kathy said like an obedient little girl. “I can do that…I think. Thank you.”
“You will be blessed for your faith,” he said. “There, there…”
Kathy visibly calmed at his words and began to breathe normally.
Father John turned to Roxy. “I came here to see you.”
Roxy was a little taken aback. “Yes, Father?”
“I was wondering if you would speak at the event today. Of course, Kathy is speaking. Derek is not, due to his shy nature. Michael is paying a tribute to Dashiell, their work and fans. We, Kathy and I, that is, talked earlier, and wondered if you would like to say something. As a sort of representative of the city of New Orleans.”
Roxy bit her lip. “Me? But I’m not even from here.”
“Yes,” he said. “I can tell that by your accent. But you’re a businesswoman here now, and that means you are part of our community. I have talked to Michael too. He explained that you were a kind person. Perhaps you saw some qualities in Dash that you admired and that you can speak to?”
“Oh, yes,” Roxy said. “Of course. He was adventurous and wild and brave, for sure. He was very encouraging too, and certainly knew how to have a good time!”
The priest nodded triumphantly. “That’s that, then. You’ll give a small speech?”
Roxy’s stomach lurched. Speaking in front of a huge crowd of people wasn’t her idea of fun. They were expecting thousands—not only local residents but many, many fans. Many more than turned out at the funeral. This time Dash’s followers had had plenty of notice, and people were traveling from all over the country. Some were even coming from Europe! Roxy looked at Kathy, hoping that she would say it was inappropriate.
But she didn’t. She looked tearfully in Roxy’s direction. “Please do,” she said. “It would mean a lot to me.”
Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set Page 28
