“I can’t wait to see it all done!”
“So…did Johnson give you a hard time?”
“No more than usual,” said Roxy. “He wanted to check out the basement. Charles wasn’t there, of course. He wasn’t at the Palace of Spirits. He wasn’t at Dr. Jack’s. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air. George is so worried. He and Nat are out combing the streets for him.”
Sam nodded. “I’m concerned myself. It’s nearly 1 PM now. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“I have a bad feeling one minute, an optimistic one the next,” said Roxy. “I’m up and down like a yo-yo.”
“Shall we go out and look? I can put all my laundry van guys on it, too. I’ll send them his picture if you can get one from George. Then you and I can go out in the car and search ourselves.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” said Roxy. “I won’t be able to relax if I try to do anything else. I hope he’s okay.”
“What’s happening with Jack?
“They might be releasing him today. They don’t have enough evidence to charge him, and they can’t legally hold him anymore. I overheard Trudeau tell Johnson, time’s up.”
“That’s excellent news,” said Sam. “Maybe they’ll start considering other suspects now.”
“Yes,” said Roxy. “We can only hope.”
Her mind flew as she considered the logistics of leaving the hotel to search for Charles. “No one’s going to be here at the hotel. Normally I’d get Nat to come back, but she’s a big comfort to George right now. Sage is covering the botanica. Maybe I should call Evangeline? She might step in. And she could make dinner? Oh, but I don’t expect dinner matters much. It’s just for George, and I doubt he’ll want to sit down to eat when Charles is missing.” Roxy was rambling.
“Just lock up, Roxy. Put a note on a door.”
“Yes, yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll leave a note with my phone number on it, just in case Charles comes back or anyone else stops by. I’ll go into the bakery and let Elijah know what’s going on, too.”
As she crossed the street, a frown creased Roxy’s forehead. There was so much coming and going, she could barely keep it all straight.
When she explained to Elijah that Charles Romanoff had gone missing, and she was locking up the hotel to search for him, Elijah looked very concerned. He insisted on handing her a big bag of white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies. “For energy,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me on the streets, too?”
“It’s better if you’re here,” said Roxy. “That way you’ll see him if he arrives. Plus, you have your bakery to run.”
“Okay, girlfriend. I’ll keep my eyes open. Good luck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FOR THE NEXT two hours, Roxy and Sam cruised the streets in his Rolls Royce Phantom. Every now and then, Roxy caught sight of a man of Charles’s height and stature. Her heart would stop, and she’d point. Sam would slow his speed as he drove past while she peered closely out of the window but each time, a closer inspection revealed the stranger wasn’t him.
“My mind’s starting to run away with me,” said Roxy. “I keep thinking, maybe the murderer got to him, too. Or maybe he is the murderer, and he’s taken advantage of the police’s fixation on Dr. Jack to flee.”
“Wasn’t there any evidence to point to one of you in the room as being the shooter? Fingerprints? Ballistics?
“I heard Trudeau say there were no fingerprints found on the gun, that it wasn’t registered, and that because everyone was sitting in such a tight circle, it wasn’t possible to say from where exactly the gun was shot.”
The Rolls was crawling along so slowly that cars behind them were honking their horns. Sam ignored them. They needed to go slow—they didn’t want to risk even the slightest chance of missing Charles.
“Move that big hunk of metal outta the road,” someone yelled from behind.
Roxy turned back to see a man in a pickup truck waving his fist.
“Take no notice,” said Sam. He was silent for a while, but he did pull over to let the cars pass before cruising off again. “I’ve just had a horrible thought,” he said eventually.
“What?”
“What if…” He sighed. “What if Charles killed Meredith, and now he’s gone and killed himself. A murder-suicide of sorts.”
“But…” Roxy’s head was pounding. “But when I’ve seen that before, on the news or whatever, it’s usually done in one massive moment of anger. Like the husband goes into a rage and kills his wife, and then commits suicide immediately. Like it all happens at once. And there’s lots of emotion, a crime of passion.”
“That makes it sound almost romantic.”
“It most certainly is not, but this feels different from that. Meredith’s murder was planned, premeditated. There was no emotion at all. Whoever did it was as cool as a cucumber.”
“You have a point,” said Sam. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I hope you are.”
“I’m hoping he went out, forgot his phone, and then couldn’t find his way back.”
“Could be,” said Sam, though he sounded doubtful. Roxy wasn’t surprised. The idea seemed far-fetched even to her.
Just then, Roxy caught sight of a sign for Modal Appliances, the company she’d previously worked for as a customer service agent. She’d mostly dealt with irate customers who couldn’t work out how to use their new or malfunctioning washing machines. Her memories hit her like a wave.
“Man,” she said, slumping back in her seat.
“What is it?” said Sam, looking concerned, his eyes flicking from the road to Roxy.
“I don’t know…it’s weird how different my life is now, how fast it’s changed. It’s surreal. Just a few months ago, I was working in a call center. The job was so uninspiring, but it felt safe. All I had to do was go to work, do my time, go home again, and get paid.”
Sam laughed. “You make it sound like jail.”
“It wasn’t much different. But in some ways I loved it.”
