“Thank you,” Roxy said gratefully. “You are both fantastic. I’ll call Dr. Jack now and get the room organized.”
Nat shook her head in wonderment as Roxy made the call. “Is it shy, timid, little Roxy Reinhardt planning this?”
Roxy grinned. “I guess so!” She spoke into her phone. “Dr. Jack, can I use the back room tonight?” Roxy cradled her cell to her ear while she made herself a café au lait. “Is it open for use yet?”
“Sure,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
“Um… just a little experiment.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’ll tell you later. I’m so glad they released you,” said Roxy. “I was really worried.”
“The spirits are working hard to free me. I can feel it,” said Dr. Jack. “It isn’t over yet though, Roxy. When Johnson released me, he said he was working to nail me. According to his thinking, it had to be one of us in the room, and I’m the only one who had a disagreement with her.”
“Don’t worry,” said Roxy. “I’m still working on it. So is Sage. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Much appreciated, Roxy.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
Roxy hung up the phone and stirred two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. Getting Royston Lamontagne to attend the reenactment would be her biggest challenge. She considered calling him right away but decided to wait a little longer.
“Hello!” someone called out from beyond the kitchen.
Roxy hurried through. “Oh, hi Sam.”
Sam was walking through the lobby with his toolbox. “Hi, Roxy. How are things?”
Roxy followed him as he mounted the three flights of stairs to the loft. “Good!” she said cheerfully.
Sam grinned. “And it’s still only 9 AM. Elijah told me you had quite a night last night.”
“Yeah, it was a bit wild.”
“People all over town are going to be asking who Nat is, you know?”
“Are they?”
“Sure they are. XOXO is the place for new talent in the city. Judging by the reaction Nat got, the music scene is not going to let her disappear into thin air. They’re going to be looking for her. I hope she’s ready for what’s coming.”
“I’m not sure she’s even given it a second thought. I think she was a bit tipsy, to be honest.”
Sam laughed. “Well, be ready for her. I’m not sure how long she’s got before she’s found, and her obscurity well and truly disappears.”
“Oh, dear. That might not be so good for her. I mean, she needs to stay on the down-low. I’d better tell Elijah not to say anything. His friend, Alphonse, runs the club. He saw us with Elijah. Immigration won’t care a thing about Nat’s singing voice if they find out she doesn’t have a visa.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Be prepared to hide her then. She won’t get a second chance.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“WHAT HAVE YOU got planned for today?”
“Today is floor staining day! Hence my glamorous attire,” he said, gesturing at his scruffy T-shirt and track pants. “I’m gonna be covered with navy blue splotches before the day is out.”
“I can’t wait to see what it looks like!”
“Me either,” said Sam. “Navy was a great idea of yours, Roxy.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m picturing a white four-poster bed, with blue covers to match the floor, velvet in winter… linen in summer.”
“Sounds nice,” he said. “I’ll leave that part up to you.”
“I need to get Nat up here for some more ideas. She’s got a better eye than me. Then she can hit the flea markets looking for New Orleans antiques to spruce up the room.” They’d reached the top of the stairs, just in front of the entrance door to the loft room.
“Well, just make sure she’s not singing while she’s doing it. Someone will hear her, and she needs to be our little secret.”
“It seems a shame to keep her for ourselves. She would benefit so much from being able to express herself completely.”
“Yeah, but if she doesn’t want to get shipped out on the next plane, that’s how it’ll have to be.” Sam sat down on the step and began to tie plastic bags around his shoes. “Just for a little bit of added glamor.” He winked at Roxy and she laughed.
He tied up the second bag with a flourish and stood up. “Right, I’d better get to work.”
“And I’m going to go organize my devious plan for tonight. Wish me luck.”
Sam gathered himself and stood up. “Devious plan?”
“I’ll explain later,” she said. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire on me.” She hesitated telling Sam of her plan, unsure of his reaction and not wanting his disapproval.
“You’re being very mysterious,” he said. “I hope you’re not doing something you shouldn’t.”
“I’m actually not sure of the legalities.” Roxy bit her lip, wondering if the plan was a little too crazy. “Anyway, just hope and pray and wish or whatever you have that Johnson sees sense and decides not to arrest me.”
Sam looked concerned. “Roxy, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, nothing much. See you, Sam.” Roxy quickly spun around to go down the stairs, eager to be away.
“See you…,” Sam said hesitantly. “Look, do you need me to do anything?” he called out. Roxy turned to look back at him. “You know, help fix something for you? I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’ll be fine,” Roxy said, more confidently than she felt. “I’m sure it will all be just fine. I know it.” But as she hurried down the stairs, butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she wasn’t at all fine.
She got back into her office and shut the door, grateful for the opportunity to be alone. There was a knock at the door, and Sage popped her head in. “Have you got time to look at these website updates, sugar?”
They spent a few minutes perusing the changes Sage had made. “All looks good to me. Thank you, Sage.”
“You know, you and I make a great team, Roxy.” Sage smiled her broad smile as she closed up her laptop. “We complement each other perfectly. Salt and pepper. Sweet and sour. Bread and butter. I am so delighted to be your friend.”
