“No,” Roxy said quietly. “He wasn’t.”
Louise looked confused. “But Roxy, you were there when…”
“When you lied to me,” Roxy said.
“Huh?”
“Speak the truth, sweet love,” said Sage, still not opening her eyes.
“I intend to.” Roxy drew the card she had found in the laundry from the pocket of her red dress and laid it on the table. “This is Louise’s work ID card. Except your name isn’t Louise, is it? It’s Emma Warren.”
Louise stood dead still, stunned.
“And you work for…” Roxy pointed to the card. “Tobin & Partners, a huge property development company in Dallas. I looked it up online.”
“Lies!” Louise shouted.
Evangeline snatched the card up. “Let me see that.”
Nat ran from her side of the table over to Evangeline. “Me too.”
Roxy looked right at Louise. “You lied to me, to all of us. You were here all along to buy this guesthouse. You don’t want to keep it and do it up nicely to preserve New Orleans heritage at all. You want to tear it down and build shiny new apartments, then sell them off for a huge profit, just like Richard Lomas wanted to.”
Roxy felt a wave of anger run through her. “You tricked everyone. You made up all that stuff about your marriage failing, and that you were simply taking a break here. You pretended to be one of us. You lied and lied and lied. Even your name is made up! All for money. And then when Richard Lomas looked like he was going to beat you to a deal with Evangeline, you killed him. You lured him to the cemetery that night after the boat ride and shot him in cold blood.
“How could I have done that? I was drunk. Elijah had to escort me home.”
“It was all a pretense. My guess is that Lomas told you he was negotiating with Elijah as well as Evangeline, and you seized your moment. You shot him and stole his phone so you could frame Elijah.”
Suddenly, Louise recovered from her shock at being accused. She sneered. “All right. You’re right about who I am, and that I wanted to get my hands on this guesthouse. But lying isn’t a criminal offense. And you can’t prove I killed Richard Lomas because I didn’t.”
Evangeline looked up at Louise, hate burning in her eyes. “Well, you’re not getting this guesthouse now, let me tell you that. You’re a liar and a cheat, and possibly a murderer, too.”
Louise’s face crumpled. She looked like she was in pain. She wandered away from the table toward the kitchen. “I felt terrible about lying to you. Not at first, but as it went on, and I could see you were all becoming fond of me.” She let out a little sob. “I… I’m not sure I even want the guesthouse anymore.”
Evangeline couldn’t stop staring down at Louise’s ID and shaking her head.
Then, quick as a flash, Louise darted into the kitchen.
“What’s she doing?” Nat cried.
Evangeline got to her feet. “You get out of my kitchen!” She marched toward it, but before she could make it through the doorway, Louise was back.
She had gone into the kitchen tremulous and upset but now appeared completely deranged. Her eyes were wild and the whites of her eyes were showing. Her hair was messed up, and she pulled at her sunshine yellow dress with her free hand like she wanted to rip it off. It was as though the exposure of her identity and motives had unhinged her completely.
Everyone gasped.
Louise had a huge carving knife in her hand.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
EVANGELINE, THE KNIFE a few inches from her chest, took a step back.
“You’ll sign that contract, and you’ll sign that contract now,” Louise spat at her. “And no one here will ever say anything or contest this sale unless you want to end up like Richard Lomas. Six feet under.”
“So you did kill him, then?” Roxy said.
Louise laughed. “Yes, Roxy, sweetie,” she said in a cajoling voice. “I did.”
“You’re crazy, woman,” Elijah said. “Give it up. You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this. We’ll go to the police en masse and tell them all about you. You’ll be slammed in a cell by the end of the night.”
“Hah! Not if you know what’s good for you. Property development is a murderous, duplicitous industry of scum. It’s teeming full of lowlifes, and I know most of them. They wouldn’t think twice about picking you off one by one.”
Evangeline’s hands were trembling, but she kept her head high. “You will never ever get this guesthouse. Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.” Louise lunged over, grabbed Evangeline, and held the carving knife in front of her. “Don’t test me, old lady.”
