There was a knock on the door, and Sam poked his head in.
“Hello, ladies.”
Sage briefly raised her eyes from the screen. Nat waved. Only Roxy looked directly at Sam. “Hi Sam.”
“Roxy, can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Roxy waited patiently for Sam to continue.
“Outside,” he said.
“Oh, okay.” Roxy pushed herself out from behind the desk and went out into the hallway where Sam stood.
“Look, I wondered, um, well, if…” Sam trailed off.
“Yes?” Roxy prompted. There was tension in the air, definitely tension.
“If, well, if you were alright.” Sam’s voice gained strength. “You know, after the other day. I mean, Kathy strangled you. That can’t have been fun.”
“Well, no. No, it wasn’t. But you stopped her, and thank you for that. Things would have been a lot worse if not for you, but I’m fine now.”
“Oh, right, well.” Sam looked down at his feet before raising his head and trying again. “But you’re not injured, or scared, losing sleep? I’d understand if you were. You nearly blacked out.”
“No, no, I’m fine, thanks.” Roxy was trembling now. Why did she do that around Sam? She remembered the vow she had made to herself. She would not get involved. Not with Sam, not with anyone. It would be unprofessional of her, and she still didn’t know if she trusted him completely. And besides, she didn’t have the time. “Anyhow, was there anything else?”
Sam looked directly at her. He was resolute now, having seemingly made a decision. “Just the laundry. I came for the laundry.”
Roxy went back to her office where Sage and Nat were chatting about the relative merits of the different social media platforms.
“But, Sage, Instagram is where the kids go. Facebook is for old folks.”
“Sylvia’s followers aren’t kids, and they’re on Instagram, sweet petal. And look how many Facebook fans we have—65,000!”
Roxy laughed. “I hope everyone’s doing okay. Shall we check up on them?”
“Oh, yes, great idea!” said Nat. She got up off her beanbag and stood behind them.
“Let’s try Lily first,” Roxy said.
Sage navigated to Lily Vashchenko’s Instagram page. “Aha!” Roxy said. “She did get the Hilton Hotel deal!” There was picture after picture after picture of Lily posing in front of the Hilton, wearing Hilton-branded slippers, in front of the Hilton-branded pool. If it had Hilton on it, Lily was posing with it, on it, or next to it.
“Good for her,” said Nat. “She really wanted that deal. It’s all she could talk about when we were walking to Dash’s party.”
“Dash really wanted it too,” Roxy said sadly.
“What about Sylvia?” said Nat.
Sage typed in Sylvia Walters, and nothing came up. “That’s strange,” said Roxy. “She’s not on there.”
“Do you think she deactivated?” said Nat. “She can’t have!”
Sage closed her eyes. “Search for her real name,” she said.
Roxy gasped. “What was it again?...Oh…erm…Oh, yes! Helen Matheson.” Sage typed the name in. Roxy’s heart was beating hard. “Oh my goodness, Sage, you’re right!”
Sage clicked through to the profile. Before, Sylvia’s Instagram feed had been full of well-curated pictures of lifestyle and travel. It was beautiful, for sure, but there was nothing particularly adrenaline pumping about it.
And now? Her profile picture was one of her standing alongside Oprah!
“No way!” Nat said.
“Uh-huh!” Roxy responded, finding it hard to believe herself. “The truth will set you free!” Roxy read from the page. “Tell your story—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Learn from your mistakes, and speak your truth. Fight for justice!”
Sage broke out into a beautiful smile. “This has been a learning experience for us all. Truly transformative. I vividly remember the reading I gave her. I could feel some inner tragedy had not been expressed. Often, I can tell exactly what a person has been through in life. I can look at them, and I feel their story. I see images, hear voices.
“But in her case, I didn’t get anything in particular. She’d hidden her story well, somewhere no one could see or sense it; somewhere where even she would not see or sense it. It was buried so, so deeply. But unfortunately, when we bury our story, we bury our soul with it. She was walking around a shell of a person, always worried, always looking over her shoulder. And her throat chakra was completely blocked. It was surrounded by dark, damp energy. Having a cover story will do that to you.”
Sage paused for a moment and tipped her head to one side. “You know when you try to relax, but you have a test the next day, and you haven’t studied for it, and you feel disaster looming? She was living her whole life like that, never able to relax. Her poor soul must have been so tired.” Sage peered at the screen and smiled. “Not anymore, though. Look at those eyes. I see joy, relief, and freedom. And a picture with Oprah? You have to be putting out some special energy into the Universe to achieve that!”
Roxy laughed. “That’s fantastic. I want to find out more about what Sylvia…sorry, Helen’s doing right now.” Sage hit up Google and typed in “Helen Matheson.” There was a Wikipedia page stating that she had been to jail for the death of her husband and was now using her platform to campaign for justice and help domestic violence victims.
“She has found her purpose,” Sage said. She paused. “What about Ada Okafor? Let’s see what she is doing.” Sage searched for Ada and quickly found her profile.
“Oh, her last post is from a while ago!” Roxy pointed at the picture on her account. Ada was wearing a white coat. “Look, she’s gone back to medicine!” Roxy clicked on the photo and up came the caption. “I’m back in medical school, training to become a surgeon. Thank you, Instagram, for the fun times! See you in seven years!”
