by Lotta Smith
“Actually, I haven’t. It’s just that you need my help whenever you call me during the day,” I teased.
“I see. Well, I think I’ve got to call you more often during the day.” He chuckled, and then his tone turned serious. “Can you work on a case today?”
“Sure,” I said. “Hopefully it’s not a murder. I don’t want our baby to be near a bloody corpse. Some researchers say that babies can actually see and hear what their moms do.”
Jackie, who had been listening to our conversation while floating in front of my phone, perked up. “Oh, I think peeking on the rehearsal will have to wait.” Cupping her face in her big hands, she shaped her mouth in an O.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have a dead body so far,” he informed me, prompting me to picture the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile. “Remember the serial art robberies Julie was making a fuss over on Saturday? Her prediction turned out to be true. Her aunt received a letter threatening to steal her art.”
“Wow, really?” Jackie and I exchanged a glance.
“That sounds like something from a heist movie,” I said.
“Right.” Rick chuckled. “Throw in a resident ghost who might’ve witnessed the petty thief, or his or her accomplice who slipped the letter into the Sparkses’ mailbox.”
“A resident ghost?” I parroted. “Do they have dead company at their house? I mean, can they see a person most people aren’t supposed to see?” I wondered why they didn’t ask the ghost themselves if they knew such a person lived with them. Suppose a ghost was cohabiting with you—he or she could at least be a nice person and communicate with the living residents.
“We’re talking about an old home in the crème de la crème of the Upper East Side. Nicole can’t communicate with ghosts, but she feels an otherworldly presence, or at least that’s what she says. Anyway, old homes tend to come with resident ghosts, and I won’t be surprised if the same applies here. Can you visit the Sparkses’ mansion with me and see if the ghost there will be able to help us guard the item?”
“Yes, I can,” I said. “Dinner’s almost ready, and I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon reading a novel.”
“My apologies for butting into your schedule. So much for your maternity leave.” He sighed. “You’ve been working on and off all this time.”
“No worries. Books can wait,” I assured him.
“The rehearsal of the naked boys dancing can wait too!” Jackie chimed in. “We’ve got to focus on a case. And I’d really love the prospect of seeing a new ghostly friend.”
“Jackie says she’s coming with me,” I told Rick. “She says it’ll be fun to make new friends, especially with ghosts.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up in twenty. See you then.” He blew a kiss over the phone and the line went dead.
* * *
Eighteen minutes later, my phone pinged with a text from Rick, announcing he’d be there soon. I replied, Meet U in the garage, and took the elevator down there.
When the elevator door opened and I stepped out, he caught me in his arms.
“Hi, Rick. You’re here early,” I said, taking in his citrus-based fragrance with a hint of sandalwood. “Did you miss me?” I asked, half kidding.
“Hello, beautiful. Of course I missed you.” He planted a kiss at a corner of my lips. “Also, Nicole needs us ASAP. I’ll brief you about the case on the way. Let’s go.” He opened the Lamborghini SUV’s back door and held it for me. I used to ride shotgun in the passenger seat, but with my tummy bulging, the back seat became my regular spot.
“Sure.” I hopped inside and strapped on the seat belt.
“And here’s a copy of the letter from Mysterious Art Connoisseur.” Before starting the engine, he handed me a sheet of paper.
“Okay.”
“‘The legendary mask called Beast will be mine in the near future. No matter how tight the security may be, Beast will disappear into thin air before you know it. You won’t even get to see me.’ Signed Mysterious Art Connoisseur,” Jackie read aloud. “Hmm… weird and lame. I was expecting something more dramatic, but this thief is apparently lacking in creativity. This letter is so boring.”
“Right, the letter sounds outdated,” I agreed and turned to Rick. “So, does this Connoisseur always announce his or her intention beforehand?” I couldn’t recall that being the case in the latest robbery.
“No. That doesn’t seem to be the case. I spoke to Nicole over the phone, and according to her, it’s the first time for the target to receive an announcement for a theft. Or at least that’s what the police told her. NYPD seemed to regard this case as a possible prank and not a real threat. She said they sent a detective over to her home.”