Roxy leaned her head on the much taller woman’s shoulder. “Likewise, Sage. Likewise.”
“See you tonight, honey-bun!” Sage wafted away like she’d wafted in, her robes flowing around her.
Roxy thought about calling Royston Lamontagne again. Instead, she gave her laptop keyboard a sharp tap and opened her social media accounts, replying to every comment on Instagram and checking out the progress of the competition she was hosting on Facebook. The prize was two free nights at the hotel, probably in the loft room Sam was renovating, a free dinner for two, and a bottle of champagne.
An hour later, she went back up to the loft to take some new pictures—one of the wheel-like window at the end, and one of Sam laying down the navy blue floor stain—but she didn’t linger. She posted them to her social media accounts and teased her followers about the grand reveal she’d do at the end once the loft conversion was complete.
There was another knock on her door. It was Nat. Behind her were George and Charles. “I’m going to take them down to the riverside, probably take in a cruise. Wanna come?”
“Sorry no, I can’t. What time will you be back?”
“Early evening, I expect.”
“Okay, don’t forget…” Roxy mouthed “the reenactment” and looked pointedly at Charles and George behind them. Nat raised her eyebrows confirming she understood. “Have a lovely time!”
Once they’d left, Roxy scurried across the alleyway to Elijah’s Bakery. Elijah was in the kitchen at the back. He was building an enormous pyramid out of profiteroles. “What’s up, girl?” he said as Roxy scurried in. He didn’t look up, concentrating as he was on finishing his confectionary creation.
“Elijah, I just wanted to remind you that if anyone comes asking about Nat, you don’t kno
w her. We need to protect her from the authorities.”
Elijah didn’t say anything. He piped chocolate ganache on top of the pastries that comprised his pyramid’s penultimate row, then using just his thumb and forefinger, eased the final profiterole on top. He stood back and admired his handiwork, a two-foot-tall construction made entirely out of pastry, chocolate, and cream. “There she goes.”
“How do you do that, Elijah?” Roxy asked distracted from the purpose of her visit for a moment as she admired his steady hand.
“Chemistry, engineering, and a lotta elbow grease, lovely girl. Now, what did you say? Nat? Of course, my lips are sealed. She will be a mystery, a sprite, a faerie with a beautiful voice. People will talk about her, but no one shall find her. I will quite enjoy playing along.” He drew his fingers from right to left across his mouth.
“Er, good. Right.” Roxy wondered what Elijah was planning, but decided she didn’t have time to explore things further just at the moment. “Thanks. Must dash.” Roxy scurried back the way she came and slipped back into the Funky Cat.
Now that she was alone in the hotel except for Sam who was busy on the loft space, she buzzed with half-excited, half-nervous energy as she continued to work, her mind half on her business tasks, and half on the murder scene reenactment she was going to stage later. In truth, she didn’t know how much information it would give her, but it was worth a try. She also knew she was procrastinating. It was time for her to call around to get all the suspects there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“MR. LAMONTAGNE?” ROXY said, in her most serious voice. She briefly closed her eyes as she tried to calm her nerves. Her stomach had been in knots as she’d set her phone number to private. She lowered her pitch and added a little Southern drawl to her tone, hoping the businessman wouldn’t notice the tremulous shake that was threatening to expose her as a fraud.
“Who’s this?” Royston Lamontagne barked as he picked up his phone.
“This is Officer Anna Brown of the New Orleans Police Department, sir.” Roxy winced. She felt awful—she’d never been one to lie, and it was a very uncomfortable feeling indeed.
“Yes, what is it?”
“I’m assisting Detective Johnson with his investigation, sir, and he’s instructed me to contact everyone who was at the scene of Meredith Romanoff’s murder. I appreciate that this is short notice, but we’re holding a reenactment of the crime scene this evening at the botanica where she was killed. You are obliged to attend.”
“What time?”
“7 PM, the same time as the original, um, meeting.”
“I’m not sure…”
“It is imperative, sir.”
Roxy heard pages flipping. Some people did still use paper calendars, then. “Okay. I’ll move things around to be there.”
Roxy's eyebrows shot up. She had expected much more resistance and felt a surge of relief. She forced her eyebrows to return to their normal position as she composed herself again. “Thank you, Mr. Lamontagne. I must impress upon you that your attendance is mandatory. Failure to show up could result in your arrest.”
“I’ll be there, Officer.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Goodbye, sir.”
Roxy hit the “end call” button. Her hands were shaking, and she felt sick. It had sounded like such a good idea in her head. Only now was she realizing how much of a risk she was taking. Surely she would get arrested.
She wanted to call Lamontagne back immediately, tell him it was all a joke and that he didn’t have to go anywhere, but it was too late. She’d already committed the crime. There was nothing she could do to take it back. Her only hope was that she could uncover evidence that would expose the murderer. Then, perhaps Johnson would go easy on her.
Now that she had lied to Lamontagne and there was nothing to be gained by abandoning her plan, Roxy pushed herself to call Terah Jones. This time she played herself.
“Hi, it’s Roxy,” she said.
