Sage led them inside. There was no one in the outer part of the shop so they continued to the back room, this one dimly lit. Skeletons, skulls, even a wrought iron gate were laid out there, along with beads, an altar, and wreaths long since dead and dried out. Beyond that, there was a doorway covered with a black lace veil. Sam took the lead through it into a dark room illuminated only by flickering candles.
“STOP!” someone yelled. They all jumped out of their skin. Roxy screamed.
A woman appeared from another back door—a very tall, skinny, terrifying-looking woman with alabaster, almost transparent skin, and straggly, jet-black hair that fell around her shoulders. She had an angular face with a diamond-shaped chin and thin, dry lips that were peeling. The woman was dressed entirely in black and glared at them with small, dark eyes, clearly unafraid of the group in front of her despite there being seven of them.
“Let’s get out of here!” Nat whispered frantically.
“Wait!” George said to her. He turned back to the woman. George wasn’t very tall, but he drew himself up to his full height and spoke. His voice sounded strong and confident, but Roxy heard a shaky undertone. “We would like to connect with your most senior spirit,” he said. “To ask a favor.”
The woman replied through gritted teeth as though she were suppressing some kind of rage that had presumably and inexplicably been caused by the strangers in front of her. Her hard low tone sent shivers down Roxy’s spine. “They are not here right now. The Palace of Spirits is out of bounds. I suggest you come back tomorrow,” she added although it clearly wasn’t a suggestion at all.
“Okay,” Elijah said quickly. “Let’s go. I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere tonight.”
“Are you sure?” Sage tried to cajole the woman. “We come with pure intentions and good hearts.”
The woman in black inhaled deeply, her eyes blazing. Like George, she drew herself up to her full height that, to Roxy, seemed rather tall, almost as tall as Sam.
“Okay, okay, we hear you. Let’s go, people,” Sam said before the woman could say anything to frighten them further. They started filing out of the room into the street except for George who stood his ground until Nat caught his sleeve and started to pull him away from the woman.
“We’re not afraid of you and your darkness!” George shouted at her. “I’m sending out positive healing energy at this very moment. There’s a sinister ritual being performed in that room, I can feel it.” He pointed to the door through which the woman had emerged.
“Clever boy,” the woman growled.
“You won’t get away with it,” George said firmly. “You won’t!”
The woman said nothing, her pointed chin lifted, triumphant.
Nat laughed, though it sounded like she was almost crying. “No problem. We’ll just be going now.”
The group scurried back the way they had come, dodging and weaving through the tourists back to the cab. As soon as the car doors closed, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“To the Funky Cat Inn,” Roxy said to the driver. “As quickly as you can.”
“What was that all about?” Nat asked George. She was squeezed in the corner of the back seat next to Elijah and Sage and had to look around them at George. “What did you mean by a ‘sinister ritual’? How did you know?”
George was frowning. “There was dark energy, the blackest. I’m still feeling it. It’s so heavy.” He leaned his head back. “I’ll need time to understand what it means.”
They were all silent as they drove back to the Funky Cat, even Elijah. Roxy looked out of the window, her elbow on the window ledge, her palm propping up her chin, her lips pursed. She had that leaden feeling one gets after something has gone badly wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“ANYONE WANT A nightcap?” Roxy asked brightly when they arrived back at the hotel. She was trying to rescue the evening.
“I have to head off, Roxy girl,” Elijah said. “I have an early start.”
“Me too, honey,” said Sage. “I have a marathon meditation session set for tomorrow morning.”
“I’m going straight to bed.” Charles let out a deep sigh.
“I’ll be contacting the spirits for some time yet. I need to go to my room right away.” George was emphatic.
Roxy nodded. She didn’t have any enthusiasm either. “You’re right. It’s best that we all go to bed and wake up bright and early in the morning, hopefully in better moods.”
Outside the hotel, they said their farewells and dispersed. “Night, Roxy.” Sam had said simply before he left. Roxy disconsolately watched the cab drive him and Elijah away. She hung her head and went inside.
“How you doing, girlfriend?” Nat asked her. She wound a loose arm around her friend’s neck.
“Oh, I don’t know. Things just don’t feel…right, you know? I feel out of sorts.”
“Yeah, that was weird what happened back there.”
“I think I’m going to bed. There’s nothing to be gained from staying up given the mood I’m in.” Roxy moved to lock the front door.
“Yeah, me too.” Nat left her and walked through the lounge toward the kitchen. Nat lived in a unit situated behind the hotel.
“Night, Nat,” Roxy called out.
“N—, hey, look!” Nat whispered. She held her fingers to her lips and beckoned Roxy over. Roxy padded lightly to where Nat was standing. “Looks like Neffi has had a better night than we have,” Nat said, pointing.
Roxy looked over to the sofa and there entwined together fast asleep, their tails twitching, was Nefertiti and her ginger tom.
At some point during the night, Nefertiti must have abandoned her stripy orange friend, or he’d abandoned her because when Roxy woke the next morning, Nefertiti was curled up beside her. Roxy stroked her gently, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts turning to the investigation immediately.
Roxy knew she needed to question both Charles and George. Of course, she didn’t want to amplify their grief, but the clock was ticking. She knew that today she’d have to engineer some kind of opportunity to talk to them about Meredith’s life and death.