Sam, furious, barreled toward her. “STOP!”
“Don’t move!” Louise said. “Nobody move!” She pressed the carving knife against Evangeline’s straining neck. The elderly woman’s veins bulged as did the one down the center of Louise’s forehead. The atmosphere in the room was electric as the situation sat literally on a knife’s edge. “We’re not far from a really serious accident happening here.”
Sam froze. Everyone did. Everyone except Nefertiti.
Unbeknownst to everyone, the fluffy white cat had silently padded downstairs. She brushed against Louise’s leg, startling her. Louise flinched, and Sam, showing lightning reflexes, reached over and wrested the knife from her hand. As he did so, Roxy lunged at Louise as hard as she could. Despite Roxy’s slight build, the force of her knocked Louise over. Roxy pinned her to the ground. Louise wasn’t through yet, though. She wiggled and squirmed just like the crawfish Roxy and Nat had purged earlier. Roxy couldn’t keep her down. Sam bent over to help, but Louise unleashed a mighty kick at his leg, and he doubled over in agony. As Roxy checked to see if Sam was okay, Louise twisted out of Roxy’s grip and ran back into the kitchen. The gang of friends scurried after her.
Inside the white subway-tiled kitchen, Louise rushed over to the huge black range. She seized a 12-inch chef’s knife from the counter. She waved it in front of her, threatening the group, the point of the gleaming knife glinting in the light. “Don’t come near me!” she yelled. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it back roughly before grabbing a bottle of oil and pouring it into a nearby pan. With the knife shaking in her hand, she shouted, “If you’re not going to give me the guesthouse, I’m going to burn it to the ground. Just you watch.”
“No, don’t!” Roxy screamed. She took a step forward. Louise thrust the knife toward her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in. Now Roxy was being held hostage. Roxy could feel the edge of the knife against her skin.
“If any of y’all come near me, your darling Roxy will get it, do you hear?” Louise spat.
With her free hand, she got ahold of a lighter and lit the gas burner. She placed the pan of oil on top. It shot up in flames. Louise cackled like a witch. She stood in front of the range, between the flames and the assembled group. “Now, we’re all just going to have to wait, aren’t we? Soon this wooden dump will be burned to the ground and maybe us along with it.” She flashed an evil grin at Evangeline. “Insurance can’t make up for lost heritage, can it?”
Louise was pressing the edge of the knife into Roxy so intently that Roxy knew she couldn’t move an inch. Louise wouldn’t hesitate to harm her. Roxy didn’t doubt Louise’s words on that for a moment.
“Just give it up, Louise,” Sam said in an authoritative voice.
She laughed at him, and casually leaned back against the edge of the range, her hand still holding the knife against Roxy’s body. The flames were getting higher, the pan was starting to smoke.
Evangeline snorted. “You sick, sick woman.”
Louise sneered. “You stupid, stupid woman. People like you deserve to get conned.”
“You drop that knife right now, or I’ll blast you into infinity,” a voice boomed into the kitchen from outside.
“Detective Johnson!” Nat called out.
All the color drained from Louise’s face, but she maintain
ed her bravado and tightened her grip on Roxy. “Why should I?”
“It’s over, Emma Warren,” Johnson said, pushing through the kitchen door with his shoulder, gun cocked.
Louise began to laugh again, “Hahahahaha…aaaaargghhh!” She dropped the knife and pushed Roxy away from her. She half-turned from the range, slapping at her back. Her dress had caught on fire. Flames flickered from the bright yellow fabric at the back of her dress as it melted away, exposing Louise’s reddened, hot flesh.
Sam, Elijah, and Nat lurched at her in unison, but Louise refused to submit that easily. Slapping her back with one hand, she tipped the oil onto the gas flame with the other. Whoooosh! A gigantic wall of fire shot into the air. The others raised their arms against the blanket of fearsome heat. Louise darted across the kitchen floor toward the back hallway, almighty crashes sounding as she pushed pots and pans to the ground behind her. She was running to the small back room where Nat and Roxy had purged the crawfish earlier.
