by Lotta Smith
“Oh really? That’s good to hear. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being sarcastic. I truly feel it would be great if I could get out of here. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking what it would be like if I was trapped here forever and ever.” Fynn took a deep breath.
“I can imagine your frustration,” Jackie said sympathetically. “When I was trapped at my murder scene, I was devastated. My parents, friends, and acquaintances in Broadway used to bring me flowers, muttering condolences, but they couldn’t hear or see me. After a week or so, flowers and visitors stopped coming, except for Mom and Dad.”
“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” Fynn said, sniffing again. “Nikki will eventually stop coming here, I guess. No matter how loudly I scream, she can’t hear me. Not that I want her to keep on coming forever and ever. Nikki and Jennie have their lives ahead of them while mine is so over.”
“Come on, don’t be so pessimistic.” Jackie tsked. “You’re way luckier than me. You have me, Clara, Mandy, and Rick. On the other hand, I had no fellow ghosts when I was murdered. Even when so-called psychic mediums visited the place, they could never understand what I was saying. They couldn’t even see me, if I may say. I now know 99 percent of psychics are fake. No worries, Mandy and Rick solved my murder case, with a little help from the famous exorcist Brian Powers, who happens to be a good guy. You’re in good hands.”
“Wow, Brian Powers? I’ve seen his show on TV.” He looked at Jackie from head to toe. “You and Mandy seem to have quite a history.”
“Of course.” Jackie grinned. “Oh, did I mention that we’ve been through a lot of adventures?”
CHAPTER 7
While the trio of ghosts were gathering at the upscale cemetery, I was in bed, sleeping like a baby. When I finally woke up, it was already past one in the afternoon. After using the snooze feature of my alarm clock not just once but three times, I was still sleepy and the bed was so comfortable.
“Come on, Mandy. If you sleep too much during the day, you’ll have difficulty falling asleep again at night,” Jackie said in my ear.
“Yow!” I jumped up on the bed. “Will you stop sneaking up on me like that?”
“I said hi when I came back, but you didn’t respond. So, I decided to talk to you.” The ghost of a drag queen chuckled. “So, what’s our plan for the day? We’ll be meeting Nikki later, right?”
“Right.” I nodded. “I’m going to visit Rick’s office around three o’clock.”
“Oh, then you have to eat lunch, change into a nice dress, and of course, you need some makeup.” Jackie bounced. “Do you need my help with the makeup?”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll work it on my own,” I said cautiously. When I took in a few of her makeup tips, I looked like a brightly painted stage actress, or a drag queen.
I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, and made a grilled cheese sandwich with ham and sliced tomato. After eating the sandwich while watching a CSI: Miami rerun, I brushed my teeth again and changed into a long-sleeve burgundy sheath dress. I was going to wear something black or navy, to look like someone serious about business, but I was persuaded by Jackie to go for burgundy.
“You look totally fabulous in burgundy,” she complimented as I pushed the elevator button—not that Jackie needed the ride to move up and down as she was a ghost.
The elevator door opened almost immediately and I stepped in, asking, “Are you sure?” to my guardian ghost. “I’m a little bit nervous about looking like that kind of wife who pops up at her husband’s company, wasting everyone’s time.”
“No way!” She shook her head. “You’re not wasting anyone’s time. You’re still a part of USCAB, remember?”
“I know. But you know, I’ve been away from the office for a long while. I feel slightly uncomfortable about my sporadic appearance there,” I said. “I don’t know how to put it, but it feels almost like returning to school after taking a long sick leave. You know what I mean?”
“I guess so.” Jackie tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps it’s about time you consider taking the FBI gig as a consultant.”
“Right.” I nodded. “When I was with the feds, I always dreamed of retirement. But considering dead people still keep contacting me to seek help solving their murders, it would be smarter to work with the feds. At least when I was with them, I had backup. Also, Rick used to talk about launching Paranormal Cases Division at USCAB. Maybe having a little office of mine at the company headquarters might be lovely.”
“Absolutely.” Jackie gave a thumbs-up. “Rick will be so proud of you. Of course, Clara too.”
