Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set

by Alison Golden

  “No, but…”

  “This is not cool,” he said. “Not cool at all. Louise has got herself in too deep. And now you’re doing the same. This is going to blow up in your faces. Johnson might even put you in jail for knowing about the phone and doing nothing about it.”

  Roxy had been so wrapped up in her investigation, she hadn’t even thought of that. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. “He wouldn’t,” she said, but her voice wobbled. She imagined herself in jail with a bunch of tough women. From a steady job with a steady boyfriend, renting a nice apartment with savings in the bank…to that? Maybe this move had been a terrible idea after all. Maybe she was crazy even being in New Orleans, let alone getting herself mixed up in all of this. “Johnson wouldn’t be that cruel,” she said, although she suspected that he would.

  “Look, Roxy, I don’t mean to be harsh, but you have to be realistic. Both you and Louise have come into town and gotten yourselves wrapped up in a serious issue, an issue that could have big implications. Life-changing implications. I know New Orleans is a mystical place, but don’t get caught up in the hype of Mardi Gras and Sage’s spiritualism and think that magic will fix this. It won’t. Despite the wonder of this city, it isn’t immune from the harsher aspects of life. It won’t give you a happy-ever-after ending just because. Reality is dirty and gritty and messy here, just like everywhere else.”

  Roxy didn’t know what to say. She felt heavy all over. Her limbs were like lead. “Right,” she said, still trying to inject a little sass into her voice.

  Sam sighed. “I’m not trying to be unpleasant, Roxy,” he said, his voice softening again. “I just want you to be realistic.”

  Now, Roxy felt patronized. She shot him a glare. “You just don’t want to consider that Elijah might be a murderer,” she repeated.

  “I don’t know about that.” Sam shook his head. “I certainly don’t think he is, but maybe I’m wrong. I hope not. But the truth will out. The police will find out who did it. It won’t be tourists solving this, digging around like they’re on a murder mystery weekend.”

  “Stop calling me a tourist!” Roxy snapped.

  “But that’s what you are,” he said softly. “You’ve only been here a few days. You don’t really know New Orleans yet. She’s a mysterious, unpredictable old girl.”

  Roxy, her eyes gleaming furiously, stood. “I’m going back to Evangeline’s. I’ll take my washing, if you don’t mind.”

  “Don’t you want me to drive it over? I have laundry for the others, too.”

  “I’ll take it all,” Roxy said icily.

  “You sure? It’s a big pile.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll take you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Sam sighed and went into the back room. He came out with several parcels of washing, all wrapped up with paper and string. “Here you go.” He put them on his table.

  Roxy stacked them and picked them up carefully. She just about managed to carry them all and started forward, peering over the top. One parcel fell off, but Sam caught it and popped it back on. “Look,” he said, when they were so close she could smell the deep, alluring musk of his aftershave. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just…”

  Roxy put on a big smile. It was like a weapon. “You didn’t make me feel bad. You made me feel more certain,” she said, making for the door. “Bye, Sam.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “WE’RE PULLING OUT all the stops tonight!” Evangeline said. “Louise is taking over my business. We’re celebrating!” Evangeline’s eyes were bright, but her voice was brittle and Roxy suspected that Evangeline, despite her brave face, wasn’t as happy as she seemed. Old age was forcing her to hand her guesthouse over, and Roxy knew that Evangeline would be feeling burning shame and grief at her losing her independence, her livelihood, and her beloved building.

  “Come and help in the kitchen,” Nat had said, catching Roxy as she came back from her angry visit to the laundry. “We’re cooking up a storm!”

  Roxy was still piled high with parcels and decided to take them to her room. She’d distribute them later. Nefertiti lazily looked up when she came in. Roxy tickled the cat under her chin as she lay curled up in a chair before rushing down the stairs to help. Roxy felt so mixed up and confused that she thought a good cooking session with Nat and Evangeline, both fierce, no-nonsense women, would make her feel better.

  The warm aroma of Creole spices drifted from the kitchen around the ground floor and up the stairs, immediately making Roxy feel at home again. Forget Sam, and forget the murder investigation for now.