“There’s a back entrance there!” Evangeline hollered, grabbing a fire extinguisher. “Someone go round the outside, quick!”
Evangeline needn’t have worried. Johnson’s officers were already stationed there. A few moments later, a female police officer recited Louise her Miranda rights, while Louise screamed all kinds of expletives at her.
A silence settled over the six friends as they went to the front of the guesthouse to watch Louise being escorted into a waiting police car.
Elijah was sweating, red-faced, and angry, Sam looked nonplussed. Nat frowned, Evangeline’s arms were crossed, while Sage stood serenely. Next to her, Roxy was quiet and thoughtful.
“Well, that’s that taken care of,” Johnson said as the cops shut the door on Louise. He turned to Roxy, looking slightly uncomfortable. “The tip-off you gave us this afternoon has led to a successful arrest.”
Roxy brightened when he spoke. She grinned and dared to be a little bold. “Are you thanking me, Detective Johnson?”
Johnson was deadpan. “You have done your duty as a citizen.”
“I’d take that as a yes!” Evangeline said. “It’s the best you’re gonna get!”
“What do you mean the tip-off?” Sam asked.
“I found Louise’s real ID in the clothes I brought back from your laundry,” Roxy said. “So I contacted Detective Johnson and set this little drama up. I hadn’t anticipated she was going to turn quite so feral, though.”
“Well, my trust issues just got much worse,” Nat said with a sigh.
Sam looked at the detective. “Do you have enough evidence to charge her?”
“Per the plans we set up with Ms. Reinhardt this afternoon, we’ve got the confession recorded,” Johnson said. “We’ll search for the firearm used to commit the crime, and look for DNA evidence, but we’ve got plenty on her so far. Even if the murder case falls through, we could charge her with arson, attempted murder, you name it. She crossed a lot of lines back there. You were all in a lot of danger.”
“Nonsense,” Evangeline said. “Just a little skirmish, is all.”
Johnson rolled his eyes. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”
“Hurry up and search her room, would you? And get the heck out of my guesthouse,” Evangeline said, shaking her head and flicking her hands as though Johnson were an insect whose presence on the premises wouldn’t do Evangeline’s reputation any good.
“Gladly,” Johnson said drily.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LATER THAT NIGHT, Roxy was in her room with Nefertiti curled up on the bed beside her.
The day had been a rollercoaster. Her tarot card reading with Sage seemed like such a long time ago. Since then she’d argued with Sam in the laundry, spent the bulk of the day on her feet cooking, found the badge that clued her in to Louise’s real identity, contacted Detective Johnson with her suspicions, confronted Louise at the dinner, wrestled her to the ground, had her life threatened, and watched a murderer get arrested.
And, after it all, she still didn’t know where she would live, or what she would do. The case had been an excellent distraction, but now she had nothing to do, nothing to look forward to…no plans, no direction.
Exhausted, she had a little cry to let out all the tensions of the day, until there was a soft knock at her door.
Roxy quickly wiped her tears and cleared her throat. “Come in,” she croaked.
In came Evangeline, a look of concern on her face. She was followed by an equally serious-looking Sam.
“Oh,” Roxy said, taken aback. She was sure she looked an absolute mess, her eyes ringed with mascara that had run, her red dress all crumpled and askew. “Hi.” She tried to smooth out her hair and ran her fingertips under her eyes. Hopefully, the dim light hid the worst. “Sit down, go ahead.”
Evangeline sat on the bed next to her while Sam dragged a chair over.
“We’ve come with a proposition,” Evangeline said.
“Okay…?” Roxy felt a little nervous.
“Don’t look so scared,” Sam said, with a gentle laugh. “It’s nothing too terrible. At least, I hope not.”
Evangeline spoke. Her green eyes were soft and gentle. “We’ve really enjoyed having you here, cher. You’re a wonderful person, friendly but not too much, willing to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty. And you solved the murder. That takes some moxie. I was going to ask you, well, I know you said you were starting a new life. Do you…would you…will you become part-owner in this old place with Sam and take over the day-to-day running of the guesthouse from me?”