She didn’t relish the prospect, but the thought of Dr. Jack languishing in a cell under the firm hand of Detective Johnson was enough to spur her into action. Even more important was her commitment to him. Roxy was utterly reliable. When she gave her word, she gave her heart and soul along with it.
“I’m going to talk to one of them over breakfast, Neffi. Charles or George – it doesn’t matter which one. That’s my goal.” Roxy got up, had a quick shower and dressed for the day. She nipped over to Elijah’s bakery to pick up fresh beignets.
“Morning darling!” Elijah called out. He was wearing chef’s whites and a hair net. It always surprised Roxy to see him kitted out so bland and dorky. It was such a change from his “off-duty” attire, but then perhaps that was the point.
“Thought I’d save you the walk across the cobblestones. Have you got my order ready?” she said.
“Of course I have. Just like always.” Elijah sauntered over to a side counter. “And I gave you a bonus, something new I’m trying—top box. Don’t open it now. Come back and tell me what you think.” He handed her two big white boxes that when piled on top of one another were so tall she could barely see over them. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll manage,” Roxy replied. “Just an ongoing hazard of being small.” Elijah went around her to open the door and then had to dash across the alleyway to open the front door to her hotel when he saw that she couldn’t manage by herself.
Once in the kitchen, Roxy opened the boxes, excited to see what Elijah had made for her. He often tried out new recipes on her guests. They were always fabulous. Elijah was such a perfectionist that he would never let anything leave his bakery unless he was certain of a positive reception.
The first box contained beignets, as usual. She turned to the second and took off the lid. There, on a paper plate covered with a paper doily, were five p
iles of sweet, chocolate-y deliciousness. Each pastry comprised of two choux buns that were sandwiched together, topped with chocolate ganache, and further topped with whipped cream. Roxy sliced one open and more ganache oozed out from inside the buns. “They’re called Religieuse,” Elijah would tell her later.
“I can see why,” Roxy had replied.
Roxy didn’t have to taste one to know they would be divine. She debated whether to save them but decided they would make an impressive sight first thing in the morning and quickly slid the doily with the pastries onto a china plate and along with the beignets, put them on the serving table in the dining room.
“Good morning, Roxy,” George said when he strode in. “Those beignets smell like heaven.”
Roxy grinned. “Freshly made this morning. I picked them up myself. They are still warm. But look at what else I have for you.” She showed him the plate of choux pastries with a flourish. “New and fresh from Elijah’s Bakery just minutes ago. Try one.”
George didn’t need to be asked twice. He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Hmmm, these are gorgeous. Melt in the mouth.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry I’m late!” Nat said, running in and throwing her apron over her head. Her dark hair was spiky and unbrushed. She’d obviously just rolled out of bed.
“Hey! Don’t worry about it!” George said to her smiling. This morning, he was her exact opposite. He was bright-eyed and smiley, his face scrubbed pink, his hair freshly jelled, and his clothes casual but neat. “We all had a late night last night. Looks like Charles has slept in, too.”
“Yep. I’m tired.” There were dark rings under Nat’s eyes. “What would you like for breakfast, George? I am not too tired to make whatever you want.” She cast a nervous glance over in Roxy’s direction as she checked her manager’s reaction.
“I don’t normally go for a hot breakfast, but I’d love some oatmeal if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course not!” Nat said. “I’ll get to it right away. Oh, and I’ll bring some juices and coffee and tea in. Roxy, really I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Nat, honestly,” said Roxy kindly.
“Do you want anything?”
“I think after that dinner last night, I’ll stick with a beignet and some tea,” said Roxy. “I still feel full.”
George sat down at the table and began to munch on another choux pastry.
Roxy took a deep breath. She had him alone. Now was her chance to question him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“YOU’RE CONCERNED,” GEORGE said.
Roxy looked at him over the table. He put his hands under his chin and looked back at her steadily, a warm smile on his face. Roxy had never met an adult who was so comfortable with eye contact. He had the credulous, artless gaze of a six-year-old.
Roxy nodded. “You’re a good reader of people, George. I’m worried about Dr. Jack. Honestly, I think it’s very unlikely he killed Meredith, especially over such a minor argument, but I’m willing to keep an open mind. Do you know if there was any history between them?”
“I don’t think so,” said George. “At least Meredith never mentioned any. She simply asked me to book a small private room in New Orleans for her reading. It was me that found Dr. Jack’s botanica. She had never met him before.”
“Did Meredith ask you to do a lot of things like that?”
“Of course. She was supposed to. I was her assistant. I did whatever she wanted.” He gave her a broad grin. He had a slight gap between his two front teeth. “And I did it with a smile.”
Roxy shifted in her seat. “Look, George, I’m going to be direct now,” she said, eyeing him carefully. “Meredith didn’t seem very kind to you. I noticed her, well, um, snapping at you and ordering you around.”
George’s smile faded, and he looked down at the tablecloth before lifting his eyes to Roxy once again. “She didn’t have to be kind to me, Roxy. She wasn’t on this earth to be kind. She was here to be brilliant and sharp and a psychic genius, which she was. It was an honor to be her assistant, her apprentice. I was learning from the best. How she treated me was neither here nor there.”
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 nee
d 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.
3 Louisiana Lies Page 11