by Lotta Smith
“Oh, now I remember,” Marion said perkily. “Mrs. Miller visited the fifth floor to meet Dr. Pinkstar. I’d been curious about what this Dr. Pinkstar would look like, but I’d completely forgotten about the doctor. Oh, silly me. I should have told you earlier, but somehow, my memory was blocked. Perhaps the ring has been meddling with my memory. I appreciate you suppressing its power. My head is feeling much clearer.” She smiled at Brian.
Before the exorcist had a chance to acknowledge the girl ghost, Rick looked at the computer screen and asked, “Dr. Pinkstar? The name’s Dr. Pinkstar—as in the color pink, and star as in a shining star?”
I glanced at Marion, who said, “I believe the person’s name is Dr. Pinkstar. I once saw Mrs. Miller picking up a birthday card decorated with pink stars, and she told the cashier that the card was for her doctor whose name is Dr. Pinkstar.” Nodding, she continued. “So, I’m very certain it’s Dr. Pinkstar.”
As I relayed her words, Rick exclaimed, “Holy shit. There’s only one chiropractor named Dr. Pinkstar on East 72nd, in the Upper East Side, and guess what? The office is located in the Carnegie Hill Condominiums. The exterior of the building is whitish and has a ground-floor art gallery.”
“Thank God we’ve finally located the building.” Agent Woo took out his phone and immediately made a call, asking the person on the other line to look for Mr. Miller in that building.
Thirty minutes later, Agent Woo’s phone beeped, announcing that Mr. Miller had been safely rescued from his bed. According to the agent, Mr. Miller was bedridden and couldn’t walk around on his own due to the aftereffects of a stroke. Unfortunately, Mrs. Miller happened to be his sole caretaker, and when she left the Millers’ residence in the middle of the night, the phone was nowhere within his reach. Luckily, Mr. Miller had several bottles of water by his bedside, so he was able to keep himself hydrated.
After Agent Woo explained what had happened to Mr. Miller, I gasped. “How long has he been in bed without food?” I counted the number of days since Mrs. Miller was found collapsed on the road. “Oh, five days! He must be starving.”
Agent Woo nodded. “Starving is an understatement. Actually, if he had been kept in that condition for another day, he’d be dead.”
Uncrossing his legs, Rick commented, “Hmm… that explains why he didn’t report his wife missing.”
“I’m so glad Mr. Miller was rescued safely.” Marion let out a small sigh, clutching her chest.
“So, you were indeed trying to kill Mr. Miller by starving him, right?” I glanced at Marion, whose lips quivered a little, as if she had something to say, but she kept her mouth shut.
“What are you going to do with the ring?” Brian said abruptly. “I’m presuming it will be returned to its owner, but I don’t recommend doing that. Considering the track record of this ring, if you give it back to its owner still haunted, it will keep on wreaking havoc on the Millers, and its next owner, and the next owners following them.”
“Mr. Powers, suppose you exorcise the ring. Will that enable Mandy here to try reading its recent history of robbery?” Agent Woo asked Brian.
I felt like muttering, “Eww,” but I restrained myself.
“The ring can be cleansed,” Brian assured, but then he lowered his voice. “But the problem is Marion. She’s tied to the ring’s complex spirits with extremely powerful force. Right now, she looks stable, but I’m not sure how she’d react to the news regarding her fate.” Then he turned to me. “Mandy, do you think you can persuade her?”
I opened my mouth and then shut it. And I groaned, “Uhh….”
Marion, on the other hand, was looking around the office, appearing curious yet happy. She went so far as attempting to flirt with Rick, without much success, as his response was limited to the occasional brush of his hand—as if he was flapping at some bug or something.
Glancing at the girl ghost who was looking like a joyful teenager for the first time since I’d met her, I was reluctant to have her exorcised, especially when she seemed to be carefree for probably the first time in over a century. According to Brian, when a ghost is exorcised against its will, the spirit could be destroyed and diminish into dark nothing. I didn’t wish Marion to disappear like that.
“Hey, can’t you seal her or something, like you did a while ago? In that case, the ring’s evil spirit will be suppressed, right?”
