Snow Cold Case_A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery

by M. Z. Andrews

  Johanna felt herself nod. “Yes. Johanna Hughes to see Mr. Connelly at one thirty.”

  The man tapped the eraser of his pencil against a computer screen. “Hughes? Yes, I’ve got you on Mr. Connelly’s schedule. You can have a seat and his assistant will be out to get you shortly.”

  Less than five minutes later, a thirty-something-year-old blonde woman in a pinstriped grey pantsuit stood in front of Johanna and Whitley. She extended a hand to Johanna. “Hi, I’m Darcy Carr. I’m Mr. Connelly’s assistant. Right this way.”

  With a clipboard tucked under her arm, Darcy led them through a maze of offices and cubicles.

  “Wow, fancy schmancy,” whispered Whitley, trailing Johanna by a few steps.

  “Shh,” Johanna hissed at her.

  Darcy looked over her shoulder, giving Johanna a curious glance. Johanna grinned innocently, but when Darcy turned back around, she scowled at Whitley, her expression clearly reading, “Quit talking to me!”

  It wasn’t like the fancy office had gone unnoticed by Johanna. In fact, the fancier the office got, the more Johanna felt the sudden urge to use the ladies’ room. This man is going to think I’m crazy! What am I doing? she wondered.

  Darcy stopped in front of a glass-enclosed office towards the back of the building and swung the door wide, letting Johanna and Whitley go inside first. Inside, the sparsely decorated office had a wraparound desk with a high-backed leather chair behind it, facing the office’s oversized windows, which overlooked Manhattan. There was a conference table and chairs off to the right, and to the left, a little minibar with decanters of alcohol and glass tumblers on it and a mini fridge below it.

  “Mr. Connelly, Johanna Hughes is here to see you.”

  “Thank you, Darcy,” said a man’s voice from the chair.

  Darcy gave a curt nod and exited the room, pulling the glass door shut behind her. Slowly, the chair turned. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hughes.”

  “Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. Connelly,” she whispered, unable to look up at him. She squeezed her hands together and focused on the pain she felt in her fingers instead of the desire to throw up.

  “How may I be of assistance?” Johanna’s eyes slowly lifted towards him, and as soon as she saw the soft blond curls on top of his head, her mouth gaped. It was him! Mitchell Connelly was none other than him!

  The man sitting at the desk in front of her was none other than the man she’d passed by in the park for the last five years. It was the very same man that Rocky had bowled over the week before and the man Johanna had dropped a knee on and nearly given a concussion to!

  As she stared at him in stunned silence, the blood drained from her face and her mind went blank.

  14

  “Hanna,” hissed Whitley. “Say something.”

  But Johanna couldn’t speak. The beautiful man she’d made up stories about in her head for the last five years was now sitting in front of her. Staring at her. She knew his name now. She knew where he worked. And now she knew that he was the one who had lost his fiancée! The thought came to her fast and hard, knocking the air out of her lungs as if she’d just been plowed into by a Mack truck. Johanna struggled to suck air into her lungs. Her throat made a wheezing noise.

  “Ms. Hughes? Are you alright?” the man asked, rising to his feet and rushing around the desk.

  “Hanna! What’s wrong?” asked Whitley, bending over with Johanna to look into her face.

  But what could Johanna say? She couldn’t very well say out loud what was going on! Not in front of him! She had to get it together fast.

  “Mr. Connelly,” she gasped, grabbing hold of his forearm.

  “Yes! Ms. Hughes, are you alright? Do you need me to call 911?”

  Johanna shook her head wildly. “Asthma attack.” The lie squeaked out almost inaudibly. “Took the stairs.”

  Whitley looked at Johanna as if she were bonkers.

  Mitch nodded and rushed to the bar. He leaned over to grab a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, opened it, and handed it to Johanna. “Here, take a drink.”

  Johanna nodded and took a swig, fighting like mad to get her heart rate to slow so she could breathe normally. She had had anxiety attacks before, but none this embarrassing. When she’d drained half of the bottle, she looked up at him, her eyes were watery and her face ashen.

