George came to me with an idea of how the spirit and soul interact, and I laughed at his spiritually juvenile ideas. Later, I explained how it all worked…
A couple of pages further in, George was mentioned several times in one paragraph. Roxy slowed down to read it carefully.
One day, a wealthy client from New Orleans came to see George and me. He was a businessman who wanted to use my spiritual powers to influence a business deal.
Roxy read on.
George and I worked with many spirits to produce the outcome the client wanted. It was strenuous work, and George—with his delicate constitution—ended up bedbound for three days while he recovered. I, being much more spiritually experienced and resilient, of course, was fine to carry on my work and life as normal.
The businessman, a famous, wealthy music producer, wanted to prevent a rival company from acquiring a major new talent.
Something clicked in Roxy’s mind as she read these words. She knew she’d been given a piece of the puzzle, but it was just a sensation. She paused—her mind hadn’t caught up yet.
“A music producer,” she whispered to herself. “A major new talent.” A moment later, she banged her hand on her quilt. “Of course!” She thought back to what she had read when she’d been waiting in Royston Lamontagne’s office: Lamontagne’s company had “bounced back” after a rival company had used Voodoo to stop a deal. One by one, pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Royston, far from having benefited from Meredith’s “help” had suffered from it—when she and George had acted on behalf of a client who was a rival of Lamontagne’s. Meredith and George had scuppered the deal that had caused the near-ruin of Lamontagne Promotions. Did he know they were the agents of his company’s problems? Had he killed Meredith for her betrayal?
Roxy powered off her laptop, pressing the OFF button so violently that she thought she’d broken it. She twisted to place the computer on her nightstand, causing Nefertiti to give a little protest mewl. Roxy blew out her cheeks. She felt no closer to solving the case than she had when Dr. Jack had asked her to look into it. The only person who had been in the room with Meredith that she could be sure wasn’t the murderer, was herself.
She had to come up with an idea, a way forward to break the deadlock. “I know!” she said, after a few minutes. Nefertiti looked at her mildly, her expression indifferent in the face of her owner’s excitement. Roxy had come up with a plan. It was risky, criminally risky, but she was desperate. Her idea might be unorthodox, yes, but she was sure Johnson would forgive her once the murderer was in handcuffs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“YOU’VE ALWAYS FELT like an outsider,” George told Nat, his voice wobbling. “Is that right?”
“Yes, and unconventional,” said Nat. “Weird.”
“But now…” George looked up. “Oh, hello, Roxy.” He blushed. “I was just trying my hand at palm reading.”
“Trying your hand,” Nat laughed. “Get it?”
With her stomach growling, Roxy had walked into the kitchen to find Nat and George sitting at the counter. They were holding hands. Roxy shook her head and grabbed a beignet from a plate on the kitchen counter. She took a big bite. She was tired. It had been a very late night. “Yes, yes, whatever. Look, guys, I have the craziest idea. I think it might be slightly illegal. But I think Johnson might forgive me if it works.”
“Illegal?” Nat said, shocked. “You?”
Roxy gave an awkward grin. “Your chutzpah is rubbing off on me. Watch yourself.”
Nat frowned. “You know, Rox, nothing is slightly illegal. It either is or it isn’t.”
“Hmm. I plan to hold a reenactment of the crime scene tonight. I want to gather everyone at Dr. Jack’s. Have someone act as Meredith, Sage perhaps, and have all those who were in the room with her the other night there too. I want to re-enact the murder to see how it went down, and if we can find out anything more.”
George shook his head. “Terah might do it, Charles too if I ask him, but I doubt Lamontagne will play along. I mean, it is kind of intrusive, and he’s a busy guy.”
“You’re right,” said Roxy before grinning sheepishly. “But what if… the police ordered him to do it?” She raised her eyebrows, inviting their comments.
Nat screwed up her nose. “Johnson wouldn’t do that for you.”
“Neither would Trudeau,” George said.
“Nope, you’re right, again, they wouldn’t. But what if the police officer calling wasn’t…well, official?”
Nat’s eyes opened up as wide as the plates she normally carried to and from the kitchen. “You mean, you’re going to call them and pretend to be a cop?”
“Yep.”
“That’s dangerous,” said George. “Jail-time dangerous. Impersonating a police officer? Do you know what you’re saying?”
“I know. But we have to get this case solved. And that’s the best idea I’ve got. We have to flush out the killer somehow.” It felt weird saying these things to George. She still didn’t have evidence to conclusively eliminate him, but nor could she bring herself to believe he was guilty of murder.
George and Nat looked at one another, then back at Roxy.
“I don’t know if it’s a smart idea or a crazy one, but I tell you what,” said George. “I’ll put a protective light around you so that no one can harm you, and that you’ll get the result you want. I think that’s the best thing I can do.”
“And I can amplify that by setting up a shrine in the corner here.” They turned to see Sage glide in the room, her sapphire robes wafting around her as she walked, her laptop under her arm. “I’m here to get your approval for the new website updates, Roxy, but before I leave, I’ll place a crystal healing grid in the center and surround it with candles, mirrors, running water, and incense. They will magnify the impact of the protection field you’ll be surrounded by. Then, before you carry out the reenactment, I will work with you to call the angels and make sure they travel with you. They will make sure you won’t come to any harm.
