CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
KNOCK, KNOCK. THERE was a rap at the bathroom door. Roxy leaned over and opened it.
“Hello,” Terah said, scanning Roxy like she was assessing enemy territory for threats. With her one good eye, she took in Roxy’s unusual position on the toilet and then looked up into her face.
“Hi, Terah,” Roxy replied, her eyes shining and her voice unnaturally bright. “Not long until we start now. All we have to do is wait for George and Royston to finish their reading, then we can begin the reenactment.”
“I hope it’s not too long,” said Terah. “I’ve got the German Shepherds tied outside, and they don’t like being restricted for long.”
Roxy glanced through the open door and saw the large dogs lounging outside on a patch of grass out front, shaded from the early evening sun by a tree. They were muzzled. She seriously hoped that Terah was not the killer.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable while we wait?” Roxy asked.
“Yes, please,” Terah said tightly and gave the least genuine smile Roxy had seen in a long time, probably since she last saw her co-workers at Modal Appliances. “You could leave. I’d like to use, um, the bathroom.”
Roxy sat up. “Oh, right. What for exactly?”
Terah eyed Roxy strangely again, “For the purposes you usually associate with a bathroom.”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” Roxy jumped up and squeezed past Terah. “I’d completely forgotten where I was. Excuse me.”
Outside in the botanica, the bathroom door shut behind her, Roxy folded her arms around her waist and drummed her fingertips against her arms, willing Terah to hurry up. She didn’t like leaving George and Royston unobserved. Royston still had a very strong motive for wanting George dead. After a couple of minutes, she walked up to the counter.
“I’m worried, Dr. Jack. One of them in the back room could be the killer. I don’t like them being alone in there together.”
“They’re not alone. Charles has just gone in,” Dr. Jack said. As he said it, there was a yell from the back room, and a thump as something hit the wall.
“Oh, my gosh!” Roxy ran to the door and tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Shouts and more thumps were coming from inside. She tried again, but still, the door wouldn’t give way. “Dr. Jack! The door’s stuck! We must get inside,” she said. The sound of a scream rose from inside the room, followed by a crash and a heavy thud.
“What’s going on?” said Terah Jones, rushing up.
“No time to explain!” said Roxy. She stepped to one side as Dr. Jack tried the door, but he couldn’t open it either.
“Come on!” Roxy said.
Dr. Jack pressed his whole weight against it, and it budged a little way. “It looks like something’s pressed up against the door. Stand back!” Terah and Roxy gave Jack room as he ran at the door with his shoulder.
“I’m not getting involved,” Roxy heard Terah say before there was a big bang as Dr. Jack burst through the door in a charge that was very unspiritual-like in its execution.
As soon as he was through, Dr. Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Roxy rushed up behind him and peered around his body. “Look,” he said. The window was wide open. The curtains flapped a little in the breeze. Jack edged toward the light, looking around the room. Roxy heard a moan. On the floor, lay the long, languid figure of Royston Lamontagne. He was holding his head in one hand, the other covered his eyes as he rolled from side to side. Fenton was scurrying around the edge of the room, yipping constantly as he looked for a means of escape.
“Where are Charles and George?” Roxy whispered.
“They must have gone out through the window.” Dr. Jack turned to her, his eyes wide. “Roxy, what the heck is going on?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Jack, I don’t know! Could one of them have taken the other hostage? Or are both of them involved together?” They stared at each other as the ramifications of what Roxy had just said dawned on them.
The screaming sounds of police sirens filled the air. Roxy and Dr. Jack looked out of the open window to see two squad cars coming to an abrupt halt at the curb. Johnson and Trudeau jumped out of the first as horns continued to blare and lights flashed. Under the tree, the German Shepherds jumped to their feet and pulled at their leashes, barking loudly. Their muzzles prevented them from being more threatening, but their bared teeth and rigid, tense musculature were intimidating nonetheless. Johnson and Trudeau eyed them carefully and gave them a wide berth.