  Concern colored his blue-grey eyes. But she could clearly see that he had absolutely no recollection of who she was. It was as if that night in the park hadn’t actually happened. Maybe it had all been a figment of Johanna’s imagination.

  “Are you alright now?”

  Johanna’s breathing began to regulate itself. Even though her insides still felt like a mess of jiggly Jell-O, outwardly, she looked better. “I’m okay.” She nodded, trying to convince herself.

  “How about you sit down?” He pulled out a chair in front of his desk for her.

  She gave him a tight smile and sat down. “Thank you.”

  Whitley sat down in the chair next to her, though Mitch couldn’t see her. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  Johanna ignored her as Mitch walked around the desk and sat across from her. “So, Ms. Hughes, my assistant didn’t tell me what you wanted to see me about. What exactly can I help you with?”

  Johanna’s mouth went dry. She took another drink from her water bottle, draining it completely. It made a loud crinkling noise as she sucked the air from it. “Umm, do you have a trash can?” she asked uncomfortably.

  He smiled at her with a look that clearly read he was doing his best to remain patient with her and held out his hand, taking the bottle from her. He tossed it into the garbage can without a word.

  “You’re going to have to speak, Hanna,” prodded Whitley. “Tell him you’re here to talk about his late fiancée.”

  Johanna opened her mouth. In all fairness, Whitley’s words were what she’d planned to have come out of her mouth, but in the end, it didn’t happen. “I was wondering if those stains came out of your suit,” she said instead.

  “My suit?” His light-colored eyes narrowed as he processed her statement.

  Whitley’s head waggled around on her neck. “What in the world are you talking about, Hanna? You sound like a crazy person.”

  Johanna gestured towards her own body. “You know. Your suit,” she said again.

  He shook his head, still not recognizing her.

  “Umm, the mud. My dog?” she asked, squinching her eyes. “I—I had the hat. With the ears…” She pointed at her head and wondered why she couldn’t just wear trendy hats to walk her dog like other nice women did.

  “Your d—” Suddenly his eyes widened as he stared at her. “Oh! Your dog! Are you the lady from the park?” he asked incredulously.

  Johanna’s mouth gaped open. The lady from the park? Is that how he thinks of me? I’m the park lady. That makes me sound like the homeless woman from Home Alone. The one who has all the birds covering her and scares the bejeezus out of Kevin. “Umm, yeah, that’s me,” said Johanna, lifting her brows and nodding her head uncomfortably.

  His gaze narrowed. “How’d you find me?”

  Awkward, now he thinks you’re like a park lady stalker or something. Her eyes swung downward, taking in the little etched glass desk plate with his name on it and the little glass business card holder next to it. “Oh, you dropped a business card,” she fibbed, crossing her fingers under the desk.

  “I did? Huh, I didn’t even realize I had any business cards on me.”

  “Well, you must have. Because I found it. Your business card alright. Led me right to you!” she rambled. Not sure what to do with her hands, she finally crossed her arms and tucked them beneath her armpits.

  “You are acting so weird,” whispered Whitley, palming her forehead. “This guy’s going to think you’re a lunatic. You need to get it together, Hanna.”

  Johanna scratched the base of her scalp with one hand. “Right, so, umm, yeah. I just came by to see if the stains came out. Be
cause otherwise, you know, I should probably buy you a new suit.”

  His blond brows pinched together. “Oh, like I said in the park, there’s no need. I already had the suit dropped off at the cleaners, but I haven’t gotten it back yet. I’m sure it’s just fine.”

  “And your head? It’s alright?” She touched the back of her own head.

  “Oh, yes. Head, stomach. Both just fine.”

  Johanna nodded. “Right.”

  They stared at each other for several long seconds. Johanna didn’t know what else to say or do.

  Whitley’s head bounced back and forth between Johanna and Mitch. “I have no idea what is going on, but this is so incredibly awkward. We’re lucky Essy isn’t here to see this right now.”

