Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set

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Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set Page 37

by Alison Golden


  Nat gave her a cheeky grin. “Grillades and grits, coming up! But you sure you want just that? You don’t want the whole thing?”

  “No fear!” Roxy said, her eyes popping. “I wouldn’t be able to move for the rest of the day. And I need to be light on my feet if I’m going to help Dr. Jack.”

  “There’s a coffee pot on the table already,” said Nat. “You can help yourself to that and the beignets. Elijah already brought them over. Go and chat with our guests, and I’ll be out with the food in a few. Sounds like you’ve had a challenging morning already. Let me look after you with a bit of food, cher,” she said mimicking Evangeline.

  Roxy gave Nat’s shoulder another squeeze. “Thanks, girlfriend.”

  She went into the dining room and sat at the table just across from George and Charles. They were both reading now and looked a little more alive than the day before, but that wasn’t saying much. At best, George didn’t constantly have tears in his eyes, and Charles had regained some color in his cheeks.

  Charles was working on a beignet. He had cut it into strips and ate absentmindedly as he sipped his coffee and read the local broadsheet newspaper. George was reading a book. Roxy looked carefully and saw that it was Meredith’s book. She was unsure of what to say to them for fear of tipping this delicate calm into chaos and grief. Thankfully, George broke the silence. He looked directly at Roxy and pointed to an empty chair at their table. “Please come and sit with us. We would appreciate some company. We are not at our best this morning.”

  Roxy pulled the chair out and sat down. Charles looked up briefly and gave her a flicker of a smile but ducked out of any conversation by returning immediately to his newspaper. George made up for the older man’s lack of conversation. “Roxy, I must say that your hotel is beautiful and so comfortable. My bed was just the right blend of softness and firmness, and the power of the shower was intense, so invigorating, and I needed that this morning although,” he put his hand up to his head, “I think I forgot to comb my hair.” He smiled sheepishly. “You have some fabulous energies here. Although we are staying under the most awful of circumstances, your hotel is easing our cares and woes. It’s a wonderful place. Meredith would have loved it.”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” Roxy said, touched by his words.

  “Nat was telling me how it was before you took over, and how much you’ve transformed it. She said you chose the décor and such, and I must say, you’ve created an oasis for the spirit. Thank you so much for the hard work you’ve put in to make it such a soothing place. I have found it very restful and relaxing. It has truly relieved me—mind, body, and soul.”

  “You’re very welcome, George. I’m so sorry that…”

  “No, I’m sorry,” George said, “that we have brought trouble to your door.”

  Charles started to speak without looking up from his paper. “The machinations of the spiritual world are sometimes very strange. We did not expect Meredith to be killed by dark forces, but she was, make no mistake. A person picked up the gun and shot it, yes, but they were motivated by the forces of evil that constantly swirl through this world looking to wreak destruction. We regret very much that you were caught up in this.” Charles turned over his page carefully so as not to knock from the table the small glass vase that contained a posy of pansies, viola, nemesia, columbine, twinspur, and alyssum. Roxy reflected on what a dichotomy Charles seemed. He sounded not at all like the man of science he had claimed to be the previous evening. He seemed steeped in the spiritual world.

  “I’ll send love and light throughout this hotel for as long as we’re here. You certainly deserve it,” George said. He looked around the large room. “The attention to detail you’ve put in tells me that you’re a soul who cares very deeply, who understands people and their experiences. You want people to feel cared for.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Roxy, smiling. That was her raison d'être. She wanted to take care of people.

  George smiled. “And I do feel cared for. We both do. Very much.”

  “I’m so glad,” said Roxy. “And seriously, if you, or you Charles, need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here for you.”

  “Thank you,” George said. “And please ask us, too, for help. We have all the goodness of the spiritual world at our disposal, and we would be honored to share it with you,” he said. “Our lights, and those of Meredith, will only burn brighter as a result of this tragedy. That is what those dark forces don’t understand, that they only succeed in turning up the light as they attempt, injuriously, to snuff it out. It is self-defeating.”

