Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Box Set

by Lotta Smith

  I felt like sobbing, but I realized I was still in Rick’s arms, and it wouldn’t be considered a nice gesture if I cried over a scratched purse before making sure my fiancé was okay.

  “Rick, are you okay?” I asked nervously. Last time he saved me from grave physical harm, he had a broken ankle. I was truly worried about him.

  “I’m good,” he replied. “Mandy, are you okay? Can you stand up?” Climbing to his feet, he helped me stand.

  “I’m good. Thanks.” I felt embarrassed as bystanders gathered around us.

  Marion approached us. “It’s another episode of the ring’s curse,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s enough! You know what’s the most annoying part of this whole mess? It’s you. Being attacked by a series of what you call ‘the curse of the ring’ is one thing, but having you hovering over us, bragging about the curse is a totally different story. I want you out of this investigation, and I want you out of my mother’s body. I’m calling Brian!” Rick spat and reached for the phone in his jacket, but it was no longer there.

  “Are you looking for your phone? If so, it’s over there.” Marion pointed at the SUV. “Underneath the car’s tire. Hmm, that looks pretty much smashed. If I were you, I wouldn’t hold high hopes of using it.”

  “Hell,” he muttered. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Of course, let me retrieve my purse.” Rick still held my hand as I approached the damaged bag. “Here you are.” I took out my phone and handed it to him—and then the smartphone snapped into two pieces.

  “Crap,” he muttered and glared at Marion. “You! Why do you keep assaulting Mandy when she’s not wearing the damned ring?”

  “Right,” I chimed in. “Shouldn’t the ring cause mayhem to the person who wears it?”

  “Oh, that depends. Sometimes the ring kills the loved ones of its owner—such as family members and lovers,” Marion said. She was big on shrugging since taking over Alice’s body, but that time she kept a straight face. Perhaps because Rick and I kept shooting daggers at her. “For example, when my father owned the ring, I was killed.”

  “If that’s a joke, that’s not even funny,” Rick snorted. “The loved ones of the ring owner? So right now, Alice is the ring owner and you call Mandy Alice’s loved one? Seriously, Alice has not been a loving future mother-in-law to Mandy at all. For starters, she self-appointed herself as the wedding planner so she can screw up the whole thing. And then she puts on the damned ring without our permission, and look what’s happened. I don’t believe you.”

  “As they say, believe it or not, your opinion doesn’t matter—what are you doing?” Marion gasped. Rick was pulling the ring off Alice’s finger. “Ouch! You’re hurting me! Help!”

  “Come on, stop playing a victim.” Rick didn’t budge and kept pulling the ring. “Give the ring back to me.”

  “Rick, perhaps you want to stop that,” I whispered, pulling his arm. “To bystanders, you look like a macho bully pushing around an old lady.”

  “But she can’t keep the ring, for Christ’s sake,” he insisted. “I don’t want any more bad things to happen to you. Besides that, I’m growing more and more concerned about the ghost possessing Alice’s body.” He looked at Marion in Alice’s body with a sideways glance.

  “So you’re worried about your mom,” I said, trying not to grin, but apparently the corners of my lips were curved into a smile.

  “Of course,” Rick admitted, smoothing my curved lips into a straight face with one hand. “Describing Alice Wunderlande as a handful qualifies as an understatement and she’s already messing up our wedding. I don’t want to even imagine what will happen if the ghost keeps possessing her.”

  “I see.” He had a point.

  “Now, Marion, let’s remove the ring.”

  When Rick attempted to retrieve the ring, a shadow appeared from out of nowhere over me, along with a familiar voice. “Aha! That’s the famous haunted ring.”

  I turned back, recognizing the owner of the voice as Brian Powers, a hotshot exorcist in Manhattan who also happened to be Rick’s best friend since childhood.

  “Brian!” I exclaimed. Just like always, he was wearing Brian Powers gear with a Mafia-style black suit made of glistening fabric, completed with a silky black top hat and a black leather attaché case. I’d never been so happy to see the giant exorcist—Brian stood at 6’5”—in his signature dark outfit. “We were trying to call you but our phones got destroyed.”

