“Actually, I have already…”
“Well, then, get your mind right and meditate,” said Meredith. She was terse and abrupt again. “I’ve told you before, you have a tendency to allow yourself to be overwhelmed by vast amounts of other people’s energies, and then you don’t come through as a clear channel. Anyone who needs something, you want to help. Stop being so soft and focus on what you have to do. You’re not here to save the world or to be a ‘nice guy,’ you’re here for a very specific purpose. And that is to help me.” Meredith caught sight of Roxy staring at her again, “And all those lovely people we are trying to help.”
Watching Meredith, Roxy felt humiliated on George’s behalf, but the pleasant young man smiled. “Yes, you’re right, Meredith,” he said. “I’ll go in the back room right away and cleanse the energies.” He disappeared.
“That’s more like it,” Meredith said, tight-lipped. “Sorry about that, Roxy. That was George, my assistant. And this is Charles, my husband. And this is Terah, my old school friend.” Meredith walked over to a woman browsing the racks of scented candles. She put her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “We are catching up for the first time in forty years! Can you believe that?” Terah stiffened at Meredith’s embrace. She wore a black eye patch over her left eye, the strap reaching over her ears and disappearing beneath her shoulder-length straight mousey hair. Terah nodded at Roxy. “We’re still waiting for one more person to arrive, a private client of mine. This is Dr. Jack, of course, but I believe you are already acquainted,” Meredith finished.
Jack was still hovering, his arms folded across his chest, two creases between his eyes indicating his mood. Roxy was very aware of him. He was not radiating his usual calm, accepting aura, and she felt a little anxious. Meredith’s husband Charles, the man with the glasses on the gold chain, gave Roxy a friendly nod and a small smile.
“Hello, Charles, Dr. Jack, Terah. I hope you’re looking forward to a good evening,” said Roxy nodding at them all. “We’ll take the bags now and see you later back at the Funky Cat Inn.” She turned to Sam, who, his face expressionless, picked up two heavy cases and took them outside to the car.
CHAPTER TWO
“THANK YOU SO much,” said Meredith. “Oh, and before I forget!” She went over to the counter and rummaged in her purse. “You must have a copy of my new book, Roxy. You look like the type of person who would be very…” Meredith put on a pair of bright white plastic-framed glasses and looked at Roxy over the top of them, “receptive to its message.”
From her bag, Meredith pulled out a dust-jacketed hardcover and brought it over. The older woman carried it in both hands reverently as if it were a treasured holy text. She held it out, looking at Roxy intensely with her dark blue, almost violet eyes. “Do you have any spiritual gifts, dear?”
“Oh no. I…I don’t know. I don’t think so,” said Roxy. “I just…well, I don’t know much about it.”
“She’s quite intuitive, our Roxy,” said Dr. Jack, suddenly piping up. “She’s very intelligent, too. She’s solved two murders.”
Meredith looked Roxy up and down, appraising her. “Well, isn’t that interesting? Do read the book, Roxy, and let me know what you think. You have a certain…presence that attracts me.”
“Well, thank you, um, Ms. Romanoff. I will. Thank you for the book.” Roxy took it and tucked it into her purse. “I’ll make sure to begin it tonight.”
Meredith patted her on the shoulder. “There’s a whole new world waiting for you, young woman.”
Roxy, rather dumbfounded, simply smiled. “Thanks again. I’d better be off.”
“Yes, me too. I have to prepare to converse with the spirits of New Orleans. I’m sure they have a lot to say,” said Meredith. “Goodbye, now. See you later, Roxy.”
“And oh,” Roxy said turning back to her. “We’ll have a wonderful dinner ready for you on your arrival. Evangeline is preparing it for you as we speak. She cooks the best, most authentic New Orleans cuisine you could hope to find.”
“Sounds delicious!” said Charles. His features had relaxed now, and his cheek’s pink hue was fading.
“You’re so greedy, Charles,” Meredith said with a not altogether pleasant laugh. She flicked his chest with her hand. “It’s all he thinks about. Well, thanks, Roxy. We look forward to your hospitality. Perhaps we can talk about my book over dinner?”