  As soon as Roxy stepped into the kitchen, which was thick with steam and spice, Evangeline called out, “It’s beignets or nothing for breakfast, cher. This kitchen’s occupied all day.”

  “I came to help,” Roxy said. She’d gotten up so early, it was hard to believe that it wasn’t yet ten o’clock.

  “Aha!” Evangeline said. “Another pair of hands. Suits me.”

  Nat grinned and held out the plate of beignets to Roxy. “And you can’t eat as you go, so have your fill now.”

  Roxy took one gratefully. Despite her fast metabolism, she was sure she’d get to be the size of a house if she lived in New Orleans permanently. She took a bite. “So what are we making?”

  “A Creole feast!” Nat said excitedly, taking a pan from a cupboard and whirling it around.

  “Stop that, or you’ll put someone’s eye out!” Evangeline snapped at Nat. She was chopping copious amounts of onion and garlic at lightning speed. “Let me tell you what we’re making, cher: a little turtle soup to start, then a crawfish pie…”

  “My absolute favorite,” Nat said.

  “Next, our main dish.” Evangeline swelled with pride. “Barbecued shrimp with Eggs Hussarde, collard greens, smothered okra, potato casserole on the side, and a jalapeño shrimp cornbread.”

  “In little ramekins,” Nat added happily. “They look so cute.”

  “Wow,” said Roxy. “That sounds like quite a spread.”

  “You betcha, cher,” Evangeline said. “It’s a mashup of my grandmomma’s classics. You won’t find that combination anywhere else, not in New Orleans, not in the whole world.”

  “I can believe that,” Roxy said. She felt her mood lift.

  “And to finish, New Orleans bread pudding with whiskey sauce,” said Nat. She was practically bouncing around the kitchen. Roxy guessed her mood was partly to do with the feast, but mostly because she wasn’t facing the threat of deportation any longer.

  “Now, as a clever girl, you’ll already have guessed that we’ll be on our feet all darn day,” Evangeline said. “And there’s plenty to do. Want to chop a mountain of onions?” Roxy wrinkled her nose.

  “Well then, you know how to purge crawfish?”

  Roxy giggled. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

  “I could do it at four years old,” Evangeline said. “Every good N’awlins girl can. Nat, show her.”

  Nat took Roxy by the hand and dragged her into a small back room that had an outside door. She pointed at a large bucket of squirming crawfish. “I hope you’re not squeamish!” she said.

  Roxy hadn’t seen crawfish before. She looked at their shiny black shells and long red pincers. They waved at her, and she did, in all honesty, feel a little nervous of them, but she wouldn’t let on to Nat. She pasted a big smile on her face. “I’m ready.”

  “Good. You have to purge to get all the mud out of them,” Nat said, getting out a big basin. “Right, tip all the crawfish in there.”

  Roxy did so.

  “Next we pour a bunch of salt over them.” Nat grabbed a bag of salt from the side and sprinkled liberally. “Then hot water. Fill up that jug there.”

  Roxy filled the jug with hot water.

  “Go ahead, pour it in the bucket.”

  Roxy poured, and the water began to turn brown.

  “Ew,” Nat said. “See
all that muck?” She kneeled and began to stir the crawfish around the basin with a metal spoon. The crawfish squirmed and splashed in the water. Nat looked up at Roxy and grinned. “New Orleans doesn’t look so glamorous now, huh?”

  Roxy laughed.

  Nat poked around with the spoon. “We have to fish out any dead ones. Evangeline will go bananas if they end up in the pot. Oh, look, there’s one,” she said, scooping it out. She flicked it in the trash. “Now we gotta drain them.”

  Soon they were back in the kitchen over a boiling pot of water. Nat added garlic powder, cayenne pepper, sticks of butter, oranges, lemons, and a whole load of powder called “Crab Boil.”

  Evangeline stood with her arms folded, casting a watchful eye over their progress. “Let that cook a little.”

  Roxy stood holding the large strainer of wriggling crawfish, as Evangeline poured some hot sauce into the bubbling mix.

  “You’re gonna burn our mouths!” Nat protested.