“Roxy Reinhardt!” Johnson barked, striding inside the botanica.
“Detective Johnson!” she said, rushing from the back room into the store. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have to tell you…”
“You are under arrest for impersonating a police officer,” Johnson said, slapping the cuffs on her wrists. “You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law…”
“What?” said Dr. Jack. “No!”
“You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future.” Trudeau took over from Johnson, speaking so fast Roxy would have barely been able to understand him even if a torrent of blood hadn’t been rushing through her head so loudly that she could barely hear anything at all. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish.”
“No! Look! Listen! I…”
“Yada, yada, yada,” Johnson said.
“How did you know?” Roxy asked.
“How did I know what?”
“That I pretended to be a police officer?”
“We’re detectives, Ms. Reinhardt. It’s our job to ask questions and find out things. You know, detect. Come on, let’s continue this down at the station. You’re headed for a cell, Roxy Reinhardt. Finally.”
He clasped her upper arm so tightly that the force of his grip almost lifted her from the ground. He practically carried her to the patrol car. As he passed Terah who had flattened herself against the wall of the botanica, he nodded briefly.
Dr. Jack rushed around them and blocked Johnson’s path.
“Don’t arrest her,” he said, “please.”
“She committed a crime.”
“She means no harm. She was just trying to…”
“I don’t care if she was trying to feed orphans in Bangladesh,” said Johnson. “A crime is a crime.”
“Please, Detective, listen…” said Roxy.
“Trudeau!” he hollered.
“Please, Detective Johnson,” she continued. “I was just working on the mystery of Meredith’s murder. Charles and George have disappeared. Charles is driving a rental car. I saw him carrying the car keys. One of them, or both of them, have beaten up Royston Lamontagne. Someone could be in danger, or two people could be getting away…”
“You think I care about your cute story?” Johnson said.
“Who’s in danger, Roxy?” Trudeau asked.
“Get her in the car!” Johnson barked, pushing Roxy at him.
“Hey!” Dr. Jack said. “Don’t manhandle her like that!”
“Excuse me?” Johnson said. “And don’t think I haven’t got my eye on you, Doctor. You’re not out of the woods yet.”
“George has been kidnapped!” Roxy shouted as Officer Trudeau led her toward the squad car. “I think!”
“A likely story,” Johnson said. “Just another one of your lies. Impersonating a crack detective now, are you?”
“No!” Roxy said, struggling against Trudeau’s firm grip. For such a tiny slip of a woman, her efforts were laudable but ultimately fruitless. “I know I made a mistake. A big mistake. I shouldn’t have pretended to be a police officer. But I…”
“Don’t bother,” Officer Trudeau said quietly. “Get in the car, then we’ll talk.”
“But…”
“Just trust me,” he said. “This’ll work out. I believe you.�
��
“You do?” She looked at him carefully, studying him.
He looked back, his eyes clear and free of mischief or malice. “I do. Get in the car.”
Roxy got in the backseat, finding it hard to maneuver herself with cuffs on her wrists even though they were quite loose, her wrists being tiny. She watched out of the police car window at the scene unfolding in front of the botanica.
Terah had come out to see her drive off while Dr. Jack was remonstrating fiercely with Johnson, his arms flying around, gesturing toward Roxy in the car.
In the back seat, the only thing Roxy could hear was Johnson hollering, “If you don’t shut the heck up right now, I’ll throw you in jail! Again.” His anger was making the German Shepherds a few feet away from him even more agitated, and they continued to bark without letting up.
Having shouted Dr. Jack down, Johnson stormed back to the patrol car, yanked the door open, and climbed into the passenger seat. He turned around to give Roxy a gleeful glare. “You just think you can do anything, don’t ‘cha?”
