Wicked of the Christmas Past: A Cozy Mystery on Kindle Unlimited (Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Book 4)

by Lotta Smith

  “No. After graduating from high school in the suburb of Seattle, she went to junior college, specializing in theater arts, in New York City.”

  “Okay, so she used to be in Washington until college. And what about you, Kimmie? Where do you live currently?”

  “I live in my sister’s place in Midtown. Rita invited me to live with her a while after her debut as an author. I’m like her homemaker, assisting her with cooking, laundry, accounting, and so on.”

  “I see. That’s why your sister has an office—to have her alone time.”

  “Exactly.” Kimmie nodded with a slightly relaxed manner.

  “When did you learn about the incident with your sister?”

  “Dylan, my sister’s editor back then, gave me a call when Rita was being rushed to the hospital. After that, things got rough with hospital registration, talking to the police, and everything.” Kimmie furrowed her eyebrows, as if she were regurgitating the bitter taste of the memory.

  I could imagine her anxiety and stomach-churning feelings. I used to be a medical student before I started working with Rick. I used to believe I’d seen too much sorrow and despair at hospitals to be scared of visiting them. But I was wrong. When I accompanied Rick to the hospital in the summer when he got hurt, I felt so worried that I cried.

  “How did you learn your sister had her friends, Catherine and Natalia, visiting her at the time of the incident?”

  “From the detectives I talked to,” Kimmie replied. “Also, Tyson made two phone calls prior to Rita’s fall.”

  “Not just once, but twice.” Rick crossed his arms in thought.

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong,” Tyson, the photographer, chimed in. “I made the second call because there was something I missed on my first call. That’s all.”

  “About that. You can save it for later until we’ll have a private talk,” Rick told the photographer, and he turned to Kimmie again. “So, Kimmie, what brought you to hold a reading in this way instead of alerting the police to an attempted murder immediately after her fall?”

  Following a brief silence, she said, “When Rita woke up, she made me promise never to publicize her mishap. After that, she clammed up, so I was almost convinced that she had actually tried to commit suicide. But one day, she said, ‘I was almost murdered, and I need your help finding my killer,’ and she told me about this project she’d been developing. She said the whole purpose of this gathering was revealing the assailant.”

  “So, she invited them here, setting the celebration of her recovery as the surface reason. And, even her death didn’t stop you from executing her plan.” Rick uncrossed his arms. His face was unreadable.

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “And you also noted that Rita, a.k.a. Carina, had no memory about the night of her fall, right?”

  “Exactly.” Kimmie nodded.

  “I see.”

  As Rick looked at the attendees, I observed them carefully. No one started to make a tearful confession, but the jitters were palpable. If Kimmie’s accusation was right and the assailant was there, the person must have been relieved with the information about Carina’s memory loss. Or maybe the purpose of the assailant attending might have been to check if Carina’s memory had been really lost.

  Anyway, the series of events couldn’t get weirder. Speaking of weirdness, I couldn’t help noticing something—or rather, noticing something missing. I had to talk to Rick about that, but before I had a chance, he said, “All right, now let me run individual interviews. Catherine, can I start with you?”

  “Of course.” She displayed a flirty smile that made me wonder what drove Carina Christien to befriend her in the first place.

  “Okay, so Catherine, Kimmie, and Mandy will be staying here, and the rest of you can go downstairs and wait for your turns,” Rick said matter-of-factly, and the others left the café without arguing. Considering the previous bitter reaction from multiple attendees, it felt almost magical that they followed his orders.

  “Rick, can I have a word with you?” Before he started interrogating Catherine, I pulled him to the corner of the café where she and Kimmie couldn’t hear us.

  “What?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “We need Jackie’s help,” I whispered to him.

  “Help from Jackie? No. I don’t think so.” He shook his head.

  “But this case is weird. Kimmie said her sister’s dead, but I can’t feel death from her. Perhaps Jackie will be better for this case. She’s dead, so she might be better at talking to newly dead people than me.”

