It was all very strange.
Roxy hurried back downstairs. “George,” she said. “Did Charles mention he was leaving? Or going out?”
“No, why?”
“Well, he’s not here. His bed hasn’t been slept in. All his things are there, but his room is untouched.”
“Oh,” George said, frowning. He got out his phone from his pocket. “I’ll give him a call.” He held the phone to his ear for far too long. Roxy tapped her foot, her heart beginning to pound. George’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t slip out while we were in here having breakfast, did he?” said Nat.
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Roxy said. “We’d have heard the front door. And like I said, his room hasn’t been touched. Like he hadn’t been in it since it was refreshed yesterday.”
“Well, he must have been in it at some point because he came out with us last night,” Nat said. “Perhaps he’s just persnickety. He is a surgeon after all.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what his room is like—like an operating theatre. Sterile. Perfect. Everything laid out just so.”
“Are you sure he’s not upstairs?” George said.
“Not even in the closet,” Roxy replied. “I checked. Why don’t you go and look?”
They all went upstairs to Charles’s room.
“Well, he’s obviously not here,” Nat said immediately. She looked in the closet.
“I’m going to call him again,” said George, his voice high, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Something’s not right here, I can feel it.” As soon as George hit the call button, they heard the sound of a phone ringing.
Roxy rushed over to the side table and pulled open the drawer. “Oh dear, his phone’s here.”
George’s cheeks turned several shades paler.
“I’m getting a terrible feeling about this,” said Nat.
“Me too.” Roxy was beginning to feel sick.
“Me three,” said George.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I HAVE TO go look for him,” said George. “Maybe he went back to the Palace of Spirits since they wouldn’t let us in last night?”
“Ah, yes. That’s probably it.” Roxy’s heart lifted a little.
Nat grimaced. “Do we have to? I think we should call Johnson and let him know. It’s not like Charles got up early to go out. He hasn’t been here all night.”
Roxy’s heart sank again. “You’re right. We probably should.”
“No,” said George. “Not yet. I don’t want that detective’s bad energy infecting everything. Let’s at least look around by ourselves for a bit. I’m sure this can all be resolved very quickly. Charles can’t have gone far.”
“I sure hope so. I’ll call a cab right now. Sam’s due here to continue working on the loft. Maybe he should join us in looking for Charles?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” said George. “I’ll connect with Charles’ energy and that will lead me to him. Let’s just keep quiet for now.”
“I want to come to support you,” said Nat.
“Me too,” Roxy said.
George smiled. He drew them both into a hug. “I feel overwhelmed by the kindness of you two. When this is all over, I think I would like to live here forever!”
Nat’s eyes lit up. “Yes, you could! You could stay here in New Orleans, and work in Dr. Jack’s botanica. You could do readings for people!”
Roxy decided to stop being surprised. Obviously, this was a situation beyond her understanding. Was this really the Nat she knew?
“Let me ring the cab people. Sam can call us if Charles reappears. While I’m doing that, will you feed Nefertiti, Nat? And clear away the breakfast things?”
Twenty minutes later, the trio was standing in front of the Palace of Spirits. The place didn’t seem nearly so scary in daylight.
“Here goes nothing,” Roxy said, stepping inside.
The room that had been brightly-lit the night before was now illuminated only by the morning sun. They all looked around at the items on display—the flowers, both real and plastic, candles, jewelry, feathers, bibles, rattles, scissors, packets of candy, and strings of beads.
“People put their faith in this stuff, don’t they?” Nat said, not sounding like her old cynical self. Roxy could practically hear the cogs of Nat’s brain turning over as she processed all this information with the new perspective offered to her by George.
“Offerings,” George explained, looking down at the assortment of items on the tables. “Hello?” he called out, walking toward the door at the back of the room that led to the decaying objects they’d seen housed in the room behind the main store the night before.
Roxy held her breath, waiting for the terrifying woman they’d met last night to jump out. But instead, a young woman appeared. She had a round face with no discernible cheekbones, round eyes and a petite mouth with Cupid’s bow lips. Her skin was luminous and unlined. “Hello,” she said with a soft voice. “Did you want to buy something?” She gave them a shy smile.
“Oh,” George said, taken aback. “No, thank you,” he said. “We’re looking for Charles Romanoff—tall, bald guy, fifties, heavy-set. Has he been here?”
“I don’t know,” the young woman said, biting her lip and frowning. “We’ve had plenty of customers this morning already. We’re always busy.”
“What do you do here, exactly?” Nat said.
“We’re a botanica,” the woman explained. “And we have some historic artifacts in the back, so a little museum of sorts.”
“That’s what Charles would have been here to see,” George said.
The woman shook her head. “No one’s been back there today.”
Nat stepped forward. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s the only thing you do here. We visited last night, and there was this evil-looking woman, and…”
“Last night? What time?”
Nat looked at Roxy. “About ten-thirty?”
“I’d say so,” Roxy agreed.
“You must be mistaken,” the young woman said, sweetly. “I closed up at 7 PM myself. It’s been locked up tight since then. Opened up this morning too, I did. No one’s been here in-between those times.”
