by Lotta Smith
“Rest assured, when Mandy and Rick are on the case, they usually get the bad guy.” Jackie patted him on the shining part of his head.
“Will you stop touching my balding scalp?” Woody snapped. “This part of my head is untouchable!”
“Oops, I’m so sorry.” Jackie chuckled, clearly not feeling sorry at all. “But I’ve heard someone say giving the scalp some stimulation helps hair grow.”
“Are you sure?” Woody knitted his eyebrows.
“What are the ghosts chatting about?” Rick asked me.
“They’re discussing the pros and cons of stimulating a balding scalp,” I replied. “By the way, how did you know that Jackie and Woody are having a conversation? Did you suddenly develop a skill to catch dead people chatting?”
“No way, and I’m glad I can’t hear them. This Woody guy sounds seriously annoying.” He shook his head, chuckling. “It’s just your eyes were moving back and forth, so I assumed you were listening to their conversation. Hey, Woody!”
“What?” Woody responded. For some reason I didn’t quite fathom, he wasn’t burping anymore. I made a mental note not to remind him about that for fear of his gross habit re-erupting. “Hey, did I mention I’ve got a major suspect? His name is Keith Schuyler, the director of MAAHA. He hated my guts, and he was at the party, which means he had both motive and means.”
“He’s here, and he heard you,” I said, indicating the ghost with the palm of my hand. Then I whispered, “He says this guy Keith Schuyler must be the killer.” Then I went on relaying Woody’s words about Mr. Schuyler.
“Seriously? But from your track record, I can’t believe you’ve got just one guy wanting to kill you. Why don’t you give us the full list of suspects now?” Rick squinted, as if he was trying to find the shape of the ghost.
“Okay, let me see.” Woody started counting with his fingers. “There’s Doug Carino, my business partner. I was foolish enough to settle with a contract with ‘the survivor takes it all’ option. At that time, I’d never imagined that I’d be the first to drop dead. Oh crap… I shouldn’t have signed such a stupid contract! Doug was the one with the heart issues and so on.”
“His business partner, Doug Carino, gets Woody’s half of the business,” I informed Rick, abbreviating the ghost’s rant.
“Okay. Who else?” Rick said.
“There was a group of people protesting against our beautiful condo complex in Long Island, some sort of psycho fish huggers who claim that sea creatures have bigger rights than we humans. They called me all kinds of names, including dirtbag, douchebag, and sea-life killer, and attempted to take every measure to destroy our project.” Woody shrugged. “Except we won the lawsuit and the condo complex was built. Indeed, it turned out to be our first big hit in New York.”
“Got it.” Rick nodded as I relayed Woody’s words.
“Oh, environmental activists?” Madame Roloff grimaced. “They’re our worst enemies.”
“You’re so right, lady.” Woody nodded enthusiastically.
Rick asked, “Did you see any members from that group at the party?”
“I don’t think so.” Woody crossed his arms while floating in the air. “I would have noticed if any of them were there. Those losers can’t behave like people from a civilized nation. One of the guys, that barbarian who was claiming to be the leader of the group—what was his name? Ethan Johnson, I guess?—once yelled at me that he wished I’d suffer a long, miserable death. He also said I deserve to writhe in agony after making the local fish’s lives total hell. I’m sure they didn’t talk to the fish. Hey, Mandy, tell your husband every part of my words full of wisdom.”
“I think this guy’s got grandiose delusions,” Jackie whispered into my ear, almost making me snort.
“Hey, I heard that!” Woody scolded at her.
“Are you married, Woody?” Madame Roloff asked into the midair as I relayed Woody’s words.
“Yes, I’m a married man.” He flashed his left hand with a ring tan. “Whoops, where’s my beautiful gold ring with the huge diamond? Oh crap, I guess someone stole it while I was dropping dead.”
“Or you didn’t lose the ring in the first place,” Jackie interjected. “One of the professors said that newly dead people tend to mistake misplaced objects as stolen, something to do with the feeling of being victimized.”
Woody rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I might have just misplaced my ring while I was dying. Then again, I’d be surprised if Natalia happens to be the one who had put the poison in my fruitcake. She spends most of her time in the Riviera, especially during winter.”
“Fine.” Rick crossed his arms. “Anyone else who could have killed you?”
“Not that I can think of.” Woody shook his head.
As I relayed his words, Madame Roloff nodded contentedly. “All right then, let’s start with Keith Schuyler. His office is close to here, and I’ve known him for a long time.”