  “You don’t understand. Carina’s not dead,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Excuse me?” My eyes widened.

  “I saw Carina’s photos and felt no death either.” He swiped his phone and showed me an image of Carina in a bathtub filled with crimson liquid that reminded the viewer of blood. “She’s fine. She won’t be dying anytime soon.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, come on. Stop Jackie-ing. I can tell if a person is dead or alive when I see the photo, remember?” he said, silencing me by touching my lips with his fingers.

  I nodded.

  “Remember what?” Jackie asked, popping up from out of nowhere, carrying a paper bag in one hand and holding a fried chicken drumstick in another.

  “Oh, we’re talking about Rick’s special skill to see a person’s vital status by looking at the photograph,” I replied and then jumped a foot. “Jackie! What are you doing here?”

  “Hello? That’s not the reaction I expect from someone who repeatedly called my name.” She wiggled her greasy fingers.

  “Is Jackie here?” Rick asked, and when I nodded, he groaned. “How’s she doing?”

  “She looks perky as always.” Then I turned to the ghost of a drag queen sporting a red and white Christmas hat. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. Oh, did I mention I was having a blast at the party until a minute ago?” Jackie said, between chewing the chicken. “I met this ghost of a Japanese lady, Mariko, who’s hosting a really fab party! Did you know Japanese people eat tons of fried chicken and really yummy and lovely cakes on Christmas Eve? According to Mariko, kids open their presents on Christmas morning, but the rest of the day goes normal with people going to work or school.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” I said and relayed Jackie’s words to Rick.

  “I didn’t know dead people eat chickens and cakes,” he said.

  “It’s special perks during the holiday seasons. Between Halloween and New Year’s Day, we get to eat and drink, but unlike when you’re alive, you don’t get too drunk. Want to try some?” Jackie offered her bag of chicken to us.

  “Thanks for offering, but no,” I declined, mostly because I was afraid that I might join Deadville if I sampled their food. Still, it was a tempting offer since the chicken smelled oh-so-heavenly. “Hey, I like your FESTIVE necklace. It’s extra lovely in red, white, and green.”

  “I know!” She beamed. “So, can I go?”

  “Oh, of course, you can go and enjoy the party—” I said, but Rick interrupted me.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Several people are gathering downstairs. Can you go and snoop on their conversation before you go back to the party?”

  “Of course. I’ve got to burn some calories.” Jackie winked and floated out of the café toward the stairs. I didn’t know dead people had to worry about calories.

  “All right. Now let’s start interrogating.” He rolled his shoulders.

  “Questioning,” I rephrased, touching his arm.

  “Whatever.” He shrugged. “Hey, when Jackie reports something to you, just text me, okay? And no gasping.”

  “Fine,” I said, looking up at his mesmerizing green eyes. “Should I take a sign language course?”

  “Very funny.” He snorted, but his eyes were shimmering with laughter.

  When we went back to the interview, Kimmie and Catherine were sitting at different tables, looking uncomfortable. As we approached them, Kimmie l
et out a sigh and Catherine batted her eyelashes at Rick. “Oh, you’re finally back,” she said, giving me a flicker of a nasty glare.

  Rick went to Catherine’s table. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said and turned to me. “Mandy, you can sit wherever you like.”

  I nodded and sat at an empty table where I could see both Kimmie and Catherine.

  Catherine seemed slightly tense, but as Rick sat in front of her, she displayed an amused smile. “Oh my God, it’s the first time for me to talk to an FBI agent!”

  “Oh no. You can forget about the FBI. I’m only here as a fan of Carina Christien.” Rick displayed a gentle smile that was reserved for strangers. “So, I heard you’re a friend of Carina—let’s call her Rita for now—since high school. Can you tell me how you befriended her?”