  “You speak for yourself, young man,” Charles said wearily, still flipping through the newspaper. Meredith’s murder was featured on the front page at the bottom under “Local News.” Roxy hoped Charles wouldn’t see it. “This world is nothing but tragedy and pain. All goodness is an illusion.”

  “No, it could never be!” George said passionately. “Never! The dark forces are the only illusions! Life is beautiful! The world is full of love and light! We are not here merely to exist and then die. We are here to thrive! To help! The forces for good, the angels, and the archangels, and all the positive spiritual forces are here to support us.”

  Charles snorted. “You sound like a child.”

  Roxy’s gaze flickered from one man to the other as she held her breath waiting to see how this conflict would evolve. George was trembling. He stood up, but before he could speak, the doorbell rang and Roxy heard the front door open.

  “Yoo-hoo! It’s only me!” Elijah, wearing chef’s whites, appeared carrying a plate at shoulder height. It was covered with white starched linen napkins. Simultaneously, Nat came out of the kitchen carrying two plates—a full cooked breakfast for Charles, and Roxy’s beef and grits. Both of them, on catching sight of the scene before them, halted in their tracks, their eyes bulging.

  “I don’t care one bit if I sound like a child. I choose innocence and goodness. I choose to believe,” George cried.

  “Believe what you want!” Charles shot back. “If you want to be a fool, so be it!” He folded up his paper and threw it down smartly on the table next to his placemat.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Nat said gently. “Let’s not do this to ourselves, okay?” She eased up to the table and slid Charles’s full plate carefully in front of him. “Please, eat. You will feel better.” She turned to George. “George, are you sure you don’t want anything cooked?”

  “No, no, thank you, Nat,” said George. “I am going to fast today, the better to connect my spirit with higher energies. I will only drink liquids.”

  “Okay then,” Nat said soothingly. Her hand was up, palm out, placating him. She knew she was talking to a highly emotional, stressed-out person. “Please sit down. The last thing we all need is an argument.” Roxy observed her wide-eyed. This was a side of Nat she hadn’t previously experienced. She was impressed by how calm and kind Nat was being.

  “Yes, you’re right,” said George. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he managed a weak smile. “Nat, you are very kind.”

  “I’m really not,” Nat said. She sat down opposite Roxy and took a beignet for herself.

  As she did so, Elijah slowly started to move again. Roxy looked over, and catching his eye, saw Elijah point at his plate and nod at the kitchen. She translated his meaning and dipped her chin in agreement. The baker quietly pushed the swing door open with his hip, dropping his shoulders, and widening his eyes in relief as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I’M ONE OF the least kind people I’ve ever met,” Nat was saying.

  “No,” George protested.

  “No, really,” said Nat. “I wish I was gentle and had a talent for making people feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But that’s Roxy’s specialty. I’m more like a razor. A rusty one.” She shrugged. “Sharp and liable to hurt you. I think I was just made that way.” She smiled.

  “Other people may see the spiky outsides, all the thorns.
But I see a gorgeous rose with stunning, fragile petals,” said George.

  Nat laughed, but not unkindly. “Are you sure?”

  “Certainly,” said George. “Maybe the thorns are necessary. Maybe they are there precisely to protect a beautiful, delicate flower from further damage in a rough, tough world. You’re a wonderful person deep down, Nat, I can tell, but it seems you’ve lost sight of that and allowed negative energies to harm and change you. You’ve encased yourself in a form of armor, so to speak—thorns—to protect yourself. But you don’t need to continue on that path. You can heal by surrounding yourself with more positive, supportive people, kind people like Roxy here. Has no one ever told you how fabulous you are?”

