1 Mardi Gras Madness

by Alison Golden

  Evangeline nodded. “That’s what I like to hear, cher.”

  “What will you do, Evangeline?” Sam asked. He looked tired but resigned.

  “You’ll have to find out, cher,” Evangeline said with a wink and a sly smile.

  Sam laughed. “Who knows what the next crazy chapter will be in Evangeline’s book of life, huh?”

  “You got that right, my boy.”

  “Congratulations, Louise! It is wonderful news. Don’t forget, my bakery is at your service, night and day,” Elijah said, taking Louise’s hand and with a deep bow he planted a kiss on the back of it.

  “Yes, congratulations,” Sage said. “Let me know if you need the website updated.”

  Nat stared at Louise, mulishly. She looked threatening, but Roxy knew Nat well enough by now to know she was feeling very nervous. “Um, congratulations Louise,” Nat mumbled. There was a pause. “Don’t suppose you’ll be keeping me on, will you?” she finally piped up, her voice tight and high.

  “Of course, I will!” Louise said. “You might have to change up your clothing to match the new décor, but that’s all.”

  “Right,” said Nat, crossing her arms, but keeping her cool. “Thank you,” she said, nodding.

  “Hello!” A woman’s voice carried through the lobby, her voice dripping with insincere gaiety. “How nice to find you all here. Have I interrupted something?”

  They turned to the doorway.

  “Mara Lomas!” Nat exclaimed. Mara smiled from ear to ear. “What are you doing here? We thought you were in police custody!”

  Mara Lomas looked distinctly disheveled compared with the last time they had seen her. Her stilettos had been replaced by old running shoes. Her hair was straggly and pulled back in a messy bun. Her face was still a picture of fury, though. “The police have finally seen sense and accepted that I didn’t murder my husband. Now I want to find out who did. I know that Richard was trying to cut a deal here before he was shot so it was probably one of you guys.”

  Roxy’s eyes flickered down to Mara’s hand—she was wearing her wedding ring. Roxy was sure she hadn’t been wearing it the last time she saw her.

  “What do you care?” Nat said. “You hated the guy. He was cheating on you. You didn’t exactly sound like his greatest fan when you came over here before.”

  Mara strode up to Nat and grabbed her by the face, her hand under Nat’s chin, her fingers pushing into her cheeks. “Don’t you dare talk about me and my dead husband like that!”

  “Get off me!” Nat said, gripping Mara’s wrist and tearing the woman’s hand from her face.

  “You keep quiet if you can’t tell me something helpful, do you hear?” Mara shouted. A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away, furious. “Tell me, who killed my husband? Who?”

  No one said anything.

  “Tell me!” Mara screamed, her eyes popping.

  “I’m sorry, cher,” Evangeline said. “We don’t have any idea what happened to…”

  “It was one of you,” said Mara, narrowing her eyes. She picked up a letter knife from the hallway table and pointed it at each of the folks assembled in front of her. “I’m sure of it. Now you’re all covering for each other. I know it. I do. I’m 100% certain.”

  Roxy’s heart was beating faster than usual. It always did when someone yelled or got mad (or was waving a knife at her).

  “No one knows who killed Richard,” Sam said softly. “We want to know, too, but none of us are investigators.”

  “Maybe not. I bet one of you is a murderer though,” said Mara, a bitterness lacing her voice.

  “Detective Johnson is still investigating,” Elijah said. “I’m sure he’ll find out who is responsible in the end.”

  “Him!” Mara said. She snorted. “He likes to play the big shot. He has traumatized me all over again. Helping them with their inquiries. That’s no way to treat a grieving widow, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Sam agreed. His deep voice could be wonderfully soothing. “He’s not the gentlest guy in town, but he’s a good detective. He simply wants to find out what happened to your husband, that’s all.”

  It seemed that Sam’s compassion took all the wind out of Mara’s sails. “Well,” she said, dropping the letter knife. “I’ll be back, but don’t think any of you are off the hook. I will find out who did this. And they will be sorry.”

