When George released him from his grasp, Charles looked at him with a grin. “Hi, George. I heard I worried you all. I’m very sorry about that.”
“You did, you did,” said George, his voice wobbling as though he were about to cry again. “I…I thought you were dead. That whoever had gotten Meredith had gotten you, too. I couldn’t bear to lose both of you so close together. What a relief to see you.”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” said Charles. “I don’t quite know what happened. Shortly after we came back from the Palace of Spirits, something came over me. I had some kind of break with reality. I walked out of the hotel in the middle of the night and walked to Audubon Park. It was almost dawn when I got there, and it was just what I needed. I walked around it by myself, sheltering from the rain under the trees, watching the people and the wildlife. Do you know there are so very many species of birds there?” Charles wearily sat down next to Nefertiti who jumped away and re-settled herself in an armchair nearby. “I don’t even know why, it was like I wasn’t choosing to do these things, I just did them. I have no memory of how I got to the park and when I tried to find my way back, I got lost. I’ve been wandering the streets for hours.”
“Why didn’t you ask for directions?”
“I—I couldn’t bring myself to speak to anyone.”
“Like a spirit was controlling you?” George said. His eyes were wide and color was returning to his cheeks. “A dark, negative one?”
Charles shook his head. “I’m not certain. Going to the Palace of Spirits last night disturbed me, for sure. I was hearing voices. They made no sense, just words. There were other noises, screams, and the wind. I couldn’t tell what was in my head and what was real. It was terrifying. Meredith had spoken of such things in the past, but I’d never experienced them myself until now. I felt like I was in a different world.”
“You were,” George said knowingly. “In some hellish realm, it sounds like.”
“Sure was,” said Charles. “I still feel a little strange now. Is there something I can do, George? To make me feel better, more stable? I don’t want to take drugs, but I truly feel like I have been going mad.”
“Sage has remedies,” said Roxy. “All kinds and for all kinds of things. I’m sure she’ll be able to help get you into a better state of mind.”
“Speaking to her might be very useful.”
“Do you want me to call her?” Roxy offered.
“Yes, please. I’ve got a terrible headache and would love to lie down, but I’m frightened to close my eyes. Will she come to talk to me?”
“I’m sure she’d be glad to,” said Roxy. “She’ll be relieved you’re okay. In fact, I’d better call everyone. They won’t bother you, but we’ve been worried about you, and they’ll be so glad to know you’re safe.”
Charles drained his glass of punch. “Aaahhhh! That was just what I needed. I’m going to take a soak in the tub, then change into my nightclothes. You’ll send Sage up when she comes?”
“Yes,” said Roxy. “I’ll make sure she’s the only one who disturbs you. She has such a warm, loving, motherly way about her, doesn’t she? She’ll put the world to rights for you. Everything seems okay when she’s around.”
Charles gave her a small smile. “Yes. Very much so. Well, goodnight then. And,” Charles hesitated, a small shudder rippling through his body, “I’m sorry again for what I put you through.”
“Goodnight, Charles,” George said. He gave Charles another hug, a more restrained one this time.
When Charles had disappeared upstairs, Nat, George, and Roxy all flopped on the sofa and sighed with relief.
“Thank goodness for that,” said Nat.
“Yes,” said George. “I’m so glad he’s back, although his story is troubling. There are clearly many dark forces around at the moment.”
“You’re probably right,” Roxy said softly, “but let’s not think about that for now. Let’s get cozy with our drinks, and have a relaxing evening. Maybe we could play cards, or checkers, or something. Anything to relax and unwind after the day we’ve had.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her contacts. She needed to call people.
“Cards! Yes!” said Nat. “We never play cards. I’m always meaning to.” She rushed to the bookcase to pull out a card deck. “What’s your favorite game, George?”
“Can’t say I know any very well, except Snap.”
“Oh, come on!” said Nat, digging him in the ribs and laughing. “That’s baby stuff! Let’s play poker.”
“Oh, no,” said Roxy. “Too intense. What about Cheat?”