“That’s not true. Really,” said Nat. “We were here. We saw her.”
The young woman looked at her mildly, blinking slowly, a small smile forming on her cherubic lips. She didn’t react to Nat’s comment. “Would you like to come in? I can show you around,” She smiled and stepped to the side, gesturing the way.
“No,” said Nat. “No, thank you. Bye.” She turned abruptly on her flat Doc Martened heel and marched outside, closely followed by Roxy and George, who nodded silently at the woman as he backed away.
Even though it was sunny, both Nat and Roxy were shivering. They stood in the middle of Bourbon Street, raising their faces to the sky and soaking in the sun’s rays.
“Well, I don’t know what to make of that, but Charles certainly isn’t there,” said George. “I have the sense he might have been, though, you know, since we were here last night. But who can say?”
Roxy shivered again, thinking about their encounter with the strange woman the night before. Her gut filling with dread, she said, “You don’t think…You know that woman, and the ritual that was going on in the backroom that you said wasn’t good, a sinister ritual, I think you called it? You don’t think Charles’ disappearance has anything to do with that, do you? You know, at a spiritual level?”
George’s eyes widened with horror. “I hadn’t put the two events together…but…you might be right. He may have picked up something when he came here.”
“What? You mean, like, like…a virus?” Nat exclaimed.
George began to pace. He thrust his fingers through his hair. “This could be serious. Very serious indeed.”
“The two of you are being ridiculous,” Nat shouted, her arms flailing in the air. She was becoming more and more agitated. She started to p
ace. “Why are you connecting the thing from last night with Charles disappearing? There is absolutely no evidence to link the two,” Nat said. “You’re pulling stuff out of thin air!” She put her hands out in front of her as though to protect herself, or keep George and Roxy away from her. She looked panicked. “You’re making all this up as you go along!”
George put his hands on Nat’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She was breathless, but she stopped pacing and dropped her arms to her sides. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on,” said George. “But last night I had dreams, terrible dreams, of darkness and blood and murder. I had to fight off all kinds of demons in the astral plane—that’s the place in your mind where you go when you have dreams. I woke up exhausted. Maybe the same spirits came for Charles, and he couldn’t handle it. I don’t know!”
Nat slapped her palm to her forehead and growled. “George…”
Roxy, like Nat, didn’t enjoy all this talk of dark, supernatural events, spirits, and demons. She didn’t want to get caught up in it. And, privately, she was with Nat, she didn’t believe in it. “I think we need to call Detective Johnson.”
“That’s what I said earlier!” Nat cried. “But you didn’t listen to me. And now there’s all this talk of evil spirits and viruses and things. Johnson may not be the nicest guy, but I prefer him to this!” Nat pointed back at the Palace of Spirits.
“Okay, go ahead,” said George. “Call him.”
Roxy pulled out her phone and called Johnson, a number that was now programmed into both her contacts list and her mind. They were still standing in the street.
“Reinhardt,” Johnson barked, as if she were part of the police force, too.
“One of my guests is missing,” she said. “Meredith Romanoff’s husband. He’s staying with me. We went out last night with him, but this morning he’s gone. His bed hasn’t been slept in.”
Johnson spoke to her as if she were a very dim child. “And did you call his cell phone?”
“Yes. He’d left it in his bedside drawer.”
Now it was Johnson’s turn to growl. He said a few words Roxy couldn’t quite make out. “I’ll put out an APB for him immediately. Let’s hope he hasn’t gotten too far.”
Roxy moved away from Nat and George who were now deep in conversation again and spoke quietly into her phone. “Do you think…could this be an indication that he’s guilty? I mean, spouses are often…”
“Jack Lavantille is in custody for the murder. Have you forgotten?” Johnson barked. “This doesn’t change anything in that regard.”
“But have you charged him?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“You don’t have the evidence,” Roxy spat, surprised by the strength of her own emotion. “And you won’t get any because…”
“Because you’re covering for him?”
“No! Because he didn’t do it!”
Johnson laughed. “Okay, then who did?”
“I don’t know!” she said. “But it’s worth investigating. There were other people in the room that night. Terah Jones, who had a huge falling out with Meredith Romanoff in high school, for a start. Did you know about that?”
“I don’t appreciate your impertinence…”
“And what about Royston Lamontagne, that businessman?”
“He’s a very well-respected…”
“What? Are you saying that well-respected people don’t commit crimes?”
“Listen to me, I have this investigation under control, Ms. Reinhardt. You would do well to leave things alone,” Johnson said curtly. “As I said, I’ll put an APB out for Romanoff. That is all.” He hung up the phone.
“Ugh!” Roxy burst out. Frustrated, she squeezed her eyes and her fists tight. She looked at the screen of her phone as if by staring at it, Johnson would ring back.
“What?” Nat said as she and George looked over.
“Nothing,” said Roxy. “Just Johnson being his annoying self. Let’s go look someplace else for Charles. What about Dr. Jack’s botanica?”