  She left, a little wobbly on her feet as she strode away, but thanks to her running shoes, she negotiated the cobblestones a little easier than she had last time.

  As she watched Mara leave, Roxy was almost sure that what she’d just witnessed couldn’t have been a performance. Mara had not killed Richard Lomas. Roxy was certain. She would have put money on it. So, if it wasn’t her, who was it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  THAT NIGHT, ROXY couldn’t sleep. Now, the idea was really dawning on her that she may well be sleeping under the same roof as a murderer. Or at the very least, associating with one. She hated the thought and her brain buzzed with theories until she got a headache.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to shut her mind down so she could drift off to sleep. It wasn’t working. Nefertiti was curled up next to her. She was purring so loudly she sounded like some sort of engine. Roxy absentmindedly pushed her fingertips through Nefertiti’s fur as her mind did all sorts of gymnastics she couldn’t control.

  It was then that she heard a bloodcurdling scream. It came from the room below her. Roxy sat bolt upright, her heart racing. “Oh, my gosh!”

  Roxy scrambled out of bed and rushed from the room. Then she realized she could be in danger and didn’t have a weapon. She looked around. What could she use? Her eyes fell upon a large candlestick, and she rushed to snatch it up. She doubted she’d have the strength to swing it around or cause some real damage if it came to it, but it was better than nothing.

  She rushed down the stairs in bare feet and came across Louise, who was outside her room, clutching her chest, hyperventilating.

  “Oh, my goodness, what happened?!” Roxy asked. “Are you okay?”

  Louise gulped and tried to catch a breath. “I don’t…I don’t know! Someone was in my bedroom!” Her voice was slurred, and Roxy caught the scent of whiskey heavy on her breath.

  “What? Who?”

  “I don’t know!” Louise squeaked. “It was dark. I couldn’t see. I think he thought I was asleep, but then I gave him such a fright when I got up that he jumped out of the window. I tried to look down the street but I couldn’t make him out—he was wearing all black and a ski mask.” She leaned against the doorframe, still breathing heavily.

  Roxy puffed out a breath. “This is getting serious now, Louise.”

  “Right?” Louise let out another big breath. “Oh, Roxy,” she said. “I have to tell you.”

  “What? What do you have to tell me?”

  Louise looked around, as though someone might be lurking in the stairway. “Come into my room. I want to show you something,” she hissed.

  Louise snapped on the light, and Roxy saw that her eyes were bloodshot. The path she made toward the bed was winding and wobbly.

  “I’ve done something terrible,” Louise said, “and I don’t know how to get myself out of it.” She sat at the head of her bed, rummaging in her nightstand drawer. “I don’t know if it’s connected to what happened tonight. Maybe.”

  “What? What have you done, Louise?”

  Louise patted the bed, and Roxy sat down. The older woman took yet another deep breath, then reached further into the nightstand drawer. She pulled out a phone. She put it on the bed and removed her hands quickly as though she might catch a horrible disease from it.

  “Your phone,” Roxy said, waiting for an explanation.

  “No,” said Louise, her voice cracking. “Not my phone.” She whispered, “Richard Lomas’ phone!”

  Roxy gasped. “How did you get that?!” she said. Her voice was loud with surprise.

  “Shhhh!” Louise said furi
ously. “Oh, gosh.” She shook her head, and then covered her eyes with her hand. “I made a huge mistake.”

  Roxy’s heart started thumping so violently she could feel it in her temples.

  “When I found him…I…I don’t really know what happened. I saw his phone on the ground, near his hand. His cold, dead, outstretched hand.” Louise was nearly in tears. “He had a bunch of flowers with him, too. I don’t know why. I just took them both. I threw away the flowers, but I slipped the phone into my pocket. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just…in shock, I guess.”

  “Oh.”

