1 Mardi Gras Madness

by Alison Golden

  “Why not?”

  “He gets very cagey,” Nat said. “So we don’t push it. He grew up around here, his family goes way back, generations, and Evangeline always said that was good enough for her.”

  That was the last they talked of it.

  The dining room where tonight’s event was to be held had been transformed. They’d split it into a grand lounge on one side, the dining area on the other. The whole place was painted a gorgeous, soft, pale blue. The room was now furnished with a mixture of champagne and pastel blue fabrics, mahogany side tables with ornately curved legs, lamps, gilded mirrors, and an abundance of interesting knickknacks and ornaments. They even had an enormous chandelier glittering overhead.

  The bedrooms were sumptuous too, and Nefertiti looked more regal than ever curled up on one of the Louis-style four-poster beds. Her bright eyes matched the blue of the bedspreads exactly. She was the perfect accessory. Sage had taken a wonderful picture of her for their new Instagram page.

  Sage had a great eye for photography. Her pictures of the food and the décor were so gorgeous that their social media follower counts were climbing every day. There had been a write-up in a local paper too, and slowly word was spreading that Roxy’s was the place to stay in New Orleans. She trembled with anticipation when she thought about it.

  Roxy felt she was in a permanent state of exhilaration. She had become so consumed by the whole process of turning the guesthouse from a vision in her head into a reality all around her that she often couldn’t sleep. She’d never felt so accomplished.

  “A boutique luxury, yet traditional, New Orleans experience” was the phrase she kept repeating to decorators, antique dealers, and just about anyone who would listen. It encapsulated precisely her goal for the new hotel.

  Roxy rushed around on the day of the Grand Opening, but eventually, there was nothing more to do so she took herself to her room to get ready. She’d bought herself a new dress. She’d never have picked out something so show-stopping before, but being the new proprietor of this fabulous place and with some encouragement from Nat and Sage, she’d come to believe that a silver-sequined, figure-hugging dress wasn’t too over the top. Okay, well maybe it was, especially when paired with an abundance of silver and crystal jewelry loaned to her by Sage and which now sparkled in her ears and around her neck and her wrists, but why the heck not? Wasn’t life for enjoying, after all?

  They were expecting a big turnout, but Roxy couldn’t help drumming her fingertips on the arm of one of the couches as she finally sat down and waited for her guests to arrive. The time seemed to tick by so, so slowly. They’d printed flyers and passed them out just about everywhere. Elijah had distributed them with every beignet purchase made at his bakery, Sam had wrapped one inside every laundry parcel, Sage had left a whole bunch at the botanica, and Nat had spent all her days off on the street at the end of the alleyway handing out details of the event to passersby.

  They’d even sent an invitation to Mara Lomas, a kind of peace offering. After Louise had been arrested, Mara had come back around to the guesthouse in tears, saying to them how ashamed she was of her behavior. They’d tried to console her by telling her that she had been right—it was one of them who had killed her husband—but the message didn’t seem to get through. Mara was determined to feel guilty and she had returned to her home state to make some sense of her life. Roxy didn’t expect Mara to attend the Grand Opening, but she’d written on the invitation, “We wish you all the best for the future,” and she really did.

  Nat came and sat next to Roxy. She patted her on the shoulder. Roxy wouldn’t have dreamed of asking her to drop her “uniform,” but Nat herself had said, “With all this grandeur, I feel a little silly in my Slipknot tee. Slipknot’s a band by the way,” she added to relieve Roxy’s perplexed expression. Instead, Nat was wearing a smart, tailored trouser suit that looked awesome on her. She’d paired it with her shiny green boots with the sparkly laces, which somehow worked, and a plain white t-shirt. Her ears continued to drip with jewelry, and she had kept her tiny diamond nose stud in place. “So that I still feel like myself,” she’d said.

  Shortly after 6 PM, people began to trickle in. Evangeline, who had helped with the food, handed the guests glasses of wine and Café Brûlot. The tables were laid out with what seemed like thousands of New Orleans-style canapés, and Sage offered tarot readings in the lounge.

