Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Box Set

by Lotta Smith

  “I did.” I pouted. “After our first case, Hernandez said that I saved the feds three million dollars in prize money since that guy on the Most Wanted list was found when we burned down the high-rise condo. So, I asked him for 10 percent of the three million, but he burst out laughing like I’d cracked the funniest joke ever. I saw the veins bulging in his temple. Also, he reminded me that I was responsible for the demolition of the building.”

  “And you just gave in?” Rick arched his eyebrows. “Come on, you should have fought back.”

  “I guess,” I muttered bitterly. “But at that moment, I was afraid of losing my job, so I clammed up. By the way, you weren’t paying much attention to my salary apparently. If you’re really serious about taking over USCAB in the not-so-distant future, I suggest you be more mindful about your people. Manpower is what keeps your company running smoothly.”

  “Point taken.” Rick flinched. “Anyway, don’t sign this contract with the feds.”

  “I’ll ask Hernandez to triple the compensation, and then I’ll consider whether to sign it or not.”

  “No. You’re not making this deal with the feds,” he said matter-of-factly. “When I join USCAB, I’ll have less time to work on cases, meaning I might not be able to keep an eye on you to keep you out of trouble or danger. So, what do you say about you focusing on being Mrs. Rowling?” He cupped my face with both hands.

  “What?” I gasped. Many thoughts crossed my mind. A part of me liked that he seemed to care for my well-being, but a different part of me didn’t like the idea of turning myself into Mrs. Rowling and nothing more.

  Still, I loved the sound of Mrs. Rowling. Then again, the tone of his voice was—what was that… playful? “Are you serious?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m launching a section at USCAB handling cases like you and I’ve been doing, and you’ll be a very important part of this project. Besides, I have no intention of limiting our clients to the FBI. So, you’re way better off working as a part of USCAB’s team, as I’ll provide all the necessary help you might need—such as muscles to handle the situations that get rough, and Brian.”

  “I get your point. So, how much are you offering me per case?” I asked.

  “Hmm… I didn’t see that coming.” He crossed his arms. “Two times what’s offered by the feds.”

  “Ask for more, Mandy,” Jackie cheered me. “A girl’s got to have her own source of income.”

  “I’d like five times what you just offered. Then I’ll consider joining your team,” I said.

  “What? That’s a lot to ask for.”

  “You’re the one who educated me about negotiation.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed with your learning curve. By the way, we’ve got a new case,” Rick said abruptly, completely changing the subject.

  “Come on, we’re not finished with my compensation topic.”

  Before he could respond, someone knocked on the door.

  “Oh, that should be Agent Woo from the White-Collar Crime Unit.” Rick looked at the door with a stilted enthusiasm. “Mandy, I’d appreciate it if you’d get the door.”

  I made a mental note to keep negotiating my wages and went to the door.

  “Hi! Long time no see.” Agent Drake Woo was all smiles when I opened the door to greet him.

  “Agent Woo. How have you been?” I said.

  “I’m good, thanks. By the way, should I call you Ms. Meyer or Mrs. Rowling?”

  “Technically, I’m still Ms. Meyer, but you can simplify it by calling me Mandy.” I chuckled.

  “Okay, Mandy. So, everyone’s talking about your wedding. It’s going to be bigger than a typical Kardashian wedding, right?” he said playfully.

  “Hmm… it looks like the entire world’s expecting a really huge wedding for you and Rick,” Jackie commented, popping up from out of nowhere. “Are you sure you really want to go on with a small wedding, excluding all these people who genuinely want to see you get married?”

  “Et tu, Jackie?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, hi, Jackie.” Agent Woo raised a hand and attempted to greet the ghost of a drag queen who’d appointed herself as my guardian.

  “Hi, Agent Woo!” Jackie approached the agent who was looking in the opposite direction of where Jackie was. “No worries, you’ll be invited to Mandy and Rick’s wedding. I’ll persuade her to include you in the guest list. By the way, I’m the maid of honor!”