  “Let’s see.” Catherine looked up at the ceiling and then back at Rick. “Back in high school, I was in the slutty group, sporting heavy makeup and everything. Natalia was a prep girl with excellent grades, aiming for an Ivy League college, and Rita was a shy girl. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have noticed each other’s presence, but we ended up spending the summer of our freshman year volunteering at a local library. Despite our differences, all of us liked reading. Anyway, we became fast friends.” As she talked, her expression softened, like she was indulging herself with a moment of nostalgia.

  “Did you guys keep in touch after graduating from high school?” Rick interjected.

  “No, we went our separate ways after graduation, and we didn’t keep in touch for a while. I went to one of those partying schools, Natalia went to the state university—which wasn’t exactly an Ivy League school, but it was great anyway—and Rita moved to New York.”

  “By the way, Catherine, are you still based on the West Coast?”

  “No. Currently, I’m in Union City.” She shook her head. “After college, I got a job in Manhattan so I moved to Chelsea, but I relocated across the bridge for more space for less rent. Natalia lives in an apartment just across the street from mine, you know. In her case, she got a job at a local branch office of an insurance company back in Seattle, but she didn’t like her company culture, so she quit and moved to the East Coast. She’s now working for a consumer products company. I, on the other hand, am at the planning section of a travel agency.”

  I observed Catherine chattering about things Rick hadn’t even asked and decided that she was a born blabbermouth.

  “I see. So, when did you reconnect with Rita?”

  “Well, it was when Natalia and I were in our sophomore year at college. Rita called me when she was visiting Seattle, saying she wanted to have a reunion. So we lunched, and Rita told us she was writing a story and intended to submit it to publishers. And we were like, ‘Good luck!’ Her story actually scored an award, so we had a celebration party. And since then, we’ve been very close.”

  “So, how did you feel about Rita winning an award?”

  “Well, I was like, ‘Congrats!’ and I guess Natalia felt the same way. It was great that Rita’s story was selected, but it only scored second place and the prize was just a thousand bucks. She offered to treat us, using her prize money, but we went Dutch, persuading her to save her hard-earned money.” She chuckled, recalling the moment. She sounded like she was simply happy for her friend’s achievement.

  “Uh-huh.” Rick nodded. “By the way, you and Harry are dating, right? How did you two get to know each other?”

  “Oh, Harry. You know, as a travel planner who discovers and develops new travel itineraries, I often need photographs in my line of work. So I asked Rita if she knew any good photographers, and she introduced me to Tyson and Harry. As you can see, Tyson’s a little sarcastic, though he takes really kick-ass photos. And as for Harry, he’s so talented, you know. He’s a super-duper designer who makes killer webpages like Rita’s official website. Her website changes the theme monthly, and Harry’s in charge of everything. Also, he’s full of fab ideas, and he’s my go-to guy whenever I’m in need of unique ideas. Oh, don’t forget that he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Harry makes me feel safe and secure.”

  As I listened to her going on about her boyfriend, I was almost compelled to butt in and ask her about how she became so intimate with him. Not that I was that curious about her love life, but I was thinking about my love life—or lack thereof. Okay, so I was living with Rick, who made me feel safe and secure—indeed, he protected me from harm’s way, not just once but twice—but somehow, something kept us from getting really intimate.

  Take that Saturday night at a fundraising auction, which Rick attended as a favor for his father who was in Kyoto for business and couldn’t make it to the event. That night seemed promising. I was arm in arm with Rick, smiling and mingling with the crowd. The lighting was soft, the ambience was so intimate, and I was seriously anticipating that our relationship would proceed to the next level—that was until one of the auctioned items went missing and the event turned into a jewelry heist case. Of course, Rick solved it in no time, raising several million bucks and acquiring huge leverage. The thief happened to be the wife of a very powerful man in New York, and after obtaining her confession, Rick had a word with her billionaire husband who was more than happy to purchase the item for a ridiculously high price—eight million dollars, to be exact—and promised to accompany his wife to a therapist specializing in kleptomania. While Rick focused on the case, I was ogling a really cute ring. The moment I caught a glimpse of four pieces of pink sapphire shaped into a four-leaf clover over the delicate Art Deco-style gold band, I fell in love with it. The minimum bidding price made me flinch, but I sucked it up and made a bid. At that time, I had been working for the FBI for almost a year, keeping me up-to-date with my student loan payment, so I decided to treat myself.

