1 Mardi Gras Madness

by Alison Golden

  Roxy didn’t quite know what to say so she looked down at her lap, mumbling hesitantly, her gaze flickering up to Sage’s face and down to her lap again. “Well…I came here to run something by you. Something about the murder. Some information I’ve found out.”

  Sage simply nodded.

  Roxy decided to face Sage squarely and proceeded to tell her everything that Louise had told her. She also told Sage about the text messages between Lomas and Elijah. Sage listened intently. Once Roxy was done, Sage stared at the candles. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, exhaling with a long outward breath. She stayed still for such a long time that Roxy wondered if she had fallen asleep.

  Roxy cast her eyes over the tarot cards on the floor. She still didn’t know if she believed in them or not, but surely trying them out couldn’t hurt.

  Sage opened her eyes. “Let us consult the cards,” she said.

  Roxy flinched, wondering if it was a coincidence, or if Sage was reading her mind. “That’s just what I was thinking!”

  Sage raised an eyebrow. She scooped up all the tarot cards and began to shuffle them. First, she did so in her hand then she placed the deck on the floor face down. She pushed the deck over and spread the cards out before moving them around the floor until they were well mixed.

  “Right,” Sage said, rocking back on her heels. “Ask your question.”

  Roxy tried to get into a positive mindset and not let doubt take over. “Okay…How is Elijah involved in the murder of Richard Lomas?”

  “Point to three cards.”

  Roxy did as she was told and Sage laid the three cards in a row face down. “Ready?” she said.

  Roxy gulped, not sure that she was. The seriousness of the situation was beginning to kick in. She was in a strange city, had placed herself in the middle of a murder investigation, and here she was using tarot cards to check her suspicions. The whole thing was just so, so far out of her normal experience, and yet, here she was. It was happening. It was real. “Yes,” she said.

  “This card represents the past,” Sage said. She turned the first card over. “The Seven of Swords.” There was a picture of a man carrying swords in his arms, sneaking away, as if he were stealing them. “Deception,” said Sage. “Someone is trying to get away with something, undetected.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Really, universe? You don’t say!” She immediately got serious again. “Someone has false motives and has been pursuing an agenda of their own. Someone has been keeping secrets and deceiving others.”

  Roxy’s heart beat a little faster. Maybe these cards really did work! Were they talking about Elijah? It seemed the tarot cards were just as ready to condemn him as his text messages.

  “Right, the next card represents the present,” Sage said. She flipped it over and raised her eyebrows. “Ace of Swords,” she said, as if in a trance, “Communication needs to be clarified. Persevere in your quest for an answer even if it is not the one you wish for.”

  Roxy’s eyes popped. She didn’t like the idea of Elijah being the killer. After all, he was part of the little group she had become quite attached to. He made the loveliest beignets. He seemed kind and, though a little outlandish, good-hearted. Sam and Elijah were great friends and excellent music partners, but what was really known about him?

  “Now for the final card,” Sage said. “This determines the future.” She flipped it over. “Death.”

  Roxy gasped. “Another murder?”

  “No,” said Sage. “It means total transformation. The complete and dramatic end of something. Starting over.”

  Roxy let out a deep breath and looked at Sage. “So…do you think this means Elijah is the killer?”

  Sage pursed her lips together. “It’s impossible to tell, honey. Some people say you can get yes and no answers from the cards, but that’s overly simplistic. They’re much more complex and layered than that. You have to mix the meanings in with your intuition. What’s your gut telling you?”

  Roxy paused. “I don’t know,” she said. She had all sorts of feelings and impressions swirling around, but any time she tried to fix her mind on Elijah being the murderer, another possibility popped up. Nat. Mara. Evangeline. It was impossible to know. “I just don’t know.” She peered at Sage, who was now staring intently at the incense as it swirled and danced up to the ceiling. She wondered just how much Sage knew—how much secret knowledge her spiritual powers truly afforded her. “Do you know?”

  “I wish I did,” said Sage. “Life is full of mysteries. I spend my time on this earth trying to decode them, but some are complex. They only reveal themselves when they desire it.”

