Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Box Set

by Lotta Smith

  Regardless of her intention, one thing was very clear. Nikki was in grave danger!

  I looked at Jackie, mouthing, “Oh my God! What should I do?”

  “Mandy, don’t hang up the phone, okay?” she said.

  Nodding endlessly as if I’d suddenly developed nerve disease, I kept the line open. Then I remembered that there was a landline phone and a computer on Rick’s desk. Without hesitating, I reached for the phone and picked up the receiver. I had to call someone… anyone for help.

  But then I froze, holding the receiver in midair. The phone itself had many speed-dial options, such as Dan’s office, Rick’s secretary, and reception. Perhaps if I phoned his secretary, I could talk to Rick, but I wasn’t sure if I should contact his staff so casually. After all, they were employed by USCAB, not me. I couldn’t ask his staff to work for me as if they were my help, could I?

  No, I didn’t want to be that kind of wife who behaved like the queen bee of the universe just because she was married to the guy with some power and money. Also, I didn’t want to interrupt my husband when he was in a meeting. Considering it was taking longer than expected, it might be very important. Or else someone screwed up somewhere in the process.

  After a brief pause, I pushed the number for Sheldon Hernandez, Assistant Director in Charge at the FBI.

  I crossed my fingers, praying that either Hernandez or his staff took the call immediately. Being the head of the FBI’s New York City field office, Hernandez himself was often quite busy, but if I could talk to his secretary…

  “What?” Hernandez’s voice demanded.

  “Hello, Assistant Director in Charge Hernandez.” Putting my thumb on my cell phone’s mouthpiece, I took a deep breath in an attempt to produce a calm and composed voice. “This is Amanda Rowling. I used to work for the FBI as Amanda Meyer.”

  “Mandy, you don’t have to introduce yourself like someone talking to him for the first time,” Jackie butted in, but I couldn’t stop.

  “I hope you remember me. I was in this section called the Paranormal Cases Divi—”

  “Amanda, you don’t have to go on and on about your past working history with us,” Hernandez interrupted me while I babbled. “I’m not demented.”

  “Um… well, thank you for remembering me,” I said.

  “What do you want?” he said, cutting off pleasantries and greetings.

  “May I ask you for a little favor?” I said.

  “I’m listening,” he said. “For your information, if your favor involves hiring a hitman to kill your husband, you’re calling the wrong person.”

  Under normal circumstances, I would’ve collapsed into a fit of laughter, but I kept my poker face and went on. “Will you please trace the call currently connected with my cell phone? I really need to know the location of the caller. She’s in a dangerous situation.”

  “What’s the number?”

  “The number is…” I told him Nikki’s number.

  “Okay. Hang on.” Without asking me for details, he told Melvin, his assistant, to trace the call. I’d never been happier about my former career with the FBI, and for the first time, I thought Hernandez really was a rocking crime fighter.

  I thanked Hernandez and listened to my cell phone while waiting. I was all ears, but soon the voices stopped coming. My heart pounded. Holding my breath, I prayed for something, anything, to come from the other end of the line, but I heard nothing. What was happening? Were they locked in a staring match or something? I prayed Johnny wasn’t such an idiot to kill Nikki as well.

  “The location is in Brooklyn.” Hernandez’s voice brought me back to the present. He went on and gave me the street address. “Do you need backup?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir,” I said, scribbling the address on a memo pad.

  “Okay, I’ll make a phone call to the Brooklyn center. They should be able to send agents to the location you’re heading for.”

  “Thank you so much, sir,” I said, and I meant it.

  “Anytime, Amanda.” He chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then he hung up.

  “Jackie, let’s go.” I stood as soon as I returned the receiver to its cradle. “Nikki’s in Brooklyn. It’s not too far from here.”

  “Brooklyn? Where in Brooklyn?” she asked intensely.

  I showed her the note I’d just scribbled. “I’m guessing it’s close to Adventurers Amusement Park.”

  “That’s close to the car dealership where Johnny works, isn’t it?” she said, floating by my side.