“Thank you,” Roxy said gratefully. “You are both fantastic. I’ll call Dr. Jack now and get the room organized.”
Nat shook her head in wonderment as Roxy made the call. “Is it shy, timid, little Roxy Reinhardt planning this?”
Roxy grinned. “I guess so!” She spoke into her phone. “Dr. Jack, can I use the back room tonight?” Roxy cradled her cell to her ear while she made herself a café au lait. “Is it open for use yet?”
“Sure,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
“Um… just a little experiment.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’ll tell you later. I’m so glad they released you,” said Roxy. “I was really worried.”
“The spirits are working hard to free me. I can feel it,” said Dr. Jack. “It isn’t over yet though, Roxy. When Johnson released me, he said he was working to nail me. According to his thinking, it had to be one of us in the room, and I’m the only one who had a disagreement with her.”
“Don’t worry,” said Roxy. “I’m still working on it. So is Sage. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Much appreciated, Roxy.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
Roxy hung up the phone and stirred two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. Getting Royston Lamontagne to attend the reenactment would be her biggest challenge. She considered calling him right away but decided to wait a little longer.
“Hello!” someone called out from beyond the kitchen.
Roxy hurried through. “Oh, hi Sam.”
Sam was walking through the lobby with his toolbox. “Hi, Roxy. How are things?”
Roxy followed him as he mounted the three flights of stairs to the loft. “Good!” she said cheerfully.
Sam grinned. “And it’s still only 9 AM. Elijah told me you had quite a night last night.”
“Yeah, it was a bit wild.”
“People all over town are going to be asking who Nat is, you know?�
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“Are they?”
“Sure they are. XOXO is the place for new talent in the city. Judging by the reaction Nat got, the music scene is not going to let her disappear into thin air. They’re going to be looking for her. I hope she’s ready for what’s coming.”
“I’m not sure she’s even given it a second thought. I think she was a bit tipsy, to be honest.”
Sam laughed. “Well, be ready for her. I’m not sure how long she’s got before she’s found, and her obscurity well and truly disappears.”
“Oh, dear. That might not be so good for her. I mean, she needs to stay on the down-low. I’d better tell Elijah not to say anything. His friend, Alphonse, runs the club. He saw us with Elijah. Immigration won’t care a thing about Nat’s singing voice if they find out she doesn’t have a visa.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Be prepared to hide her then. She won’t get a second chance.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“WHAT HAVE YOU got planned for today?”
“Today is floor staining day! Hence my glamorous attire,” he said, gesturing at his scruffy T-shirt and track pants. “I’m gonna be covered with navy blue splotches before the day is out.”
“I can’t wait to see what it looks like!”
“Me either,” said Sam. “Navy was a great idea of yours, Roxy.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m picturing a white four-poster bed, with blue covers to match the floor, velvet in winter… linen in summer.”
“Sounds nice,” he said. “I’ll leave that part up to you.”
“I need to get Nat up here for some more ideas. She’s got a better eye than me. Then she can hit the flea markets looking for New Orleans antiques to spruce up the room.” They’d reached the top of the stairs, just in front of the entrance door to the loft room.
“Well, just make sure she’s not singing while she’s doing it. Someone will hear her, and she needs to be our little secret.”
“It seems a shame to keep her for ourselves. She would benefit so much from being able to express herself completely.”
“Yeah, but if she doesn’t want to get shipped out on the next plane, that’s how it’ll have to be.” Sam sat down on the step and began to tie plastic bags around his shoes. “Just for a little bit of added glamor.” He winked at Roxy and she laughed.
He tied up the second bag with a flourish and stood up. “Right, I’d better get to work.”
“And I’m going to go organize my devious plan for tonight. Wish me luck.”
Sam gathered himself and stood up. “Devious plan?”
“I’ll explain later,” she said. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire on me.” She hesitated telling Sam of her plan, unsure of his reaction and not wanting his disapproval.
“You’re being very mysterious,” he said. “I hope you’re not doing something you shouldn’t.”
“I’m actually not sure of the legalities.” Roxy bit her lip, wondering if her plan was a little too crazy. “Anyway, just hope and pray and wish or whatever you have that Johnson sees sense and decides not to arrest me.”
Sam looked concerned. “Roxy, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, nothing much. See you, Sam.” Roxy quickly spun around to go down the stairs, eager to be away.
“See you…,” Sam said hesitantly. “Look, do you need me to do anything?” he called out. Roxy turned to look back at him. “You know, help fix something for you? I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’ll be fine,” Roxy said, more confidently than she felt. “I’m sure it will all be just fine. I know it.” But as she hurried down the stairs, butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she wasn’t at all fine.
She got back into her office and shut the door, grateful for the opportunity to be alone. There was a knock at the door, and Sage popped her head in. “Have you got time to look at these website updates, sugar?”
They spent a few minutes perusing the changes Sage had made. “All looks good to me. Thank you, Sage.”