“Speaking of Clara, where did she go?” I asked, looking around the elevator. Considering it was a private elevator that only served our condo and wasn’t spacious like the big ones with the capacity to hold fifty people, there was no place Clara could have been lurking.
“She’s so into this murder investigation for Fynn. She said she’s got a really good idea, and she was gone before I could ask her about it.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “By the way, I didn’t know Clara was so proactive.”
“I know!” I had to agree. “From Rick’s story, I imagined her as a delicate, willowy lady who faints at the mention of blood. Then again, she was really sick with multiple sclerosis when she was alive, so perhaps she’s been holding all her energy inside.”
“Besides, people tend to beautify their loved ones in their heads, especially the dead ones,” Jackie said matter-of-factly.
“Right. That’s so true.” I nodded. She had a point.
We got off the elevator at the ground floor, heading for the concierge desk to arrange a car. Natalia Simpson, one of the residents in the building, was coming from outside with her two daughters, Keira and Amalia.
“Hi, Mandy!” Natalia waved at me. We became close when we encountered each other on this floor last Halloween. I was with Alicia, my little sister, and her daughters, Emma and Minty. Natalia was with her two girls. Each of us accompanying very young girls, we said hello to each other and spontaneously talked about visiting each other’s floor for trick-or-treating. Emma and Minty hit it off with the Simpson girls, and we became quick friends. “Going shopping?” she asked.
“No. I’m visiting Rick’s office.” I smiled. Then I waved at the two girls. “Hi there, Keira, Amalia. How are you?”
“I’m great!” Keira said, and Amalia chimed in with “Me, too!” Then Keira said, “How are you, Mrs. Rowling?”
“Oh my God! How can they stay so polite whenever they see us?” Jackie cooed. “When I was their ages, I hadn’t mastered the art of talking like a lady.”
“I’m good. Thank you,” I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at Jackie, who was originally born as a beautiful boy with the heart of a girl. My heart did a little flip-flopping. I needed to get used to being addressed as Mrs. Rowling.
“Can we see Emma and Minty on Halloween this year?” Amalia asked me.
“Well, we haven’t discussed this year’s plans with them.”
“We really liked trick-or-treating with them,” Keira said.
“They loved trick-or-treating with you ladies too.” I smiled. “I’ll call their mother and ask if they’ll be coming here this year. I promise.”
“Fab!” Keira and Amalia said in unison.
Natalia glanced at her Chanel watch. “Ladies, why don’t we say goodbye to Mrs. Rowling so she can visit Mr. Rowling?” She air-kissed me goodbye. “Mandy, you have a great day.”
“Thanks, you too.” I returned an air-kiss and waved at them.
Watching Natalia and the two girls walking toward their elevator, I thought about Jennie, Fynn’s daughter. I felt so sorry for Fynn. Leaving his daughter behind at such a young age must be devastating. The worst part was that no one, including Fynn himself, was expecting his death.
I made up my mind to help Fynn as much as I could. First of all, being trapped in that pond as a ghost wouldn’t be good for him. Not to mention the residents at the cemetery weren’t happy about the situati
on. And he didn’t seem the kind of ghost who spontaneously managed to depart to a better place.
While in the car on my way to USCAB headquarters, I kept thinking about how to bring justice for him.
* * *
When I arrived at USCAB headquarters, the male receptionist who looked like an MMA fighter greeted me. “Hello, Mrs. Rowling. We were waiting for you.” He smiled.
“Hello, Ryan.” I smiled back, glancing at his nametag. I thought about telling him to feel free to call me Mandy, but then I recalled the many horror stories I’d read about corporate wives who behaved excessively friendly with their husbands’ staff. So instead, I said, “Are you new here?” He didn’t look familiar to me.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.
“Are you a former MMA fighter?” I asked. He was tall, muscular, and looked indestructible. As in Hulk. I’d never seen such prominent muscles on a guy wearing a suit.
