Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set

by Alison Golden

  Personally, Roxy thought that Meredith could still have been kind. Kindness didn’t cost anything, after all, and it made one feel a lot better. “Didn’t you ever want to quit, though?”

  “Yes, at times,” said George, breaking eye contact and looking down again. “But I’m not a quitter, Roxy. I can bear anything including being treated roughly now and again.”

  “Yes, but why would you?”

  “She was powerful, a great medium,” said George, casting his direct gaze at Roxy once more. “I wanted to learn from her. Being snapped at was a small price to pay for the experience of being in close association with the great Meredith Romanoff. It’s something I’ll have on my resume and in my soul forever.”

  “But, still…”

  “Look, I am as devastated as anyone by Meredith’s death. I have no idea who in that room could have killed her. I can barely believe it happened, but it did, right in front of me, and I can promise you that I am not the murderer. I don’t have it in me to kill an insect, let alone a person.”

  He pressed his lips together and flashed his eyes wide at her. He raised his hands, his palms upward, and shrugged his shoulders. Roxy nodded. She couldn’t see him as the killer either. “Beautiful day today,” she said, gesturing out of the window at the blue sky, the sun streaming through. “Do you have any plans?”

  “Not yet. Perhaps I’ll go outside. I do that a lot. I like to commune with nature, and I haven’t been able to do so much of that in the last day or so. I get messages from the birds and the trees. They have their own language.”

  “Huh. How does that work?”

  “Well, what I mean is that when you’re spiritually ‘in tune,’ you can sense them communicating. We are all connected to each other and everything.”

  “I highly recommend Audubon Park,” Roxy said. “I went there yesterday. It’s peaceful. Huge, too. You could wander for hours without seeing it all.”

  George smiled again. “I might just do that. Thanks, Roxy. Perhaps Charles will come with me. I want to keep him busy. Stop him brooding.”

  At that moment, Nat came out of the kitchen with George’s oatmeal. Their eyes locked, and she sat down at the table nursing a coffee. From that moment on, Roxy didn’t seem to exist. Intrigued, she sat back in her chair and folded her arms to observe this unexpected interaction. She smiled a little. What an unlikely combination! Who would have ever guessed that skeptic Nat with a tongue so razor-sharp you could practically cut yourself on it and gentle spiritualist George would have gotten on so well?

  For the next thirty minutes, there wasn’t a single lull in the conversation between the pair. They talked about anything and everything, from their childhoods to the current political situation. Nat even asked George his opinion on re-birthing and hypnosis. When Roxy stood up after finishing her beignet and coffee, they were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t even notice. Roxy cleared her throat.

  “I’m going to see if Charles is all right. It’s nearly nine o’clock and I’m getting a little concerned.”

  Nat and George looked at her as though they’d suddenly remembered she was there.

  “Okay,” George said. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Sleeping in isn’t unusual for him. He’s more of a night owl.”

  “I’m probably being silly, but after, well, everything, I’d like to make sure. I’ll call up from the lobby phone to see if he wants his breakfast brought up to him.”

  Roxy excused herself and walked into the lobby where she picked up the phone on the reception desk. She wasn’t surprised to find Nefertiti sitting there, looking very regal indeed, her blue eyes matching the décor and her paw draped over the phone, as if to stop her owner from making the call, from doing anything other than pay attention to her.

  “Sorry, Nefertiti, love,” said Roxy, delicately removing her paw to one side. “I need to make a call.” Roxy dialed Charles’ room number and looked down at Nefertiti as she waited for him to pick up. Neffi gazed back at her with what Roxy imagined was contempt. How dare you carry on with your life regardless of me, human! Roxy scratched her cat under her chin and Nefertiti stood and raised her tail high in the air while the phone buzzed and buzzed. Charles didn’t answer. Thwarted, Roxy returned to the dining room, her heart beating a little faster. Nat was laughing at some story George was telling her and Roxy felt a ripple of irritation course through her at their obvious lack of concern and even more their delight in each other’s company. Roxy considered pulling rank and asking Nat to clear up breakfast, but relented when Nat looked over and gave her a huge smile.