“You know, you and I make a great team, Roxy.” Sage smiled her broad smile as she closed up her laptop. “We complement each other perfectly. Salt and pepper. Sweet and sour. Bread and butter. I am so delighted to be your friend.”
Roxy leaned her head on the much taller woman’s shoulder. “Likewise, Sage. Likewise.”
“See you tonight, honey-bun!” Sage wafted away like she’d wafted in, her robes flowing around her.
Roxy thought about calling Royston Lamontagne again. Instead, she gave her laptop keyboard a sharp tap and opened her social media accounts, replying to every comment on Instagram and checking out the progress of the competition she was hosting on Facebook. The prize was two free nights at the hotel, probably in the loft room Sam was renovating, a free dinner for two, and a bottle of champagne.
An hour later, she went back up to the loft to take some new pictures—one of the wheel-like window at the end, and one of Sam laying down the navy blue floor stain—but she didn’t linger. She posted them to her social media accounts and teased her followers about the grand reveal she’d do at the end once the loft conversion was complete.
There was another knock on her door. It was Nat. Behind her were George and Charles. “I’m going to take them down to the riverside, probably take in a cruise. Wanna come?”
“Sorry no, I can’t. What time will you be back?”
“Early evening, I expect.”
“Okay, don’t forget…” Roxy mouthed “the reenactment” and looked pointedly at Charles and George behind them. Nat raised her eyebrows confirming she understood. “Have a lovely time!”
Once they’d left, Roxy scurried across the alleyway to Elijah’s Bakery. Elijah was in the kitchen at the back. He was building an enormous pyramid out of profiteroles. “What’s up, girl?” he said as Roxy scurried in. He didn’t look up, concentrating as he was on finishing his confectionary creation.
“Elijah, I just wanted to remind you that if anyone comes asking about Nat, you don’t know her. We need to protect her from the authorities.”
Elijah didn’t say anything. He piped chocolate ganache on top of the pastries that comprised his pyramid’s penultimate row, then using just his thumb and forefinger, eased the final profiterole on top. He stood back and admired his handiwork, a two-foot-tall construction made entirely out of pastry, chocolate, and cream. “There she goes.”
“How do you do that, Elijah?” Roxy asked distracted from the purpose of her visit for a moment as she admired his steady hand.
“Chemistry, engineering, and a lotta elbow grease, lovely girl. Now, what did you say? Nat? Of course, my lips are sealed. She will be a mystery, a sprite, a faerie with a beautiful voice. People will talk about her, but no one shall find her. I will quite enjoy playing along.” He drew his fingers from right to left across his mouth.
“Er, good. Right.” Roxy wondered what Elijah was planning, but decided she didn’t have time to explore things further just at the moment. “Thanks. Must dash.” Roxy scurried back the way she came and slipped back into the Funky Cat.
Now that she was alone in the hotel except for Sam who was busy on the loft space, she buzzed with half-excited, half-nervous energy as she continued to work, her mind partly on her business tasks, and partly on the murder scene reenactment she was going to stage later. In truth, she didn’t know how much information it would give her, but it was worth a try. She also knew she was procrastinating. It was time for her to call around to get all the suspects there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“MR. LAMONTAGNE?” ROXY said, in her most serious voice. She briefly closed her eyes as she tried to calm her nerves. Her stomach had been in knots as she’d set her phone number to private. She lowered her pitch and added a little Southern drawl to her tone, hoping the businessman wouldn’t notice the tremulous shake that was threatening to expose her as a fraud.
“Who’s this?” Royston Lamontagne barked as he picked up his phone.
“This is Off
icer Anna Brown of the New Orleans Police Department, sir.” Roxy winced. She felt awful—she’d never been one to lie, and it was a very uncomfortable feeling indeed.
“Yes, what is it?”
“I’m assisting Detective Johnson with his investigation, sir, and he’s instructed me to contact everyone who was at the scene of Meredith Romanoff’s murder. I appreciate that this is short notice, but we’re holding a reenactment of the crime scene this evening at the botanica where she was killed. You are obliged to attend.”
“What time?”
“7 PM, the same time as the original, um, meeting.”
“I’m not sure…”
“It is imperative, sir.”
Roxy heard pages flipping. Some people did still use paper calendars, then. “Okay. I’ll move things around to be there.”
Roxy's eyebrows shot up. She had expected much more resistance and felt a surge of relief. She forced her eyebrows to return to their normal position as she composed herself again. “Thank you, Mr. Lamontagne. I must impress upon you that your attendance is mandatory. Failure to show up could result in your arrest.”
“I’ll be there, Officer.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Goodbye, sir.”
Roxy hit the “end call” button. Her hands were shaking, and she felt sick. It had sounded like such a good idea in her head. Only now was she realizing how much of a risk she was taking. Surely she would get arrested.
She wanted to call Lamontagne back immediately, tell him it was all a joke and that he didn’t have to go anywhere, but it was too late. She’d already committed the crime. There was nothing she could do to take it back. Her only hope was that she could uncover evidence that would expose the murderer. Then, perhaps Johnson would go easy on her.
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