by Lotta Smith
“Of course, I’m worried about you.”
“Sweet.” Smiling, Rick lifted his bad leg and carefully placed it over a cushion. “I’ll have some iced tea. Unsweetened. You can find the bottles in the fridge behind the bar counter.”
After drinking iced tea and lying on the sofa, he pointed at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Look out the window. You can see the roof of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”
I scurried to the window, feeling a little like a kid on Christmas morning. “Wow, I didn’t know it was shaped like a cross!”
“Me either!” Jackie popped up out of nowhere. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“Jackie!” I gasped. “Um… hi.”
“Hi, Mandy. How are you?” She beamed.
“I’m good, thanks. What are you doing here?”
“Besides admiring the magnificent view? I just dropped by to see how Rick’s doing.”
“Is Jackie here?” Rick asked me from the sofa.
Before I turned back to answer, Jackie bounced around the place screaming, “Yeees!”
“She’s extremely excited,” I informed Rick, indicating the invisible ghost to him with my hand.
Chuckling, Rick waved at Jackie. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Me neither,” I muttered.
“I’m here,” Jackie sang. “You know, Rick, I was worried sick about you. So, how’s your leg?” she cooed, urging me to relay her words to him.
Before I gave in to her order, I whispered, “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, just now.” She winked. “I didn’t see or hear what happened in the long corridor.”
* * *
“Oh my goodness! Look at this, Martha!” Nana called for Mom. “I’ve never seen the roof of St. Patrick’s Cathedral!” Nana was standing at the floor-to-ceiling window in Rick’s living room.
“Isn’t it divine?” Mom sighed as she looked out the window, standing next to Nana.
“Perhaps declining the offer to live in Manhattan was the worst decision ever.” Alicia, my younger sister, moaned, shaking her head of dark blonde hair. “Then again, the ones Tony’s firm showed us were way smaller than this place, and the location wasn’t all that fabulous.”
As I watched them ooh and ah over the fabulous view from Rick’s condo, shooting selfies, Mom clapped her hands. “Oh boy, I almost forgot! Mandy, here’s your clean clothes, toiletries, and makeup.” She handed me a huge Boston bag.
“Thank you,” I said, wondering what had brought almost my entire family to this place.
“You’re very welcome! Isn’t it nice?” She was all smiles.
I called Mom to ask her the meatloaf recipe and to notify her I wouldn’t be home for a while. Being Mom, she asked me the reason for my absence, because that was what mothers were supposed to do. I confided in her about Rick’s injury, and the next thing I knew, the merry women of the Meyer clan appeared in a minivan—with homemade meatloaf, potato salad, and a coffee cake.
“Thanks for bringing everything, but you really didn’t need to come all this way.” You didn’t have to bring the entire family all this way was what I meant, but she didn’t take the hint.
“Oh no, don’t worry. It’s been a while since Nana and I visited Manhattan,” Mom said.
“Um… but what about Dad?”
“He’s a grown man. He’s happy to eat out.” She was practically humming.
“You know, Mandy, men love to eat out on their own. My Steve used every opportunity to sneak out, eating out with the boys,” Nana chimed in.
“I see,” I said.
“Tony’s out of town tonight, and when I went to Mom’s with the girls, they were bustling about, making dinner. So we decided to come along. I’m glad to be here. This is a must-visit place. Look at the view—so magical!” Alicia gave me a little finger wave. I waved back.
“Uncle Rick! Can we play horsey?” Minty, Alicia’s younger daughter, asked while running around the sofa he was resting on. Just like any other three-year-old, her tone of voice was earnest.
“No, Minty. Uncle Rick’s hurt, and he can’t play horsey. Auntie Mandy told us he’s super-ouchy, remember?” Emma informed Minty in her older-sister voice.
Since I had started working for the FBI, Rick made a habit of joining our family dinners on a regular basis. The girls immediately hit it off with him and surprised me by addressing him as Uncle Rick when they met him for only the second time, as if he was their relative or soon-to-be relative when I wasn’t even dating him. To my bigger surprise, Rick accepted his new title without even an argument.
