New Orleans Nightmare

by Alison Golden

  “Oh,” Roxy said, disappointed. “I was looking for a reading.”

  He held his arms out. “Hello?” he said.

  Roxy laughed. “Oh, I know, but…”

  “No charge,” he said. “Come on, I insist. You look like you need a good reading. Let’s do a fast one. One card. Pick it.” He whipped out a tarot deck from his pocket and pointed it in her direction. “Go! No thinking, now. Thinking will overwhelm your intuition.”

  Roxy shut her eyes and picked a card at random. It was a card with a young man holding a medallion. The medallion had a star on it. “The Page of Pentacles,” she read.

  “A wonderful card,” Dr. Jack said. He peered at her. “It means you’re ready to manifest your dreams. This is a good time to start new projects. Look to the possibilities and potential of what you’re doing and make concrete plans. Don’t just react to how events unfold. Be proactive. Make things happen, Roxy. Push ahead.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ROXY WAS TRYING desperately hard to heed Detective Johnson’s advice. She bustled around her room going through her early morning wakeup routine, ruminating as she did so. She was not going to go investigating and poking her nose in where it was not wanted. Instead, she was going to focus on making sure that her guests had the best time with her that they possibly could, given the grisly events that had occurred and the possibility that one of them was the murderer.

  She decided to organize another trip for them, and an idea popped into her head while she was in the shower. This time, why not go to Marie Laveau’s grave? Since the steamer captain had told her about it, it had piqued Roxy’s curiosity. She’d see for herself what it was all about, and she would take her guests with her.

  Roxy was undecided about what she thought of New Orleans Voodoo, but she did want to know about the heritage of the city. It was undoubtedly a special place. There was something in the air, a certain type of magic, and she wanted to understand what it was. It wasn’t just the Cajun and Creole spices, it wasn’t just the allure of Mardi Gras or the soft warmth of soulful jazz. There was a je ne sais quoi of the place, a sense of mystery about which Roxy didn’t tire of learning.

  The cemetery would undoubtedly generate interesting content for the Instagrammers, and she put her idea to the influencers over breakfast. Everyone was keen to go along. Even Ada said she would join them if only for the historical aspect of the outing. “I do not believe in such witchcraft, though,” she said. “I want that noted by everyone.”

  “And you think I do?” Nat said pausing as she topped up the coffee pots. “It’s just something you have to know about, being in New Orleans. It’s not like you’re going to become a Voodoo priestess tomorrow!”

  Ada opened her eyes wide. There was silence at the table.

  “How dare you be so impertinent!” Ada said.

  “Sorry,” said Nat quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Ada. I was joking around, that’s all.”

  Ada continued to look outraged before looking at Lily, Sylvia, Kathy, and Derek. They were staring at her, their utensils paused in midair as they waited for this latest drama to unfold. Ada caught sight of Kathy, whose eyes were wide, her mouth forming a small “O”.

  It was at just that moment that Elijah arrived. Without knocking, he breezed through the front door, sashaying his way through the lounge and dining area, one hand aloft supporting three boxes of pastries piled on top of one another. “Morning, everyone!” he cried without stopping. He turned to push the kitchen door with his behind. He gave Derek a little wave and a grin before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Elijah’s appearance had pierced the heavy atmosphere and Ada relaxed. She gave Nat a small smile. “That’s okay, I forgive you. But don’t do it again,” she finished softly. Roxy breathed a sigh of relief, and Nat hurried into the kitchen, glad to have a bolthole.

  “Let’s go to Marie Laveau’s this morning and get a light lunch afterward,” Roxy said brightly, keen to dispel any lingering remnants of tension. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on going at night.”

  Everyone felt the same. So she, Nat, Lily, Sylvia, Ada, Kathy, and Derek set off toward the old cemetery soon after breakfast. Roxy also called Evangeline to see if she wanted to join them, but she said, “I’ve been one hundred times before, cher, since I was a little girl. My mama had plenty a wish granted by the Voodoo Queen. Say hello to her for me, won’t you?”