“Okay, now you sound crazy,” Sam said. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well…my whole life, I just felt kind of…unsafe, like there was nothing to cushion me if I fell, and that I was very likely to fall, like it was almost inevitable. Where I grew up, there was always someone hurting someone else. Robbing them, or attacking them, whatever. Life around me was always eventful but in the worst ways. Sirens went off constantly, cops came to arrest people at all hours, kids stole cars, fought, dealt drugs. There was always stuff happening, illegal, frightening stuff, always something for my mom to gossip about. She took delight in all the drama, was energized by it while I just hated it all.”
“I can imagine,” Sam said softly. “You feel things deeply. You’re sensitive. I know some people say that as an insult, but I don’t mean it that way. I mean it as a compliment. I think it’s a good thing.”
Roxy smiled at him. “Thanks. Not many people see it that way. Even me, at times. Sometimes I’d love a thicker skin.”
“So after all that, you craved security and safety,” Sam said, “so you got the most boring, most stable job possible. It makes sense.”
“Yes,” said Roxy. “Except I traded everything for safety. That place was dull, my boss was a bully, I had coworkers who couldn’t stand me, and deep down, I knew I wasn’t fulfilling my potential. I was restless but stuck and lacking in courage.”
Sam nodded. “I know what you mean. I hate that feeling. That’s what keeps me chopping and changing what I’m doing all the time. My father calls me a flake, a dabbler.” He laughed. “Maybe I am, although I like to think I’m a polymath.”
“A what?”
“It’s a person who loves learning different things and who has skills in multiple areas. Others call it being multi-passionate. Perhaps that’s a better word.”
“I couldn’t imagine any father not being proud of you. Maybe he is underneath?”
“I doubt it,” Sam said. “But thank you, though. That’s a kind th
ing to say.”
“What makes you so sure he’s not proud?”
“He hates entrepreneurs and business owners. Thinks they’re lower class, unethical money-grubbers. And some of them are.”
“What does he do?” Roxy asked.
“He’s a plastic surgeon, a very accomplished one. He works on all sorts of complex cases, disaster victims, burns, unique cases. He doesn’t simply do cosmetic work, although he does that too. He’s something of a hero in his field, a pioneer in new techniques. When he realized I wasn’t going to medical school, he encouraged me into investment banking, but it just didn’t suit me. I’m not that kind of detail-oriented, super-intense person. I like ideas and grand schemes and making new things happen! I want to have a big impact too, but in a different way from my father.”
Roxy smiled. “Did you ever decide to implement the idea you had about training homeless people and giving them jobs?”
“Yeah, I did. I’ve got a couple of guys visiting the West Coast right now. They’re visiting with an organization out there that does a similar thing with ex-offenders. They’ll come back and give me a viability report on what they think, and I’ll go from there. I’ve always wanted to help people. I just want to make sure it’s the right thing—responsible, respectful, not patronizing, you know?”
“You do help people,” said Roxy. “You’re kind to everyone, and you already employ tons of people at the laundry. Your business helps them support their families and lead happier lives.”
“But I want to do something on a grander scale,” Sam said. “I want to make a difference. A big one.”
“Wait! Is that Charles?” Roxy pointed out a man walking with a dog. “Why’s he got a dog with him?” Sam slowed the car again and as they drove past, Roxy turned to see the man’s face. It wasn’t Charles. “I’m starting to get really worried now.” She bit her nails, something she hadn’t done for a long time. “Maybe that’s why Charles disappeared. Maybe his memories were too painful, and he’s gone and…Oh, I don’t know! I just wish he’d come back!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I THINK WE’D better head back,” said Roxy.
“Yes,” said Sam with a sigh. “It looks that way.”
Sam and Roxy had driven around New Orleans for hours, but there was no sign of Charles anywhere. It had gotten dark, and the rain was pouring so heavily they could barely see out of the car windows. The windshield wipers were pounding back and forth on the highest setting, but the rain still obliterated their view for all but a second. Seeing out of the side windows was impossible.
“I have no idea how we’re going to sleep tonight,” Roxy said. “We’ll all be beside ourselves with worry.”
“You need your rest,” said Sam. “Do you want me to come in and take care of everything for the night, so you can sleep? I can lock up, take out the trash and get set up for tomorrow?”
“No, it’s fine,” said Roxy, smiling at him. He was so kind.
“Nat and George will need a lot of rest, too, they have been walking all day,” Sam said.
“They’re probably soaked.”
Roxy was right. They drove back to the Funky Cat and found Nat and George trudging up the alleyway. They looked like drowned rats.
“Oh no!” Roxy said. She rushed from the car in the pouring rain and unlocked the front door. “Come in, come in! Come out of the rain.” She waved goodbye to Sam, and he reversed back out onto the street. There wasn’t enough room for him to turn the big car around.
Nat and George were so wet that their hair was plastered to their heads. Nat’s mascara was running down her face in black watery streaks. George was shivering. They made squelching noises as they walked and left wet footprints behind them.
“No luck,” George said. “We couldn’t find him anywhere.”
“Neither could we,” said Roxy. “I’m so sorry, George. We can start again tomorrow.”