  Elijah and Sam were on the music, filling the whole place with warm jazz and the cool, mellow sounds of Miles Davis along with the more upbeat tunes of Duke Ellington, filtered through the air. After a while, Nat joined them, astounding Roxy as she demonstrated the most beautiful, soulful voice Roxy had ever heard. Nat sung jazz classics, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, and It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing and then, with a level of graciousness that she had not previously been known for, she took song requests from Roxy's guests.

  As they finished a set, Roxy walked up to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing?” she whispered.

  “Ah, it’s nothing,” Nat said, shyly.

  “Nothing? You were fantastic!”

  “Nat only gets her voice out on special occasions,” Sam said. “For special people,” he added.

  “When she sings, she has a true Southern vibe,” Sage said. She raised her eyebrows. “Quite unusual when you consider she’s from across the pond.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  LATER THAT EVENING, Roxy felt like a break and stepped outside into the warm night air. The stars were all out, and it seemed like even they were smiling down at her.

  She found Sam out there too, his back turned to her as he looked up to the sky.

  “Oh, hey,” she said.

  He jumped and turned. “Hi, Roxy.” He grinned. “Going great, isn’t it?”

  “Yep!” She felt truly in her element.

  “The stars are all out in celebration,” he said.

  “Lovely clear night, isn’t it?” They gazed up at the stars for a moment in companionable silence. “You were wrong about New Orleans, you know,” she said eventually. “It is magic.”

  Sam cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while.” He stared at his feet. “But you know, dumb male pride and all.”

  Roxy stayed silent and watched him.

  “I don’t think I spoke to you very nicely when you came to the laundry, when you talked about your suspicions concerning Elijah.”

  Roxy had let that go a long time ago. She laughed. “Well, you were right. It wasn’t him, and at that point, it really would have been wise for me to butt out. It was only after we spoke that I found Louise’s badge and got a part to play.”

  Sam looked down at her. “That’s all true. But I could have spoken in more of a polite manner.”

  “Ever the Southern gentleman,” Roxy said fondly. “Well, that means I’ll have to be a proper Southern belle.” She tried to put on the accent and failed miserably. They both burst into laughter.

  Roxy didn’t quite know what came over her. Maybe it was the champagne, or the beauty of the stars, or the deep happiness she felt in her soul, but she wanted to reach out and kiss him. She paused, though, wondering if it were appropriate. Would he kiss her back? Would he jump away and be like, “You’ve got the wrong idea!”? Her hesitation broke the spell, and she gave him an awkward smile instead. And besides, the doubts she had about him came flooding back. Perhaps those red flags meant something. Maybe he was just pretending to be a nice guy.

  At that moment, Nat came bustling around the corner. “Roxy, I’ve been looking...” She cut herself short. “Ooooh,” she said, her eyes shining. “Have I interrupted something?”

  “No!” Roxy said a little too forcefully.

  Nat raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Anyway, come on inside. Everyone’s waiting for you, Rox.”

  It was coming up on midnight.

  Everyone had a champagne glass in hand, and there was a round of applause when Roxy made her way back in.


  “Evangeline was just saying how proud she was of you, how you’ve transformed the place,” Nat said. “They want to hear something from you now.”

  Roxy would have died in her former life if she’d had to do any form of public speaking. But now, here, considering who she was in this moment, all her nerves fell away, and she was filled with a deep sense of warmth and affection.