“Sorry, ladies. A rain check.” Rick winked.
“It’s okay, Uncle Rick. I’m a little bit too old to play horsey anyways,” Emma said in her mature six-year-old way, prompting Rick to chuckle. Emma turned to her little sister. “Minty, why don’t you hand over the balloons to Uncle Rick?”
“I know.” Minty tottered toward Rick. “Uncle Rick, get well soon!”
“Thanks. I will.” Rick was all smiles and accepted the colorful balloons with Get Well Soon! messages.
“So, Uncle Rick, what really happened when you got hurt?” Emma asked, leaning on the sofa.
“You have to tell us all the juicy details,” Minty chimed in, prompting my jaw to drop. When the sisters talked like that, they looked just like mini-Alicias.
“Oh, nothing special,” Rick said casually. “A tall bookcase fell on my leg, giving me a tiny crack in the bone and a monster bruise.”
“Ouch! That’s terrible!” Emma flinched, and Minty furrowed her little eyebrows. “Ooh, you poor thing. Let me kiss it and make it better.”
The girls did the universal gesture of air-kissing the pain away and hugged him.
“Thank you! I already feel better.” Rick hugged them back.
Obviously, he was enjoying all this attention. I was compelled to roll my eyes and snicker, but before I had a chance, Nana asked me. “Why did the bookcase collapse so easily? Was it defective?”
“Well, the bookcase itself was normal, but….” I searched for appropriate words.
“Oh my goodness! Not another ghost!” Mom gasped.
Alicia perked up. “Seriously, Mandy? Can ghosts really do that? Wow, it’s totally like Paranormal Activity. So the ghost threw the bookcase on Rick?”
“No. Actually….” I told them about the sequence of events that happened at Ellie Hochman’s apartment.
“Omigod! So basically, Rick was injured while rescuing you?” Mom and Alicia said in unison. They exchanged glances with some code I couldn’t fathom.
“Thank you, Rick! You’re my hero!” Nana blew a kiss at him, who caught it in the air.
“Glad I could help,” he responded with a courteous smile, like a gentleman who would never brag about having seven torture rooms, which—to my relief—he didn’t have.
“What a shame. If only we could sue dead people,” Alicia muttered like a lawyer’s wife.
“I wish,” I agreed. “Sometimes dead people go totally out of control.”
“Oh, speaking of suing.” Alicia lowered her voice. “Do you remember that nasty bitch Missey Stevenson?”
“Ow!” I grimaced. “I had totally forgotten about her. Oh my ears!” Missey Stevenson was a typical mean girl who pestered us to no end back in school. She was in the same year as me, but she bullied Alicia in the cheerleader circle, prompting my little sister to quit. We wished she’d lose all her platinum blonde hair and rot in Hell, but she was chosen as the prom queen.
Shushing me, she said, “Okay, Mandy, calm down and listen quietly. Guess what? Missey the bitch was sued for having an affair with a married man.”
“Aha! So typical of her,” I whispered back, snickering. “Getting sued will give her a life lesson, I guess.”
“Still, I can’t help thinking that things would have been way better if the cheated wife took some wilder measures to deal with Missey, such as stabbing her, or hammering her in the mouth. It would have been better if she lost her teeth.
”
While we sisters went on and on about the bitchy Missey in sotto voce, Emma took my hand and led me toward Rick. “Auntie Mandy, you really have to be nice to Uncle Rick. He saved you!”
I had no choice but to nod. “Yes, I will,” I promised, prompting Rick to grin like a cat licking cream.
Somehow, I felt trapped by Uncle Rick and my nieces.
CHAPTER 8
The dinner was nice and yummy, but when my family left, the condo on Fifth Avenue felt even more spacious.
I was standing in front of the floor-to-ceilings windows in Rick’s living room, looking at the roof of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, and the Manhattan night view.
“You’re quiet,” Rick commented, resting on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m taking in the magical view from here while recovering from the exhaustion provided by the Meyers women,” I said.
“It was fun having them over.”