“I’m sorry!” Roxy said desperately. “I don’t know what I was thinking. But seriously, George and Charles are missing, and I think…”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with any of that,” said Johnson. “I’d advise you to sit back in your seat, shut up, and think about the disastrous consequences your recent actions are going to have on your formerly pretty little life.”
Trudeau got behind the wheel while Roxy, on the brink of crying with frustration, flung herself back in the seat and leaned her head against the headrest. Part of her still had the energy to protest, to repeatedly tell the two policemen that they were letting a murderer, maybe two, get away, but the futility of her situation weighed on her.
She slumped back against the worn leather and looked miserably out of the window as Trudeau started up the car and cruised back to the station. It began to rain heavily, seemingly out of nowhere, and the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the window began to settle her. She tipped her head forward and leaned it against the windowpane, feeling with relief the coolness of the glass against her skin.
Roxy had been arrested. The indignity made her feel small. She considered what Detective Johnson had said—how might her arrest affect the rest of her life?
Maybe there would be a big fine. Or a short period of jail time. She thought about her friends. Nat and Sam and Sage and Elijah would hold down the fort, maybe employ someone in the interim to keep things ticking over—wouldn’t they?
But what if they didn’t? What if they fired her and hired someone else? What if they banded together, called her a criminal, and let her languish in jail? What if they refused to return her letters, her calls? What if they adopted out Nefertiti, and Roxy lost her too?
Roxy’s mind had turned as dark as the sky. Her thoughts made her feel sick and her palms sweat. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and focused on the thrum of the patrol car’s engine as it cruised to its destination, bracing herself despite her cuffed hands against the bumps and jolts as they navigated the city streets. When they arrived out in front of the police station, the parking lot was busy, and they parked some way from the entrance. Johnson treated himself to the only umbrella leaving Trudeau to escort Roxy in the pouring rain. At least Trudeau had his police cap.
By the time she stepped into the police station, Roxy was shivering from cold and shock. She was drenched through, her clothes stuck to her. She looked and felt thoroughly miserable. In the dingy lobby, a scruffy man ahead of her emptied his pockets at the custody desk while an exhausted woman slept on one of the chairs, a free newspaper sliding off her lap onto the floor as she snored.
Roxy felt the weight of her lost hopes and dreams pull down her shoulders. Was this now her life? Disgrace? Humiliation? Loneliness? She thought back to her childhood. She felt she’d come full circle and then some. And now there was the question of George. And Charles. She might be disgraced, but what had happened to them?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“WE’RE BUSY CHASING down the other two. I haven’t time to talk to you now. Trudeau is in charge until I get back. So don’t even think of doing any funny business.” Roxy was sitting behind bars, her head spinning. “There are cameras in these cells, and I’ll have Trudeau reporting back to me with regular updates.” Johnson strode away but turned back. “I always knew you were trouble. Maybe now you’ll learn not to meddle.”
Roxy could not believe where she was. She was too stunned to cry or even feel any emotion at all. She sat on the cold hard bench, wringing her hands. All she could hear was the ticking of the wall clock in the hallway. Time dragged painfully slowly.
She wondered where George and Charles were. Was one of them in terrible danger? And if so, which one? She imagined Charles and George in a cemetery, Charles coolly lining George up with one of the graves so that he fell into it once Charles had shot him. She found it a struggle to visualize the scene, so she tried to imagine George shooting Charles in a temper, his hand shaking, his eyes bright with fury. She couldn’t visualize that scene at all.
“Officer Trudeau!” she called out. She shook the bars of her cell putting her entire body weight behind the action, but all they did was rattle. Nobody came. Her voice echoed around the empty corridor outside her cell and died without getting any response.
Roxy sat on the bench for what felt like an eternity until finally, she heard the click of a door opening down the hallway. She rushed to the bars.
“Roxy.” It was Trudeau.
“Officer Trudeau!” she said her body flooding with relief. “You must help me. This case has gone very wrong. Seriously, we have to do something. People could be in danger!”