“Yes,” said Roxy. “Let’s do that.” She smiled but was already experiencing a feeling of dread. There was something unnerving about Meredith. “Bye, then.” Meredith raised her hand in a small wave. “Bye.”
Roxy headed out to the Rolls where Sam was loading up the final bags. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t help you with any of them!”
Sam laughed. “No worries. You were charming the clientele as per your job description of hotel owner. And you seemed to be doing a great job.”
Roxy smiled wryly as they got in the car. “Yes, but you got pegged as a lackey when you’re hardly that.”
Sam shrugged. He was unconcerned. “It’s okay by me.”
They climbed into the car and Roxy, once again, slipped down into her seat. “Seriously, though,” Sam said, “look at you. You’ve really grown into your role—so in command, in control, so impressive!”
“Really? That Meredith was giving me the heebie-jeebies. She made me feel very uncomfortable.”
“She was quite a character, wasn’t she? But you’ve had plenty of experience in managing characters now, haven’t you? Those Instagram influencers you had were hardly a piece of cake, and that novelist who stayed last month, she was a piece of work. All that method acting she insisted upon doing to ‘get inside her characters’ heads.’”
“Aw, she was alright. It was her Great Dane that was the problem. Nefertiti simply didn’t like him.’ Nefertiti was Roxy’s white Persian cat. “Once I’d shut Nef in my room and the dog had stopped howling, she was able to get on with her book.”
“I don’t know how you put up with all the guest's demands. You have the patience of a saint. Don’t you have The Magnificent Luxury Travel Show team coming to film you soon?” said Sam. He reached forward to turn the ignition on. The engine purred into life, but it was so quiet that Roxy could only tell it was running by the swinging needles on the dials in the dashboard.
“Yeah, next month,” Roxy shivered. “The show won’t air for about six months, though. Oh, look!” She glanced in the wing mirror and saw a large black executive car with tinted windows pull up behind them. “I’ll bet that’s Meredith’s private client.” Sure enough, a very tall, black-suited man with a thin, straight, black tie and shades got out of the back seat. He buttoned his jacket as he hurried inside the botanica. Under his arm was a small light-brown dog. “Wonder who that is, then?”
“Who knows?” said Sam. “It’s quite common for business people in these parts to have spiritual advisers. They come from all over the state to meet them. Many of the entrepreneurs do huge deals and work with a lot of money while some are more…well, dangerous than others. There’s some dodgy dealers and gangster types here and there. They seek out spiritual guidance to help them make decisions, that kind of thing. It helps them feel in control, that things will work out, that they are protected, and for some who are working near or over the line, it probably legitimizes what they do in their own minds.”
“I suppose,” said Roxy doubtfully, “I wonder if it works, though. If all this spirituality, voodoo, magic, if it’s really real?”
“I don’t know if it works,” Sam said eventually, long after Roxy had asked her question. “And I certainly don’t know if it’s real. But there are a lot of people who believe in it, heart and soul. Sage and Dr. Jack for a start, of course. Who am I to tell them it’s all hocus pocus?”
“Yeah, that’s how I feel, too,” said Roxy. “I mean, before I came here I didn’t know anything about it. I wouldn’t have even known what a medium was,” She laughed. “Actually, I’m still not clear. Is it…do they…talk to spiri
ts?”
“You got it,” said Sam. “Usually they talk to people’s loved ones who have passed away. But it can mean talking to other spirits, too.” He grinned. “I’ve never felt so New Orleanian, explaining this to you. And I’m no expert.”
“It’s all a bit weird to me. Talking to spirits? The dead? Spooky. I’m a simple by-the-book sort of gal.” Roxy chuckled. “If you can see it, touch it, I’m in. The simpler, the more straight-forward, the better.”
“Nothing too crazy, huh?”
“No, siree. Have you ever been tempted to take up crystals or cards or whatnot?”
“No,” he said. “The magic in my life is music, I’d say.”
“The sax is your wand,” Roxy said, then worried she sounded like she was mocking him. “Well, you’re certainly very good with it,” she added, making things worse.