“That’s possible for a while, but at some point the spirit might wake up. Also, even with the spirit sleeping, I can’t declare the ring safe in case anyone puts it on their finger.”
“But I can’t just tell her to—” I was whispering to Brian, but Marion cleared her throat by my side, prompting me to gasp.
“Hi, Mandy,” she said, smiling.
“Hi, Marion,” I replied, because I didn’t know what else to say.
“I just want to thank you for a wonderful time. Strolling the town was the most delightful highlight of my life after death. Also, thank you so very much for helping Mr. Miller. You know, I’ve seen way too many happy couples like Mr. and Mrs. Miller perish without help and… I’m so glad I met you. Hearing about Mr. Miller’s safe rescue, I think that dark, sticky thing that used to boil in me—what was the word… karma?—has been somewhat cleaned.” Marion’s blue eyes brightly shined as she spoke.
“Isn’t that… wonderful?” I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure if my uncertainty showed in my face.
Still smiling, the ghost of the haunted ring went on. “By the way, I’m ready to be exorcised.”
“Excuse me?” Brian and I gasped simultaneously.
“Do you know what it really means to be exorcised?” Brian asked.
“When I’m exorcised, I can go to a better place and reunite with my parents—I mean, Mama and Papa—right?” Marion said. Her tone was calm, and her cheeks were rosy with an abashed smile as she said “Mama and Papa.” “I’ve been stuck in this world for way too long, witnessing too many people ending up with a tragic fate. I don’t want to be a part of anyone’s misery anymore.”
“Marion, do you have anything you wish to tell us before leaving?”
“Well… I’ve been stuck in this world for over a hundred years, so I think I’m good to go. Anyway, I’m wishing to rest in peace with Mama and Papa,” she said. “Please send me to a better place.”
I glanced at Brian, who was nodding to Marion’s words. “Sounds great,” he said.
“Wait a minute,” Rick chimed in. “Okay, so Marion’s made up her mind to depart this world for good to join her folks in a better place. That’s good. I respect her decision. Then again, I need to ask her a few more questions before saying goodbye. Where is she?”
“She’s here.” I showed where Marion was standing with the palm of my hand.
“Okay, Marion.” He turned to the direction I indicated. “You said having the ring’s evil spirits suppressed cleared your head. Can you do me one last favor and try to recall something, anything about the person who owned you before you came to live with Mrs. Miller?”
“Oh… now I remember!” She cupped her face with her delicate hands. “My previous owner was a girl named Vixen. She’s the most avant-garde girl I’ve ever known. She used to have her naturally blonde hair dyed in rainbow colors. I wanted to hang around with her more, but she sold me to my next owner.”
“Where did Vixen live?” Rick pressed on, but Marion shook her head slowly.
“Not too far from this town, but I can’t give you an address. I wasn’t paying much attention,” she said apologetically, then approached Brian. “Now could you please send me to a better place?”
“All right. As you wish,” Brian whispered and turned to Rick. “She really wants to go. If I were you, I’d help her move to a new place before she changes her mind.”
“Still—” Rick didn’t look happy, so I touched his arm.
“Hey, I’ll try reading the ring’s memory. Please, let her go,” I pleaded.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let her go.”
Though he said these words through gritted teeth, he had the decency to turn in the direction of Marion, thanking the ghost for her cooperation and wishing her a safe trip.
Brian stood up. Using the wand and human-shaped white paper soaked in holy water, he performed the purification process.
“Thank you everyone! I’m so glad to have met you.” Waving her hands, Marion waltzed out into thin air. According to Brian, he did little to nothing to send her away, as the ghost was more than eager to go.
Immediately after Marion left, Agent Woo’s phone rang. “Hello. Yes, it’s Woo. Excuse me? Did she? May I possibly pay a visit to her? She can talk—are you sure? I appreciate the heads-up.” After hanging up, he turned to us. “It was the hospital. Mrs. Miller woke up an hour ago, and she’s willing to talk to us.”
“What a coincidence,” Rick muttered.
“Hello? You think it’s a coincidence?” Brian countered. “I’d prefer to call it art. Thanks to my super-duper work of exorcism, the spirits tormenting Mrs. Miller have disappeared and—”
The exorcist went on, but Agent Woo raised his index finger, asking for silence.