  Michael didn’t want to come either. “It’s just a tourist trap, Roxy. I want to experience the real spiritual heritage of New Orleans. Plus, my head still aches.”

  Roxy thought his response was a little rude but didn’t say anything. She kept what he’d been through at the forefront of her mind. She brushed off his dismissal and prepared herself to act as tour guide.

  Roxy had thought that visiting the spot in the morning would take away the eeriness of the place, but she was wrong. The Saint Louis cemetery was incredibly quiet, the silence spooky. They could hear every footstep as they walked deeper and deeper into the cemetery. It was like walking through a miniature, abandoned city. Eventually, they came upon Marie Laveau’s grave. It was a huge gray box of a mausoleum nestled in among those of others. X signs were scrawled all over the tomb, some with rings around them.

  “This feels too weird,” whispered Lily, shivering even though the sun was out.

  Roxy felt the same. It seemed as though even the birds had stopped singing. She told herself not to be so ridiculous, that Marie Laveau was long dead (1881!), and any stories of her spirit lingering around were just superstition.

  “Marie Laveau was a hairdresser by day,” Roxy told the assembled group, “but at night she was known as the Voodoo Queen, sought after for her potions and charms. She was immensely powerful and many people were enthralled by her. It is said that even politicians, lawyers, businessmen, and the wealthy were influenced by her.”

  Ada hovered at the back of the group with a guidebook. “This is very interesting from a historical perspective,” she said. Her voice shook a little.

  Just then, they heard a voice coming out from behind the mausoleum. “You come to see me?” the voice bellowed, in thick, foreboding tones. Everyone jumped. Ada screamed. Lily launched herself across the group and grabbed Roxy’s arm.

  Derek jumped out from behind the grave. “Haha!” he cried, showing more energy in this one moment than he had in the entire time he’d been in their company. “I scared you all, didn’t I? The looks on your faces! I should have recorded it on my phone! Now that’s an Instagram story!”

  “Derek!” Kathy scolded him. “You nearly gave us all a heart attack!”

  “Who was the one who screamed?” Derek asked, a sneer playing on his lips.

  Ada stared at him in stony silence.

  “It was Ada,” Lily said, seriously. “But I don’t blame her. That was really scary. Perhaps you should do tours around here. You would be great at scaring the tourists half to death. Some people like that kind of thing.”

  “That’s an idea,” he said. He dug Lily in the ribs with his elbow. She frowned and moved away from him.

  Roxy was absolutely furious. He was sabotaging her outing, turning it into a highly unpleasant experience. How could he be so mean? “Does anyone want to make a wish?” she asked to distract them from Derek’s prank. “When you make your wish you have to turn around, shout it out and mark your “X” on the tomb. When it comes true the custom is to return here, circle your “X,” and leave a gift. That’s why there’s all these flowers and beads. Is anyone going to make a wish?”

  “I don’t know if I dare,” said Sylvia.

  “Oh, I will!” said Kathy. “I will ask for justice for my son.”

  Kathy walked up to the tomb, turned around and shouted out, “Justice for my son’s murder! Dashiell Davies!” She took a pen from her bag and marked an X on the grave. “The Voodoo Queen better help me,” she muttered. “I hope she and Jesus work together!”

  “I wouldn’t say that if
I were you,” said Ada.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  KATHY TURNED TO Ada, her eyes devoid of any life. She didn’t even smile, not even a forced one. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” she said. “When your child has been murdered, then and only then will you be qualified to give me advice.”

  Ada had the decency to mutter, “Sorry.”

  Roxy took that as a cue to leave the cemetery and took them to an Italian restaurant for lunch. Pasta and pizza was always a comforting choice, and it felt like they all needed some solace. The restaurant she took them to—Mandinelli’s—was famous for suffusing traditional Italian food with Creole and Cajun spice to make a truly unique New Orleans foodie experience.

  As they settled down to eat, Roxy checked her phone. There was a message for her on the Funky Cat Instagram profile. A private message. She clicked on it. She guessed it was to discuss a booking. But it wasn’t. Check this out, the message read. Attached was a video. Looking furtively around to see if any of the group was watching, Roxy pressed “Play.”