  Finally, Mitch put his palms on his desk and leaned forward as if he were preparing to stand up and see her out. “Was there something else, Ms. Hughes?”

  Johanna let out a puff of air. “Oh, Mr. Connelly, it’s Johanna. You don’t have to call me Ms. Hughes,” she said, extending a hand out across the desk.

  “Right,” he said, reaching his hand out to shake hers. “Well, then, Mitch is sufficient.”

  She gave his hand a little shake but held on a second too long. She liked the feeling of his firm handshake. He had muscular hands, not the hands of a businessman, what one would think those felt like anyway. She held on to him long enough that he had to tug his hand away from hers. In the process of her hand pulling back, the fitness band on her wrist bumped against a picture frame on his desk, which in turn toppled the cup of coffee next to it, sending a run of hot liquid across his desk planner.

  “Hanna!” shouted Whitley, standing up to try and stop the cup.

  “Oh no,” breathed Johanna.

  Mitch shouted, “Oh!” as he hastily stood up to keep the liquid from rolling off the desk and onto his pants, but it was too late. What wasn’t absorbed by the desk planner wound up on his black trousers, and the other half ended up on his white button-down shirt.

  Johanna’s hand went to cover her gaping mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered as he reached onto the desk to grab his important papers from getting soaked.

  “Paper towels, Hanna, paper towels!” Whitley pointed at the little table with the decanters. A stack of neatly folded paper towels was in a little basket.

  “Right,” shouted Johanna, rushing towards the towels. She grabbed a stack of the thick white cloths and rushed around the desk, where she began to blot at Mitch’s shirt and trousers.

  As she leaned over him, blotting his pants intently, Mitch stared down at her. “Umm, Johanna, I think I got this,” he said with a wry grin and raised eyebrows. “Thanks, though.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized that she’d been rubbing in close proximity to his crotch. She handed him the paper towels, pulled her hands back, and stood up. “Oh, yeah, right.” She wanted to crawl into a hole and die at that precise moment.

  “You’re really bad at this, aren’t you,” whispered Whitley. “It’s like a car crash, I can’t pull my eyes away from.”

  “I’m sooo sorry,” gushed Johanna. “I can’t believe I did it again!”

  Mitch chuckled. “You definitely seem to have the clumsy thing down, don’t you?”

  “Yeees,” she drawled, grabbing another stack of towels so she could blot at his desk planner.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s shot. We’ll just toss it,” he said, lifting the mat off his desk. “Looks like it’s done its job and soaked up most of the mess already.”

  Only a small bit of coffee remained around the outside edges of where the mat had been and on the silver picture frame. Johanna set up the now empty coffee cup and did her best to mop up the rest of the desk. “This isn’t going very well,” she admitted. “I’d wanted to make things right from the other day.”

  He nodded as he rolled up the desk mat and stuck it in the garbage can under his desk. “I can see that. I think maybe we should just call this all a wash. Is that alright with you?”

  Johanna covered her forehead with her hand. Just by the feel of that small patch of skin, she knew her face was burning bright red. “Yeah,” she whispered. She finished drying the picture frame, and as she went to set it down, she realized she recognized the woman in the picture. It was Felicia Marshall! Mitch’s late fiancée.

  “She’s beautiful,” whispered Johanna, straightening the frame.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his tone light. “Very.”

  “Your wife?” Johanna’s heart hurt for even asking the question, but she knew she had to. She had to start somewhere.

  “She was my fiancée.”

  “Was? You broke up?”

  Mitch swallowed hard as he continued to wipe at his shirt. “She passed away about six years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Johanna whispered. “I know the pain of losing a fiancé. I lost mine several years ago too.”

  He stopped wiping his shirt and looked up at her with interest. His head cocked sideways. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Yes. In a car accident.” She swished her lips to the side and fought back tears.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a tight smile. “How did your fiancée die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  He exhaled slowly and then sat down on his desk chair. “The police say it was a mugging.”

  “You say that like you don’t believe it.”