“Just one detective, not two?” Jackie tilted her head in the back seat by my side. “Don’t they usually work as a duo?”
“They do,” I confirmed, passing our conversation to Rick, adding, “Perhaps that’s why they sent just one detective.”
“Exactly. Nicole mentioned the same thing,” he said. “So far, the thief has snuck into the targeted homes, leaving little trace of home invasion—much less of the theft—and then disappeared into thin air with whatever art piece he’d stolen. And the name ‘Mysterious Art Connoisseur’ itself is a moniker either the tabloids or the Internet started using. To my knowledge, this is the first time the thief has referred to himself by that name.”
“Why did the thief announce his latest plan?” I asked.
“Probably because all this exposure has gone to his or her head.” Jackie crossed her arms. “I’m sure this thief’s feeling like some kind of celebrity, and that must be the underlying reason for the announcement.”
“Hmm… maybe.” I nodded. “Rick, Jackie has a theory,” I informed him, sharing her thoughts.
“Uh-huh, a wannabe celebrity thief.” Rick tsked. “If that’s the case, things will be easy. Perhaps they’ll brag about the accomplishment and reveal their identity. That would be more exciting than staying a mystery.”
“That’s crazy, but criminals tend to be so.” I chuckled. “Still, isn’t it easier if the thief snuck into the targeted homes unannounced?”
“Maybe there’s some profound reasoning for it,” Rick suggested.
“Like what?” Jackie asked, looking at me expectantly.
As I considered Rick’s idea, I stared ahead at the long, straight road that ran along the river. Absently, I shared Jackie’s question. “Rick, Jackie wants to—watch out!” I shrieked, catching sight of a slim, young man wandering toward the speeding Lamborghini. Rick was looking at the road ahead, and he should’ve been able to dodge the pedestrian—or rather, the pedestrian should’ve dodged the speeding car—but that time, he took no action to avoid hitting him.
The same went for the guy, as he didn’t stop, just kept on ambling toward the car like a zombie. He looked weird. His face was expressionless, and his clothes were filthy and dripping with what looked like muddy water.
The car screeched as Rick slammed on the brakes. I shut my eyes tightly, bracing for the impact of running over a person. I knew people weren’t supposed to cross this particular road on foot or bike, and I assumed whoever appeared in front of the car might’ve been under the influence, which would result in no charges being filed, even if the person was killed. Still, that didn’t mean we would be just fine with vehicular manslaughter.
I held on to my baby bump, my heart racing and the pit of my stomach growing heavy. But the dreaded thump didn’t come.
“What was that?” Rick barked, slowly pulling to the side of the road. “In case you haven’t noticed, you totally freaked me out! There must be a good reason to shriek like that when I’m driving.”
“But you were about to run him over. A guy wandered in front of the car like a zombie! Look over there?” I pointed at the direction the guy was coming from, and… “Oh… where is he?”
The zombie-like guy was nowhere near the vehicle.
“He’s right there, behind the car.�
� Jackie craned her neck. “He’s a ghost. I’ll go talk to him. I’ll tell him never to wander off in front of a speeding vehicle. I’ve got to make my point that some people are capable of seeing ghosts like us, and giving the living people unnecessary scares isn’t in our best interest.”
I bobbed my head as she went through the vehicle and floated over to the ghost guy.
“Are you all right, Mandy?” Rick turned back and clasped my hand, looking into my eyes, obviously concerned. “Can you breathe normally? Does anywhere hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I sighed. “The zombie dude is a ghost. Jackie just went out to talk to him.” I shook my head. “Maybe I’m not so fine, because a part of me is wishing that I’d stayed home and spent the afternoon reading the latest Sophie Kinsella. Hey, you didn’t have to yell at me. After all, we didn’t end up crashing.”
“Hello? The same thing can be said—” He stopped midsentence and cleared his throat. “Sorry I yelled at you.” He squeezed my hand. I was tempted to point out that he was rarely sorry, but my lips quivered involuntarily, threatening to form a smile.