  All she saw was a jerky video of a pair of men’s booted feet. But then she heard the audio.

  Do you see how you’re talking to me?

  Roxy thought it might have been Dash’s voice, but she wasn’t sure.

  I’m recording you!

  The voices were quiet, so Roxy brought the phone up to her ear. She kept switching between listening and looking at the screen.

  Stop that!

  This time it was a different voice. The camera jerked upward, and there was Michael, glaring into it. She was sure the other voice was Dash’s now. Michael called Dash a name and slapped the camera out of his hand so that the view from the device jerked and twisted. It ended up facing a ceiling.

  “No way,” Roxy whispered to herself. Maybe Kathy had been right about Michael after all. Maybe he wasn’t so nice.

  Why are you so against the Hilton idea?

  It was Dash’s voice again. He sounded perplexed and angry.

  Michael replied. Because the Hilton idea is ridiculous! You and I agreed we wouldn’t go down the commercial route because…

  No, you decided, and I have to go along with it like I always do! But I’m not doing it anymore, Michael. I’m not! I swear to you!

  Dash was really angry now. Roxy heard Michael let out a growl of anger, and the video cut off.

  Roxy sat still, her heart thumping.

  “Are you okay, Roxy?” Kathy said, leaning over toward her.

  Roxy moved the phone out of her view. “Oh yes, I’m fine,” she said quickly, smiling at her.

  Kathy frowned. “You don’t look okay.”

  “I was…well, someone messaged me about a booking and asked for a discount for a certain number of nights. I was just trying to do the math in my head.” She forced a laugh. “Math isn’t my strong point.” Neither was lying.

  “Oh, let me take a look,” said Kathy, holding her hand out for the phone. “I used to be a middle school math teacher.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” said Roxy with a smile. “I’ve forwarded it to my work email already. It’ll be fine. Now I just need to head to the bathroom real quick. Please excuse me.”

  Roxy dashed to the restroom at the back of the restaurant. She wanted a minute alone with the phone to reply to the direct message. But she couldn’t. There was no bar for her to type her reply into. She looked at the profile of the account that had sent her the video. It was clearly a fake one. There was no profile picture and only the name ‘XgXgXg’ which, of course, meant nothing.

  Roxy slipped the phone into her pocket and sighed deeply. She cast a glance at herself in the mirror. She looked the same as she always did—slim, slight, and small, with a blond pixie haircut and a face that others told her was beautiful, but which looked just ordinary to her. There was a strength, a steeliness, to Roxy’s eyes though. Just then the door to the bathroom burst open. She flinched. Kathy barreled through the door.

  “I have to use the little girl’s room too,” Kathy said. “And I thought I could help you with that math.”

  Roxy smiled. She was starting to feel a little irritated. “Seriously, it’s all right,” she said. “Have you decided what you’re ordering?”

  “No, it all looks too delicious to choose!” said Kathy. “I do have a favor to ask you, though.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “You know we’ve been talking about holding a celebration of Dash’s life?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Well, we’ve decided to hold a large outdoor event on the weekend. I spoke to the city about it this morning. Since Dashiell admittedly did love a good time, we thought a street party would be the right thing to do. That way, we can invite his fans as well as his friends.”

  “I think he’d have loved that.”

  “So my question is, can you be one of the caterers? I know you can’t do everything—I’ll get other people to cook food too—but I’ve so enjoyed the cuisine at your place that I’d love for you to get involved.”

  Roxy hugged her. “Of course, Kathy. We’d be honored.”

  They went back to the table, and Roxy played the role of carefree host with apparent ease. But inside, her mind was tick tick tick with ideas. Who had sent the video? It had shown her a very dark side of Michael. Maybe Dash and he weren’t such great friends, after all. Maybe, just maybe, Michael had faked his own attack. Maybe it hadn’t happened like he said at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “EXCUSE ME!” JOHNSON said. “Attention!” He looked annoyed. “And turn off that darned radio.”