What Roxy really wanted to know was how Sam knew so much about spiritualism and gangsters. There was something about him that didn’t add up, and everyone knew it. He ran a modest laundry company with just three or four vans and spent a lot of his time doing renovations on the hotel. He had a limited edition Rolls Royce Phantom, and had bought the guesthouse, seemingly with a snap of his fingers, so that it wouldn’t be purchased by developers. Sometimes he was spotted around town associating with shady-looking characters. So where did he get all his money? It was an unanswered question. When anyone mentioned money, Sam got all cagey.
If it had been anyone else, she’d have distanced herself. But this was Sam. He was so kind, so chivalrous, so brave, and there was an unspoken agreement that she and her friends would just drop the subject. Nevertheless, this unresolved issue, and others primarily their mutual attraction, hung in the air and at times energetically swirled around them, disturbing the atmosphere.
Sam turned on the radio. His car was permanently switched to a jazz station, and the voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing Mack The Knife immediately bounced through the posh car, distracting Roxy from her thoughts and setting her foot a-tappin’.
In the middle of it, Roxy’s phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Hello, Roxy, it’s Meredith Romanoff. We are about to start the séance. The spirits say they want you here. No, they insist that you come.”
Roxy’s head whirled. “What? The spirits? But I have to work on dinner and…the spirits, you say?”
“Yes,” said Meredith. “I absolutely insist you come back immediately.”
“Oh…right, well,” Roxy said. “Are you sure?” Attending a séance wasn’t exactly how she had planned to spend her evening, but she didn’t want to antagonize Meredith, especially now she knew about her temper.
“I’m sure. The spirits were very clear. They want you here. Now.”
Roxy was suddenly struck by a burst of adventure. “Hmm, well, all right, why not? Just give me a few moments. I’ll be there shortly.” Roxy hung up her phone.
“What was that about?” Sam said, raising his eyebrows. “We need to turn around?”
“’Fraid so,” said Roxy. “Meredith wants me at the séance. She says the spirits are calling me, and she wants me there.” Roxy turned to look at Sam, her eyebrows raised as high as they would go. “Guess I’m about to find out if it’s all hocus-pocus, huh?”
CHAPTER THREE
“COME ON, ROXY, hurry up,” said Meredith. “My private client is here. And I’ve allowed Dr. Jack in, despite our argument, just to show that I’m the bigger person.” Meredith didn’t elaborate on the reason for the dispute as she ushered Roxy into the back room of the botanica where it was dark, the only illumination being a reproduction oil lamp that sat in the middle of a small circular table.
Deep purple velvet fabric lined the room entirely and draped on the floor while ribbons that held the curtains aside during daylight hung limp and forlorn in the corners. Against one wall stood what looked to Roxy like an altar of sorts—a side table covered in the same velvet fabric as the walls. Candles, large and small, some used and misshapen, some pristine and new, covered the table. In the center stood a statue of a woman and in front of that was set a skull. The floor was covered in dingy charcoal carpet tile.
Around the small, circular table sat George—Meredith’s assistant, Charles—Meredith’s husband, the rangy businessman Roxy had seen getting out of his car though he no longer held his dog. There was also Meredith’s school friend—Terah and Dr. Jack. Meredith stood by the altar, the flickering candles casting shadows across her face that made her look quite terrifying.
“Look,” said Meredith, pointing to an empty chair, “it was fate, Roxy. You were destined to be here, to fill the last chair.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” said Roxy, taking her seat gracefully. Her elbows rubbed against Terah and Dr. Jack who were on either side of her.
Meredith sat herself down and closed her eyes. She breathed in slowly. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes again. “The room is cluttered energetically with curiosity and confusion so let me disseminate this heavy energy. It appears like a gray cloud, and it will only interfere with our process,” Meredith said. She huffed. “So it always goes with humans.”
“Would you like me to clear it for you?” George offered.
“No,” Meredith snapped. She flicked her hand at George, much like she had at her husband earlier, and tutted. “Now, let me introduce everyone again. That will integrate our energies well enough. This,” Meredith continued, gesturing at the tall suited man who was still wearing his sunglasses despite the gloom, “is Royston Lamontagne. He is a private client and the main reason we are here today. He is a very important person who does extraordinary and wide-ranging work in the music business and he—very wisely—connects to the spirit world to help him succeed.”