“Cheat!” said Nat. “Yes, that’s a great game!”
“How do we play?” said George.
Nat set about explaining while Roxy called Sage.
“Hi, Roxy!” Sage sounded cheerful.
“Charles’s here, safe and well!” Roxy said into her phone, equally cheerful.
“Thank goodness for that,” said Sage.
“He’s feeling well, but a little weird. He’s gone to his room and said he’d like to see you.”
There were some muffled sounds of talking as Sage spoke to someone in the background. “They’ve released Dr. Jack. He’s here, but he too needs peace and quiet. I’ll be right over, honey, once I’ve got him settled.”
Roxy called Sam. “That’s fantastic! Shall I come over?” he said immediately.
“That would be lovely, but aren’t you exhausted after today?”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling a little lonesome and it sounds a lot more fun at your place.”
Roxy called Elijah. “Would you like to come over? Or is it too late for you? We’re playing Cheat. Sam’s coming.”
“Why not? The more, the merrier! I can sleep when I’m dead.”
With no small feeling of anxiety, Roxy called Johnson to let him know about Charles’ reappearance. The detective wasn’t in the office and his phone rang through to reception. Roxy left a message with the officer on duty, a small blessing that Roxy appreciated. She made up another batch of warm brandy punch while Nat patiently played a practice hand of Cheat with George.
“I don’t think this game is all that ethical,” George was saying to Nat.
“Oh, lighten up!” Nat said with a laugh. “It’s just a game.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” said George, “although even games can be microcosms of reality. If we get used to cheating in a game, maybe then we’d think it acceptable…”
“Stop!” Nat tapped him on the arm and then gave him a quick side hug. “Stop taking everything so seriously!”
“Nat,” Roxy said, hearing her stomach growl, “what are we going to do for dinner? I made this gumbo for you and George but with the others coming over…”
“I’m beat,” said Nat, “please don’t ask me to make anything.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Roxy. “I can’t see myself on my feet cooking up a pot of anything, either. What about takeout? Pizza?”
“Pizza would be perfect,” said Nat. “What do you think, George?”
“I think pizza sounds wonderful,” he said. “And totally against my diet principles that demand I eat healthy, natural, colorful food to feed my spirit. I’m playing Cheat and eating pizza. What a day!”
Nat nodded. “Pizza’s colorful! And it has vegetables. Come on, you can’t be too strict with yourself all the time. Gotta let loose and have some fun, too! Besides this won’t be any old pizza. This will be New Orleans pizza. How about a thin crust topped with cured pork shoulder, caramelized onions, and marinated artichokes along with a NOLA craft beer?”
“You’re right,” George said with a grin. “To celebrate Charles coming back.”
“Keep those brandy punches flowing, Roxy!” said Nat, raising hers in the air. “Tonight’s going to be a good, good night!”
Sage, Sam, and Elijah arrived together. Sage went upstairs to speak to Charles. Roxy ordered four large pizzas, with garlic bread and a portion of chicken
wings on the side. She picked some chicken off the bone for Nefertiti. They played endless rounds of Cheat, which George became surprisingly good at, and when they had eaten and drunk enough, Nat gave them a slightly tipsy rendition of Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit.
Gently, she sang them to sleep on the couches, feeling full and satisfied and warm. It was just what they all needed after a tough day, but as Roxy reflected as she leaned back, her head against Sam’s shoulder, her eyes closed as she listened to the slow, mellow lyrics that floated from Nat like sleepy smoke, they were still no closer to finding out who had killed Meredith Romanoff.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ANXIETY ABOUT MEREDITH’S murderer continuing to roam the streets niggled at Roxy when she woke the next morning. She lay in bed thinking, Nefertiti nestled in the crook of Roxy’s body as she lay curled up on her side. Roxy buried her hand in Nefertiti’s long white fur, feeling the scruff of her cat’s neck between her fingers, her fur tickling the back of her hand.