“Good idea,” said George.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Dr. Jack’s botanica, they found Sage at the counter. She was wearing long aquamarine linen robes and having an involved conversation about essential oils with a young couple. While smiley and attentive to her customers, there were dark circles under her eyes. Nat, George, and Roxy looked around the botanica as they waited for her to be done.
When Roxy had first arrived in New Orleans, this store had unsettled her. Now? She could walk through the aisles quite happily. She browsed the “love potion” perfume bottles, and “grounding” healing crystals, and powder that promised to “banish evil spirits” without blinking an eye. She took in the sights and smells of the small shop and looked carefully up and down the aisles. There was no sign of Charles.
Eventually Sage finished serving the couple, and they left, happily clutching a brown bag. She rushed out from behind the counter and greeted her visitors with a hug. “Good morning, good souls. I had a wonderful meditation this morning. How are things?” She looked at them, a hint of desperation in her eyes.
“Hi Sage,” said Roxy. “Has Charles come by?”
“No, why?”
“We can’t find him anywhere,” said Nat. “He’s left his phone in the hotel and disappeared.”
Sage frowned.
“We’ve just been to the Palace of Spirits,” George explained, “but he’s not there, either. I’m getting a bad feeling. This isn’t like him.” George’s forehead crinkled as he spoke. “We came here to see if you’ve seen him.”
“He’s not been here. I opened an hour ago. Perhaps he went for a long walk when he found he couldn’t sleep. Maybe he’s returned to the hotel since you left,” Sage suggested.
Roxy shook her head. “Sam’s there; he’s working on the loft conversion. The front door is locked, so Charles would need to ring the bell to get in. I told Sam to call us if that happened, and he hasn’t. Besides, if he went for a walk, he wouldn’t leave his phone behind, would he?”
“Oh. No. Probably not.” Sage went back behind the counter and sat down, looking thoughtful. Then she jumped back up, her eyes bright. “Do a reading, George! You’re the closest to him, you would be the best person to do it. Take whatever you want from the shelves. I have cowrie shells, or you can use cards, or…”
“I can’t,” George said firmly. “I’m not authorized.”
“Huh?” Sage said. “Authorized? What do you mean?”
“Meredith said I wasn’t ready,” said George. “She said the world and their grandmother’s cat thought they were qualified to read these days when it’s an art reserved for a select few. She said my spirit wasn’t perceptive enough yet.”
“Nonsense!” said Sage, shaking a pointed finger at him before taking a deep breath and biting her lip. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to burst out like that. She’s right in a way. Many people without intuitive abilities proclaim that they can read, and they shouldn’t. But anyone can tell that you’re qualified. It’s obvious!”
“Yes,” said Nat. “I agree. Go ahead.”
“No!” George said. “No, I won’t!”
“George?” Nat said softly.
“I’m not good enough!” He looked wildly about him and on the verge of tears.
Sage looked at him with concern. “Honey,” she said softly, clasping his shoulders and looking deep into his eyes. “I don’t mean to offend you, but this woman, Meredith—I don’t know much about her, but she sounds like she was trying to hold you down instead of lifting you up.”
“No, she wasn’t!” George said, tears falling freely now. “She loved me!”
Sage sighed. “Can I give you a hug, sugar?”
George nodded and fell onto her shoulder gratefully. After a few moments, Sage released him. “There, better?” George nodded mournfully.
“If everyone could get a hug from Sage, the world would be a much better place in my opin
ion!” Roxy smiled broadly at Sage who smiled back before turning to George again. He was still standing limply next to her, looking down at the ground.
“You don’t have to read if you don’t want to, George,” said Sage, her voice warm and soft. “But I think it would be a good thing. Tell you what, why don’t I get an oracle deck, and you pick the card? I’ll interpret. We’ll do it together. Sound like a plan?”
“Yes,” George said, sniffing and wiping his eyes. He looked up, but not at anyone in particular.
“Let me get this deck set up.” Sage reached into one of the long pockets in her robes and drew out three decks of cards. One set had a picture of an angel surrounded by golden light on the backs, the second deck had a woman looking into a crystal ball, and the third had birds, crocodiles, and monkeys decorating a picturesque jungle river scene. “Which one calls out to you the most?”
“The angels.”
“I had a feeling.” Sage winked at him. She went over to the counter and spread the cards across it in a long line. “Now, what are we asking about? Charles, or Meredith, or…?”
“Everything,” said George. His face crumpled for a second before he lifted his chin and stood a little straighter. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“Okay, good. Hold that question in your mind, and pick whichever card feels right,” Sage said. “Go ahead.”
George’s hand hovered over the cards, the light brown freckles that covered the back of it standing out against his pale skin. He pointed at a card. Sage slid it out from the pack and turned it over.
“Illusions,” she read. “Let’s read the interpretation, then I’ll offer my own.” She reached into the pockets of her robes again and pulled out a book with a navy blue, silver, and violet cover. The corners of the book were worn and creased. Sage flipped to the right page and took a deep breath. “You are a true master of illusion, especially when behind masks that you wear for others. This is a gift received through the hardships of your childhood. Your ability to adapt, to pretend, was essential for you to get the love you needed.”
3 Louisiana Lies Page 12