George shook his head. “No. I’ll eat dinner, shower, and go back out when it stops raining. I’ll look all night if I have to.” He was so exhausted he had to steady himself against the wall.
“You need to rest,” Roxy said gently. “And there are places that are not safe in New Orleans at night. You don’t know where they are and might stumble into them unawares.”
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I don’t care about rest or danger. I have to find Charles.”
“Okay,” Roxy said soothingly, calming him. She didn’t object further, but the last thing she wanted was George out at night, lost or getting hurt, too. “Let’s call Johnson, see if he’s made any progress. Or done anything at all.”
“Okay, could you do that? My head is spinning,” said George. “I can’t see straight, and I can’t think at all.”
“Come and sit down in the lounge for a moment,” Roxy said kindly. “I’ll make you a hot drink and put together something hearty for you to eat.” She secretly hoped he’d fall asleep and give up on his idea of going out again.
“I’ll soak the chair,” he said shaking his head. “Thank you but I’ll go upstairs, shower and change.”
“Are you sure you can manage?” Roxy said. “If you’re dizzy it might not be safe to shower.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“Okay. What drink would you like?”
“A sweet milky coffee would keep me awake so I can head out again soon,” he said.
“And you, Nat?”
“I could use a warm brandy punch.”
“Coming up. I’ll see you guys in a minute.”
All of a sudden, the hotel seemed so empty with just the three of them. Evangeline rarely came over now, having tutored Nat in cooking skills so well that sometimes it was impossible to tell her crawfish pie from her mentor’s. Now, Evangeline only cooked for them when they needed an extra pair of hands or help with a specialty dish. Roxy wished she’d asked Sam to stay but she didn’t want to call him back—he’d been driving around all afternoon and was probably just as exhausted as they all were. Elijah would be early to bed in preparation for his oh-dark-thirty shift the next morning, and Sage would still be at the botanica. Put your big girl panties on, Roxy.
She went about fixing the drinks and an extensive exploration of the fridge uncovered some Andouille sausage gumbo. Roxy warmed it up and served it in bowls alongside some of that day’s New Orleans French bread from Elijah’s Bakery, its fluffy center and crispy crust the perfect counterpoint to the soft and spicy gumbo.
She walked back into the lounge with a tray containing George’s sweet milky coffee and a warm brandy punch for Nat, two bowls of gumbo and bread, and a plate of the white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies Elijah had given her earlier.
“Charles!” she screamed in shock, then, “Charles!” again, this time overjoyed, nearly dropping the food all over the lounge’s expensive antique rug.
Roxy put the tray down on the table and threw her arms around Charles’ neck, even though he was soaking wet. Charles was wearing a light windbreaker, beige slacks the fabric of which was dark and wet down his thighs, and a pair of scruffy tennis shoes. He peered through his glasses that were spotted with raindrops and partially misted. His face and head were shiny with moisture while the little hair that he had hung down over his ears. He looked tired and cold.
Charles’ attempt at reciprocating Roxy’s hug was half-hearted. “Hello, Roxy,” he said wearily. “How long have I been gone?”
Roxy struggled to answer. It felt like a week. “A day…I think? We went to Bramwell’s and the Palace of Spirits last night. We haven’t seen you since you went upstairs to bed when we got back.”
Charles sank into a chair. “Thank goodness for that. I thought it had been three or four days. I completely lost track of time. You weren’t too worried, were you?”
“Actually, we’ve been out looking for you all day, since we discovered your bed hadn’t been slept in. Are you all right? Where were you? Where did you go?”
Just then, Nefertiti cantered into the room from the lobby. It was as though she’d heard Roxy’s exclamations and wanted to see for herself what was going on. As soon as she saw Roxy, she stopped and then proceeded to stalk across the room before effortlessly launching herself up to her favorite spot, the chaise longue, where she watched Charles and Roxy with her piercing blue eyes.
“I’m sorry I worried you.” Charles shook his head in disbelief. “It was all so strange.” He clasped his hands in front of him as if in prayer and brought them to his lips.
Roxy was very curious, but Charles looked so disturbed that she didn’t want to press further. “I’m just relieved you’re safe and well. Do you want a drink?” She gestured to the tray she had brought for George and Nat. “Warm brandy punch? Coffee? Tea?”
“The punch sounds like a good idea.”
Roxy passed him Nat’s drink. “You just sit here and drink that.” She reached over and handed him a deep orange throw that lay across the back of the sofa. “I’ll bring you some towels. Nat and George are upstairs showering. They’ll be delighted to see you. You won’t disappear while I’m gone, will you?”
Charles gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “I’ll take my drink upstairs. I’m going to change my clothes. I won’t be long. I’ll come back down, I promise. You all deserve an explanation.”
Roxy rushed into the kitchen to make another punch for Nat, and because she felt she needed one too now, she fixed one for herself. She came back into the lounge with two warm brandy punches at the same time as Nat and George.
“He’s back!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“WHO? CHARLES?” GEORGE said, his face lighting up.
At that moment, there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and they turned to see Charles walking slowly down toward them.
George launched himself at Charles with some force. “Charles!” he said, a grin lighting his face. He hugged the older man tightly.
Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set Page 44