  “Well, I hope they desire it real soon,” Roxy said, thinking about the intruder Louise found in her room, “before someone else gets hurt.”

  Sage nodded. “I’ll put a protection spell over the guesthouse to keep y’all safe. While that can help, it depends on the forces at play, and right now there are some real strong ones out there. I can feel them, dark ones, greedy ones, ready to harm for their own benefit.”

  Roxy felt a little panicked. “So what can we do?”

  “Work fast,” said Sage. “My role is to liaise with the spiritual forces present. I’ll work with them as much as I can to bring justice, but we need feet on the ground. Practical work. Get out there and find the truth.”

  Roxy breathed. “I’ll certainly try.”

  Sage smiled for the first time that morning. She reached out and squeezed Roxy’s hand. “The spirits are on your side, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AS ROXY LEFT Sage’s magical, mystical apartment, her mind went back to that first wonderfully cozy evening when they all holed up in Evangeline’s dining room, eating spicy Creole food and listening to Elijah and Sam as they filled the place with the sounds of jazz.

  Sam and Elijah seemed so close. They were truly in sync that night. Sure, they had performed some set pieces, but they had jammed together afterward, and it had flowed as easily as the wine.

  If Elijah were the killer, as Roxy was grudgingly beginning to admit may be the case, surely Sam would be devastated. They were like brothers.

  She meandered back toward the cobbled street that housed Evangeline’s and paused for a moment. She looked at the bakery to her left and Evangeline’s to the right. The short distance between them had once seemed so quaint and intimate. Now the distance felt sinister, a huge black shadowy presence between them, one that possibly divided a murderer from his prey. Roxy shivered involuntarily, not from the cold, but from the mental image of Elijah sneaking out in the dead of night and climbing the pipes to Louise’s room.

  At that moment, Nat came out of the front door with a rug and began to shake it out. She looked up and jumped when she saw Roxy. “Blooming heck, Rox,” she said. “You gave me one heck of a fright. What are you doing out and about so early?” Her face creased into a frown.

  “Oh…,” Roxy stared at Nat and wished she could explain. Everything was jumbled and muddled in her head, and it was starting to give her a headache. “I went to see Sage.”

  “Oh right.” Nat went back to shaking out the rug, banging it against the railings and sending clouds of dust flying everywhere. She gave a happy smile. “So, Louise is taking over the guesthouse, and I get to stay on. Isn’t that great?”

  “Yep,” Roxy said.

  “Will you stay?”

  “I…I don’t know yet.” Roxy was wary as she spoke to Nat. She didn’t feel free to relax and chat normally. Anyone could be the killer. A thought popped into her head. “Do you know where I’d be able to find Sam?”

  “He’ll be at his laundry,” Nat said. A teasing smile played at the corner of her lips. “Why?”

  Roxy tried very hard not to blush. “I wanted to ask him…” There was a mischievous glint in Nat’s eyes, so Roxy quickly made something up. “I wanted to ask him if he’d seen my…my…I think I left some money in one of my dress pockets. I want to see if I can rescue it before it gets put through the w
ash.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Nat said with a grin. “Well, the laundry isn’t too far away. A couple of blocks. Go out of the front entrance, turn left, and walk on until you get to 24th Street. Take another left, and it’s down there a couple of minutes. Sam’s Laundry. You can’t miss it.”

  Roxy took off immediately, keen to get away from Nat but also because she didn’t want to think too much about her decision to speak to Sam about what she knew.

  The directions were easy to follow, and before long she was standing on the steps of the laundry. She could see clothing and linens turning over and over in the machines inside.

  She entered and a little bell tinkled. The temperature was several degrees higher inside the laundry, a pleasing contrast to the cool outside.

  “Hello,” she said. Sam was behind the front desk attending to some paperwork. He didn’t move. Individually, each of the machines made only gentle whirring noises, but together they created a distinct thrum, and she realized she’d have to raise her voice to make herself heard. “Hello!” Sam looked up this time, and a huge smile spread across his face. Roxy felt heat rising to her cheeks, and she had to look at the floor for a moment.