  “I think so.” I nodded, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. Then I knitted my eyebrows. “Obviously she went there to confront him. What drove her to do this? She should be working for a few more hours. Perhaps she left work early. She sounded completely convinced about her theory, but I don’t know where her confidence comes from. It’s not like we told her exactly how and who killed Fynn.”

  “Oh my God! Maybe it’s Clara,” Jackie gasped.

  “Excuse me?” I looked at her. “What did she do?”

  “You know, I told you about our impromptu meeting at the cemetery, right? While we were discussing whether it’s realistic to try prosecuting Johnny for murdering Fynn, Clara was totally gung-ho about serving justice, and I was trying to obtain more information from Fynn. You need evidence to make a case out of his death, right? So I thought it would be helpful if he recalled something that could be used as evidence. I said something about the killer’s confession being extremely helpful. Then all of a sudden, Clara said she had a great idea and went somewhere. Oh my God, I have a feeling she’s behind this. Mandy, tell me I’m wrong!” She was hyperventilating.

  “Okay, Jackie. Let’s take a deep breath and cool our heads,” I said, inhaling deeply and then slowly exhaling.

  Before meeting the ghost of Clara, I used to picture the woman Rick used to fondly call Mom as a delicate person. However, the real version of Clara was so full of energy and passion, and she seemed to have a tad bit of loose-cannon personality, which Rick probably inherited from her.

  “It’s not like Nikki can hear Clara, right? If she could hear her, she would’ve heard you on the phone,” I said, mostly to convince myself.

  “Right. You’re so right.” Jackie nodded over and over. Pacing in midair, she asked anxiously, “So, what are we gonna do?”

  “Can you go to Brooklyn as soon as possible? I have a feeling she’s in danger. If Clara is there as well, work with her and keep Nikki safe.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jackie’s eyes widened. “I’m a ghost, and Clara is a ghost too! How can we keep Nikki safe from Johnny?”

  “Try paralyzing him, maybe?” I said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “Or cause some kind of poltergeist action. Throw some heavy objects on him.”

  Generally speaking, when ghosts tried to touch objects, their bodies went through them and they couldn’t make physical contact. But I’d seen ghosts throwing objects without touching anything. In my experience, dead people seemed to develop superpowers when they were under stress, infuriated, or when they didn’t like whatever a living human said. There was a time when a pissed-off ghost threw a heavy bookcase at me, except I didn’t even have a scratch. Instead, Rick ended up with a broken bone, as the flying bookcase hit him in the ankle when he rescued me. In retrospect, that incident brought me to move in with him, fall in love with him, and… now I was married to him.

  In the middle of an emergency, I was zoning out, recalling the old saying that went something like Every cloud has its silver lining…

  “All right, Mandy. I’ll fly over to Nikki to help her, but you need to catch up with me pronto. Okay?” Jackie’s voice jerked me back to reality.

  “Okeydoke.” I felt my cheeks turn hot as I said the lamest phrase on this earth, but she didn’t bother teasing me for it.

  “All right then. See you later!” Saluting, the ghost of a drag queen disappeared into thin air.

  “See you!” Waving at the air, I scribbled the address I
was heading for and XOXO on the memo pad at Rick’s desk. Then I looked at my phone, still connected to Nikki’s. If I were to go rescuing her, perhaps it’d be better to keep my voice or noises from my surroundings from transmitting to her phone. I looked inside my purse, took out a brand-new Band-Aid, and put it on my phone’s mouthpiece, completely forgetting about pressing the Mute button. Then I hurried out of his office.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I left the office, Carolina took notice of my hurry. Scurrying toward me, she asked, “Mrs. Rowling, how may I help you?”

  “Hi, Carolina. I have something to do, and I have to leave here now,” I babbled.

  “Oh.” One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows made an arch, but she didn’t dig deeper. “Okay then. I’ll tell Mr. Rowling that you left because of immediate business.”

  “Thank you!” I waved at her and hurried out.

  Thanks to USCAB headquarters being located in a busy business district, catching a cab was a piece of cake. As soon as I raised my hand, one stopped. I was in a huge hurry, so I didn’t mind the fact that the car was purple and looked really old. And I do mean old, as in a 1965 Pontiac GTO.