  “And then I didn’t tell Detective Johnson because I didn’t know how, and every hour since then I’ve resolved to, but still I haven’t. It’s just got harder and harder, and now we’re here…I can’t possibly go and tell him after all this time. I look so guilty. Oh help, what have I done?!” Louise leaned over and took both of Roxy’s hands in hers, her eyes wide, imploring Roxy to understand.

  Roxy shook her head. The situation was a real mess.

  “I considered not telling him at all,” said Louise. “But the thing is…there’s evidence on this phone.”

  “Really?” Roxy said sitting up straight. “What kind of evidence?”

  “Take the phone yourself and read the text messages,” said Louise. “We’re going to have to turn it in. It might make all the difference in the investigation.”

  Roxy was hesitant to pick up the phone. She’d already noticed that Louise was using the word “we,” essentially drawing Roxy into her predicament, but she was too curious about what was on the phone to let that stop her. She wasn’t about to allow the chance of finding evidence pass her by because she felt a little uncertain.

  Roxy picked up the phone.

  “One particular thread of messages is of note,” Louise said. She looked away and up at the ceiling of her room.

  Roxy tapped the phone and there, the first contact was Elijah Walder. She let out a little gasp. “Elijah? As in Elijah, Elijah?”

  “You got it,” Louise said.

  Roxy clicked into the conversation and immediately scrolled up to the top, to see it all in chronological order. It was full of messages that showed Richard Lomas and Elijah had been in constant contact for a period of time.

  I’ve sent you the proposal by email, a message from Lomas to Elijah read.

  When are you next in the area? Elijah had responded.

  “What does it mean, do you think?” Roxy wondered out loud to Louise. “The proposal? Obviously, they were doing some kind of business together, but what? Do you think Elijah was involved in trying to get Evangeline to sell the guesthouse?” Her mind turned over, thinking back over all the times she’d been around the baker. She didn’t remember ever seeing him try to influence Evangeline’s decision or even discuss the deal with her.

  “No,” Louise said. “Keep scrolling.”

  “He was thinking of selling the bakery?” said Roxy as she read.

  “Yes. But then things got a little hairy.”

  Roxy read on.

  That price is an insult, Elijah had written. This is my family business. It was passed down from my grandfather. I would expect much better compensation.

  Lomas had written back, I’m not interested in your business. Not even in the building. Only the land upon which the business and building are situated.

  NO DEAL, Elijah had texted back furiously.

  The last message in the thread was one from Richard: We’ll see about that. I have my ways and means. You having a little tantrum won’t stop me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ROXY READ THE text messages over and over before she handed the phone back to Louise. “So…do you think it was Elijah who snuck into your room just now? Do you think he was going to hurt you?”

  “Yes…no…” Louise said, looking a little lost. She put her hands up to her face. “Oh, I just don’t know.”

  A tense, pregnant silence stretched out between them as they both considered what might have happened.

  “Well, you’ll have to hand this cell phone into Detective Johnson,” Roxy said. “But…let’s wait a bit, a few more hours won’t make any difference now. You just focus on how you’re going to transform this place. You’ve had enough trauma and drama as it is. I’m going to do some investigating of my own. We’ll hand the cell phone in after that.”

  Back in her room, there was no chance now that Roxy would get any sleep. She lay on the bed for a while, tossing and turning, but eventually gave up. She rose and opened her linen curtains. The sky was just beginning to edge out of darkness.

  She wished she had someone to talk to, someone to bounce her ideas off. She didn’t want to trouble Louise any more—she’d been through enough already. Besides, even with this information on Elijah, she couldn’t entirely rule Louise out as a suspect. Neither could she rule out Nat or Evangeline. Sam would have made a good confidante, she was sure, but she was still a little suspicious of him too. Plus, she had to admit to herself, she had a crush on him that didn’t help her keep a clear head.

  What about Sage?

  Sage was usually up at dawn to perform her rituals, “Before the rest of the world gets up and clogs the energy space with their vibes,” she had told Roxy. She was busy with programming and tarot readings during the day, but in the serenity of the early morning, she was alone and available.