  “Yes?” Evangeline said, twisting toward him, her hands on her hips. “What is it?”

  Unannounced, Detective Johnson had arrived at the Funky Cat on the morning of the street party to celebrate Dash’s life.

  He turned up at the worst possible time—when everyone was hard at work in the kitchen. Lily looked stylish and impractical in slacks, heels, and a silk blouse, but she had brought her own apron and rubber gloves. Sylvia was there in dungarees and a work shirt. Derek showed up cloaked in a hoodie. The guests had generously offered to help with the food preparations. They’d eaten breakfast at 6 AM so they could be in the kitchen by 7, and no one had made a murmur of complaint. Even the glamorous Ada, who wore a Versace tracksuit, hadn’t pitched a fit when she was splashed by the crab boil.

  Evangeline, of course, was the kitchen manager and behaved in a way that was rather Gordon Ramsay-esque, although without the incessant cursing. She certainly wasn’t going to pamper Sylvia, Lily, and Ada just because they were Instagram stars. Roxy bit her lip at times when she heard Evangeline barking orders at them, but the truth was no one seemed to mind.

  It was an all-hands situation so they rolled up their sleeves, literally in Sylvia’s case, and got on with their tasks. Evangeline’s old radio blasted out happy jazz tunes that had them dancing around the kitchen, and there were back slaps and shouts of laughter as they happily went about making cornbread patties, stirring gumbo, and assembling po’boys. Everyone seemed enthused by the prospect of a party. Derek almost raised a smile at one point. His mother, Kathy, was with Sam. They were setting up at the site of the party—hanging flags, arranging the stage, and organizing where all the caterers’ tables would go while back in the Funky Cat kitchen Roxy teamed with Lily to make what seemed like a million oysters en brochette.

  Sharing the tasks, Roxy and Lily skewered the oysters, bacon, and onion before rolling each skewer in cornflour. Later at the event, they would deep-fry them. They would also cut toast into triangles and brush them with a Meunière sauce made from parsley, lemon, brown butter, and red wine vinegar. After they had been fried, the cooked oysters, onion, and bacon would be served on top of the toast, and a twist of salt and pepper would complete the dish. Roxy had only made it once and that time under Evangeline’s watchful eye, but today Evangeline had some ten other dishes going. They were on their own, but there was an easy, warm atmosphere of c
amaraderie in the kitchen and they were all focused on their tasks. Roxy’s mind was as far away from Dash’s murder or any other disaster as it could get.

  That was until Detective Johnson showed up. Immediately the happy bubble around them burst with a pop. It was almost like Johnson carried a big pin with him.

  “Look, I don’t know what it is with this place, but any time something happens around here it seems to involve y’all. So I’m here to tell you no messing around today, y’hear? No funny business. This event is for Dashiell Davies. The police department has been liaising with his mother, and if anything untoward happens, the attention of your local law enforcement will snap onto the Funky Cat faster than you can say ‘Instagram’. Is that clear?”

  Roxy peered around to see the influencers looking taken aback. Ada glared at Johnson, Lily looked as though there was a nasty smell under her nose while Sylvia, like Evangeline, stood with her hands on her hips. Derek seemed to attempt to merge with the pots and pans as he tried to make himself invisible. They clearly weren’t used to being spoken to like that. Roxy, on the other hand, had a little more experience. She walked up to the detective and kept her voice low. “Of course, Detective,” she said quietly. She hoped he would match her tone. She was mistaken.

  “Good!” he bellowed even louder than before. “And don’t think that because y’all are some kind of famous in the strange world you live in that I won’t zero in on you. Behave, awright? The law has no respect for celebrity or anything else. Law’s the law.”

  “Thank you, Detective Johnson,” said Roxy calmly. “We’ll make sure to remain law-abiding. You have my word on that.”

  “Don’t you rush me!” he said. “It is very likely the murderer will be in the crowd today so we’ll be keeping a close but discreet eye on the proceedings. Watch yourselves, okay?”