  “Hi, Roxy. What a great surprise!” he said, standing up. He was a true Southern gentleman.

  “Hi, Sam.” Roxy cleared her throat, reminding herself that she was here on a serious mission. There was no time to be embarrassed or to pay attention to how her legs felt. It was as though they were turning to jelly.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked. He brought out a chair from behind the counter and placed it in front of her. “Please, take a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Roxy sat down, and taking his cue from her, he did, too. She forced herself to look up into his dreamy blue eyes. “This isn’t a pleasure visit, I’m afraid.”

  Sam didn’t blink. “That’s a shame.”

  “I’m going to be 100% straight with you,” said Roxy.

  “Good! It’s about time.” A smile played at the corner of his lips.

  “What?”

  “Oh, come on. We both…” he trailed off.

  Roxy was utterly bewildered.

  A look of panic sprung into Sam’s eyes. “Erm…I mean to say, you know…erm…you’ll be staying on at the guesthouse, won’t you?” He began to talk very fast. “I mean, you keep saying you don’t know, you don’t know, but I think we both know you will.”

  “Oh,” Roxy said. “Well, yeah, I think I will. For a while anyway.” She laughed awkwardly. “You got me there, skipper.” What was she saying? Skipper?

  He looked immensely relieved. “New Orleans is like that. Once it gets its hooks into you, it doesn’t want to give you back. I grew up here, of course. I tried going away to college, but I came straight back after I graduated and opened my first business. My father was furious. He wanted me to go into investment banking in New York.”

  They settled into a comfortable silence. The whir of the machines went on. Roxy liked the sound. The moment felt cozy and intimate, but she knew she had to broach the subject of Elijah sooner or later. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Sam, I…”

  “Roxy, I…”

  They spoke at the same time. They laughed.

  “Go on,” he said. His eyes were sparkling. Roxy got the distinct feeling that he thought she was going to ask him on a date. In truth, she didn’t want the moment to end. She felt this pleasant, electric tension between them, but she had no plans to invite him out. She just didn’t do that kind of thing.

  Instead, she took a deep breath. “I have reason to believe that Elijah might have been involved in Richard Lomas’ murder.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  SAM’S OPEN, EXPECTANT expression changed immediately. It crumpled into a deep, concerned frown.

  “What?” he breathed. “No.”

  “I’m so sorry. I know you won’t want to believe that, but…there’s a lot of evidence that points in that direction.” She explained about the phone, and the break-in, and the conversations that had been going on between Elijah and Richard.

  Sam started pushing paperwork around unnecessarily. He shuffled his papers and stacked them. Then he unstacked them again. Roxy doubted he even registered what he was doing.

  “Well, I think you’re wrong,” he said, his voice hard. He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

  She felt tension—now the utterly wrong kind of tension—course through her body. “I wish I were, Sam, but…”

  “But what?” he said. “Honestly, Roxy, I think you should let this go. Detective Johnson is…“

  Suddenly Roxy felt quite angry. “Detective Johnson is what?” she interrupted, surprising herself with the steel in her voice. “An idiot, if you ask me.”

  “So you know better than him about investigating, do you?”

  “You’ve sure changed your tune!” Roxy snapped. “You said he might be corrupt.”

  “Well, maybe,” Sam said. “But the alternative isn’t for us to go around playing cop.”

  “Playing cop?!” Roxy said. “Excuse me for caring. I’m trying to ensure Evangeline isn’t the subject of a miscarriage of justice!”

  Sam leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk in irritation. “Okay, let’s say Johnson is corrupt and will pin the murder on whoever he wants. You think you can stand up to him and the whole police department?”

  “Well, no, but…” Roxy floundered.

  “Look, Roxy, you’re not from this town,” Sam said. His voice was a little kinder now. “ You don’t know what goes on behind the scenes.”