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I used to be in the U.S. Army Special Forces. Have you heard of the Green Berets?”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard of them.” I nodded like a bobblehead, thinking, Oh my God, what kind of visitors do they have? Not that I was being sexist, but female receptionists were much more commonly seen at the majority of companies and organizations I’d visited before. Even when they did have male receptionists, they looked more like the kind of guys who worked as store clerks at the handbag section of Neiman Marcus.
“Let me call CO Rowling.” He winked and pressed the intercom on his desk. “Hi, this is Ryan at reception. Mrs. Rowling is here. Okay, I’ll send her up.”
I thanked Ryan and went up in the elevator that was much bigger than the one serving our condo.
A minute later, Carolina Esposito, Rick’s secretary, led me into Rick’s office at the higher floor. Dan’s office occupied the entire penthouse, Rick’s a floor below.
“Mr. Rowling is in a meeting that is taking slightly longer than expected. He’ll be back shortly. Please make yourself at home,” Carolina said. She was a beautiful Latina, probably in her early thirties. She looked like an Under Armour model. Even though she was fully clothed, I could almost see her hard, flat abs.
“Thank you so much.” I offered a smile, which I intended to be polite.
When she left, I slumped on the sofa, muttering, “Oh my God. I guess I’m not a good fit to work here.”
On the low table was a tray with a hot pot of Ceylon tea and beautiful petit fours that almost looked like artwork. Under normal circumstances, I would be happily munching on those beautiful creations, but my appetite was missing at that time. Okay, so perhaps eating my lunch a few hours later than usual might have played a role in my lack of appetite. And that chocolate cupcake.
“Why do you feel that way, Mandy?” Jackie said, sitting next to me. Being a ghost without a solid body, she used to have difficulties staying seated, but nowadays, she’d mastered the art of posing as sitting.
“I don’t know… but I feel so intimidated just visiting here. When I was a med student and rotating in the wards, I used to feel like I didn’t belong there. It’s almost like that time,” I said, frowning. “You know, I thought asking Rick to launch the Paranormal Cases section would be a great idea, but I’m not sure about it anymore. Did you look at the people who work here? Everyone has a former military or law enforcement career, and they look so fit and strong. I feel so out of my league here. They can probably kill an assassin or two with their bare hands, but I don’t know if I can even defend myself from an assailant.”
“Hello? Did you forget you have a background with the FBI?” Jackie’s eyes widened. “Hernandez said you’d been such an asset to him, and he was so right. Remember? You helped Rick and other sections of the feds solve a ton of cases. Technically, you’re a part of USCAB as Rick’s assistant. So you’ve been away from work because you were in charge of organizing the wedding and so on, but once you’re back on the job, everyone will love working with you.”
I thought for a while and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I guess I’ve been a tad bit pessimistic these days.”
“I guess that’s one of the side effects of leaving the feds,” Jackie analyzed. “Unlike a few months back, you don’t have the stress of being attacked or ambushed by evil ghosts and evil psychics. Also, you’re now free from the mental pressure of having to interview murder victims with, say, literally cracked heads. You’re happily married to Rick, living without worrying if you’ll pay off your student loan, and so on. In my opinion, the fact that you’re totally free of stress has become your new stress, so my advice for you is to go back on the job as soon as possible. What do you think?”
“I think you’re so right,” I said. “Perhaps it’s time to talk with Rick about my return to work.”
“And, of course, about the possible launch of Paranormal Cases Division at USCAB.” Jackie winked. “You know what? Considering the number of dead people roaming in the building you live in, I think a lot of dead people are visiting the USCAB clients’ homes. Perhaps some are causing trouble for the living people, and they’d definitely appreciate someone providing services to help them. USCAB is so going to have more profits.”
“You think so?” I smiled.
“Of course.” She gave me a thumbs-up. “Besides, I believe you’re the strongest warrior in this company.”
“Excuse me? For your information, I’m not a former soldier.”
“I know. But if I’m guessing it right, you’re the only one who can give critical damage to bad guys just by touching,” she said matter-of-factly. “Believe me, other people can kill a bad guy using some weapon or physical power, but you’re the only one who can kill by using the tip of your fingers. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be a martial arts guru. All you need to do to defend yourself from bad guys is touch them.”
