by Lotta Smith
“I guess so. This one looks the closest from here.” I nodded.
“Wait a moment,” Rick said. “I’ll go talk to the concierge to check if they have a Mrs. Miller. I don’t trust that ghost.”
I snorted, laughing.
“What?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh nothing,” I said. “I just thought you’d now understand how I’ve been feeling about interviewing dead people.”
“Right. You have a point.” He nodded.
We went inside and talked to the concierge. It turned out that there was a Ms. Miller, but she happened to be in her thirties and she was seen going to work by the concierge.
“All right. Now let’s go to the one on East 65th.” Rick turned on his heels and I followed.
“Um… excuse me?” Marion said. That time, she sounded somehow less pushy. “I’d appreciate it very much if you’d allow me to take a moment to sample some cakes from the shop over there. And if you tell me to just eat the cakes out of the crushed box, I will haunt all of you for good. I’m not threatening you. It’s a promise.” Her eyes were practically locked on the confectionery.
Rick looked at her and then at the dumped box. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll let you eat the cakes, so you will fully cooperate with us. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I promise!” the ghost occupying Alice’s body said, bouncing like a little kid. “Mrs. Miller used to have those cakes called cupcakes delivered often. I always wanted to try some.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we were walking down East 65th Street, heading for the next destination.
“This is the one listed on this street.” Rick stopped in front of a building with ground-floor galleries. The exterior of the building wasn’t exactly white. It was beige-ish, something between beige and ivory. According to the signboard attached to the building, the ground floor was occupied by a group of galleries, along with a café.
“This one isn’t exactly white,” I commented. “Does it look familiar—” I was about to turn to Marion, but…
“Ahhhhhh!”
I caught someone shrieking from inside the gallery, and the voice was familiar to me.
“Help! Mandy, help!”
I gasped. “Jackie? Is that you?” I hurried to the entrance of the gallery, but one of my upper arms was grasped with strong force.
“Watch out!” Rick barked, still gripping my arm.
“What?” The moment I turned back to him—
Whack!
I heard something heavy crashing, and the sidewalk where I was standing literally shook, as if the place was hit by an earthquake or something exploded nearby.
“Wha—” I opened my mouth, but I could only utter incoherent sounds.
“You’re welcome,” Rick said, turning me in the direction I was heading for.
“Th-th-thanks,” I mumbled, leaning on him. Not that I was playing weak and delicate, but my legs were trembling and seriously wobbly. I might have collapsed if he weren’t there to support me.
In front of me, at the very part of the sidewalk I was about to step on, there were thick, twisted metal frames lying on the ground. The metal bars were contorted like melted candy bars. This alone was enough to indicate the severity of the incident, but around the deformed metal were shards of plastic boards and smashed lightbulbs.
I shivered. The apparently heavy signboard had just smashed down to the ground, and it could have flattened me like a pancake.
If it wasn’t for Rick grabbing me, I would have been dead.
“Thank you, Rick. You literally saved my life,” I muttered in his arms, leaning my head onto his chest.
“My pleasure,” he said. “By the way, that’s one more reason you shouldn’t sign the contract with the feds on your own.”
I had no choice but to agree with him. “Right. You’ve got a point.”
As we stood there, trying to catch our breath, people came out of the building. The smashed signboard was attracting spectators from the neighborhood.
“What the hell?”
“It looks like the signboard fell off.”
The spectators chatted and took photos of the smashed signboard with their phones. Some of them went so far as taking selfies with the crashed metal frame.
“Are you okay?” A man in a well-tailored suit and gray hair hurried toward us. He introduced himself as Jason Kirkland, the owner of the group of galleries. “Should I call an ambulance?” he asked with palpable concern in his voice.
“I don’t think so,” I said, moving my hands and legs to make sure nothing hurt.
“Are you sure?” Rick looked into my eyes.
“I’m good. Thank you,” I said.