“Hello, Mrs. Miller. I’m Special Agent Woo with the White-Collar Crime Unit with the FBI. Right, I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the ring you were wearing on the night you were found collapsed on the street.” Agent Woo put the phone on speakerphone.
“Oh, the sapphire ring?” Mrs. Miller said. Her voice sounded so clear and stable for someone who’d been unconscious until just an hour ago. “Where I purchased it? Actually, I didn’t purchase it myself. It’s a keepsake from Belinda, my sister who passed away last year. Belinda used to tell me over and over about how she found this girl with rainbow hair at Chelsea Market, and how she fell in love with the antique sapphire ring the girl was selling. I believe my sister purchased it about three years ago.”
“That’s Vixen!” Rick and I said in unison.
“Vix… excuse me?” Mrs. Miller asked, sounding somewhat confused.
“Do you happen to still have a receipt?” Agent Woo asked. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t seem to be holding many expectations when he asked that question.
“Yes,” Mrs. Miller answered quickly. “My sister was such a big keeper of receipts, and as a memento, I’ve kept the receipt in the bottom of the jewelry box. By the way, why does the FBI want to know about the ring?”
While Agent Woo explained about the ring and its history, Brian looked at Rick and then at me, saying, “Hey, you can thank me now.”
CHAPTER 11
The information about Vixen turned out to be extremely helpful for the ring robbery investigation. In fact, learning about Vixen literally pushed the investigation to a roll and wrap up.
Mrs. Miller was very cooperative, even going so far as calling her daughter to help the FBI agents find the little box she used to stash the ring. Within an hour of Agent Woo’s conversation with Mrs. Miller, the box containing the ring’s receipt was brought downtown. After that, thanks to the vendor registration system of Chelsea Market, tracking Vixen, a.k.a. Victoria Ficca, was a piece of cake.
According to Agent Woo, Vixen’s signature rainbow hair had turned into bright red hair. When the agents showed her the photo of the stolen ring and asked how she came across it, she told them that she used to work at a topless bar until six months ago, and one of the regular customers gave her the ring when he took one too many drinks. Also, she testified that while she was selling her artwork at the market, one of the customers offered to purchase all of the artwork in the shop if she could have the ring as a free gift, which Vixen gladly accepted.
Following the lead originating from Vixen, Brad Somarhalder had been arrested by the end of the day. The reason the FBI could find Somarhalder so easily was because he always paid at the bar with his credit card. Following his arrest, the agents were able to make a wholesale arrest of the Purple Panther’s U.S. sect.
According to Agent Woo, it used to be the Purple Panther’s protocol to immediately disassemble the stolen jewelry and send the parts to Europe to fence, and Somarhalder had never broken the code before. But for some reason that even Somarhalder himself couldn’t explain, he gave the ring to Vixen, his favorite girl at the bar. Agent Woo said the guy seemed to regret his action but was clueless why he did it—perhaps the ring had something to do with Somarhalder’s actions.
* * *
Five days later, Rick and I were visiting the Millers’ condo in the Upper East Side. The building’s exterior was decorated with white marble tiles, and it had a gallery selling high-end abstract paintings and sculptures.
“Hmm… Marion wasn’t lying about the building’s description in the first place,” Rick commented, looking up at the midrise condo.
“Ooh… I feel terrible about calling her a liar.” Jackie squirmed by my side.
“No worries. She didn’t seem to be shocked by your comments. By the way, she said she was sorry about calling you names,” I said.
“Okay then, so we’re even.” Jackie smiled. “By the way, Mandy, I love your purse.”
“Why, thank you!” I cooed. Indeed, I was in love with the denim handbag with adorable fringe.
“If only I could touch it!” The ghost moved her hands as if she were attempting to stroke the leather handles on my arm. “You know, I loved Fendi when I was alive. Ooh… the lovely scent of Italian leather.”
As I tried sniffing my purse, Rick patted my shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Jackie says she loves the look and scent of my new purse, and I’m testing how it smells,” I replied, taking in the purse aroma. “Hmm, I guess she’s right. It smells… divine.”