“Really? I’m so glad they didn’t bother you.” I turned back to face him. Before leaving, Alicia insistently offered to stay the night. I had to remind her that she was married with kids.
“Bother me? No way. You have a great family. Besides, it’s been a while since I received balloons as a gift.” He fondly poked at the floating balloons tied to one of the coffee table legs.
I caught the clock from the corner of my eye. It was time to ice his leg.
“Sometimes, the girls scare me because they’re so much like my sister,” I admitted, ambling toward the hidden fridge behind the bar counter. “Did you see the way Emma batted her eyelashes?”
“Oh yes. I have a hunch about the girls eavesdropping on every bit of their mom’s juicy gossip.”
“Speaking of gossip, Alicia told me that our childhood enemy was sued for getting caught in the act of sleeping with a married man,” I said, coming back with an ice bag.
“The wife must be smart, hitting the lawyer instead of going into catfight mode, like meow!”
“Right,” I agreed, bringing the ice bag and putting it on his swollen ankle. I pulled an ottoman from the other side of the coffee table and sat down by him. “You know what, Ellie Hochman was lying. She was desperate to convince me that the killer was Adrian Micelli, but when I pointed out the holes in her story, she became upset. And just before throwing a temper tantrum, she seemed to have remembered what really happened. Still, some things didn’t add up.”
“Like what?”
“She was furious at me—not for what happened to her, but because of what I made her remember.”
“Such as her killer?” He shifted abruptly and winced.
“Are you okay? Rick, you really need to take it easy.” I stood, took his hands to help him recline, and felt a jolt of electricity running through my body like I was electrocuted.
“I’m good. Thanks.” Rick’s green eyes darkened.
“By the way, is that trip refundable or exchangeable?” In an attempt to cover the burning heat in my face, I asked the question that had been bugging me.
“It’s nonrefundable but exchangeable. I’m planning to give it to my old man. He’ll use the travel as a prize for outstanding performance for the employee of the quarter or something.”
“I’m really sorry about ruining your vacation.”
“Don’t be. The trip was yours, too. Don’t take it so bad. I’ll be fine in a few months. After all, you’re staying here with me, which is even better than a ski trip.” He pulled me close to him, and I didn’t resist. Our lips were about to meet, but then the doorbell rang.
* * *
“What do you want?” Rick demanded as Daniel Rowling, the current CEO of USCAB and his dad, sat on the sofa on the opposite side from us, along with Jamie, his girlfriend du jour.
“What a warm welcome from my son! I’m touched.” Daniel snorted.
He looked just like an older version of Rick—tall and muscular, with the same hair and eye color. They even shared the cynical, lopsided grin with a corner of their mouth lifted. Some gray strands in Daniel’s hairline and laugh lines indicated the extra age he had over his son. I had seen him in the media as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. In person, he was very good-looking. I could understand how he got to keep five girlfriends, from Miss Monday to Miss Friday, shifting them every weekday. Jamie was Miss Tuesday.
When I answered the door, he’d immediately greeted me with a firm handshake and a warm hug. Considering he said, “You must be Mandy! I’ve heard so much about you!” that was remarkable. Thanks to my unfortunate reputation as the Grim Reaper, people avoided touching me, and Rick was one of very few people who had no hesitation to lay his fingers on me.
“Here’s the case file about the heist at Leonardo’s.” Daniel slid a plastic binder across the table toward his son. “Some information might be missing because the security company wasn’t a part of USCAB at the time of the incident, but most of the employees are working with us now, so you can always obtain information from them.” According to him, the security company hired by Leonardo’s had deteriorated following the heist and was obtained by USCAB via mergers and acquisitions.
“You could have just couriered it or e-mailed,” Rick griped but muttered thanks anyway.
“Come on, I have to check on my only son once in a while, especially after receiving a call from Meredith telling me about your injury. So, how’s your leg?”
“It’s just a hairline fracture in the fibula, no major soft tissue damage,” Rick said, pointing at his ankle propped up on the ottoman while scanning the case file.