  Listening to Jackie chattering, I felt like shrieking and running away, but before I could do that, Rick chimed in. “Actually, very little detail about the occasion has been settled. Mandy here is basically going crazy about the whole process. So, Agent Woo, I suggest you not make her mad. Mandy, can we have some coffee?”

  Rick’s tone was so laidback and nonchalant—playful, even—that I was annoyed. Okay, it wasn’t logical of me to be miffed by just the tone of his voice, but I couldn’t help it. Seriously, this wedding fiasco, which hadn’t even started yet, was wasting me. I was turning into a bridezilla, except I was being more unsure than demanding.

  CHAPTER 3

  “It’s about this ring.” Agent Woo took a ring in a Ziploc bag out of his briefcase and put it in the center of the coffee table where the three of us sat. “I’m hoping to utilize your expertise, Mandy.”

  “Hmm… it’s a sapphire ring, isn’t it? And it looks old,” I said, trying to assemble all of my knowledge of jewelry. I stared at the dark gold ring with an oval-shaped blue stone. Its design looked like something from an antique jewelry museum. The stone was large, about the same size as a small grape, but it had inclusions visible to the naked eye, so I wasn’t sure about its value.

  “In terms of the stone’s size, I think it’s large,” Jackie said, peering into the ring. “Wait. Are these little stones surrounding the blue one diamonds?”

  “Perhaps he’d consult someone else if all he wanted to know was about the material,” Rick commented as I relayed Jackie’s words.

  “You’re right, Agent Rowling.” Agent Woo nodded. “Actually, I thought it would be great if you could dig into the recent history of this ring.”

  “You mean, like, by talking to it?” I furrowed my eyebrows. I might talk to dead people, but so far, I hadn’t heard teapots and spoons talking. “Hello?” I spoke to the ring.

  After a brief pause, Rick asked me, “Is the ring talking?” even though he sounded seriously skeptical.

  “No.” I shook my head. Still, I was quite happy that I didn’t hear anything. Perhaps inanimate objects, such as teacups and teapots, talking to you might sound lovely if you’re a character in an animated motion picture. However, I happen to be a real human in real life, and I’d require serious attention from mental health professionals if I started talking to cutlery and kitchen goods.

  Agent Woo cleared his throat. “Actually, I was thinking about trying your skill in terms of psychometry.”

  “As in making relevant associations from an object by making physical contact with the object?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” Agent Woo nodded. “Okay, let me tell you a little bit about this ring. Like Mandy said, it’s an antique blue sapphire with diamonds mounted on a gold ring. The quality of the stones and the base metal isn’t as good as the products selling at high-end jewelry stores nowadays, but it’s a semi-famous piece of jewelry called the Countess of Courillon, and its value is said to be over three million dollars.”

  “I see,” Rick muttered. “I’m assuming this ring comes with some track record of inflicting tragedies to its owners. Still, some people have the hots for jewelry with notoriety and bloody history, and the price tag reflects its popularity.”

  “Right. Actually, this ring is not about bloody history but a relatively recent history of robbery,” Agent Woo said. “Have you ever heard of the jewelry heist ring called Purple Panther?”

  “I think I’ve heard about them on the evening news,” I said.

  “They are an international heist ring.” Rick c
rossed his arms. “A collection of Balkan bad guys and a few women. They’ve stolen about $150 million in jewelry and luxury watches over the last decade from over a hundred high-end shops from all over the world, including boutiques in London, Paris, Tokyo, L.A., and here in New York City. They’re notorious for their rough M.O.—involving hammers, axes, semiautomatic weapons, and occasional grenades—and disappearing with gems in satchels lined with toilet paper to prevent scratching.”

  “Toilet paper? Seriously?” I grimaced. “Can’t they at least use bubble wrap? Toilet paper kills off all the fanciness in fine jewelry.”

  “Like I said, they’re notorious for the roughness.” Shrugging, Rick turned to Agent Woo. “So, what’s this multimillion-dollar ring doing in a plastic baggie here?”

  “Actually, it had been missing since it was stolen in a large-scale heist that took place in the Upper East Side three years ago. Four days ago, this ring suddenly resurfaced. If we could chase its trail in the past years, we might be able to capture the bandits, and hopefully, crush the whole ring of criminals,” Agent Woo explained.