“Do you promise you won’t do that again to me or our daughter?”
His eyebrows knitted. Taking a deep breath and looking like he was trying his best to suppress a groan, he nodded. “I will. At least, I’ll try.”
“That’s nice to hear.” I smiled.
“Still, I can’t promise not to yell when our baby girl grows up and starts dating a total loser with an inflated ego,” he muttered under his breath.
“No worries, our daughter should have great taste in men,” I assured him, patting his cheek. “Just like her mommy. I’m married to you, remember? And I think I have a really good taste in men.”
“I’m glad you’re smiling now. I was worried you might go back home to your book.” He pecked my lips.
“Mmm… books can wait.” My smile grew wider.
“Can you believe that? The guy was so unresponsive! I tried talking to him but nooo, he was totally uncommunicative.” Jackie popped up by my side, prompting me to pull away from Rick.
“Jackie’s back,” I told him. “She says the zombie ghost was unresponsive and she couldn’t talk to him.”
“He might’ve died in total shock, like a traffic accident victim. Except he looked more wet rather than bloody, like he died from drowning. Anyway, one of my ghostly acquaintances told me that some people fall into zombie-like states—unable to communicate with others, but roaming the place close to where they died in what looks like a stupor.” She shook her head and looked back behind us. “How sad.”
“So sad,” I agreed with her, following her gaze. He wasn’t there anymore.
Rick glanced at the time on the dashboard. “We’ve gotta go.”
He gently pressed on the gas to get us moving again.
CHAPTER 2
We resumed the drive to Nicole Sparks’s home in the Upper East Side, but again our journey was interrupted. That time by NYPD squad cars.
“What are they doing?” Rick muttered as he caught a couple of police cruisers loitering on the roadside.
“That’s Detective Strout.” Jackie spotted the NYPD cop with whom we’d worked in the past when we were with the FBI. “Hi, Detective!” She waved at him, knowing full well he couldn’t see her.
As if he could feel the perky ghost’s greeting, the detective motioned Rick to pull over.
He approached us, flashing a wide grin. “Agent Rowling! I knew it was your car.”
“Detective,” Rick responded. “I’m not an agent anymore. Actually, we’re in a hurry—”
But he didn’t get to finish the sentence as the detective enthusiastically waved at me. “Hi, Mandy. We were just talking about you.”
Doing a little finger wave at him, I said, “Hopefully you weren’t talking ill of me.”
“We weren’t. A jogger found a dead body floating in the river. This dude’s got no ID. The body’s bloated like the Michelin Man, but according to the coroner, he’s young. The victim has a huge gash on the head, which is presumed to be the cause of death,” Detective Strout briefed us without our asking.
Rick and I exchanged glances. “Assuming from the fact that you’re here, it’s being classified as a murder, right?” Rick asked.
“Exactly.” Detective Strout nodded. “His clothes were stuffed with a ton of stones, probably to keep the body from floating up.”
“That must be him—the zombie dude,” Jackie concluded. “It’s not so far from the place where we bumped into him. He was a slim guy who didn’t look like a floater, but he was dripping wet. Poor dude’s spirit has turned into a wandering zombie. Oh my God, I can’t talk about him without breaking down and crying.” She dabbed at her completely dry eyes.
“Detective, I just c—”
Before I could finish, Rick butted in. “Detective, we’re in a real hurry. We’d love to stay here and help you with the investigation, but there’s an urgent matter that can’t wait.”
“Oh, sure. You can go.” The detective offered a small smile, but he looked reluctant to let us leave. “Mandy, in case you happen to bump into the spirit of a bloated dude with head trauma, I’d appreciate it if you asked him for his identity and the killer’s name. You’ve got my phone number, right?”
“I’ve got your number, and yes, I’ll call you if I meet someone matching your description,” I assured him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I might’ve met with the guy he was looking for but the ghost turned out to be terribly uncommunicative.