  Roxy watched this interaction with big, shocked eyes. What made it so extraordinary was that Nat wasn’t dismissing George. Roxy would have expected Nat to laugh off his words and throw her defenses back up, but she didn’t. She had propped her chin on her hands and stared at him. She was listening to George intently. She hung on to his every word.

  “You’re right, George,” she said. “How do you know that?”

  George gave her a lovely, broad smile that displayed two rows of even, white teeth. “Let’s just say, I can see it.”

  “But how?”

  Charles sighed deeply. He sounded defeated, or perhaps cynical, Roxy couldn’t decide which. He pulled off his gold-framed glasses and let them hang from their chain. He looked at Nat. “When you train to be a psychic, you develop a special kind of sight. George can see that about you as clearly as we can see you’re wearing a black shirt.”

  “Really?” Nat said. Now Roxy was struggling to disguise her astonishment. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing or hearing. The Nat she knew would have been melting with sarcasm at the turn this conversation was taking.

  “Yes,” said Charles. “Really.”

  “A certain sensitivity is inherent, but then the training expands that and brings so much more into awareness. That is partly what Meredith was teaching me,” George added.

  “Your food is good, by the way,” Charles said. His voice was brusque.

  After that, no one knew what to say for a while. It was Roxy who broke the silence in the end. “I hope you don’t mind, but could I give you an update on the case?”

  Both Charles and George looked at her expectantly. Charles put down his knife and fork.

  Roxy sat up straight and pressed her hands between her thighs. She took a deep breath. “Dr. Jack is still in custody, but he hasn’t been charged yet. There were no fingerprints found on the gun. I suspect they are struggling to find evidence to conclusively connect him to Meredith’s murder.”

  Charles looked at her with such a penetrative stare that a shiver shot down Roxy’s spine. “Do you believe he did it?” he asked her.

  “Not really,” Roxy said. “It would be so out of character as to not make any sense at all. But then, well, I don’t know. I’m not an investigator. And life has taught me that anything is possible.”

  “If you…” Nat frowned at George. “If you can see all these things about people, can’t you work out who killed Meredith?”

  “It’s not that simple,” said George. “Unfortunately. And even if one can work it out spiritually, it’s a devil of a job to get any law enforcement to believe you.”

  Charles shook his head. “Trust us, Meredith tried many times to convince the police of her suspicions as they related to certain crimes. They always regarded her as a crank. It makes sense. In their material world, law enforcement needs physical, scientific evidence to be able to take the case to a courtroom and get a conviction. The advice of psychics or mediums doesn’t fall into the category of admissible evidence. Plus, they simply wouldn’t believe her nor would they give any credence to what she had to say. They wouldn’t even follow up on her information.”

  “They were wrong to do that,” said George.

  “No, they weren’t,” said Charles. “It makes sense given their paradigm. And let’s face it, just as people cheat, hide, and lie in the material world, there are delusions and falsehoods in the spiritual realm, too. We may spend our time crossing between the two, but most people don’t.”

  Roxy’s head was starting to hurt from all this spiritual talk. “Well, Detective Johnson is a difficult man, but a dogged detective. I am sure between him and Officer Trudeau, they will find out who killed Meredith and the murderer will be brought to justice.”

  “Yes,” said George. “It must happen. It must.”

  Roxy pushed her chair back from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do some paperwork. I’ll be in my office, just off the lobby. If you need anything, please do come and see me. My door is always open.”

  “Thank you, Roxy,” said George. “I plan to stay here all day. I’m rereading Meredith’s book. It makes me feel close to her. It…,” he paused and gulped, “…helps.”

  “I plan on taking a walk.” Charles looked out of the window. “Fresh air and sunshine will do me good.”

  “Okay, lunch can be whenever you like. Just call me,” said Nat. “We usually have po’ boys—they’re special New Orleans sandwiches if you’re unfamiliar with them—but I can whip you up whatever you feel like.”

  Charles smiled properly for the first time that morning, nodding down at his nearly empty plate. “I doubt I’ll need any lunch after this.”