“That’s wonderful. I’m so relieved.” Then Mr. Kirkland spoke to a young woman. “Hey, Cindy. Can you go back to the office and call the property management company? I’m coming. I have to file a serious complaint.” Shaking his head, he excused himself.
As soon as Mr. Kirkland was out of earshot, I searched for Jackie. “Hey, Jackie. Where are you?” I called to the thin air in case she was hiding.
“Is she here?” Rick asked.
“I don’t know. She’s not answering me.” I shook my head. “But a moment before the signboard fell, I caught Jackie calling my name. She sounded like she was in trouble and needed my help.”
Listening to me, he turned to Marion. “Hey, did you hear Jackie’s voice?”
“Jackie? Oh, the ghost dressed like a clown, right?” Marion replied. “No. I didn’t hear her voice. Perhaps it’s just her imagination.”
“Hmm… how strange.” My eyebrows furrowed, and I caught a guy in a white chef’s coat talking to a young girl sporting a beige café apron.
“The guys who put up this signboard did a really lousy job,” the guy said. “It’s been less than a year since they replaced it.”
“Still, it didn’t budge, much less fall when we had the winter storms.” The girl crossed her arms, tilting her head.
“What a coincidence,” I muttered.
“Assuming it was really a coincidence,” Rick interjected. “Anyway, be careful, Mandy. You can’t be too careful.”
I agreed and took a glance at Marion. She was standing there, looking bored. Alice’s violet eyes were directed at me, but I knew Marion wasn’t really looking at me as her icy blue eyes stared past me.
“Marion?” When Rick looked at the ghost occupying his mother’s body in a skeptic manner, her shoulders jerked.
“Yes?” she said.
“Is this the place where Mrs. Miller lives with Mr. Miller?” Rick asked.
“Well….” Marion squinted at the building. Then she gazed inside the gallery space from the outside of the glass walls. “I don’t think so. The place where Mrs. Miller lives sells paintings, but they don’t have a café.”
CHAPTER 7
After talking to the manager of the condos upstairs and double-checking that there was no one called Miller living in that place, we headed back outside.
“What’s the next one?” Rick said, looking at the map in my hand.
“How about this one on 3rd Avenue?”
“Fine. Let’s go.” He nodded.
“Okay.” Marion shrugged.
While we were heading for 3rd Avenue, Marion stopped abruptly.
“What? This building looks whitish, but the place doesn’t seem to be selling paintings,” Rick pointed out. We were standing in front of a cream-colored building selling designer eyeglasses.
“I smell something very… divine,” Marion said, taking in the air. A few yards ahead of us was a deli, and the aroma of hamburgers, fries, and a variety of fried and greased food reached where we were.
A chubby guy clad in jogger pants and a Motley Crue T-shirt ambled out of the store, holding a brown bag and munching on fries. As he came toward us, Marion openly stared at him.
Displaying a small smile, he said, “Hello.”
“Hello, sir.” Marion waved at him. “What did you purchase from here?”
“I’ve got a chicken cutlet sub with barbecue sauce, and fries. Wanna try some?” He attempted to put his hand into the brown baggie, but Rick interjected.
“Sir, that’s not necessary. Sorry for bothering you,” he apologized. “She’s not really herself and has no idea what she’s doing right now.”
“No prob.” The jogger guy smiled. “Is she your mom?”
“I’m afraid so.” Rick nodded, frowning and looking like he was wishing to flee the scene at once, prompting me to smile.
The Motley Crue guy went on. “I knew it. The resemblance between the two of you is strong.” He chuckled, waved goodbye at Marion, and left, eating fries on his way.
“I want the same thing as this gentleman,” Marion insisted.
“In your dreams.” Rick snorted. “For your information, the woman whose body you’re hijacking right now happens to be a vegan, and she’ll hate it if you put greasy chicken in her stomach.”
“But I want to eat the chicken sub and fries.” Marion crossed her arms. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been gawking at people savoring delish-looking food for the past hundred-plus years. Do you know what it feels like trying to imagine the taste of food you can see but never get to enjoy it?”