  According to him, the ring resurfaced in a weird way. Last Friday, an old lady was roaming the streets of an uber-posh Upper East Side neighborhood clad only in pajamas, no shoes. She collapsed on the main road, and when she was rescued, she had the ring on her finger. Without ID and unresponsive due to high fever, she was dubbed Jane Doe. She was rushed to the hospital but remains unconscious.

  “Indeed, in the beginning, local cops had no idea about the ring being a stolen object, so they thought it could be useful to ID her,” Agent Woo went on. “But the moment this ring was identified, it became the center of a hot heist case.”

  “I see.” I nodded. “So this Jane Doe is the prime suspect, except she’s not talking, right?”

  “Actually, the chances of Jane Doe being a member of Purple Panther are slim to none.” Agent Woo shook his head. “We’ve already run her fingerprints and facial recognition, but no criminal record came up. Besides, the location of where the ring was discovered with Jane Doe was just a ten-minute walk from the boutique the ring was stolen from five years ago.”

  “Uh-huh, you have a point.” Rick snapped his fingers. “According to accepted opinion, the items stolen by Purple Panther don’t stay long near the crime scene. Considering the robbery ring is from eastern Europe, the stolen objects should be traveling to somewhere in Europe immediately.”

  “Right. Anyway, we’re kind of stuck with the investigation.” Agent Woo shrugged.

  “So, is this ring haunted or something?” Rick asked, then turned to me. “Mandy, look at it more carefully. Perhaps the ghost of the ring is hiding somewhere.”

  I picked up the ring—still in a Ziploc—to scrutinize it, but I didn’t see or feel anything supernatural. “I don’t feel anything. I’m so sorry that I’m not much help.” I furrowed my eyebrows.

  “Don’t be,” Agent Woo said. “I don’t know if this ring is haunted, but the guy who found Jane Doe made a weird statement.”

  “Weird statement?” Rick and I said in unison.

  “Right. It was around 1:00 a.m., and this guy, a hedge-fund manager, was speeding his way back home. It was dark and the traffic was rather quiet. He could have kept on driving without noticing Jane Doe and just run over her, perhaps killing her, but he was able to stop, barely missing the woman with the stolen ring. When asked about the circumstances of finding her, the guy said he saw a young girl standing in the middle of the road. According to this guy, the girl was in a white dress with a balloon-like skirt and frills, as if she’d just popped out of the studio from shooting Downton Abbey episodes.”

  My eyes widened and Rick whistled.

  “Downton Abbey? I loved that show! Oh, I wish I could score even a totally minor role in the series,” Jackie said, prompting me to giggle. Agent Woo glanced at me, so I relayed Jackie’s words.

  “Anyway, the TV series is just a minor bit of the driver’s statement.” Clearing his throat, Agent Woo continued. “Jane Doe survived because this girl in a Downton Abbey frock was looking down at the ground. He swore the girl looked up and saw him and their eyes met. He also swore that he’d never seen such an icy stare and that the girl had icy blue eyes. Of course, he had to take a sobriety test, but he wasn’t drinking or under the influence of drugs. NYPD didn’t take his statement seriously, but I had to check with you.”

  “Hmm… sounds like a grumpy ghost, I guess,” Rick said, looking at the ring. “Hey, why don’t we take the ring out of the bag and let it breathe some fresh air? Perhaps the ghost is suffocating inside the baggie.”

  “A suffocating ghost?” I muttered, “If that’s the case, she might be already dead.”

  “Could it be possible for a ghost to die when she’s already dead?” Agent Woo raised an eyebrow and Rick cracked up laughing.

  “That’s not funny.” Jackie made tsk-tsk sounds. “When I was detained by men in black from the world of the dead, they said they executed some dead people, though the executed dead happened to be really bad people.”

  “Oh.” As I grimaced, I caught something sparkling in the corner of my eyes. When I looked in that direction, I gasped.

  The zippered plastic bag was already open thanks to Rick. The ring was out on the coffee table, and—

  For a moment, I thought my heart stopped beating. My mouth opened, then closed, and then repeated the process several times, as if I was channeling a goldfish low on oxygen.