  “How did you find us?” Rick asked, still clutching Marion’s hand with the ring.

  “I had a little angel visiting me while I was shooting at a studio in Broadway,” the exorcist said proudly, putting extra emphasis on the part about the studio in Broadway. Brian was a topnotch exorcist, but in terms of public exposure, he had been behind a celebrity psychic named Aurora Westwood who’d practically dominated the spiritual business on TV for decades. Personally, I preferred to call Aurora a witch rather than a psychic. Anyway, following a freak accident that placed her in a coma, she’d been suffering from dementia and hadn’t really recovered. A dozen TV shows that used to feature her as the super-duper star psychic had been canceled, but TV still needed those paranormal-themed shows. Thus, Brian Powers got a huge chunk of pie, and now he was starring on six TV and Internet-based shows that ran regularly.

  He went on, turning to me. “And the little angel happened to be Jackie, your guardian angel.”

  “Jackie! Where are you?” I asked, looking around for my ghost friend.

  “I’m here!” The ghost of a drag queen popped up from out of nowhere. She was clad in a bejeweled and speckled off-the-shoulder blouse in metallic blue, a pair of white hot pants, and white sandals with sky-high heels. Her signature necklace that screamed FESTIVE gleamed at her neckline.

  In the meanwhile, Rick was still attempting to grab the haunted ring off Alice’s body, but Brian stopped him.

  “Easy, Rowling. You don’t want to go extreme and risk your sweet mama’s well-being,” Brian said.

  “She happens to be my biological mother, but I don’t know about sweetness,” Rick corrected the exorcist.

  “Anyway, I’m thrilled about the chance to meet your biological mother. Jackie offered me this rare opportunity to witness someone driving you nuts, not the other way around.” Brian flashed an ear-to-ear smile, prompting Rick to grimace.

  “Jackie, I’m so glad you helped Brian find us. Thank you so much!” I said, and I meant it.

  “Of course I brought him to you. I’m your guardian angel, remember?” Jackie bounced, dancing. She glanced at the SUV smashed into the brownstone, then at me. “Are you all right, Mandy? Your skirt already looks like a goner, and look at your purse! You should have brought something less pretty with more durability, such as a backpack, which could have functioned as a cushion as well in case of mishaps. Oh, don’t tell me you weren’t expecting calamities. I can’t believe you chose fashion over your protection while touring the city in hopes of milking some information from the lying, evil subordinate of the super-malevolent haunted ring.” She pointed at Marion—who was still occupying Alice’s body—with her index finger.

  “What did you just say? You rude buffoon!” Marion’s hair stood on end as she hissed at Jackie. “I can destroy a newly dead lowlife like you in a moment!” she shrieked.

  “Excuse me? Just because you’re old doesn’t entitle you to treat others like garbage!” Jackie snapped. Just like Marion, her hair was standing on end. “Oh, did I mention I’m a tough chick, Grandma?”

  “Say that again! I will definitely kill you!” Arms flapping, Marion yelled at Jackie, using the most unladylike words.

  “Meow,” Brian muttered, watching the verbal duel between the ghost possessing Rick’s mother and the ghost of a drag queen, but the bystanders gathering around the crash scene were growing more and more curious about the fighting ghosts. Or rather a crazy lady, sporting huge barbecue sauce stains on her dress, threatening something, or someone—her invisibl
e enemy, maybe?—in midair.

  “Take it!” As Marion shrilled, a gust of strong wind sent her already sticking-up hair soaring, prompting the spectators to cover their faces, gasping and muttering questions about the sudden breeze.

  “Ha! I didn’t die yesterday. I can do the exact same thing to you!” Jackie declared and caused additional blasts, which blew up her blouse, exposing her toned midriff. “Yow!” she yelped, pulling her clothes down.

  “Stand back, Jackie,” Brian warned and stepped ahead. In one hand, he was holding a metal crosier that looked like a magic wand with little bells. As he shook it, clear metallic sounds resonated in the air. He looked like an exorcist version of a trigger-happy Mafioso.

  Then I recalled I still needed Marion, despite her annoying personality, the curse, and everything.