Sage smiled at that too. “She’s realized there are more important things than Versace limited editions.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Nat said. “I hope Michael’s holding up okay,” she added.
“He sure is.” Sage grinned. “I don’t need to check Instagram for that. He’s always talking to Dr. Jack, and he’s even thinking of apprenticing with him in spiritual matters. It would all be done online of course. Michael is traveling all over the world as he honors Dash’s memory. Check out his pictures. You’ll see!”
Roxy typed Michael & Dash into the bar and found their Instagram page. It was full of pictures of Michael here, there, and everywhere. In each picture, Michael held a large photograph of Dash. There were pictures of him with street children, on boats in the Caribbean, in soup kitchens, and at the top of skyscrapers.
Roxy clicked on one of the pictures. Michael was standing on a platform, an amazing view over London stretched out behind him.
Dash always said the sky was the limit. Now I’m in the sky, in one of the tallest buildings in Europe. I’m toasting you with a glass of champagne, Dash. I’m living it up, just for you!
Roxy read it out, and then they settled into a comfortable, bittersweet silence until the laptop suddenly went ding!
“Ooh, look! We’ve got a message!” Roxy said.
She clicked on her inbox.
“It’s from The Magnificent Luxury Travel Show!” said Nat peering over Roxy’s shoulder.
Roxy shook her head. “It’s probably just a scam.”
“No, it’s not!” said Nat. “It’s a great TV show! It’s total vacation porn.”
“Nat!” Roxy said, swatting her. She opened the message and read.
Dear Roxy Reinhardt,
We have watched how you handled recent events at your hotel with grace and poise.
We love the look of the cuisine you serve, and the spiritual, historical, and cultural events you organize for your guests.
We would like to feature you in one of our shows. Please contact our scheduling producer at your earliest convenience at the email address below.
Yours sincerely,
Tiffany Schuster
Executive Producer
“Yes! I told you we would be on TV soon,” said Nat, punching the air. “Oh my goodness, this is like a dream! Roxy, this is worth thousands in publicity. You’ve made it!”
Roxy couldn’t believe her eyes. She looked out of her office door through to the lobby. In the room beyond, she could see the table that Nat had brought back from the flea market they had visited with Lily in Sam’s Rolls. When Nat had got ahold of the table, it had been scratched and faded, one leg was wobbly and the side detail was caked with grime. Now, the deep mahogany finish was smooth and shiny, the fine filigree detail exposed, the wobbly leg fixed. Set on top of the table was her other flea market find—a dramatic two-foot-high gold statue of a woman. She was a dramatic figure; her hair flowed behind her, her long dress twisted around her body. In her hands were a bow and arrow, her elbow pulled back as she took aim, her intense gaze focused on her prey. Every time Roxy looked at the statue, she felt a thrill course through her body. It inspired her. The woman was powerful, determined, a servant to no one. That was just how Roxy wanted to be.
“Is this for real?” Roxy said, finally.
Sage flashed her a grin and gave her a hug. “You bet, honey.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Well, you better believe it, mate,” Nat said. “’Cuz, it’s happening. You better hold on, Rox. You’re going to be famous!”
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2019 Alison Golden
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Mesa Verde Publishing
P.O. Box 1002
San Carlos, CA 94070
Edited by
Marjorie Kramer
LOUISIANA LIES
BOOK THREE
CHAPTER ONE
ROXY SLID HER body over the smooth silky, supple leather. It responded to her like a glove, molding itself to fit her form. In front, a length of polished walnut gleamed so brightly that Roxy’s face reflected back at her while under her feet was carpet so thick and soft, she felt as though her feet were suspended in midair. It was always a treat for Roxy to ride in Sam’s Rolls Royce. She wasn’t a very materialistic person, but even so, she couldn’t help but enjoy the experience of luxury.
Sam was apologetic every time they got in it. “Just my little extravagance,” he’d say, going a little red.
“Well, we certainly make a scene,” said Roxy. As they cruised along, people turned to look at them as they drove by. She looked out the windows at the mash-up of sleek modern buildings created from chrome and glass, and the traditional, colorful, ornate Louisiana architecture that comprised New Orleans.
Sam grinned. “That’s NOLA for you. Scenes galore.”
“Yep,” said Roxy. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. And the people! I can’t believe one of my best friends is an actual spiritualist, and we’re on our way to meet one of our guests who’s conducting a séance! How surreal is that?”
Sam laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Makes for unpredictable, exciting times. So, tell me more about your guest. The big cheese.”
“Her name is Meredith Romanoff,” said Roxy. “A spiritual medium and psychic. She’s very well respected and famous in her circles. At least that’s what Dr. Jack said.”
“So what is she doing here?”
“She’s holding a series of events. Tonight’s just a small one for private clients, but tomorrow she’s got a huge public workshop. Over a thousand people are going. It’s being held at one of the hotel conference centers, but she prefers to stay in smaller, more personable surroundings, which is why she’s made a reservation with us. They booked out the Funky Cat even though there’s only three of them. She’s visiting with her husband and her assistant.”