  “Thank you all for coming,” she said. “This place…it has come to mean so much to me. Not just this guesthouse, but the whole city. New Orleans is full of magic and wonder. It has changed me. When I got here, I had no idea where my life would lead. I had nothing except my suitcase full of clothes and my cat. No job. No family. No one by my side. No direction. I was painfully shy and didn’t have any sort of belief in myself. But…this city has changed me. It has taught me that miracles do happen, that I have a power inside me that I’ve never been aware of. I’m a new person now, a better person, a more empowered person. And, thanks to your amazing cuisine, also a slightly fatter person!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “So I just want to say thank you. Thank you to Evangeline for introducing me to Creole and Cajun ways. Thank you to Nat, the craziest, most loveable girl I know. Thank you to Sage, for making me believe in magic. Thank you to Elijah, for showing me that it’s okay to be different and that beignets are food from the heavens. Thank you to Sam, for being…a great friend. And thank you to New Orleans for helping me find myself. I am beyond grateful for this new chapter in my life.” She raised the glass of champagne that Nat had thrust into her hand. “And thank you for being here to share it with me.”

  The crowd applauded, and Roxy looked around. The dining room was full of people, chattering, laughing, eating and drinking. She wandered into the lobby where she could survey the entire room.

  As she watched the scene in front of her, she felt a huge sense of satisfaction and achievement.

  “I did this,” she whispered to herself. She almost couldn’t believe it.

  Her phone gave a little “ting.” She looked at the screen. There was a text from Angela, her call center supervisor at Modal Appliances, Inc.

  Jade and Chloe have been fired for fighting in the women’s bathroom. We are two customer service reps down. Come back to work at 9 AM sharp, but no pay for the time you missed. Don’t be late!

  Roxy read the text several times. She tapped out a reply.

  Can’t make it. Sorry. Good luck, though.

  She looked back at the room and watched her guests. Sam waved from across the room.

  She knew what to do. She didn’t hesitate. There was no grief, no loss, no love lost. She swiped her phone. There was a “whoosh.”

  Angela was gone for good.

  To get your free copies of the first books in my other series, updates about new releases, exclusive promotions, and other insider information, sign up for Alison’s mailing list at:

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  ROXY WILL RETURN…

  WOULD YOU LIKE to find out what happens next for Roxy? Check out the subsequent book in this fun, cozy mystery series, New Orleans Nightmare. You can find an excerpt on the following pages.

  NEW ORLEANS NIGHTMARE

  Chapter One

  “OOOOH, I’M SO excited!” Roxy Reinhardt said, dancing around the kitchen, while pots and pans of all sizes bubbled on the stovetop. Gumbos, stews, and jambalayas filled the room with rich, spicy steam as she boogied in the space between the range and the countertops.

  “Me too!” Nat said, clapping her hands together.

  Roxy was the manager and part-owner of the Funky Cat Inn, having been recently installed as such by the previous owner, Evangeline, and local investor, laundryman, handyman, and something of a handsome dark horse, Sam. Nat was Roxy’s “Girl Friday.” She was also a former English nanny who had overstayed her visa.

  Today they were preparing a Grand Welcome Meal.

  “Who are these people again?” Evangeline asked Roxy, for the third time. “I don’t understand all these new-fangled Instabook things, cher.”

  Evangeline was retired and living her own life now, but she still came over to help them with the food. She was an absolute master at Creole and Cajun cooking and baking, and Roxy and Nat had submitted themselves to an extended tutelage.

  “They’re called influencers,” Roxy explained. “That means that they have a lot of followers on Instagram.”

  “Huh?” Evangeline said.

  Nat rolled her eyes and gave Roxy a wink as she looked back from a pot of gumbo she was stirring. “Instagram is a platform where you have your own page, and you put pictures on it. If people like what they see, they follow you to watch what you’re going to put up next. We have a page for the Funky Cat. Sage runs it.”

  “So why are these…” Evangeline frowned. “Why are these influgrammers coming here?”

  “It’s influencers, Evangeline,” Nat said.

  Roxy laughed. “Influgrammers sounds pretty good, though! You might have just coined a new word there, Evangeline. Anyway, the influencers are coming here to stay as part of a promotion. We pay them to showcase their visit. All the pictures and videos they shoot while they are here get put on their Instagram feed, and their followers will see them. Since they have hundreds of thousands of followers, it’s great publicity. This is huge for us.”