  Roxy coughed as the mixture sent its spicy steam into her face.

  Evangeline laughed at her. “A little spice is good for the soul, cher. Now tip in them crawfish, and let’s get this pot goin’.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ALL DAY THEY cooked. Roxy grabbed a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, and the time flew by as she thoroughly enjoyed herself. Before long, the day turned into evening, and most everything was ready.

  “Now you two, go put on your glad-rags while I finish up here,” said Evangeline.

  Roxy headed upstairs and fed Nefertiti. She couldn’t wait to have a hot shower, but before she did, she flopped down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. Her feet were aching, her whole body was aching.

  “Oh, Nef-nef,” she said, sighing happily. “Do you really think New Orleans will become our home?” Nefertiti was far too interested in her bowl of food to reply.

  Roxy’s earlier rush of anger toward Sam had blown itself out. All that chopping, stirring, boiling, and cleaning had purged her of it. She could even concede that he was probably right. She should just enjoy her time here and leave the investigating to the pros. If Evangeline wound up in court, of course Sam would pay for the best lawyers and get her off. Why had Roxy ever felt any of this was her responsibility? She looked back on it all and felt a little embarrassed. It was as if she had been a child playing detective.

  It had felt like an adventure, but Sam was right. Roxy wasn’t an investigator. She was a call-center operator. Actually, she wasn’t even that anymore. As he said, she was a tourist, just a visitor passing through.

  Roxy felt her mood about to take a nosedive. Her mind started to fill with the same old anxieties and questions about where she would go, what she would do, and how she would survive.

  “Nope,” she said out loud. “Not today.”

  The evening was going to be wonderful. They would feast, Sam and Elijah would play their wonderful jazz music, and the whole world would come to a standstill for a while. They couldn’t escape reality completely, but they could lock it out of the guesthouse for a few hours.

  Roxy decided to look on the bright side. She took a long hot shower and padded around the room in her slippers, humming happy tunes to keep her spirits up. She managed to remember one from the parade that they’d pumped out of the speakers over and over again, and it made her feel cheerful and relaxed.

  She planned her evening. She would put on a little makeup and some jewelry and if she paired that with one of her freshly laundered dresses, she might feel like a million bucks. Roxy walked over to the chair where she had left the bundles she’d brought back from Sam’s. She carried them to the bed and immediately noticed she had a problem.

  The outsides of the parcels weren’t labeled with names, but rather with numbers. So whose was whose? Roxy couldn’t tell. She pondered for a moment. There was nothing for it. She’d have to open each parcel to find out to whom it belonged.

  Roxy slipped the string that bound the bundles to the side, and opened them one by one, sifting through the clothes deliberately. It wouldn’t do to mix them up. One parcel contained a pair of pants and as Roxy picked it up, she felt something hard and smooth and flat in the pocket. Slipping her fingers inside, she pulled out a laminated card. Her heart started thumping.

  No way.

  It couldn’t be possible.

  Roxy stared at the card.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said. The world was spinning. “Oh, my gosh.”

  As Roxy sashayed down the stairs, she felt rather glamorous. She was wearing her red dress and her big, gold, hoop earrings while on her feet were espadrilles, their red straps crisscrossing her ankles and up her slim legs. She didn’t normally go in for standout pizazz, she was modest in her choice of clothing, more of a wallflower, but tonight she felt a sense of confidence she’d never felt before. Her uncertainty and confusion were gone; determination burned deep in her soul.

  “Oh wow, you look gorgeous!” Nat said as they met in the hallway.

  Nat wore her regular clothes, only with a bit more bling; on her feet were shiny bottle-green boots with sparkly laces. “Love your boots,” Roxy said.

  Nat grinned. “Thanks! They’re my favorites.” She wrinkled her nose and smiled.

  Roxy gasped as she walked into the dining room. It had been completely transformed since breakfast. One long, grand dining table covered with huge, heavy, white tablecloths bisected the room. There was so much silver, china, and crystal that Roxy wasn’t sure how the table legs didn’t buckle. White plates lay on gold placemats, and down the center sat candelabras, white candles flickering. Between the candelabras were silver platters upon which the food they were about to feast on lay under silver covers.