  Roxy grinned. “The Nat ‘special’ is fantastic, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” said Charles. “It wouldn’t be hyperbole to say this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating, despite the circumstances. I feel much better, almost human again.”

  Nat blushed. “It can’t be that good.”

  “It truly is, young lady.”

  For once, Roxy was glad to work on her accounts. It was a welcome break from all the otherworldly talk and thoughts of the murder. When she walked into her office she felt a little lightheaded, but she knew that by the time she was done, she’d feel much more grounded and stable.

  As she worked, she heard Sam arrive. His toolbox rattled as he moved. He walked through the lobby and headed upstairs to work on the loft conversion, the next phase they’d agreed upon in their plan to update the building. She looked up briefly to wave at him through her open office door. He waved back and proceeded through the lobby to climb the stairs to the third floor.

  Two hours later, when she was done, Roxy picked up the phone in the lobby and called him on his cell phone. “Hi, Sam. Sorry I didn’t chat earlier. I was just working on the accounts. How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good,” he said. “And don’t apologize, Rox, it’s fine. You’re working hard on our business.”

  Roxy smiled. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll bring it up to you.”

  “That would be awesome. What about a po’ boy?”

  “Coming right up! What filling would you like? You can have shrimp, tuna, ham, beef, pulled pork, cheese, or a combination of any of the above, lettuce, tomato, whatever you want. Oh, and I’ll bring you a bag of chips.”

  “Ham, cheese and salad, please,” he said.

  “You got it,” Roxy replied. She put on a posh, funny voice. “The most exquisite po’ boy in town is on its way up to you, good sir.”

  He laughed. “Goofball.”

  “See you in a few.”

  “Look forward to it. Love ya.”

  Roxy put down the phone, her cheeks burning. Love ya? What did that mean?

  She went into the kitchen and set about making Sam’s sandwich. Soon after taking over the Funky Cat, Roxy had promised herself that despite their attraction to one another, she would not mix business with pleasure when it came to Sam. He was her work colleague, part-owner of the business, and supplier of laundry and handyman services. That was all he was, she reminded herself, and that was how things were going to stay. But keeping her rule wasn’t easy, nor was it easy to stop thinking about how things might be different. Now, despite her promise, Roxy couldn’t
help but wonder what Sam had meant by his comment. She was so distracted that she kept looking through cupboards for the ingredients she needed until Nat came into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just making Sam some lunch. A po’ boy.”

  “What’s he having in it?”

  “Ham and cheese and salad. But I can’t find them.” Roxy kept opening and closing cupboard doors. She was on her second circuit of the kitchen.

  “Well, you won’t find them there, silly. They’re in the fridge!”

  “Oh! Goodness, you’re right. Duh.” Roxy slunk over to the walk-in refrigerator and immediately found what she needed.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Nat asked, grinning. She peered at Roxy. “You’ve gone all red.”

  “Have I?” Roxy said breezily.

  “You sure have,” Nat folded her arms and leaned back against the counter. She pressed her lips together in a triumphant smile.

  “It’s nothing, nothing,” Roxy said quickly.

  Nat raised her eyebrows.

  “It was hot in the office, that’s all.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ROXY FELT HEAT increasingly flush her cheeks as she took Sam’s lunch up to the loft. Don’t be so ridiculous, she told herself. It’s just Sam. Friendly, old Sam.

  She was so busy giving herself a good talking-to that when she climbed the final flight of stairs, she didn’t notice Sam sitting on the top step. She nearly tripped over him.

  “Oh!” she said. The po’ boy and chips flew off the plate at breakneck speed, but Sam was fast. He caught the sandwich intact with one hand and the plate with the other. The chips scattered all over the stairs, though.

  “Oh, man!” Roxy said.

  “I got the most important bit,” Sam said with a grin. He tore off a bite of the po’ boy. “Chips are unhealthy, anyway.”

 

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