  “No reply,” Roxy said. “I’ll take something up to him.”

  She grabbed a plate of beignets and a cup of coffee and walked out of the room, pausing at the bottom of the stairway as she wrestled with her thoughts. Maybe he was asleep? Perhaps he’d taken a sleeping pill or two and was out for the count?

  Roxy shook her head, frustrated by her overthinking, a bad habit of hers, she knew. “I’d better go check,” she said to Nefertiti, who was now winding her way around Roxy’s ankles, still plying for attention. Roxy hurried up the stairs to the first floor where Charles’s room was located. She knocked on the door. There was no answer. “Charles?” she said. Then a little louder, “Charles?” After another three knocks, there was still no answer, so Roxy tentatively opened the door. “I’m coming in,” she called. Inside, light flooded the room. The bed was neatly made. The drapes were open. Charles was nowhere to be seen. “Charles?” Roxy went into the bathroom. Nothing had been touched. Fluffy white towels hung neatly on their rail. The bar of soap by the basin still had its wrapper on—the custom Funky Cat Inn paper seal that featured the face of a cat who looked very much like Nefertiti was unbroken.

  Roxy looked around again. Charles’ toilet bag sat beside the basin, and there was a book on the heavy wood-paneled nightstand. In the closet, Charles had neatly arranged his clothes, and they hung from hangers completely undisturbed. She counted two button-down shirts, two jackets, and a pair of pants along with ties and a belt. The clothes he had worn to Bramwell’s were folded neatly on the back of a chair.

  It was all very strange.

  Roxy hurried back downstairs. “George,” she said. “Did Charles mention he was leaving? Or going out?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, he’s not here. His bed hasn’t been slept in. All his things are there, but his room is untouched.”

  “Oh,” George said, frowning. He got out his phone from his pocket. “I’ll give him a call.” He held the phone to his ear for far too long. Roxy tapped her foot, her heart beginning to pound. George’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”

  “He didn’t slip out while we were in here having breakfast, did he?” said Nat.

  “I’m sure he didn’t,” Roxy said. “We’d have heard the front door. And like I said, his room hasn’t been touched. Like he hadn’t been in it since it was refreshed yesterday.”

  “Well, he must have been in it at some point because he came out with us last night,” Nat said. “Perhaps he’s just persnickety. He is a surgeon after all.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly what his room is like—like an operating theatre. Sterile. Perfect. Everything laid out just so.”

  “Are you sure he’s not upstairs?” George said.

  “Not even in the closet,” Roxy replied. “I checked. Why don’t you go and look?”

  They all went upstairs to Charles’s room.

  “Well, he’s obviously not here,” Nat said immediately. She looked in the closet.

  “I’m going to call him again,” said George, his voice high, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Something’s not right here, I can feel it.” As soon as George hit the call button, they heard the sound of a phone ringing.

  Roxy rushed over to the side table and pulled open the drawer. “Oh dear, his phone’s here.”

  George’s cheeks turned several shades paler.

  “I’m getting a terrible feeling about this,�
� said Nat.

  “Me too.” Roxy was beginning to feel sick.

  “Me three,” said George.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I HAVE TO go look for him,” said George. “Maybe he went back to the Palace of Spirits since they wouldn’t let us in last night?”

  “Ah, yes. That’s probably it.” Roxy’s heart lifted a little.

  Nat grimaced. “Do we have to? I think we should call Johnson and let him know. It’s not like Charles got up early to go out. He hasn’t been here all night.”

  Roxy’s heart sank again. “You’re right. We probably should.”

  “No,” said George. “Not yet. I don’t want that detective’s bad energy infecting everything. Let’s at least look around by ourselves for a bit. I’m sure this can all be resolved very quickly. Charles can’t have gone far.”