“Perhaps Alice won’t notice that she ate chicken after all,” I interjected. “Marion, you said the person whose body you borrowed before didn’t remember what you did after you came out of her, right?”
“Right!” She nodded. Turning to Rick, she pleaded, “I understand you’re worried about your mom, but I promise she’ll never notice what she ate.”
“Fine.” He let out a deep sigh. “Don’t spill the barbecue sauce on her dress, okay?”
“Of course, I was trained never to spill anything while eating. Remember, I’m an aristocrat, and I happen to be a perfect lady!” Marion bounced like a little kid encased in a body of a woman in her late sixties giving her heart and soul to look like a thirty-year-old.
“Let’s drop by the deli,” I said. Actually, Marion wasn’t the only party tempted by the scent of barbecue chicken. Rick told me to double-check our next destination, so I was looking at the map while walking.
“Mandy, watch it! Don’t go any farther. Stop right now!”
When Rick shouted, I realized something was wrong—as in very wrong—mostly because the ground I was walking on suddenly disappeared under my left foot.
I looked down, and indeed, the ground had disappeared, as the manhole cover had been somehow removed. “Yow!” The moment I gasped, imagining the worst-case scenario of falling into the deep hole that must have reached to the core of the Earth, like Wile E. Coyote falling off the cliff, Rick caught me in the hips.
“That was close,” he muttered, pulling me up and away from the deep hole.
I should have expressed my thanks to him, but instead, I was mumbling, “What’s happened to the manhole cover?” No, mumbling was an understatement. I was almost shrieking.
“I told you to be careful!” he confronted me. “What were you thinking? You’re on the clumsy side, and trying to read the map while walking is the last thing you should do.”
“Hey, you told me to double-check our next destination. Remember?” I pointed out.
“What?” He looked at me, tilting his head to the side and squinting, as if he was trying to decipher what had been happening in my head. “I never said that to you. I swear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, as in 100 percent sure.”
Then a young guy in khaki work clothes and a helmet emerged from the hole, almost banging his face on my legs. “What the hell?” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“She almost fell into the hole, no thanks to the construction sign over there,” Rick said, indicating a folded barricade thrown at the far edge of the sidewalk with the tip of his jaw.
“Damn,” the construction guy cursed. “Some damn kids probably thought it’d be fun to pull a prank. Those spoiled brats! I’ve been down for one minute, and they’ve managed to sabotage the site, risking your life and mine.” Grumbling about the idiot kids with too much entitlement, he came out of the hole to retrieve the construction sign.
“Could it be possible for kids to be pulling pranks in the Upper East Side at this time of day?” I whispered to Rick.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He shook his head. “Still, it’s the second time you were exposed to a life-threatening accident. You’ve got to watch your step.”
“Hmm… it’s so weird. I definitely heard you telling me to double-check the name of the building of the next destination.” I knitted my eyebrows in confusion.
“Who? Me?” Rick crossed his arms. “So again, something’s duped you into hearing something that’s never been said. Marion, where are you?” He called the name of the ghost, who was just coming out of the deli.
“I’m here.” She waved at us happily before grabbing her sandwich with both hands and biting it. As she ate, red barbecue sauce oozed out of the wrapper, down her—or rather, Alice’s—chin, leaving huge stains on her white-based dress.
“Shit!” Rick flinched.
“Ma’am!” A big guy sporting a deli apron hurried out of the shop.
“Oh, she left without paying, I presume.” Rick approached the big guy. “Sorry about that,” he said, offering to pay for the food.
“No. That’s not necessary.” The big guy shook his head. “Actually, she left five twenties, telling us to keep the change. So I’m here to offer her something to drink. What would you like to drink, lovely lady?” he asked, handing Marion some napkins.
“May I have Coke?” Marion said, grinning widely and wiping the barbecue sauce off her chin with the napkins.
Rick massaged his temple.