“But why are we meeting them at the botanica?”
“They were going to check in first, but traffic was bad coming into the city, and they ran out of time. So I said we’d pick up their luggage and take it back to their rooms so that it‘s all ready for them when they arrive.”
“Always going the extra mile, hey Roxy?”
She smiled. “That’s me, Nothing’s-Too-Much-Trouble Roxy.”
Sam smoothly pulled his maroon classic car right in front of the botanica. The magical supplies store was housed in an old, converted, shotgun-style building right in the middle of a commercial district. It wasn’t grand, and it looked out of place among the sleek, modern structures that surrounded it, but it was even more eye-catching thanks to its color. The wooden boards were deep indigo, and the intricate metal fretwork that decorated the frontage was painted gold. The storefront was separated from the sidewalk by a small porch and was dominated by a huge picture window that displayed a selection of the wares stocked inside.
Crystals, oracle card sets, skulls, candles and all kinds of herbs and powders in jars filled the window to bursting. Roxy often thought that Dr. Jack could hold a scavenger hunt based on the window display alone. Roxy and Sam went inside and found a cluster of people browsing the store. A pile of bags and cases was stacked by the door.
“Hi, there!” Roxy said brightly. “We’ve come to…"
“No,” Dr. Jack said firmly to the woman standing in front of him, his purple face matching his velour three-piece suit. Dr. Jack loved to dress flamboyantly, and sometimes even threaded beads into his graying beard, but now he was exhibiting something much more conventional—fury. “That is absolutely unethical, and I condemn it 100%!” he cried.
“How dare you?” the woman in front of him shouted back. She pointed a thin, bony finger at Dr. Jack. It reminded Roxy of a bird’s claw. Roxy knew immediately that the woman was Meredith Romanoff.
“You presume to tell me—ME—that you condemn such a huge aspect of my work? Well, that’s a fine welcome!” Meredith Romanov’s soft blonde hair shook as did the ruffles that decorated the front of her blouse. The blouse stretched over her ample chest while the tassels that hung from the hem of her long skirt and which spread over her stout hips trembled. Roxy was struck by how Meredith’s hands seemed at odds with her body.
In the photograph Roxy had seen, Meredith had looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but the Meredith now in front of her offered a very different impression. Her face was red; her mouth twisted in an ugly, tortured line. She was spitting fire. Butter would be reduced to a runny puddle inside a second in the face of such an onslaught.
“Please, Meredith,” a man next to her said in a placating, soothing voice. It was like he was speaking to a young child. “Now, now.” The man’s bald head shone under the store lights, and his cheeks were bright pink. A pair of gold spectacles hung on a slim gold chain around his neck. He dabbed his brow with a folded, pristine white handkerchief. His pressed khaki slacks were perfect. The elegantly crumpled linen shirt he wore, the sleeves rolled up neatly, indicated that sometime earlier today he had anticipated some kind of heat, but perhaps not this kind.
“Please refrain from doing this now,” Roxy heard him say. “You must put yourself in the right frame of mind for your session.” The man enunciated all his words with glass-cut precision. His appearance and upper-crust demeanor made him the type of person that Roxy usually felt deeply intimidated by, but he was talking to Meredith so gently that Roxy found it impossible to be scared of him.
“I can get in the right frame of mind instantly,” Meredith spat. Her voice was hard. She took a deep breath, and her next words were far more measured. She delivered them with a silky veneer to her tone. “But I suppose you’re right, darling. Sometimes you do talk absolute tra
sh, but on occasion you make sense. This is one of them.”
The man rolled his eyes and smiled. He chuckled. “Thank you for the high praise, darling.”
Meredith caught sight of Roxy staring at her, Sam behind her. She did a double-take and immediately assumed a warm, friendly expression. “Oh, hello,” she said with a smile. Roxy wasn’t sure it was genuine. “You must be…aren't you from the cute little hotel? Oh, I can’t remember your name, I’m ever so sorry.”
“It’s Roxy,” Roxy said brightly. “Roxy Reinhardt. This is…” She reached out to introduce Sam.
“I’m Sam,” the tall man interjected simply, nodding at the gathered group. His shirt stretched around his broad shoulders as he folded his arms. “We know you’re about to begin your meeting, so we won’t disturb you. We came to pick up your bags and take them back to the hotel.”
Meredith looked Sam up and down admiringly. She winked at Roxy. “What an attractive couple you make.”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Roxy said quickly, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.
Meredith laughed. “Not yet. But I guarantee you the universe is aligning and then, well, you’ll see. Now, yes, please take the bags. That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“I’ll help,” a young man said as he walked over to the pile of bags by the door. He had a very soft young face, red hair, and freckles. Roxy hadn’t even noticed him until he spoke. He was very slight and short, and his presence was so unassuming that he was almost invisible. Roxy wondered if he was Meredith’s son. He looked about the right age. “Is that okay, Meredith?” the young man asked, immediately disabusing Roxy of her theory. Her son would have called her “Mom.”
“No, no, it isn’t, George,” Meredith snapped. “You need to be focusing on your responsibilities and getting things ready.”
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