“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 spirits?”
“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 asked about 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? I’ll come back now. 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 reading. 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 why 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?”
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.
When she’d first arrived in New Orleans, Roxy would have sprinted as fast as she could away from a situation such as this. Now though, she was much, much braver. Life had so much to offer, she’d learned, if you stuck around for it, if you opened your mind and took it all in.
“Okay, now everyone, silence,” Meredith ordered. “I must raise the spirits and see if they are willing to speak to us. This might take some time. It can be tricky if they are not in the mood.” Meredith began to talk in a booming, commanding voice. “Spirits of New Orleans, all those who are favorable, come unto us in this moment. Spirits of the earth, of the air, of the fire, of the river, come unto us.”
Roxy heard Meredith inhale through her nose and puff out a long breath through her lips. “We are here now, to learn of your wisdom from the other side. We revere your grace, your beauty, and your wisdom. We understand your ownership of higher forms of life, of knowledge, that which is gained through your experiences both here on earth and in other realms, and we humbly ask that we may gain your insights so that we may make progress and prosper.”
Roxy felt this talk was very strange indeed. She opened her eyes wide in the darkness, hoping that might enable her to see something, anything.
“Royston Lamontagne!” Meredith shouted so loudly and suddenly that Roxy flinched. She imagined everyone else did too, although she couldn’t see the slightest thing in the darkness. The source of Meredith’s voice changed a little, and Roxy could tell that she was standing. “We are here to attend first to Royston Lamontagne!” Meredith said in such a deep voice, that Roxy almost doubted it was her speaking. “Royston, your humble question for the spirits please…”
“I want to know how I should proceed in my business. There are signs that a very difficult deal may turn nasty, and I wish to know the best steps to take to protect my safety and the safety of my business, but most of all, that of my dog Fenton.”
“Spirits, we bring this question to you!” lamented Meredith. “Please, give us the answers we need.”
There was a long silence. Meredith began to hum in a high, light, singsong voice, like a child’s. No answers from the spirits seemed to be forthcoming and as she waited, Meredith’s humming got louder and louder. Roxy could hear the older woman’s clothing rustling and concluded that Meredith was swaying from side to side.
BANG!
The single sound reverberated around the room. The humming stopped. There was a clatter as something landed on the table, followed by a thud as something large and heavy fell to the floor.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR A SECOND, Roxy ran all kinds of visions in her mind as the well of panic threatened to take her over again. Was this part of the séance? Had an evil spirit just made its presence felt? Everyone else seemed to be wondering the same thing. A silence stretched out into the blackness.
It was Dr. Jack who broke it. “Meredith?” he said.
There was no answer.
Someone got out of their chair and suddenly, with a tiny click, the room was far too bright. Roxy, as if in slow motion and shielding her eyes from the brightness, turned to see Dr. Jack, his hand reaching behind the curtain as he turned on the light switch. Still squinting, she looked wildly back to the table and her eyes landed on George, his eyes growing wide as he stared at the floor.
Roxy looked down. Meredith lay there, her hands by her ears, her mouth open in surprise, and her eyes staring. A rapidly growing dark stain in the middle of her chest marred her white blouse, the ruffles of which no longer shook. This was no performance. This was real. The image was horrifying but as much as she wanted to look away, Roxy kept staring at the woman lying on the floor. Then she noticed the gun on the table and time seemed to slow down even further.
Slowly the occupants of the room became aware of one another and what had just happened. They all stared at each other wordlessly, in complete and utter shock.
“What?” Terah breathed after some seconds. “What?”
“Who…who did that?” said Dr. Jack, looking at each of them in turn.
Royston Lamontagne shook his head, his hand at his mouth, his sunglasses still obscuring his eyes. He stood and half fell, half stumbled around the room, muttering somethi
ng about “Fenton.” Meredith’s husband Charles had turned completely white and looked like he may fall down himself from the shock. George let out a wail that pierced Roxy’s body like a dagger.
“I’m getting out of here, now,” said Terah, gripping her purse and rushing to the door.
But Dr. Jack was faster. He dashed from his chair to intercept her. “Oh no, you don’t,” he said. “We must stay here. We have to call the police.” He turned to everyone in the room, shaking. “One of you here did this. I don’t know who, but I know that you have committed a murderous act. Not only will the police punish you, but the spirits will, too, mark my words. Now, come outside into the botanica, but you must stay in the building. I’m calling Detective Johnson, New Orleans PD.”
Everyone filed out of the room, all of them deathly silent except for George, who was sobbing his eyes out, his face red and moist. Roxy turned to see Charles hang back just a little. He kneeled and clutched Meredith’s hand. He kissed it. “Goodbye, my sweet darling,” he said. He stayed there for some time until Roxy went over to him and gently encouraged him up.
Outside in the botanica, Dr. Jack locked the front door. Then he locked the door to the backroom. “We must protect the crime scene.” He turned to the small group—Roxy, Terah, Lamontagne (who had now been reunited with his little dog Fenton), Charles and George. Jack’s eyes were full of sorrow. “I don’t know what on earth is going on. Neither will Detective Johnson. But the spirits do, and you can bet it will all come out. Whoever did this, you have violated a sacred space, taken an innocent life. You are playing with life and death as if they are mere children’s games. The killer, whichever one of you it is, has made a grave error. A very grave error indeed.”
3 Louisiana Lies Page 2