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” The big guy grinned widely and turned to us. “Would you guys like something to eat or drink?”
“Actually, I could use a barbecue chick… mmm…” I started to say, but I didn’t get to finish the sentence as Rick covered my mouth with his hand.
“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” he said.
“Okay, so just a Coke.” The big guy disappeared into the deli.
“Hey, why did you interfere while I was placing an order? I can’t believe that!” I protested, slapping his arm. “I could really use a barbecue chicken sandwich.”
“Oh yeah? I could really use a drink.” Clasping my hand, he raised an eyebrow. “Considering the track record of mayhem happening to you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned purple, dropping dead the moment you took a bite or sip of whatever food or beverage.”
“Oh… you have a point.” I frowned, picturing yours truly turning purple, spewing foam out of my mouth, and dropping dead.
“Why are you two looking so… stressed?” Marion said, searching for the right words.
“Because I’ve been hearing voices that keep attempting to dupe me into grave danger,” I explained. “I almost dove into the deep hole reaching to Hell.”
“Oh really?” Marion cocked her head to the side, munching on the fries. “That sounds like the curse of the ring.”
“Excuse me?” I gasped.
“What did you just say?” Rick demanded.
“I told you it’s the curse of the ring.” Her lips were shaped in the form of a smile, but her eyes weren’t smiling at all.
“But….” When I attempted to ask more about the curse, such as how to avoid further mayhem, the big guy came out with a bottled Coke.
While Marion received her drink, Rick turned to me. “Give me the list and the map. I’ll carry them.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I agreed.
“So, Marion,” Rick started. “What do you think about this neighborhood here? Does it look familiar to you?”
“Hmm… maybe, sort of?” The ghost
possessing Alice’s body looked around. “The neighborhoods here look so alike on each street.” Shaking her head, she let out a small sigh.
Her demeanor seemed a tad bit dramatic, and I wondered if the ghost was playing dumb or if it was because of Alice; her host’s background was in acting, after all. I was tempted to shake her until her teeth fell out, but it was also true that Marion was the only clue that could lead to the burglar group.
“Don’t even think about conning us,” Rick warned. “I can always have you exorcised.”
“I’m not conning you.” Marion shrugged. “You want to find Mrs. Miller’s residence, don’t you?”
Rick snorted and took my hand. “Pay extra attention to your footing and above your head, okay?” Then he said to Marion, “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Marion and I said in unison.
CHAPTER 8
Many things happened on our way to the next destination. For starters, an iron pipe fell from overhead at a construction site, and then a heavy wind blew, knocking a pot of cacti from the fifth-floor balcony. In each case, those objects barely missed me. As the fact that I was almost killed not only once but four times in the past hour sank into my mind, I grew super-skeptical about working on this case after all.
“Let’s call Brian,” I said, hand in hand with Rick.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He nodded, still holding onto my hand. The moment he reached for his phone in his jacket pocket, I heard the screech of a vehicle, which drove toward us on the sidewalk as if the driver had every intention of slaughtering us.
For a split second, the world around me fell silent, as if time stopped ticking except for the two of us and the advancing vehicle. “Come on!” Rick jumped ahead, holding me in his strong arms like an oversized teddy bear.
My face was cold as June air caressed my cheeks while we flew, and the next thing, the vehicle crashed into the nearby building.
A whoosh of air was knocked out of my lungs as we landed onto the pavement.
Still held in his arms, I lay there frozen for a few seconds. The car—a black SUV, to be exact—had slammed into the brownstone across the sidewalk, exactly where we were standing until a few seconds before. That time, I seriously considered fainting like a delicate woman from the Victorian era, but I focused my attention on my body and assessed the damage. I had some dirt on my blouse and my skirt was slightly ripped, but nothing seemed to be broken. Indeed, it was a miracle that I got away without even a scratch. Then I noticed my purse was on the ground with a major tear, which was somewhat of a huge shocker as it was my good purse.