Roxy’s mind went into a spin.
“Nat’ll stay on, of course,” Evangeline said. “Sage’ll do the website. I can even teach y’all how to really cook if you want. I can’t stay forever, but I don’t have to go rushing off right away. Sam’ll do the repairs and the laundry still, and Elijah’ll bring all the bread and pastries, as usual.”
Roxy stared at them.
This couldn’t be happening, could it? Something so good that was such a blessing? Things like this didn’t happen to her. Life was a struggle!
“But I can’t afford to buy it from you,” she said.
“That’s all right,” Evangeline replied. “It’s all settled. Sam’s going to buy it and give you half. You’ll be the manager with a steady paycheck and a stake in the property.”
“Gosh.” Roxy settled back onto the headboard and stared into space as she processed this information.
“Unless you have other plans, cher,” Evangeline said gently. “I guess the world is your oyster now. You could go anywhere. Start afresh wherever you wanted.”
“Though it’d be nice if you stuck around.” Sam’s voice was deep and full of meaning. “Real nice.”
Roxy looked up. Sam was looking right at her, his eyes sincere.
She avoided them for a moment, pushing back the wave in her chest that was threatening to break. Instead, she pushed her fingers into Nefertiti’s long fur and stroked her soft, soft belly.
Roxy allowed her thoughts to roam for a second or two. She imagined herself traveling out of New Orleans by bus, her bags packed, Nefertiti in her little carrier, as she rode away from all the new friends she had made. Where was she going? She didn’t know. But as she imagined herself looking out of the window at this city she’d come to love, she felt a tug at her heart. Not a little tug, like a sentimental but necessary goodbye, but a gigantic pull, like someone had lassoed her with a thick rope and wasn’t about to let go.
Her senses were alive. The colors of Mardi Gras flashed before her eyes and she heard the noises of the parades in her ears. She could smell the Cajun spices that lingered in the air around her like spirits urging her to stay. Perhaps this city, with all its magic and mystery and chaos was the place she’d finally make her home. It seemed so unlikely, but she had discovered that she was a little fiercer and a little wilder than she knew. New Orleans had brought all that moxie up to the surface.
“We’ll give you some time to think about it, che
r,” Evangeline said, giving her a motherly pat on the knee.
“No,” said Roxy.
She thought back to that wild, devil-may-care moment in her apartment. That split second when her spirit had told her, WE’RE OFF! no matter what her fearful mind countered with. This moment was different, though. The feeling didn’t sweep over her from outside, gripping her soul with determination. This time, it bubbled up from somewhere deep within. To come to New Orleans had been a whim. To stay was a conviction.
Roxy looked Evangeline and Sam in the eyes and smiled. “I’m going to accept your offer with many thanks. I shall be delighted to stay.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TIME WHIZZED BY and before Roxy knew it, the night of the Grand Opening rolled around. She had changed the name of the guesthouse to the Funky Cat Inn, a nod to the jazz traditions of the city and the music she planned to provide regularly, and she and Nat had spent weeks reimagining each room from scratch. They’d headed to the New Orleans Public Library and checked out numerous books on traditional buildings with pictures of sumptuous decors for inspiration.
They’d hit flea markets with Sam’s laundry van (and his generous cash injection) and filled it up with all manner of French antiques and some amazing reproductions that they put to use in the communal and private rooms of the guesthouse.
Sam had also gotten to work. He had rewired the building and arranged all the structural repair work necessary. New windows had been installed and the balconies fixed. By the time he had finished, Evangeline’s was up to code and then some.
On one of their trips to the flea market, Roxy finally broached the elephant in the room with Nat. “Where does Sam get all this money from? Surely the laundry business doesn’t make enough for him to splash this amount of cash around?”
Nat raised her eyebrows. “We don’t ask about that. I think he has family money, and he’s a little embarrassed about it, but that’s just a guess. Like I said, we don’t talk about it.”
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