“Good luck with the investigation.” Tapping the steering wheel with the tips of his fingers, Rick slowly pulled away.
* * *
After driving along the river for a few more minutes, Rick took a turn onto a narrower pathway that was lined with huge mansions.
“Wow, this neighborhood looks really hard to sneak into,” I muttered as Jackie oohed and aahed over the extravagance of the district, looking at the tall walls that seemed to be wired with whatever security program the owners were using.
“It does, and it is,” Rick replied. “This neighborhood alone earns approximately 15 percent of our annual revenue.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s a lot for a small neighborhood like this.”
“Also, it’s a good neighborhood to raise a family,” he added.
“Oh, I can only imagine.” My eyes widened. “I’m sure a relatively humble home here runs oh-so-pricey.”
“I know a house here costs like the GDP of a small third-world country,” Jackie chimed in. “But look at the bright side—you guys will have a garden, and I can’t stop grinning when I picture you playing with your little girl. Speaking of your daughter, she’ll be just like a princess!”
“Rick, are you thinking about moving here?” I leaned toward the front seat.
“I don’t have anything planned, but I just thought the neighborhood might be good to raise kids.” He looked at the rearview mirror, studying my face. “You don’t like it here?”
“I don’t know….” I furrowed my eyebrows, picturing our current address—a spacious condo on Fifth Avenue. It was conveniently located, and I had friends and acquaintances in that building. “It’s just… we’ve just had the nursery completed, and I feel it’s sacrilege to move out of our current address. Oh, did I mention I love the nursery?”
“Sure you do.” He winked. “Especially considering you earned that decoration by Alexa.”
“Yes you did,” Jackie enthused. “Despite the risks of encountering a potential homewrecker, you did a really rocking job.”
“Hmm, I like the part about earning the nursery’s décor,” I said. “Why don’t we keep our address for a few more years? I want to brag about the nursery to our daughter, and how hard I worked to have the room refurbished by the hottest decorator in town. Besides that, our current address is closer to our workplace.”
“Good points.” He nodded. “Okay then, it looks like the current address will be a better option for a while. If w
e want a garden, we can always go to the Hamptons.”
“Look, spending time in the garden sounds lovely, but when you actually do that, it’s not so great. There are poisonous ants and spiders out there, and the risks of the child drowning can’t be ignored.”
“Ooh, Mandy, you’re already turning into one of those overprotective moms!” Jackie giggled.
“Come on, I’m just trying to be a responsible parent.” I waved my fingers at her.
“What did Jackie say?” Rick asked.
“She says I’m turning into an overprotective mom, though I think overprotective is a strong word.”
“Jackie is right. You’re an overprotective mom,” Rick said nonchalantly.
“Says a dad-to-be who can’t keep his cool at the prospect of his daughter dating a guy who doesn’t meet his standards.” I pointed at him.
“You know what? Kids need protection, and constant worrying is what’s listed at the top of a parent’s to-do list,” he harrumphed.
“By the way, Rick, how did the police figure out that this Mysterious Art Connoisseur is the same person? The thief hasn’t claimed responsibility for the previous heists and hasn’t left any trace of himself, right?” I said.
“Right.” He snapped his fingers. “Welcome to CSI: Upper East Side. They figured it out using forensic evidence, like the footprints in the gardens, the type of glass cutter used for the crimes, and the rubber gloves’ component.”
“Okay, so the thief is the same person,” Jackie commented.
“In case you’re wondering where the thief learned about Nicole’s ownership, she announced acquiring the mask called Beast to the media. The articles about her latest acquisition were featured in the Times, Post, and others. So basically anyone could access the info.” Rick shrugged.
“I see.” I nodded. “What’s the ghost at her home like? What did she say about her invisible housemate?”
“Like I said, she can’t see or hear the ghost, just claims to have one in residence. So far, nobody knows if it really exists or if it’s something she’s imagined.” He indicated to one of the tall fences that looked like it had popped out of Buckingham Palace. “You see that house with the lavish gate? That’s our destination.”