  Before Roxy’s mind was made up, her body got into gear. She rushed over to her wardrobe and picked out some jeans, a shirt, and a cardigan. “Bye, Nef,” she said as she slipped her sneakers on. “See you later, lovely girl.”

  She crept down the stairs, wincing at every creak, and let herself out of the front door into the cold morning air. She looked over at Elijah’s bakery and gave a little involuntary shiver. She went out onto the cobblestones and looked back at Evangeline’s. Below her own rickety balcony was Louise’s room. Roxy looked at the open window and saw the thick old-fashioned drainpipe next to it. That, and the ledges that were built between the floors as part of the architectural style meant that it would be easy for someone to climb up or down.

  Roxy pulled her cardigan around her to keep herself protected from the cold air then headed out of the cobbled alleyway and onto the street.

  A black car pulled up to the curb next to her. Johnson stepped out of it, his face creased with barely concealed rage as usual. Roxy gulped. She had every intention of telling Johnson about the phone, but not now. Now, she wanted to avoid him.

  “You,” he said.

  Roxy tried to find a smile. “Good morning, Detective Johnson.”

  He curled his lip. “A little birdy tells me you’re sneaking around, doing detective work.”

  Roxy’s heart stopped.

  He edged up horribly close to her. “Listen up, lady. I’m the detective, you’re just a guest in our city. Stay in your lane, okay?” He stepped back a pace. “And I sincerely hope you’re not out here at this early hour doing any investigating.”

  “Oh, no,” Roxy lied. “I’m going to see Sage, for…some spiritual help. I’m not feeling so good.”

  “You’ll be feeling a whole lot worse if you keep meddling,” he said. He waved his hand, dismissively. “Keep moving. Go on, go.”

  Roxy scurried across the road, then headed up a stairway around the side of a store and up to Sage’s apartment that was located on top. She looked down at the street to see Johnson staring up at her. An ice-cold shiver ran through her, and she quickly turned away. She had wanted to see if he was going into the guesthouse, but she couldn’t bear to watch. Anyway, she suspected he would remain there staring at her until she was out of his sight.

  Roxy took a deep breath and knocked on Sage’s door. As she waited for Sage to answer, Roxy wondered if she was doing the right thing.

  “A visitor through the midst of esoteric time,” Roxy heard Sage say through the door.

  It opened, and Sage stood before her, looking quite different from normal. Her long mermaid hair was gone, a
short afro in its place. She had on soft white robes but was without her characteristic jewelry. Her brown eyes seemed to penetrate deep into Roxy’s soul, however. She didn’t break into her usual warm smile. She didn’t even speak. She just nodded and stepped to the side to let Roxy through.

  “Oh, um, thanks,” Roxy said in a quiet voice, then berated herself for speaking at all. There was an atmosphere between them, a different ambiance from usual, but Roxy couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was or why it was there.

  Sage led her through the plain, ordinary hallway, with its white walls and wooden floor, and into a back room. Roxy gasped. It was like stepping into another world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE ROOM WAS draped with silk hangings, in rich shades of orange and crimson and deep pink, which should have clashed, but somehow looked wonderful together. The smell of incense hung thick and sweet in the air, as white smoke unfurled in a graceful dance above four incense burners placed in each corner. Three white candles were burning in large glass jars, their flames flickering. They sat atop a white-clothed table in the center of the room. A clear bowl full of water sat in front of them. Cushions were laid out on the dark wooden floor, orange and deep red and pink like the drapes, and a deck of tarot cards were spread in an elaborate formation in front of them. The whole effect was mesmerizing.

  “Wow,” Roxy said under her breath.

  Sage sat on a crimson cushion and gestured for Roxy to do the same. When she turned to look at her, her eyes were bright. “It is no coincidence you have come here now, at this time. This is no ordinary visit. I can feel the difference. Spirit has carried you here.”