  “Hey, Mandy. Who’s there?” Rick asked, touching my arm. “You’re looking at the ghost of the haunted ring, right?”

  “What? I… I… I haven’t said anything about the ghost,” I stuttered. “Can you see her?”

  “No. Of course not.” He shook his head. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he said, “It’s just that I guessed it from your reaction.”

  “Of course, he can read you like an open book, Mandy,” Jackie said, fanning herself with a pink boa, which materialized out of nowhere. “He’s gonna be your husband, remember?”

  “If you see the ghost, can you please try communicating with… her?” Agent Woo said, sounding slightly skeptical.

  “Yes.” I nodded at both Jackie and Agent Woo, then looked at the ghost who’d just popped out of the antique sapphire ring.

  Whoever witnessed this ghost was sooo right… except she looks more like Marie Antoinette rather than someone from Downton Abbey, I thought, staring at the ghost.

  She was floating over the coffee table, looking like an antique French doll. She was clad in a pale pink dress with a balloon skirt and a ton of frills. Her long blonde corkscrew curls were shining as they swirled their ways down her shoulders. I assumed her age to be somewhere in the low teens. The way she looked around the office reminded me of a curious kid on field day.

  “She’s right here,” I muttered, using the palm of my hand to show the area where the ghost was floating. I described her appearance to Rick and Agent Woo.

  “Go ahead. Talk to her,” Rick said.

  “But… she looks French, and my French is very limited. What if she doesn’t understand me?” I protested, but Rick brushed it off.

  “Try talking to her first. If things don’t work out, we’ll think about the next step.”

  “Okay. Fine.” I took a deep breath and raised my hand at the girl ghost. “Um… hello?”

  “Oh, can you see me?” The girl ghost tilted her head to the side and looked back at me.

  “Yes. It seems so,” I said.

  For a few seconds, we were in a staring match, both of us observing the counterpart, undecided about our next move… until Jackie broke the silence.

  “Hi there!” she said perkily with a wide grin. “I’m Jackie, and this here is Mandy. What can we call you? Jeannie from the ring instead of the bottle?”

  “My name is Marion d’Ardieres. Nice to meet you,” the ghost of the ring said curtly. Then she gave Jackie a head-to-toe once-over. “Are you a clown?”

  “What did you
just say?” The grin faded from Jackie’s face.

  “You remind me of the clown I saw at a garden party in Nice.” The girl ghost’s English was fluent, albeit with a slight French accent. She was smiling, but her tone sounded rather mean.

  I cleared my throat. “So, Ms. d’Ardi…,” I mumbled, mostly because I didn’t fully catch her surname.

  “You can call me Marion.” She shrugged.

  “Okay, Marion. My name is Mandy, and I’m a special assistant with the FBI.” I caught a glance of Jackie, pouting with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Jackie here is my guardian angel and I’d appreciate it if the two of you would get along nicely.”

  I caught Rick and Agent Woo whispering, “Hmm, it looks like the ghost can speak English.”

  “Right. Good thing we don’t need an interpreter. It’d be easy to translate Mandy’s words into French, but I didn’t know how to get the ghost’s words.”

  Feeling like a kid on Parents’ Day, I kept talking to the ghost. “So, are you the ghost haunting this ring?”

  “Who? Me?” She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not haunting the ring. It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. This ring is haunting me, trapping me in its prison.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, not quite grasping what she meant.

  “What I’m saying is that I’m being cursed by this ring. It has a track record of causing fear and misery to its owners. Please don’t blame me for the tragedies,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, really,” I mumbled. I’d heard about haunted objects like dolls, paintings, and chairs, but it was my first time seeing a cursed item.

  “What did she say?” Rick chimed in.

  “She says the ring is haunting her, and it has a track record of causing fear and misery to its owners,” I said.

  “I have a hunch she’s bluffing.” Jackie snorted, but she looked somewhat pale, prompting Marion to shrug.

  “Seriously?” Rick perked up. “What a coincidence! I’ve always wanted to encounter some haunted jewelry.”