Royston Lamontagne nodded slowly, his full mouth in a straight line, apparently somber, but his true expression mostly indiscernible thanks to his shades. He reminded Roxy of Nefertiti who had regarded the novelist guests’ Great Dane similarly except in her feline case, an ice-cold blue-eyed stare sat in place of sunglasses. Roxy wondered what had happened to Lamontagne’s little dog.
Meredith turned to her. “Royston, this is Roxy Reinhardt, the owner of the Funky Cat Inn, the hotel I am staying at while I am in New Orleans.”
At her words, Lamontagne sprang to life and spoke for the first time. “What is she doing here?” the businessman said in a deep, gruff voice. “Hoteliers are notorious for spreading gossip. I don’t want my business shared with half of New Orleans and their grandmothers.”
Meredith smiled and spoke carefully, her voice all syrupy. “I know it’s unorthodox, Royston,” she said. “But the spirits requested it. She will be useful in some way, you’ll see. Who knows how? The spirit world will tell us. Roxy, you are bound by an oath of silence. You will not repeat any information the spirits divulge in this room. Is that clear? In fact, that goes for all of us. What is said in this room, stays in this room.”
“That’s fine by me,” Roxy said, wondering what on earth she’d let herself in for.
Meredith gestured at Charles and George. “Everyone, this is my husband Charles and my assistant George.” Then she nodded at the woman. “And this is Terah Jones, an old school friend of mine.” Lamontagne shifted in his seat and opened his mouth to speak. Meredith moved swiftly to head him off. “She’ll be fine, Royston. I have checked in with all the spirits, and they promise me this grouping is the most auspicious combination of energies. Terah happens to live in New Orleans and recently reconnected with me.
“You contacted me, Meredith, but hi, everyone,” said Terah to the room. Meredith shot her a stern look, but Terah met it head-on, and Meredith moved along.
“And this is Dr. Jack, of course,” said Meredith. “The proprietor of this rather humble botanica.” Jack caught Roxy’s eye and minutely lifted his eyebrows and widened his eyes. “Are we all clear? Does everyone know who everyone is? Has your curiosity about each other been placated and your trust built?”
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br /> Roxy nodded her assent, unsure if Meredith wanted them to speak out loud.
“Well?” Meredith demanded. Obviously, she did. There were murmurings of agreement.
“Yes, darling,” Charles said soothingly. “We are all in equilibrium now.”
“Let me check you are telling the truth,” Meredith said. “I will breathe in the room again.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, a smile spread across her lips and she sighed. “Yes, the cloud is gone. What remains is intrigue about me and my gifts, and the wonders the spirits are about to share.”
Roxy wondered what her friend Sage would have made of all of this. Sage—a spiritualist, and a computer programming genius—was devoid of ego, something Meredith Romanoff seemed to have in spades. Roxy couldn’t believe that Sage would have viewed the medium, famous though she apparently was, very favorably.
“Okay, George, turn out the lights,” Meredith said, briskly.
George got up and blew out the candles.
“And don’t trip up on the way back to your seat,” Meredith’s stern voice rang out. “We don’t want the spirits startled.”
But there was an almighty crash as George did trip. He’d stumbled into a chair. Roxy heard Meredith’s exasperated sigh and imagined her rolling her eyes.
“Sorry,” George mumbled.
He quickly sat down and switched off the lamp that sat in the middle of the table. The room went completely black except for a tiny crack of light that seeped in around the frame of the door that led into the store area of the botanica. Meredith tutted again. “That’s no good, no good. What kind of place is this?”
There was a scraping of chair legs. Someone got up and pulled a heavy velvet curtain across the door. With that, even the tiniest shaft of light was extinguished. The room was now pitch black. Roxy didn’t particularly like the dark, and this experience, among these strangers, was new and peculiar and a little discomforting. A small well of panic formed in her chest and threatened to rise out of control, but she breathed in deeply to calm herself.
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