Free Hoodoo Woman (Roxie Mathis Book 3) by Sonya Clark Page A

stew.”
    “Smells delicious.” I sat. “You’re pretty good at this bachelor stuff. How come you never got married?”
    He froze for a second halfway to his chair. “I almost did once.”
    That bothered me more than it should have. “What happened?”
    “Didn’t work out,” mumbled the grumpy teddy bear. He furrowed his brow, tapping the table near his fork. “You mind if I say grace?”
    “Of course not.” I reached for his hand.
    He took it, fingers dwarfing mine. Bowing his head, he said, “Thank you, Lord, for this food and fellowship. Watch over Roxanne as she guides one of your children home. And please help me to do the right thing.” He paused as if he wanted to add more. “Amen.”
    “Amen.” I hadn’t done that in a long time and it was longer still that it meant as much to me.
    As we ate he asked questions about my life in Nashville. Mostly about my work. He steered clear of questions about my love life. I told him some of my favorite ghost eviction stories and he told me of some of his favorite arrests. We had each other laughing in no time. The laughter was nearly as cathartic as the earlier tears. Eventually, though, we had to get down to the matter at hand.
    Back in the office in front of the white board, Ray handed me a file. “That’s all there is on her death. A transcript of the 911 call from the person who found her. My initial report. The coroner’s report, not that there’s much to that. The investigation was over before it could even get started.”
    I flipped through the pages, not yet reading carefully but getting an idea of the shape of things. “Are you supposed to have this?”
    He cleared his throat. “I made copies.”
    “Deputy Travis.” I couldn’t keep the tease out of my voice.
    “Her ghost was in my kitchen! Just get to reading and tell me what you think.”
    “Still bossy as ever.” I flipped back to the first page.
    “As I recall there were times when you liked that.”
    I lowered the pages and stuck out my index finger. “You said no flirting!”
    He raised his hands in mock surrender, turning away to give me a chance to read. But not before I saw the mischief in his eyes.
    The transcript of the 911 call was hard enough to read, it made me glad Ray didn’t have a copy of the audio. Britney was found by an early morning jogger, a woman who lived on the road behind the marina, an area full of big houses and lots of money. She knew Britney, or recognized her at least as she was old enough to be the dead girl’s mother. She kept repeating my daughter knows her, my daughter knows her , after identifying Britney to the operator. Britney had been dead for several hours by then.
    Ray’s report was careful, meticulous, thorough. And the epitome of professionalism, as I would expect from him. The things driving him to make unauthorized copies of this file and bring in a witch to help the dead girl’s ghost find justice were not in evidence. That I would have to get from him personally, though he’d already shared some of it.
    The coroner’s report was equally professional and unpleasant. That this beautiful, seemingly vibrant young woman could be reduced to the weight of her organs and the amount of alcohol in her system was a cold slap in the face. There had been little residue of the ghost’s presence when I went through Ray’s house with the sage and protective blessing. The cheesiness of the website put up by her friends had been enough to keep the reality of the situation at bay. The coroner’s report allowed no such luxury.
    I closed the file. “Other than the visitation of her ghost, is there anything else that makes you think she was murdered?”
    Ray swiveled his chair around. “Amber Donahue was the only one of her friends willing to say much beyond the usual. She told me Britney had quit drinking, quit smoking pot. She’d been completely clean for over a month.”
    “She could have fallen off the wagon.”
    “That’s what I said to Amber but