  “Wait a minute!” I spoke up. I felt the crowd of people curiously glancing at us, obviously listening carefully so they wouldn’t miss anything. I scurried to him and stage-whispered, “Seriously, Marion happens to be the only witness to a case. Besides, it’ll be extremely difficult to find Mrs. Miller’s home without the ghost’s help.”

  “Hmm…,” he groaned, looking at Rick, who said, “Do what Mandy says,” and then Brian lowered the metal wand, quite reluctantly.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Still, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s an accessory to an evil spirit,” he said.

  “I know.” I nodded. “Considering I was the only one getting auditory hallucinations, I was guessing the same thing.”

  “Oh really?” Marion raised Alice’s eyebrows. “Perhaps you’re not as dense as you appear in the first place.”

  “Excuse me?” Jackie demanded. “You were aware of her evilness, and still you’ve been tagging along with her? Seriously, Mandy, you have to learn how to keep yourself out of danger.”

  “I’m learning,” I said.

  “You’re learning to what?” Rick asked.

  “To keep myself out of danger.”

  “Oh, you have to work harder,” Rick said, letting out a deep sigh. “Mandy, are you still thinking about signing the exclusive contract with the feds?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Considering my track record of encountering evil ghosts, their offer seems worse than minimal-wage work.”

  “Good. Seriously reconsider the option of focusing on being Mrs. Rowling.” He nodded, crossing his arms.

  CHAPTER 9

  “So what now?” Rick turned to Brian, who cleared his throat.

  “You can’t keep the ghost loose like that, having total control over your mom’s body. We have to retrieve the ring no matter what,” Brian muttered, glancing at the ghost possessing Alice’s body. While we were talking, she was lured to a pizza place, selling hot gooey slices in bags and boxes.

  “So far, she’s obsessed with food. Maybe I can distract her with pizza while you retrieve the ring. How does that sound?” I suggested.

  “Good.” The exorcist nodded, cautiously looking at Alice.

  “Approach her casually and offer to buy some pizza, maybe?” Rick suggested. When he added, “Please,” I realized he was indeed worried sick about his estranged mother, no matter what had happened in the past.

  I nodded and walked toward Marion, who was looking intensely at the pizza. “Marion, do you need help picking your choice of toppings?”

  “This is the food called pizza, right?” she said, still glaring at the menu. The place offered a large selection of Italian-inspired thin-crusted pizzas, rather than New York-style ones with thicker crust.

  “Yes, it is.” I nodded. “So, Marion, what’s your mood? Do you prefer tomato-based red sauce, cheese pizza, or pizza with pesto sauce?”

  “Pesto sauce? What’s that?” Marion looked at me with starry eyes, prompting me to wish I could take a selfie with her—sporting barbecue sauce stains across the white dress covering her chest—so that I’d be able to show the woman who was about to turn into my mother-in-law when she became too pushy about our wedding planning.

  “Pesto sauce is a green sauce made of fresh basil leaves, pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil.” While reciting the recipe ingredients, I caught a glimpse of Brian moving stealthily toward the ghost with way too much appetite.

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Oh, it’s complex, you know. Sweet and savory with fresh basil, rich with garlic, and the delicate saltiness of Mediterranean Sea salt,” I went on, trying to concentrate on my part and not looking at the exorcist who covered the sapphire and diamond ring in a piece of human-shaped white paper.

  “Ah!” Marion let out a small gasp as the covered ring slid off her finger.

  “There you go, babe,” Brian muttered, grasping it tightly.

  I looked at Alice, who stood there frozen with her eyes closed, her body tense. But the next moment, her whole body shuddered, threatening to fall. Rick scurried to her side, catching her as she faltered.

  “Brian, what did you do to her?” I asked, anxious as I saw Alice in Rick’s arms, totally unmoving. Also, the fact that I couldn’t see Marion, even in the form of a ghost bothered me.

  “No worries. I’ve just sealed the spirit in a piece of washi craft paper soaked in holy water.”

  “Holy water? What holy water?” I asked, frowning. When I was in med school, urologists often referred to urine as holy water, and if that was the case about Brian’s tool, I had to keep a good distance from him.