  The moment I opened the door, a guitar riff vibrated through my whole body. Then came the hammering of the drums, followed by Axl Rose yelling, “Welcome to the jungle!” Good thing I’d muffled my phone’s mouthpiece.

  The driver yelled, “Where to?” Considering she was chewing a piece of beef jerky cigarette-style, it was a miracle the woman was able to produce such a booming voice without fully opening her mouth. She was sporting really huge, exploding rainbow hair, which was way bigger and louder than Jackie’s hairstyle.

  “I need to go to Brooklyn.” I barked the address at her, having to compete with Guns N’ Roses. “Could you please hurry up?”

  “Fuckin’ A, ma’am. Consider it done.” The driver grinned from ear to ear. “Are you chasing your cheating husband?” she said knowingly. It was impossible to see her eyes as they were covered by a pair of large bug-eyed mirror sunglasses, but I felt her winking.

  I was tempted to roll my eyes and deny her words, but then it came to my mind that I’d better keep her interested to get to my destination ASAP. So I nodded, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “I don’t have a solid case yet, but I’m planning to. You know what I mean?” I yelled, competing with Axl and the roaring engine. Technically, I wasn’t lying, since I was trying to build a solid case out of Fynn’s murder instead of a cheating husband. I shut my eyes when the speedometer reached 85 mph.

  “The address should be around here.” When the cab slowed down to the tunes of “Paradise City,” I was glad just to be alive. I used to believe I was accustomed to Rick’s rough driving, but this lady brought the term “reckless driving” to a whole new level.

  “Oh, really? Thank you,” I mumbled, resisting the urge to puke. I was glad for the speed reduction, but unfortunately, it was a really bouncy car and I felt sicker.

  We went past Adventurers Amusement Park, approaching the car dealership Fynn used to work for. “Can you please stop here? I need to take a look at that vehicle,” I said, recognizing a blue minivan. Just looking at it from outside, I could tell it was Nikki’s minivan as I saw the child safety car seat inside.

  “Of course,” she said, stopping. She squinted at the car. “Hey, I see that car seat for little kids. Are you sure your hubby’s cheating on you with a woman with a little kid? What kind of a mother does such a lowly act? I’m open to kick her ass, but I’m not sure if I feel comfortable kicking her ass in front of young, innocent eyes.”

  “Can you lower the music a little, please?” I said, and she cut off the stereo immediately. “Actually, I’m not kicking her ass. With full disclosure, I’m here to rescue her.”

  “From your cheating hubby?” She lifted her bug-eyed sunglasses. Her heavily lined and mascaraed eyes were so big and wide that I almost feared they’d pop out of her eye sockets. Her gaze was so intense and serious that I couldn’t bring up the misunderstanding about my cheating husband.

  I cleared my throat. “Anyway, thank you so much for your great driving,” I thanked her, peppered with a little lie. Then again, I couldn’t just say, “You’ve got to thank me for not puking here. Compared to you, a car driven by one of the Fast and the Furious cast would feel so cushy and comfy, like floating on clouds!” I paid her cab fare topped with a generous tip.

  “Thanks!” She beamed and handed me her card as I opened the door to get out of the car. “Call me when you need a ride back, okay?”

  I smiled and looked at the card. “Okay. Thank you, Letty.” Then I added, “I might call you later to go back home to Manhattan. By the way, I’m Mandy.” It wasn’t like I introduced myself to every cab driver, but somehow, I was compelled to do so. Maybe in case I had a hard time getting a ride back home, I might want to use her cab—though, it wasn’t a very tempting thought to go through the hellish ride once again. I had a hunch that I’d have a better chance of having a ride if she remembered me as a nicely paying customer with my name and everything.

  “All right, Mandy. You have a great day, okay?” She extended her hand toward me, and we shook.

  “Of course.” I got out of the car.

  As she drove away, I looked around for any sign of Nikki. It was a weekday, and the amusement park was closed. I could see rides like the pink elephants and kiddie roller coaster behind the gate. It would’ve seemed fun and exciting if I heard visiting families laughing and kids shrieking with joy, but the park was deserted, and the neighborhood was filled with an eerie silence.

  Nikki’s car was parked in front of the Mercedes dealer, but the store was closed.