  He shrugged. “I mean, I have to believe it if I want to get any sleep at night, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Johanna whispered. She pointed at the picture as if a thought had suddenly come to her. “I feel like I’ve seen this picture before. What did she do for a living?”

  “She was a realtor. I’m sure you probably saw her picture on a billboard or something. They were everywhere then,” he said. Johanna could hear the proudness in his voice.

  “Was she showing a house the day that she was mugged?”

  Mitch’s eyes darkened. “No. She was on her way to our wedding rehearsal. We’re not really sure why she was on that side of town, but I’m sure she was doing something wedding-related that I just wasn’t aware of.”

  “She was killed the day of your wedding rehearsal?” Johanna feigned shock, though it wasn’t a far cry from how she actually felt. “That’s terrible!”

  He nodded. “It was pretty horrible.”

  “It’s taken me a really long time to get over my James,” Johanna admitted weakly. “I’m sure you’ve had the same problem.”

  He nodded. “I’m thankful for my career. It keeps me moving.”

  Johanna smiled a genuine smile then. Didn’t she know it! “Me too. I’m a writer. A mystery writer, actually. My life is my career and, well, Rocky. You met him.”

  For the first time, the smile Mitch gave her actually seemed to reach his eyes. “I did meet Rocky. Friendly fellow.”

  “Yeah.” Her grin widened. “Very friendly.”

  “I’ve seen him before, you know. On the trail through the park.”

  Johanna rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “Oh, have you? I don’t know that I’d ever seen you before.” You’re going straight to hell with all these lies, she told herself.

  “I walk that way every night.”

  “Huh. Isn’t that funny. I walk that way every night too.”

  Mitch lifted one brow. “He’s a hard chap to miss.”

  Johanna giggled. “It’s a good thing my building allows pets. I’d definitely have a hard time hiding him from the landlord.”

  “Right,” said Mitch with a soft smile.

  “Right,” agreed Johanna.

  “Right,” said Whitley. “So, are you going to ask him about Felicia’s death or was this all just one big waste of time?”

  Johanna turned her head and stared blankly at Whitley. What was she supposed to say to turn the conversation back around to Felicia that wouldn’t be awkward? With her mouth hanging open, she looked at Mitch again. He had kind eyes. Their outside
edges were webbed with smile lines, and he had a two-inch scar lining his left cheekbone. He looked rugged and manly and insanely sexy. The minute she noticed his handsomeness again, she once again became uncomfortable in her own skin and felt the urge to get out of there before she punched him in the nose or accidentally threw one of those decanters at him and took out his eye or something. “Right. Well, I should probably go.” She stood up.

  “Go!” cried Whitley, springing up too. “You haven’t even asked him anything important about the case!”

  “Yes, I’m sure I should get back to work.” He said it without taking his eyes off Johanna, and without conviction.

  Johanna walked towards his door as Whitley stared at her, mouth agape. Mitch rushed to get up and walk her out. As she thought of one more thing she wanted to say, she abruptly stopped and began to turn, but as she did, he crashed into her side.

  “Oof,” he breathed.

  “Oh God. I did it again,” she said sorrowfully, raising a hand to her temple. “I’m so sorry.”

  He grinned. “That one was my fault. I didn’t leave a wide enough space cushion.”

  “I really shouldn’t be let out in public,” she admitted quietly. “I’m a hazard to society.”

  “I don’t know. I think society might miss seeing that nice smile of yours.”

  Nice smile of mine? Her heart melted a bit then. “Oh. Thank you,” she smiled awkwardly. “Okay, well, I appreciate you speaking to me today, Mr. Connelly.”

  “Mitch,” he reminded her, holding out his hand to shake hers one last time.

  “Mitch,” she agreed, taking his hand.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Johanna. It was very kind of you to check up on me.”

  “Maybe we’ll bump into each at the park again someday.”

  He leaned on the door as he let her and Whitley out. “I’ll make sure to keep my feet firmly planted when we do.”

  15

  “Well, that wasn’t completely awkward or anything, was it?” asked Whitley, out of breath as she tried to keep up with Johanna’s power walk down the busy street.