“Good thing you didn’t end up with torn ligaments or tendons. Lucky you. Bones tend to heal much faster than a soft tissue injury,” Daniel commented.
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Rick shrugged. “Wow, Matthew Ross was the owner of the sculpture.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that. He absolutely hated that his sculpture was stolen.” Daniel let out a hearty laugh. “Back then, he was in the middle of a nasty divorce with his ex-wife Scarpetta. They were fighting over the ownership of the sculpture, but with the art piece gone, that idiot ended up paying extra for her psychological damage over the loss of the object.”
“That’s interesting,” Rick muttered.
“Would you like something to drink?” I said, noticing that I hadn’t offered them anything yet.
“Can I have some iced tea, please?” Jamie said.
“Sure. What would you like to drink, Mr. Rowling?”
As I turned to Daniel, he said, “I’ll have the same thing. By the way, Mandy, please ditch the Mr. and call me Dan, okay? When I’m called by the surname, I feel old.”
“Because you are,” Rick chimed in.
“Hey, watch your mouth, smartass. Don’t forget I’m still fit while you can’t even stand on your own feet,” Daniel retorted. “Still, if you ask politely, I’m open to kissing your boo-boo to make it well.”
“Stop that already!” Rick snapped. Jamie and I snorted while Dan grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
“Like father, like son,” Jamie commented while I kept on laughing.
Rick clicked his tongue. “Mandy, you don’t need to serve a drink to the old man over there, but I’ll have water with a lemon slice.”
“All right.” I stood up, still smiling. Watching someone else drive him crazy was a nice change.
Dan snapped his fingers. “By the way, where exactly were you supposed to go on vacation?”
“Zermatt, Switzerland.” Rick shrugged, grudgingly glancing at his heavily bandaged leg.
“Oh, the Matterhorn skiing resort. I see. So I’ll ditch the skiing plan, replacing it with a visit to Tourbillon Castle, a stroll by Lake Lucerne, and museum visits and shopping in Zurich. A perfect prize for the employee with outstanding performance, isn’t it?” As Rick snarled, his father went on. “Avoiding the skiing destination is a smart decision. When we canceled a ski trip in Austria when you were five because of your ear infection, they had a monster avalanche
topped with a tramway fire with hundreds of casualties, including thirty-six deaths.”
Jamie came with me to the bar area, volunteering to help.
“Hey.” She poked me with her elbow. “I didn’t know you guys are cohabiting.”
“No!” I gasped and then lowered my voice. “It’s partly my fault that Rick was hurt, and….”
“It’s okay.” She patted me gently on my cheek. “You know, you’re cute when you blush.”
“Um, well… thanks?” I said.
“By the way, is it true that you saw the ghost of Jackson Frederick Orchard? The Broadway actor who was stabbed at Pier 26 on the night of Parade Dance?” she asked me abruptly.
“Yes.” I nodded while reaching for a bottled tea in the refrigerator. “Actually, I see Jackie constantly.”
“Excuse me?” It was her turn to gasp.
“I know my story is hard to believe,” I said lightly. “By the way, I didn’t know you knew her. Were the two of you friends? You know, I was looking for her friends and….”
As I was about to tell her about the birthday party I was going to arrange for Jackie, Jamie furrowed her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Actually, I didn’t know the victim personally when he—or should I say she instead?—was alive.”
“Jackie likes to be referred to as she. So, how are you acquainted with her?”
“I only came to know her as a murder victim,” Jamie said matter-of-factly. “I used to be an NYPD detective.”
My jaw dropped. I had only known her as the beautiful owner of a high-end sports bar near the Yankee Stadium, and I had a hard time picturing her as a detective.
“I took over the family business before I had a chance to catch the killer. I still hate it that the case has gone cold, still unsolved.”
CHAPTER 9
The next day at 10:30 a.m., I was sitting at a posh café on Madison. Jackie had a mission to snoop in a certain luxurious apartment in a historical building.
Sipping iced coffee at the corner seat and waiting for Jackie, I replayed my conversation with Jamie the previous night over and over.