“I have one job, Neffi, one important thing—I have to make good on my promise to Dr. Jack. Even though he’s been released, I have a feeling that Detective Johnson will still be on his back. Our favorite policeman will be trying ever harder to gather evidence against him, I’m sure of it.” Neffi looked up at Roxy and gave a big yawn, her small, pink tongue curling outward sensuously.
Roxy carried on kneading her fur and talking. “When I make a promise, I do my best to follow through, it’s only right. So today, I must take things up a notch. I have to find out who really killed Meredith. And that means I must speak to that scary businessman, Royston Lamontagne.” Roxy rolled on to her back and stared at her bedroom’s white stuccoed ceiling. “But not via that assistant of his. Perhaps Charles has his number. Meredith must have liaised with him directly at some point.”
Charles was already in the dining room when Roxy made her way down. He was at the window looking out over the cobbled street. He looked much better than he had the previous evening.
“Good morning, Charles,” Roxy said softly, walking up to him and putting her hand gently on his arm. “How was your night?”
Charles turned to smile down at her. He was a tall man, and Roxy was short. “Good morning, Roxy. I slept like a baby, thank you for asking. Sage performed some reiki on me, I believe that’s what she said it was, and I fell asleep partway through. When I woke up, she was gone, and it was morning. I feel like angels have been stitching me back together in my sleep.”
Roxy smiled at the imagery. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Can I get you something to eat? Drink?”
“I’ve been across the courtyard and had some coffee and a piping hot beignet with your friend, Elijah, already.” He patted his stomach. “It was just what I needed.”
“Perfect.” Roxy hesitated as she attempted to formulate her request. “Honestly, Charles, I want to talk to Royston Lamontagne about…well, I want to talk to him. I was wondering if you had his number. And if you’d be willing to give it to me?”
“Yes, I have it. Royston gave it to me after…well, you know. He told me to call if I needed anything.” Charles reached into his pocket for his phone before pausing, his head cocked on one side. “Roxy, are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. It’s certainly not your job. And I’m not asking you to. If you want to help solve the case, you’re most welcome. I’m just concerned for you. This is a police job. It’s not for you.”
“Oh!” Roxy wondered how he’d known why she wanted to talk to Lamontagne. “I’m fine with it, I am. Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look. And for those moments when I fall, I have the best friends around me to pick me right back up again.”
Charles smiled. “You’re a brave young woman, Roxy.”
She smiled back. “No, not really. It’s simply that I believe very much in justice.”
“That’s very admirable of you. Let me get Mr. Lamontagne’s number.” He scrolled through his contacts.
Roxy tapped the number into her phone. “Thank you so much, Charles.”
Charles touched her gently on the arm and looked into her eyes. “Thank you, Roxy. Thank you.”
Roxy didn’t waste a moment. She hurried into the kitchen, fixed herself a coffee—she was too wired to eat—then headed into her office. Nefertiti was sitting in a box of printer paper grooming herself, but Roxy was so focused on what she was about to do, that she didn’t even notice her. Sitting at her desk, Roxy stared at her phone for a moment before confidently pressing the call button.
Royston Lamontagne picked up within two rings. “Who’s this?” he demanded.
“It’s Roxy Reinhardt, manager of the Funky Cat Inn.”
“Who?”
Roxy drew herself up and spoke a little louder. “Roxy Reinhardt, manager of…”
“The Funky Cat Inn. Got it,” he said. “Yes. I’m not deaf. Have we met?”
Roxy heard a small yip in the background. Lamontagne must have his little dog with him.
“We have met, Mr. Lamontagne. I was in the room when Meredith Romanoff was shot dead.”
“Oh! The small blonde? Or the one with the eye patch?”
Roxy looked up. Unlike in her bedroom, the ceiling was wood-paneled and painted white. She pressed her lips together.
“Are you the one who showed up to my office unannounced?” Royston said. There was another small yip. “Stop it, Fenton.”
“Yes. Your assistant said to call to book an appointment, so I’m calling now. I want to talk to you…”
“About what?”
“I think it might be better to talk in person,” said Roxy.
“Why would I do that?”
“I want to talk is all.”
“I don’t do talking for no good reason.”