“Of course, it should smell divine. I’d be annoyed if it smelled like a piece of crap considering it cost a small fortune. You’re welcome,” he said with a wide grin. Obviously, he was requesting an expression of gratitude on my part.
“Thanks again,” I said, planting a light peck on his cheek.
The night after my purse was damaged, the brand-new purse was sitting by my bedside like it was Christmas morning. It was a gift and bribe from him. Despite somewhat reaching a mutual agreement about the size of our wedding and Alice’s involvement with its planning, he attempted to renegotiate these topics by using the beautiful purse as an enticing carrot.
“I’m glad you like it. By the way, how does it sound if we expanded our list up to four hundred?”
“Hello?” I said. “We reached an agreement about the guest size. Fifty is the best number—perhaps a hundred, maybe.”
“Still, Mandy….” He furrowed his eyebrows, then took a deep breath and sucked it up. “Let’s go inside and meet Mrs. Miller.”
The Millers’ residence was located on the penthouse floor. When Rick rang the doorbell, a young woman, probably in her early thirties, in a stylish wrap dress answered the door.
“Hello, I was looking forward to meeting you guys,” she said with a gentle smile. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Allison Miller, the daughter of the Millers. Thank you so much for saving my mom and dad.” Allison shook each of our hands. According to her, she was living in Long Island with her husband, but her husband was out of town for a business trip and she decided to move back for a while to help her mother around the house until she had fully recovered. Chattering in a happy tone, she led us into the salon decorated with a sophisticated interior.
A lady in a floral-print Carolina Herrera dress stood up to greet us. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m Emily Miller, the woman found on the street looking like a zombie.”
“Hello, I’m Special Agent in Charge Rowling, and the lady here is Ms. Meyer, my assistant.”
As Rick made a brief introduction, Mrs. Miller led us to the table.
I was surprised to see her walking without a cane or stick. The initial information we had about her was that she was a frail old lady with bad knees, but she was looking much better than I’d expected. Her gait was steady and strong. Also, her cheeks
were rosy and her vivaciousness was palpable, making it almost impossible to look at her as someone who had been hospitalized until a few days ago.
When we were seated and Allison brought us iced tea and petit fours, Rick put the ring in a zipped plastic bag on the table. “So, this is the ring you had on the night you were found.”
Mrs. Miller gasped. “I heard it was a stolen object. May I really have it? Shouldn’t it be returned to its lawful owner?”
“Actually, the person who was robbed of this ring declined to have it back,” Rick informed her.
When Agent Woo contacted the owner of the jewelry boutique where the ring was stolen from, the owner said he didn’t want it back even though his insurance policy didn’t have a clause about the stolen object being turned in to the insurance company in the rare case it had been recovered. According to the jewelry shop owner, his only daughter’s leukemia went into remission, followed by a full recovery, and he won a moderately large sum of money in a lottery—and everything happened soon after the robbery. He also claimed that the unexplainable worries and depressed feelings he had seemed to have evaporated as soon as he lost the ring, so he didn’t want to have it anymore.
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Miller’s eyes widened. “That’s so incredible. I got a call this morning from the hospital. Morris, my husband, has been recovering very nicely, and he’ll be coming back home tomorrow.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, and I meant it. Sending Marion and the rest of the spirits that used to haunt the ring to a better place seemed to be working nicely. In my mind, I had already attributed Mrs. Miller’s seemingly improved health to Brian’s exorcism.
“By the way, can you recall the night you collapsed on the street?” Rick asked.
“Well….” Mrs. Miller tilted her head to the side. “In retrospect, I think I had a weird dream. It was late at night, and I was in bed. I think I was fast asleep, and everything I thought I experienced shouldn’t have been real. Anyway, in my strange but impossibly vivid dream, I heard Allison weeping. And between her hiccups and sobs, she kept on saying, ‘Mom, please come and help me…. Mom, I’m here….’ I know this sounds crazy. As you’ve already seen her, my daughter isn’t a little helpless girl, but in my dream, I saw my daughter as a toddler in desperate need of my help, so I got up and went out in my pajamas. I can’t believe I sleepwalked. I think I was overly tired, perhaps. Before that night, I wasn’t sleeping well for a couple of days. Anyway, at that time, I thought I had to go and rescue my little Allison.”