  Roxy had arrived in New Orleans during Mardi Gras season. Now though, spring had brightened into summer and the vivid colors and excitement of Mardi Gras were over. The city had lazily tilted into June, but with the imminent arrival of the influencers, the atmosphere at the Funky Cat was ramping up to a level never experienced in the building’s entire 102-year existence.

  Evangeline sighed, shaking her head with bemusement. “Back in my day, people simply bought an ad in a magazine or two.”

  Well into her eighties, Evangeline bustled around the kitchen with pots and spices, her floral wraparound dresses swishing beneath her aprons as she did so. She was a flurry of bustle and action. She could still manage six pans on the flame at one time, and ordered Roxy and Nat about the place as if she still owned the kitchen, which, when she was in it, she did.

  Nat picked up a large sack of crawfish and carried it into the back room to begin purging them. “Times have changed, Evangeline, and we’ve gotta keep up if we want the Funky Cat to be a success.”

  “It only has six rooms!” Evangeline cried, rearranging bags of spices on the counter. “How much of a success can it be?”

  Roxy felt awkward. She didn’t want to talk about how much more upscale the boutique hotel was now or how expensive the rooms had become since Evangeline’s time as owner; it would be rude and embarrassing.

  “Well, the room rates are just a touch higher now, so we need a new, more affluent demographic, that’s all. Now, shouldn’t we get started on the jalapeño cornbreads? Where have those ramekins gotten to?”

  They were really going to town on the welcome meal for the influencers. It was to be a five-course affair.

  “Do you think they’ll be able to eat all this lot?” Nat wondered out loud as she wandered back into the kitchen a few minutes later. She was carrying a pot of newly purged crawfish with a grin on her face. “For course one, we’ve got a chicken gumbo with Cajun spices.” She ladled up a spoonful and let it slowly pour back into the pan. “Followed by miniature crawfish and cheese pies, followed by Shrimp Creole. That’s shrimp cooked in tomatoes, peppers and hot sauce, with white rice, Roxy,” she said gravely.

  Nat helped Roxy with anything that was needed at the boutique hotel, from cooking to serving guests, from checking them in to cleaning their rooms. And her talents extended even further. Nat possessed a voice that was so smooth and creamy that Roxy had hired her on the spot to sing for guests and locals. She was a Funky Cat treasure.

  Now, Nat’s black nail polish gleamed in the lights of the kitchen. Her excitement about the upcoming meal really was something. Getting the cynical, skeptical Nat to be joyous and upbeat about
anything was a true feat. But then, what was coming was a bold, new experiment for the small hotel.

  “Yum, and I’m preparing dessert—warm bread pudding with caramel and whiskey sauce,” Roxy said.

  “Don’t forget the cheese course!” Evangeline cried out from where she was stirring a huge pot of broth.

  “I’m not sure they will be able to eat it all, but I do know that thousands and thousands will be watching via their Instagram accounts, and we have to give a great impression, not only of the Funky Cat, but of New Orleans in general,” Roxy finished.

  The city was the first place Roxy had ever felt truly at home. It was hard to explain, but New Orleans had gotten into her bones somehow. There was a heat about “N’awlins” as the locals called it, perhaps from the spices, perhaps from the carnivals and the magic and the spiritualism that lurked about the place, perhaps from the music that floated from basements and businesses at any time of the day or night. Whatever it was, the essence of it had found its way into Roxy’s very soul, lodged itself there, and wasn’t about to leave any time soon.

  As she chopped onions and garlic for the Shrimp Creole, Roxy sighed happily to herself. Things were finally falling into place in her life, and she felt cozy and warm and safe. Just then, they heard the sound of the front door knocker being rapped. Hard.

  Roxy frowned, her knife paused over an onion. She was expecting Sam, but he’d have simply walked in without knocking. Roxy wiped her hands down her apron and hurried out of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the hallway. The influencers weren’t due for a good three hours. She hoped this wasn’t one of them arriving early. She wanted to be dressed in her best and have the food ready before they got even so much as a glimpse of the Funky Cat or its proprietor. A little flustered, she pulled open the door. Her heart sank.