“Yeah, I hear you.” He unlocked the door and came into her cell, locking the door again behind him.
Roxy told him everything—how Meredith had stolen Terah’s boyfriend, how Lamontagne had lost a major business deal thanks to Voodoo performed by Meredith and George, what Lamontagne had told her about Charles being unsupportive of his wife, and her suspicions that he was trying to kill her, Roxy’s concerns that Charles was being unfaithful, and finally how George had been abused and downtrodden by his boss.
“Wow, it seems she made a lot of enemies. They all have a motive,” Trudeau said.
“When I set up the reenactment, I had no idea who the murderer was. I thought it was most likely Lamontagne. I thought it might jog memories or someone might say something incriminating. But now they’ve disappeared, I think it must be George or Charles, or perhaps they are in cahoots together!” Roxy started to wring her hands again.
“Okay, okay, calm down. I understand what you’re saying.”
“Oh, thank goodness! Thank you for believing me!”
“Now I didn’t say that missy, but we are on the case.”
Trudeau’s radio crackled. He pressed the button on the side and lifted it slightly so he could hear what was being said. “Suspect sighting AEO123KO Leonidas heading south toward Oak. 35 covering.” It made no sense to Roxy, but Trudeau’s eyes lit up. He spoke briefly into the radio, “35 stay back. 43 on its way.”
“I gotta run,” he said rattling his keys. “That was good news.”
“Huh?” Her situation seemed so dire that Roxy could barely process what he was saying.
“Romanoff’s car has been sighted. They’re still in the city. We put an APB out for them before we left the botanica.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Roxy said. Her eyes shone, and now she clasped her hands together.
“I’m gonna follow up now. Perhaps we can bring them in before Detective Johnson even knows they’ve been spotted.” He turned and stepped out of Roxy’s cell, grabbing the door.
Roxy quickly stuck out her hand to prevent him from closing it. “Can I… can I come with you? I might be able to help.”
Trudeau grimaced. “Absolutely not, Roxy. You’re under arrest. Johnson will have my head.”
“Please,” she said. “I did give yo
u all that intel. And I know them well. I might be able to advise you on how to approach when you find them. Yes, that’s it—you need me there. And besides, when you solve the case, Johnson won’t be able to say anything bad. You might even get a promotion.” Roxy’s words came out in a rush. She looked so eager—her eyes open wide, her eyebrows up as far as they could go, her whole body tense as she awaited Trudeau’s answer. Her eagerness made her look even younger than normal.
Trudeau regarded her. She could see him weighing the arguments. “Oh alright! You can come, but I’ll have to cuff you, otherwise, I’m breaking the law, and we’ll both end up in jail.”
“That’s fine,” said Roxy quickly. “Hurry, I don’t want them to get away. And I definitely don’t want to be sitting in here, wondering what’s going on.”
“Don’t do anything funny or stupid. Remember, you’re still in police custody.”
“Don’t worry,” said Roxy. “I won’t do a thing.”
Trudeau led her out of the cell and handcuffed her wrists in front of her. They hurried through the police station and got in the squad car, all the while Trudeau listening to his radio following the communication between Control and the car that was on Charles’ tail.
“Right,” Trudeau said. He buckled Roxy in the front passenger seat before looking down at his police-issue phone. Roxy watched as he navigated to a tracking app.
“Where is he?” she blurted out.
Trudeau looked at the screen and the flashing dot that was traveling across it. “He’s heading west on South Claiborne toward Boutte.”
“How quickly can we get there?”
Trudeau narrowed his eyes. “We’ll put the sirens on.”
The torrential rain had calmed to little more than a spit, but the roads were slick. Nevertheless, the police officer pressed his foot down hard on the gas and shot out of the precinct parking lot and into the street. Soon they were weaving through light traffic at high speed. Roxy had never ridden in a squad car with its sirens on before and found it quite exciting.
3 Louisiana Lies Page 19