  Roxy felt a horrible knot in her stomach. “I’m just trying to…”

  “Well, don’t,” Sam said. “Don’t try. I know you mean well, but you’re a visitor to this city, a tourist. Let the police sort it out. If Evangeline does get charged with Lomas’ murder, I’ll get the best lawyers on the case. That’s what’s going to help. Not this. Not you.”

  Roxy swallowed, tears threatened to well, but she held her head high. “I think you’re only saying this because you don’t want to face the fact that Elijah might have done it.”

  Sam shook his head. “Louise needs to hand in that phone and prepare herself for the consequences. She could go to jail for keeping it. It’s theft at best. Obstructing the course of justice at worst.”

  “But she was in shock!”

  “Do you think Johnson will give a rat’s behind about shock?”

  “No, but…”

  “This is not cool,” he said. “Not cool at all. Louise has got herself in too deep. And now you’re doing the same. This is going to blow up in your faces. Johnson might even put you in jail for knowing about the phone and doing nothing about it.”

  Roxy had been so wrapped up in her investigation, she hadn’t even thought of that. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. “He wouldn’t,” she said, but her voice wobbled. She imagined herself in jail with a bunch of tough women. From a steady job with a steady boyfriend, renting a nice apartment with savings in the bank…to that? Maybe this move had been a terrible idea after all. Maybe she was crazy even being in New Orleans, let alone getting herself mixed up in all of this. “Johnson wouldn’t be that cruel,” she said, although she suspected that he would.

  “Look, Roxy, I don’t mean to be harsh, but you have to be realistic. Both you and Louise have come into town and gotten yourselves wrapped up in a serious issue, an issue that could have big implications. Life-changing implications. I know New Orleans is a mystical place, but don’t get caught up in the hype of Mardi Gras and Sage’s spiritualism and think that magic will fix this. It won’t. Despite the wonder of this city, it isn’t immune from the harsher aspects of life. It won’t give you a happy-ever-after ending just because. Reality is dirty and gritty and messy here, just like everywhere else.”

  Roxy didn’t know what to say. She felt heavy all over. Her limbs were like lead. “Right,” she said, still trying to inje
ct a little sass into her voice.

  Sam sighed. “I’m not trying to be unpleasant, Rox,” he said, his voice softening again. “I just want you to be realistic.”

  Now, Roxy felt patronized. She shot him a glare. “You just don’t want to consider that Elijah might be a murderer.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He shook his head. “I certainly don’t think he is, but maybe I’m wrong. I hope not. But the truth will out. The police will find out who did it. It won’t be tourists solving this, digging around like they’re on a murder mystery weekend.”

  “Stop calling me a tourist!” Roxy snapped.

  “But that’s what you are,” he said softly. “You’ve only been here a few days. You don’t really know New Orleans yet. She’s a mysterious, unpredictable old girl.”

  Roxy, her eyes gleaming furiously, stood. “I’m going back to Evangeline’s. I’ll take my washing, if you don’t mind.”

  “Don’t you want me to drive it over? I have laundry for the others, too.”

  “I’ll take it all,” Roxy said icily.

  “You sure? It’s a big pile.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll take you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Sam sighed and went into the back room. He came out with several parcels of washing, all wrapped up with paper and string. “Here you go.” He put them on his table.

  Roxy stacked them and picked them up carefully. She just about managed to carry them all and started forward, peering over the top. One parcel fell off, but Sam caught it and popped it back on. “Look,” he said, when they were so close she could smell the deep, alluring musk of his aftershave. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just…”

  Roxy put on a big smile. It was like a weapon. “You didn’t make me feel bad. You made me feel more certain,” she said, making for the door. “Bye, Sam.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “WE’RE PULLING OUT all the stops tonight!” Evangeline said. “Louise is taking over my business. We’re celebrating! ” Evangeline’s eyes were bright, but her voice was brittle and Roxy suspected that Evangeline, despite her brave face, wasn’t as happy as she seemed. Old age was forcing her to hand her guesthouse over, and Roxy knew that Evangeline would be feeling burning shame and grief at her losing her independence, her livelihood, and her beloved building.