“Hello,” Terah said tightly. “Called to accuse me, have you?”
“No,” said Roxy.
“Hmm. What can I do for you?”
“We’re reconstructing the scene of the murder tonight,” Roxy said. “You know, to work out if we can deduce any more information about who might have killed Meredith.”
“Who’s we?”
“Um… well, everybody, all of us who were there—Charles and George and me and Dr. Jack and Royston Lamontagne. And you.”
“No, I mean, who’s putting this together?”
Roxy knew she was about to get a lecture on meddling in an investigation. “It’s happening at Dr. Jack’s place.”
“Oh, sure, that’s a good idea,” Terah said. “Let’s closet ourselves in a dark room, the scene of a murder, with the killer. They’ll probably murder another one of us, you know, just for fun.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that.”
“You are far too sure of yourself, Roxy Reinhardt.”
Roxy sighed and switched her cell phone to the other ear. “Will you come?”
“I don’t know. When is it?”
“7 PM, tonight.”
“That’s not convenient.”
“But everyone will be there,” said Roxy. “You’ll be the only one missing. It would ruin it.”
“I don’t know what good it will do, me sitting there with nothing to say, and all of us reliving our trauma.”
“I know, it might come to nothing,” said Roxy. “But there’s a chance we might uncover something new, something that might make all the difference. I think it’s worth taking that chance. For Meredith’s sake.”
Terah sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you so much,” Roxy said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Terah began to ask, “Are the police involved in…”
But Roxy only heard the start of her question before she hung up her phone. By the time Terah’s question had registered, it was too late. Roxy fired off a text to George telling him that the reenactment was on and a few minutes later, he wrote back to confirm that he and Charles would be there.
Roxy sat at her desk for a little while, watching a tiny spider climb her office wall. It was a mighty task for such a little guy, and it had to scramble several times when it lost its footing. Each time, though, the spider recovered and went on its way, eventually reaching the ceiling and disappearing into a tiny hole under the molding.
As she watched the spider climb its Mount Everest, Roxy wondered what on earth had happened to her life. She’d gone from successful hotel owner to law-breaker in one phone call. From timid, beaten down, naïve innocent to brazen liar in just a matter of months. She’d had plenty of moments of doubt as she’d made this transition, but like the little spider, she’d recovered and carried on. Now she wondered if she hadn’t gone too far. Perhaps she had. She’d now crossed a line, for sure, but recognizing her progress made her feel powerful. It was freeing. She felt unburdened, a little reckless, and a little scared of what she might be capable. She reminded herself that her transformation was for a good cause—finding Meredith Romanoff’s murderer was paramount.
Roxy heard a clock chime outside in the lobby and roused herself. It was lunchtime. She headed to the kitchen to make her lunch and Sam’s. Instead of the usual po’ boys, she whipped up some fried crab cakes. As she mixed the crab meat with flour, eggs, some seasoning, and deep-fried it in a skillet, she thought about what she might learn later. She hoped that someone might drop a clue, or have a reaction, or some insight or memory that hadn’t been remembered prior. Guilt or grief might prompt a confession, but that might be too much to ask for. Nevertheless, she felt excitement, optimism, and hope that the mystery of Meredith’s murder might soon be resolved.
“Wow, what a treat,” said Sam, when Roxy appeared with his lunch. He was standing on the landing outside the loft. He closed the door as she ascended the last few steps and sat on the floor. Roxy sat on the top stair. Sam devoured three crab cake
s in nine bites and wolfed down the salad just as quickly. He drained the glass of passionfruit juice she’d brought up, too.
Roxy laughed. “Looks like staining wood is hungry work! How’s progress?”
“Take a look for yourself,” Sam said, reaching to open the door.
The smell of the stain was so strong and pungent that it cut through Roxy’s nostrils. The navy blue floor gleamed, though. It was still wet, making the floor like a vast indoor lake.
“Wow!” she said, standing. “This looks incredible, Sam! Thank you!”
He winked. “Only the best for Roxy and the Funky Cat Inn.”
Roxy paused on the stairs and watched him for a moment: Sam, with his Rolls Royce, his good heart, his funds from a questionable source, and his helpful and protective ways. “Sam… can I ask you a quick question?”
“You can ask it quickly or slowly, it’s all good with me.” He stood now too, towering above her.
“I was just wondering, why are you spending so long renovating this loft for me? I mean, you surely have a lot of other things to do, and I could just pay someone.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me to do it anymore?” he asked, anxiety springing into his eyes.
“No, no, not at all!” Roxy said as she quickly pressed a hand to his arm. “I’m happy, no, more than happy, no, delighted with the work you’re doing on it. But…it’s just…you’re such a busy guy, you could be doing much more good with your time, and I don’t see why…” All the words twisted up inside her head, and she was sure he was getting her all wrong. “Oh, don’t worry. Forget I said anything.”
“No,” he said. He looked at her with his kind eyes. “I enjoy doing this. And besides, I like spending time here. There’s nowhere else that feels so…comforting.” He grinned. “I like being around.”
Roxy smiled back. “I like you being around, too.”
3 Louisiana Lies Page 17