  Anyway, by the time the auction was over, the romantic anticipation had been dead. And oh, did I mention that the pink sapphire ring was sold to some mysterious bidder? The price was far higher than I could afford. I was thankful Rick was elsewhere during the bidding process, because I got a little teary when I lost and I didn’t want to get caught reacting like a little kid.

  I sighed. I really liked that ring, but having wasted that seemingly promising evening on another investigation did more damage to my ego. The problem was that wherever we went, Rick and I tended to stumble upon a case….

  “What’s wrong with us? No, it’s not us. It’s not even me. It’s all about the timing. The hexed timing…,” I mumbled and groaned while recalling the auction night and other times that ended in unidealistic ways, totally forgetting about the murder.

  Rick cleared his throat. “Hexed timing? Mandy, what are you talking about?”

  “Um… well….” Yanked back to reality, I fretted with words. “I guess I was a little zoned out. My apologies,” I said, prompting Catherine to grin and Rick to raise an eyebrow.

  He turned back to Catherine. “Okay, so how did you get acquainted with Dylan Woodhouse?”

  At the mention of Rita’s former editor, Catherine’s grin widened. “The first time I met him was when I was visiting Rita’s office. I often crashed her office because I was dying to see him. You know, Rita was totally passionate for him.” She winked.

  My ears perked. Rita’s adoration for the editor was news to me, but Rick just nodded. “Oh, really? I had a hunch about that.”

  “Seriously? You knew that?” Catherine slightly pouted, tilting her head to the side. “That was the part where you were supposed to be surprised.”

  “No surprise, unfortunately.” Rick shook his head. “Kimmie mentioned that Rita had a personal issue with Dylan, and I assumed the seed of the trouble to be his marriage. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why Dylan stepped down as Rita’s editor.”

  “That’s right. What a shame. I feel sorry for him. It was just a one-way love for Rita. Considering they weren’t even dating, it was a tad bit unfair for her to snap like that the moment she caught the news of Dylan’s marriage. I knew she
was lacking experience in the dating department, though I didn’t think she was that naïve.” Catherine went on rambling, despite Kimmie eyeing daggers at her.

  “So, on the night of Rita’s fall, what were you doing at her office?” Rick asked.

  “Like I said, Rita was having a perfect storm over Dylan. She was so out of control, and Natalia and I went to cheer her up. Even then, Rita was acting somewhat weirdly, and we figured some comfort food would help. So we went to Dean & DeLuca to buy some sweets. When we returned to the building, we found Rita on the patio floor… bleeding and… totally motionless.” Catherine shut her eyes tightly and frowned as if she were trying to let the painful memory go. “Natalia called the ambulance, and I called Dylan.”

  “What was the reason for not calling Kimmie at that time?” Rick interjected.

  “Because neither of us knew her number. I knew Rita lived with her younger sister, but we didn’t know her personally.”

  “Uh-huh, right. Okay, that’s about it for now, Catherine. Thanks for your cooperation. You can go downstairs. Can you please ask Natalia to come up to have a little chat, please?”

  “Sure.” Catherine smiled. “At first, I was nervous about being interrogated, but it was such a pleasure talking to a good-looking guy like you.” She stood up and, on her exit, blew a kiss at Rick, who responded with a polite smile but didn’t catch it in midair.

  CHAPTER 5

  When Catherine left the café, Rick took out his phone and opened Carina Christien’s official website.

  “Look at those photos featuring a brick house.” Rick showed the screen to Kimmie. “I have a hunch that they’re tweaked versions of the condo building’s exterior of her office, am I correct?”

  “Yes. Rita’s office is on the fifth floor of an eight-story building. Though it’s a brand new project, the exterior is finished with red bricks. The photos have been processed so that you can’t pinpoint the exact location of the building.”