  I tilted my head to the side, realizing I was completely lacking in plans. As I contemplated my next move, I caught a Meow! and a cat’s hiss. Not that I was a cat expert, but if I recalled it right, it sounded like Mr. Bubbles.

  Holding my breath, I approached the direction where the sound came from.

  The storefront was just like any car dealerships closed for the day. About a dozen Mercedes were displayed, but the lights were off. I went past the store and approached the back—mostly because I caught Nikki’s voice.

  “You son of a bitch!” she was shouting. It seemed as if she was close to me—as in yards away, if not within feet.

  “Nikki? Are you there?” I asked, hoping she’d answer if she was nearby. I could’ve alerted Johnny as well if he was with her, but I wanted to know Nikki’s whereabouts first.

  “Mandy!” Jackie floated toward me, frantically and violently waving her ghostly arms. Being a ghost, it was the norm for her to sport pale cheeks, but this time, her complexion looked even paler. “Thank God you’re finally here! Come with me. We’re having a heck of a crisis.”

  She led me through a narrow pathway between the buildings exhibiting Mercedes and the back area used for car maintenance. The alley-like pathway led to the parking lot behind the buildings. As I proceeded, I caught strong scents of machine oil, burnt rubber, and insanity.

  The moment I reached the end of the pathway, I saw Nikki in the open space of the parking lot, and she didn’t look okay. She was on her knees on the ground, and in front of her was this big guy in coveralls. He had his sleeves rolled up above the elbows, and his biceps were visibly bulging.

  I held my breath, not that I was intimidated at seeing that guy—presumably Johnny—standing in front of her in a threatening manner. Okay, I lied a smidge. I was not just a little but seriously intimidated because… he had a gun in his hand. Johnny should’ve been the same age as Fynn, but the guy doing a hell of a standoff with Nikki looked a tad bit older than the woman’s late husband, the gun’s barrel trained on Nikki.

  But there was something more bizarre about the scene.

  Indeed, Nikki and Johnny weren’t alone. They were surrounded by Clara and others, and all of them were ghosts. I squinted and counted them. There were a dozen ghosts, and all of them were old except for Clara. I had a hunch they were the so
urce of the insanity I’d felt previously.

  “Hi, Mandy!” One of the elderly ghosts waved at me, prompting me to suck in air. It was the late Giselle McCambridge, whose murder Rick and I had investigated a few years ago.

  “Madame Giselle, what are you doing here?” I asked in a stage whisper.

  “What am I doing here? Of course, I’m here to help Clara help Fynn’s wife,” she said, holding her chin high as always. “If you haven’t noticed, our tombs are located very close to Clara’s and the pond where Fynn has been entrapped. Anyway, our Halloween trip to this side of the world has been shaky due to Fynn’s murder and his weeping. Just because we’ve moved on to a better place doesn’t mean we can’t come back to this side of the world during Halloween and the holiday season. So I’m ready to kick that man really hard in the oompa-loompa!”

  I had no choice but to give her a small smile as my ghostly acquaintance pumped her fists.

  “Oh, by the way, I heard you and Rick have finally tied the knot. Congratulations! I’m so proud of you!” she said excitedly.

  “Madame Giselle, could you possibly focus on helping Nikki for now?” Clara reminded her, gaining our attention. “We have Halloween and all holiday season to catch up with each other, remember?”

  “Oh, of course. Focusing on the priority is rule number one for running a successful business.” Giselle clapped her hands. She turned back to Johnny holding Nikki at gunpoint and began to preach to him in her commanding tone. “Drop the gun and get down on your knees, you idiot! What kind of a sissy man does this to a defenseless woman? Stop being such a moron! Shame on you!”

  Jackie and I looked at each other, rolling our eyes. Giselle McCambridge used to be the queen bee of Upper East Side’s poshest society when she was alive, and now she was dead and cussing Johnny as if she had morphed into some sort of bureaucrat roaming D.C. They say life is full of surprises, and I couldn’t agree more. I was secretly bracing myself for more swear words to come, such as the one starting with an F, but before her rant got more colorful, a relatively younger guy who seemed to have come straight from a Paris runway started yelling.