“I wanted to see if you knew anything, about Meredith’s murder. If you had any information that might shed some light on who might have done it.”
“If I did, I’d have given it to the police.”
“Yes, but…”
“Look, I don’t have time to entertain any amateurs. I have a large and demanding business to run. Goodbye.” Lamontagne rang off.
Roxy banged the palm of her hand on her desktop so suddenly that Nefertiti mewled loudly. She jumped out of the printer paper box and ran from the room.
“Neffi! Sorry!” Roxy called after her, but the cat was gone. Roxy half-rose from her chair to go after her when her phone rang again. It was Royston Lamontagne. Roxy snatched her phone up and banged the “accept call” button with the pad of her finger. “Yes?”
“Meet me at the club tonight. XOXO. Frenchmen Street. Midnight. You’ve got five minutes.” The phone went dead.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Roxy walked back and forth as she considered what had just happened and what it might mean before grabbing her phone and her bag and rushing over the street to Elijah’s Bakery.
Elijah, dressed in a violet suit, met Roxy and Nat in the street between their two businesses. A black shirt, tie, and black, metal-tipped, winklepickers completed his outfit. Roxy hadn’t known what to wear but had decided to glam it up. She wore a rainbow-sequined, bodycon dress with blue shoes and a matching clutch. Nat wore what comprised 98% of her wardrobe—a band t-shirt, black jeans, and boots. It was chilly, so she’d brought a man’s oversized jacket to keep herself warm while Roxy wore a shawl. It was 11 PM and the stars were bright. All three of them were in constant motion as they anticipated their night out.
“Okay, sugars! Let’s be on our way,” Elijah cried, rubbing his hands together.
“Where is this place, exactly? What is this place, Elijah?” Roxy had never been to a club in the city before. She had created all kinds of fantasies about XOXO in the hours since Royston Lamontagne had told her to meet him there.
“It’s an underground jazz club. My friend Alphonse runs it,” Elijah said.
“You really do know everyone involved in New Orleans nightlife, don’t you?” Nat said.
Elijah shrugge
d. “Pretty much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THEY WALKED TO the end of the street and hailed a cab. Ten minutes later it pulled up at the corner of Frenchmen Street. The driver couldn’t get any closer to their destination. The way was barred by a band and their audience. A large number of musicians, Roxy counted twelve, were playing a combination of trumpets, trombones, clarinets, saxophones, and a set of bass drums. The loud, rhythmic jazz sounds from the impromptu curbside concert caused tourists, who had spread out across the street watching them, to dance, nod, and jiggle in time with the beat. Beyond them, clubs and stores were lit up in neon blue and yellow.
After pausing to listen to the band for a while, Roxy, Elijah, and Nat made their way down toward the club, and as they did so, music poured out from the buildings on either side of the street every few yards.
“Man, I can hear all kinds of music—jazz, blues, reggae, rock,” Nat said.
“They play some of the best live music in the world on Frenchmen Street,” Elijah said. “I’m surprised you’ve never been down here before, Nat. This is your home, where your heart is.” They had to stop speaking for the moment as the sound from another roadside performance meant they couldn’t hear each other speak. A quartet of men in pork pie hats blasted out jazz music from a saxophone, clarinet, drum, and a piano—on wheels.
“Oh, I don’t kn—whoa!” Nat swerved to avoid clashing with a troupe of hula-hoopers who were walking calmly down the street, flickering, lighted hula hoops spinning around their waists so fast they were a blur. To their right, a man stood reading poetry from a lectern. All around them, locals and sightseers milled, causing Roxy, Nat, and Elijah to slow their pace to that of the crowd even though they were anxious to go faster.
“Wow, this is quite the place!” Roxy exclaimed. “It’s like Mardi Gras without the costumes.”
“XOXO is just there,” Elijah called pointing to his right.
Roxy looked over, but all she could see was a big sign draped across the railings of a balcony that announced a musical theatre production later in the month. “Really? Where do we go? It’s all dark.” Roxy looked up at the building Elijah had stopped in front of.
Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set Page 45