  “I sure hope so. I’ll call a cab right now. Sam’s due here to continue working on the loft. Maybe he should join us in looking for Charles?”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” said George. “I’ll connect with Charles’ energy and that will lead me to him. Let’s just keep quiet for now.”

  “I want to come to support you,” said Nat.

  “Me too,” Roxy said.

  George smiled. He drew them both into a hug. “I feel overwhelmed by the kindness of you two. When this is all over, I think I would like to live here forever!”

  Nat’s eyes lit up. “Yes, you could! You could stay here in New Orleans, and work in Dr. Jack’s botanica. You could do readings for people!”

  Roxy decided to stop being surprised. Obviously, this was a situation beyond her understanding. Was this really the Nat she knew?

  “Let me ring the cab people. Sam can call us if Charles reappears. While I’m doing that, will you feed Nefertiti, Nat? And clear away the breakfast things?”

  Twenty minutes later, the trio was standing in front of the Palace of Spirits. The place didn’t seem nearly so scary in daylight.

  “Here goes nothing,” Roxy said, stepping inside.

  The room that had been brightly-lit the night before was now illuminated only by the morning sun. They all looked around at the items on display—the flowers, both real and plastic, candles, jewelry, feathers, bibles, rattles, scissors, packets of candy, and strings of beads.

  “People put their faith in this stuff, don’t they?” Nat said, not sounding like her old cynical self. Roxy could practically hear the cogs of Nat’s brain turning over as she processed all this information with the new perspective offered to her by George.

  “Offerings,” George explained, looking down at the assortment of items on the tables. “Hello?” he called out, walking toward the door at the back of the room that led to the decaying objects they’d seen housed in the room behind the main store the night before.

  Roxy held her breath, waiting for the terrifying woman they’d met last night to jump out. But instead, a young woman appeared. She had a round face with no discernible cheekbones, round eyes and a petite mouth with Cupid’s bow lips. Her skin was luminous and unlined. “Hello,” she said with a soft voice. “Did you want to buy something?” She gave them a shy smile.

  “Oh,” George said, taken aback. “No, thank you,” he said. “We’re looking for Charles Romanoff—tall, bald guy, fifties, heavy-set. Has he been here?”

  “I don’t know,” the young woman said, biting her lip and frowning. “We’ve had plenty of customers this morning already. We’re always busy.”

  “What do you do here, exactly?” Nat said.

  “We’re a botanica,” the woman explained. “And we have some historic artifacts in the back, so a little museum of sorts.”

  “That’s what Charles would have been here to see,” George said.

  The woman shook her head. “No one’s been back there today.”

  Nat stepped forward. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s the only thing you do here. We visited last night, and there was this evil-looking woman, and…”

  “Last night? What time?”

  Nat looked at Roxy. “About ten-thirty?”

  “I’d say so,” Roxy agreed.

  “You must be mistaken,” the young woman said, sweetly. “I closed up at 7 PM myself. It’s been locked up tight since then. Opened up this morning too, I did. No one’s been here in-between those times.”

  “That’s not true. Really,” said Nat. “We were here. We saw her.”

  The young woman looked at her mildly, blinking slowly, a small smile forming on her cherubic lips. She didn’t react to Nat’s comment. “Would you like to come in? I can show you around,” She smiled and stepped to the side, gesturing the way.

  “No,” said Nat. “No, thank you. Bye.” She turned abruptly on her flat Doc Martened heel and marched outside, closely followed by Roxy and George, who nodded silently at the woman as he backed away.

  Even though it was sunny, both Nat and Roxy were shivering. They stood in the middle of Bourbon Street, raising their faces to the sky and soaking in the sun’s rays.

  “Well, I don’t know what to make of that, but Charles certainly isn’t there,” said George. “I have the sense he might have been, though, you know, since we were here last night. But who can say?”