The ghost of a drag queen was on a roll, and she was talking like she’d seen it herself—except Jackie wasn’t there when it happened.
“Jackie.” I cleared my throat as my guardian ghost went on and on about something to do with the dark side of my history. “Don’t even think about using the G-word, okay?”
“Of course not. You know, I didn’t even think about the words ‘Grim Reaper.’ I know how much you loathe that unfortunate nickname.”
“Thank you so much for too much information,” I said.
“Oh.” She squirmed uncomfortably, like she’d just realized she’d blurted something that should’ve been kept to herself. “You know, forget about my last few sentences.”
“I’ll try.” I tried to shoot daggers at her with my eyes, but I snorted instead. “At least you were trying to cheer me up.”
“Oh my God!” She gaped at me. “What’s going on with you? You’re so… what’s the word? Tolerant, I guess?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been tolerant since the day we met,” I reminded her.
“Oh yes. Of course I remember.” She shrugged. “You tried to get rid of me by purchasing a ghost repellant bracelet from a phony street vendor. You wasted twenty dollars.”
“Ouch.” When I flinched, a loud beep came from my purse.
CHAPTER 8
“Take it, Mandy.” Jackie pointed at the purse. “It might be Nikki.”
“Oh yeah.” Nodding, I glanced at the caller ID. It was Nikki. I took the call. “Hello?”
But Nikki didn’t answer. I tilted my head to the side.
“What’s going on?” Jackie asked me.
“I don’t know. Something seems to be wrong with the signal.” Covering the mouthpiece, I stood up and moved around.
When I approached the windows, I caught a muffled male voice coming from the other end of the phone. I listened carefully, and…
“You told me Fynn was having some financial trouble. Why did you feed me such a lie, Johnny?” Nikki’s voice jumped into my ears.
My jaw dropped. If I heard it right, she’d just said Johnny.
Oh my God! What is she thinking? Neither Rick nor
I told her about Johnny’s involvement in Fynn’s murder, but her tone was confrontational, accusatory even. She sounded as if she was sure the man she was with killed her husband, the father of her child. I had a hunch she was a woman with a temper, but I didn’t expect her to contact Johnny so soon. Besides that, what had happened to the agreement to meet up with us later on?
“Mandy, you want to record this phone call,” Jackie said. She was listening to the conversation coming from the other end. Thanks to being a ghost, listening to my phone without pushing me away was a piece of cake for her.
Nodding like a bobblehead, I tapped the Record button on the screen. Good thing I’d installed a phone call recorder app just in case. Holding my breath, I listened carefully. I could hear Johnny’s voice, but it was muffled and unclear, and I couldn’t make out the words. Nikki might have been talking to Johnny while hiding her phone in the pocket or purse.
“Fynn couldn’t have killed himself. You know why? He’d booked our wedding reception for our upcoming anniversary!” Nikki said heatedly.
Jackie and I exchanged glances.
“Look, Nikki, take a deep breath and keep your head cool, okay?” Jackie said. “Don’t even bring up the topic of Johnny being Fynn’s killer. That will get you in trouble.”
But of course, Nikki didn’t listen to her—mostly because she couldn’t hear dead people’s voices.
I tried to search for any hints about Nikki’s whereabouts from the conversation, but it wasn’t easy due to poor sound quality. Was she still at work or close to her workplace and Johnny had come to see her? Or was she visiting him at work?
As I stood frozen, I caught Nikki’s voice again.
“How could you kill Fynn? What did he do to deserve being murdered?” she asked.
Unlike the time she broke into tears at the Garden Bay Hotel, she wasn’t emotional. She wasn’t shrieking or sobbing, and her tone was almost calm and cool. After that, silence followed.
I got panicky. Opening and shutting my mouth like a suffocating goldfish, I fumbled around. I didn’t exactly know what was going on, but I knew something was happening. Did Johnny admit to murdering Fynn? Or was Nikki just attempting to trick him into admitting it?