  “Tap water laced with body scrub from Sabon. I usually shop at a place located in Chelsea,” he said. “I always use a delicate jasmine-scented one, which literally smells divine.”

  “Oh… really?”

  “Hey, what’s with your skeptical glance? The salt comes from the Dead Sea in Israel,” the exorcist said defiantly, stashing the ring inside his attaché case. “Anyway, I’d prefer to keep the ring’s ghost asleep until we’ve moved to a safer place. I’m assuming you weren’t sporting the ragged-and-damaged look this morning when you left home, am I correct?” He glanced at me from head to toe.

  “You’re so right,” I admitted. “In the past hour or so, things have been truly rough, with heavy objects falling on me and that vehicle smashing toward us, almost killing both Rick and me.” I tried to chuckle, but what I managed was a tense sound that resembled hiccups.

  “I can see that.” The exorcist grinned.

  “And I warned you about the danger of dealing with the evil ghost possessing the ring,” Jackie bragged again. “Guess what? You should listen to your guardian angel.”

  “I know, I know.” I agreed reluctantly.

  “If you’re interviewing the ghost of the ring, we’d better go somewhere secluded to avoid collateral damage. If the ring keeps manifesting its evil power in this place, it could be a bloodbath.” Brian shook his attaché case to prove his point.

  In the meantime, Alice’s body made another full-body shiver.

  “Are you okay?”

  As we watched her carefully, her eyelashes fluttered and she opened her eyes.

  “Alice?” Rick’s voice was tense and unsure, as if he had no idea what to do with his mom passed out in his arms.

  Alice’s lips parted into a smile. The moment she opened her mouth, her silence of the past few minutes seemed like a joke, because Alice started talking rambling.

  “Hi, Rick, darling! Gosh, why are you holding me so tightly? Like you’re never letting me go? Oh, no need for explaining. Ooh, my sweet, sweet boy! You’ve always been a mama’s boy, haven’t you, darling?”

  “Am not! Will you stop babbling facts about me that only exist in your head?” Rick snapped. “Brian, stop laughing!” He turned to the exorcist who was practically laughing his ass off.

  “Oh, not just Amanda but your friend is here? How nice. Hello!” She cooed at the exorcist, who was still choking with laughter.

  “Hello, Mrs—”

  “It’s Alice. You can just call me Alice. Surnames are so overrated, you know.” Shaking off Brian’s att
empt at courtesy, she offered her hand to the exorcist.

  “Hello, Alice. I’m Brian Powers, Rick’s longtime friend and occasional business partner.”

  “Wonderful to meet you.”

  Watching Alice graciously shaking hands with Brian, I let out a small sigh of relief. The woman driving Rick crazy was Alice Wunderlande herself, the one and only. She’d totally lost the French accent she’d used while possessed by Marion, and Alice looked well enough to crack jokes—though she might have been serious—and to immediately straighten up.

  “Hi, Amanda.” Alice did a little finger wave at me. As I waved back at her, she asked, “You know, it looks like I zoned out a little, right? Otherwise, you don’t end up in your son’s arms, right?”

  Her enunciation was clear, and both of her hands seemed to be working nicely.

  “Right. Of course.” I nodded like a bobblehead toy. “You seemed a little tired, and we were worried about you. So, how are you feeling? Is everything all right? Any headache? Numbness in the tips of your fingers or toes?” I asked. Not that she had a stroke, but we couldn’t be too careful.

  Making fists with both hands and then straightening her fingers, she smiled. “I feel good… I mean, refreshed even. You know, it may sound strange, but I think I was having a weird but very nice daydream. I was having a town date with you and Rick, having lots of fun, laughing like we had no care in this world. You know, crazy things happened, like iron pipes falling off toward you from a construction site and a cactus crashing down by us. And then an SUV smashed into the sidewalk, barely missing us.” She reached for me and I held her hand.

  Rick and I exchanged glances.

  “Wow… how nice!” I tried to sound excited. I had no idea what had been happening to Alice’s brain while her body was taken over by the ghost, and I was concerned about residual damage, such as coma and dementia. But she seemed to remember everything—with some revisions to the turns of events.