  “This looks amazing!” Roxy said.

  It smelled heavenly, too, that very specific New Orleans smell of deep, rich spices, meat, seafood, and baked bread, all rolled into one.

  Sage had already arrived. Even though she was a vegetarian and the feast most decidedly was not, Sage would not miss it for anything. She wore a long flowing dress in a deep-sea blue. It was covered in lace and had draping sleeves and gorgeous little blue beaded details. Her natural hair shone with bouncy coils, and a wreath of blue flowers was woven into them.

  She smiled serenely at Roxy.

  “You look…” Roxy was practically speechless. “You look…like a sea goddess!”

  Sage laughed in such a deep, throaty way that Roxy felt the whole room warm up. “What a lovely thing to say!”

  Soon everyone else arrived—Sam in a regular black tuxedo, Elijah in an irregular tuxedo, one with a loud orange African print. Louise wore a tight, bright yellow dress that accentuated her ample curves, and Evangeline, a pretty floral frock.

  Nat looked around at them all and laughed, “Wow, we make quite a picture!”

  “I’ll say!” added Roxy. She and Sam shared a warm look over the table, letting each other know that they weren’t still mad with each other.

  “Come on, people, this ain’t some fashion show!” Evangeline said. “Let’s eat!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THE MURDER, THE guesthouse handover, and the drama were all forgotten as they sank into the heartiest cuisine New Orleans had to offer. Plenty of wine washed it all down, and laughter echoed around the dining room.

  After a long day, Roxy was hungry and eager to try everything but was a little wary of the soup. It was the first time she’d eaten turtle. Evangeline saw her clutching her spoon and looking down at her bowl nervously.

  “There are seven kinds of meat on a turtle, cher,” Evangeline said. “Some folk say that it tastes of turkey, fish, veal, or pork, depending on the part you get. Nat and me, we take out the fish parts and leave the rest. That’s how I learned it from my grandmomma. Give it a taste and see if it isn’t one of the best things you ever did eat.”

  Roxy forced a smile. It did smell delicious, which made tasting it a little easier. “Here’s goes,” she said. She sipped a little off her spoon. “Ooh, it does t
aste like pork! It’s lovely!”

  Evangeline nodded proudly, “You bet, cher.”

  Next, they had crawfish pie, Nat’s favorite. The crawfish they’d cleaned earlier had been mixed with vegetables and stuffed into a pot pie. Each of them got a hearty slice.

  As if that wasn’t enough, the Eggs Hussarde that came afterward was a truly special dish. It comprised a poached egg blanketed with hollandaise sauce and draped over bacon and mushrooms. The bacon and mushrooms had been soaked in their own rich, red wine sauce and all sat on top of an English muffin. To the side, there were large barbecued shrimp, browned with burnt sugar, alongside collard greens, okra cooked with crushed tomatoes, and potato casserole with melted cheese. A small ramekin filled with jalapeño shrimp cornbread completed the dish.

  Roxy was so full from the earlier courses it took her a little time to get through this one, but she persevered because it was so delicious. As she ate, she listened to the sounds of friends enjoying themselves—the clink of glasses, the peals of laughter, the sounds of animated chatter.

  Dessert followed, and once they were all done with their bread pudding in whiskey sauce, Evangeline clapped loudly. “Everyone, please listen,” she said. Her expression and voice were serious, in sharp contrast to just a moment before. The place fell into silence.

  “Now is the time,” Evangeline said, “to hand over the ownership of my darlin’ buildin’.” She reached down into a bag that was under the table and pulled out a contract. Tears welled in her eyes. Then she coughed, pulled herself up straight and said, “No time for nonsense. We’re here to do business. Louise, please join me.”

  Adrenaline pumped through Roxy’s body. She looked at everyone at the table. They were all fixed on the scene between Evangeline and Louise. “I don’t think you want to do that,” Roxy said, her voice low.

  “I don’t?” Evangeline said.

  Louise and Roxy’s eyes locked for a moment. Louise squinted.