3 Louisiana Lies

by Alison Golden

  “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 other-worldly 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, ole 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.”

  “I’m such a fool,” Roxy said, bending over to pick each chip off the steps one by one. At least now she had a plausible reason for blushing—and an activity to hide it.

  “Hey, leave the chips for now,” Sam said, placing a hand gently over hers as she continued to scrabble around. His touch was like an electric shock coursing through her body, and she jumped. He let go. “Accidents happen. Do you want to see how the loft is coming along?”

  “Yes, yes, of course!” Roxy pushed strands of her short hair behind her ear and brushed her face in confusion.

  Sam put down his lunch, and they walked up the remaining stairs. At the top, there was a landing and a door that opened up to the loft space Sam was converting.

  “Wow,” Roxy said as soon as she stepped inside.

  It was a long way from being finished, but the room looked a lot better than the last time she’d seen it. Before they had started on the project, she and Sam had sorted through boxes and boxes of items that could be credibly called junk, but out of respect for Evangeline—who had accumulated it all—they had tactfully marked “miscellany.” It had been an exhausting process.

  “Oh, I haven’t seen that in thirty years!” Evangeline would exclaim, as she took items out of their dusty old boxes and set them on the floor. This was usually followed by, “I must keep it!” Many frustrated looks had passed between Sam and Roxy until they became resigned to the fact that Evangeline wasn’t to be parted from her memories. They needed to come up with a solution that respected her wishes but also allowed them to renovate the space.

  Roxy had confided her frustration to Elijah during one of their regular “business and coffee” chats one day. Elijah offered Evangeline some unused storage space above the bakery and he and Roxy, along with Nat, Sage, Sam, a couple of Sam’s laundrymen, and Elijah’s two bakery assistants had spent an afternoon forming a human chain to move the boxes from the Funky Cat to Elijah’s Bakery.

  It had been an exercise in teamwork and cooperation that had warmed Roxy’s heart. They had all kept their cool, respected each other’s wishes, and had come up with a resolution that made everyone happy. Roxy couldn’t have imagined concluding an issue so successfully before she had arrived in New Orleans. Until that point, her life had seemed a neverending round of power struggles. Struggles she had usually lost.

  After they had cleared the space, Sam had cleaned the loft from top to bottom. It hadn’t been touched in a very long time, and the dust lay so thick in places it was like carpet. Sam had filled multiple vacuum bags with nothing but gray dust, and then he had set about scrubbing the room down.

  “Are you sure you want to be doing this?” Roxy had asked him.

  “Yup, it’ll give you a new room to play with. I’m mostly glad there are no rat hideouts or bird nests up here. If there were, we’d have been looking at a whole different operation.”

  As it was, the only major issue was some minor dry rot that was easily remedied. Handy as he was, Sam had simply cut out the old damaged wood piece by piece and replaced it with new lumber. Roxy could see his repairs had made things as good as new, if not better. After that, Sam had set about renovating the space.

  Now, when Roxy stepped into the loft, her heart swelled with joy. The room was going to look awesome! Beams had been installed across the high, sloped ceiling and painted a rich mahogany color. The rickety window at one end had been replaced with a brand new frame, and it was gorgeous. It was circular with leaded glass that splayed out from the center to the edges like spokes. It looked like a giant wheel and let in plenty of light especially in the afternoon when the sun’s rays showered the room with a golden glow and made it perfect for a nap or a relaxed drink while taking in the magnificent views across the city. Roxy knew that Nefertiti would be sure to find her way into the room unless they kept the door shut. Neffi was a sun worshipper and heat-seeking missile rolled into one.

  At the other end of the room was a platform. A small, spiral staircase led up to it. It was encased in a delicate, filigree, wrought iron balustrade. Next to it, Sam planned to install another circular window that would offer the room even m
ore light and even more of a view. Next to the room, on the landing, a luxury bathroom had been built and there was even access to the rooftop. It was the perfect, romantic hideaway, one that Roxy hoped would be popular with honeymooning couples and others wanting to get away from their regular, stress-filled lives.

  “Sam!” Roxy said. “It looks incredible!”

  “Yeah?” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking modest. “It does look pretty good, doesn’t it? It’s coming along.”

  Roxy walked over to the window. “It’s just…wow!” She looked out. There was a fabulous view over the rooftops of New Orleans. “This is just…well, I can’t find the right word for it. ‘Special’ isn’t enough.” She turned to him. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated before venturing, “Perhaps you’d like this room? We could switch things around so that guests stay in what are your personal rooms now.”

  Roxy walked up and down the large loft—it was the first time she’d been able to do that without worrying dry rot was going to bring down a beam on her. She turned and grinned at him, but shook her head. “Nuh-uh. We can charge a premium for this room.” She looked around again. “It would be lovely to sleep here, though.” She smiled at the thought. “So, tell me, how d'ya get so good at everything, huh?” Excitement over the room was overwhelming her shyness of earlier.

  Sam shook his head. “I’m not good at everything—” he said, “by any stretch.”

  “Aw, come on! You’re courteous and kind, for a start. You can play the sax like a professional. You have a successful laundry business that you run standing on your head. You can do electrics and plumbing and just about every type of DIY trick known to man.” She also wanted to add the fact that he clearly had tons of money, but she observed their rule of not speaking of it and held her tongue.

  “You’re too kind, Roxy,” he said. “But look at you. You came here and started a new life knowing no one and nothing about New Orleans. You solved two murders, no less, and took control of managing this place without any experience at all. Took it from a rundown, if somewhat charming, guesthouse to a luxury boutique hotel that is constantly sold out…And you’re still kind and as down-to-earth as ever. You’ve got a lot of things going for you, too.”