  Roxy shivered again, thinking about their encounter with the strange woman the night before. Her gut filling with dread, she said, “You don’t think…You know that woman, and the ritual that was going on in the backroom that you said wasn’t good, a sinister ritual, I think you called it? You don’t think Charles’ disappearance has anything to do with that, do you? You know, at a spiritual level?”

  George’s eyes widened with horror. “I hadn’t put the two events together…but…you might be right. He may have picked up something when he came here.”

  “What? You mean, like, like…a virus?” Nat exclaimed.

  George began to pace. He thrust his fingers through his hair. “This could be serious. Very serious indeed.”

  “The two of you are being ridiculous,” Nat shouted, her arms flailing in the air. She was becoming more and more agitated. She started to pace. “Why are you connecting the thing from last night with Charles disappearing? There is absolutely no evidence to link the two,” Nat said. “You’re pulling stuff out of thin air!” She put her hands out in front of her as though to protect herself, or keep George and Roxy away from her. She looked panicked. “You’re making all this up as you go along!”

  George put his hands on Nat’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She was breathless, but she stopped pacing and dropped her arms to her sides. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on,” said George. “But last night I had dreams, terrible dreams, of darkness and blood and murder. I had to fight off all kinds of demons in the astral plane—that’s the place in your mind where you go when you have dreams. I woke up exhausted. Maybe the same spirits came for Charles, and he couldn’t handle it. I don’t know!”

  Nat slapped her palm to her forehead and growled. “George…”

  Roxy, like Nat, didn’t enjoy all this talk of dark, supernatural events, spirits, and demons. She didn’t want to get caught up in it. And, privately, she was with Nat, she didn’t believe in it. “I think we need to call Detective Johnson.”

  “That’s what I said earlier!” Nat cried. “But you didn’t listen to me. And now there’s all this talk of evil spirits and viruses and things. Johnson may not be the nicest guy, but I prefer him to this!” Nat pointed back at the Palace of Spirits.

  “Okay, go ahead,” said George. “Call him.”

  Roxy pulled out her phone and called Johnson, a number that was now programmed into both her contacts list and her mind. They were still standing in the street.

  “Reinhardt,” Johnson barked, as if she were part of the police force, too.

  “One of my guests is missing,” she said. “Meredith Romanoff’s husband. He’s staying with me. We went out last night with him, but this morning he’s gone. His bed hasn’t been slep
t in.”

  Johnson spoke to her as if she were a very dim child. “And did you call his cell phone?”

  “Yes. He’d left it in his bedside drawer.”

  Now it was Johnson’s turn to growl. He said a few words Roxy couldn’t quite make out. “I’ll put out an APB for him immediately. Let’s hope he hasn’t gotten too far.”

  Roxy moved away from Nat and George who were now deep in conversation again and spoke quietly into her phone. “Do you think…could this be an indication that he’s guilty? I mean, spouses are often…”

  “Jack Lavantille is in custody for the murder. Have you forgotten?” Johnson barked. “This doesn’t change anything in that regard.”

  “But have you charged him?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  “You don’t have the evidence,” Roxy spat, surprised by the strength of her own emotion. “And you won’t get any because…”

  “Because you’re covering for him?”

  “No! Because he didn’t do it!”

  Johnson laughed. “Okay, then who did?”

  “I don’t know!” she said. “But it’s worth investigating. There were other people in the room that night. Terah Jones, who had a huge falling out with Meredith Romanoff in high school, for a start. Did you know about that?”

  “I don’t appreciate your impertinence…”

  “And what about Royston Lamontagne, that businessman?”

  “He’s a very well-respected…”

  “What? Are you saying that well-respected people don’t commit crimes?”

  “Listen to me, I have this investigation under control, Ms. Reinhardt. You would do well to leave things alone,” Johnson said curtly. “As I said, I’ll put an APB out for Romanoff. That is all.” He hung up the phone.

  “Ugh!” Roxy burst out. Frustrated, she squeezed her eyes and her fists tight. She looked at the screen of her phone as if by staring at it, Johnson would ring back.