CHAPTER 5
“Hell, I need a drink,” Rick muttered as he followed Madame Roloff’s shiny orange McLaren.
“Me too,” Woody chimed in.
“Come on, it’s just ten o’clock in the morning.” Jackie tsked.
“We should be able to catch the killer pretty soon,” I said to Rick. “After all, it’s all about deciphering who had the opportunity to poison Woody’s fruitcake. It wouldn’t be that difficult.”
“That’s not the point.” Rick furrowed his eyebrows and eyed the McLaren. “It’s her. I’m not comfortable having a civilian with no background in law enforcement leading the investigation like a loose cannon.”
“Oh, really?” I looked at him, amused. “Hernandez used to hate it so much when you employed violent tactics like a loose cannon,” I pointed out, referencing the head of the FBI’s New York City field office, who used to be our boss.
“Hello? For your information, I’m a fully trained FBI agent.”
“You were. Remember, you’re the COO of USCAB now, not an FBI agent.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “As a private company, we’ve got to work hard to obtain our clients’ satisfaction, right?”
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “Then again, who could have guessed that any client would want to work a case as the lead investigator?”
“I know. My guess is Madame Roloff is likely to lose interest in this sleuthing thing sooner or later,” I assured him.
“Are you sure?” He tilted his head to the side.
“I am.” I nodded. “Besides, this case won’t be such a dangerous one. All we’ll be doing is asking questions with the help of the victim.”
He looked ahead in silence for a while, as if deep in thought, but when he was stopped by the traffic light, he suddenly pulled me close to him, kissing me on the lips.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I gasped.
“Just trying to cope with the stress,” he said, kissing my forehead that time. “Okay, now I feel way better. Thanks for being with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, feeling really hot in the cheeks. “By the way, we’re not alone here in the car, remember?”
“That’s okay,” Jackie said. “We’re being good kids and won’t interrupt you.”
“Yeah, right,” Woody agreed. “Hey, if you please, you can have car sex. I always get turned on whenever the actors do it in the car. Indeed, if I got to see it live, it would be a dream come true.”
“Forget it. We won’t be doing that!” I snapped.
“Doing what?” Rick asked.
“X-rated activities in the car while Woody watches us.”
“You mean, car sex?”
“Too much information! Hey, it’s a green light. Let’s go.” I rolled my eyes.
Five minutes later, we were at a brownstone building on the same street where Charmed and Sprinkled stood. It was the place that hosted Manhattan Avenue Arts and Heritage Association’s headquarters, and according to Woody and Madame Roloff, our person of interest, Keith Schuyler, was the head of the association.
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Madame Roloff and Woody agreed upon one thing: Keith Schuyler being a total shmuck.
The moment Madame Roloff knocked, the voice of an elderly guy boomed, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t you, Katie Dawson!” Inside the chief director’s office filled with antique furniture and art pieces from the late nineteenth to the early twentieth centuries, a seventy-something guy with a head of white hair sitting at the huge mahogany desk raised a hand. “Long time no see! How have you been? Hey, I haven’t seen you in, say, ages.”
I noticed he spoke as if he’d never heard about the iconic Madame Roloff’s caricaturized faces pasted on every high-end condo throughout the world. I also noticed he didn’t bother to stand up to greet guests.
“Hello, Keith,” Madame Roloff said in a cool tone. “I know you’re an aficionado with old, aged products, but I didn’t know you don’t even bother with browsing the web.”
“Katie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Schuyler shrugged, creasing his forehead. When he did that, he looked like a little monkey.
“Oh, nothing. I just thought it was a fresh change to be called by my old name, since most people in the world prefer to address me as Madame Roloff.” She snorted. “By the way, meet my friends Mr. and Mrs. Rowling.”
“How do you do?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Rick and I offered a social smile, only to be met with Mr. Schuyler’s curt nod and a suspicious stare. Though he did go so far as to mutter, “Hello.”
“So, Mr. Schuyler, I heard you attended the afternoon tea party where Woody Napoleon died,” Rick jumped in before Madame Roloff started interrogating him.
“Mr. Napoleon?” Mr. Schuyler cocked his head as if to recall an old memory. “Oh, I remember that. He literally dropped dead in the middle of the party, absolutely ruining the occasion. Still, I wasn’t surprised about him doing that. Basically, he was a total slimeball.”
“Hey, what did you just say?” Woody demanded.
“What do you mean by the term ‘slimeball’?” I interjected.
Mr. Schuyler shrugged. “He was a nuisance to our association. Look, our mission is to cherish and preserve the history and heritage of this neighborhood, and it’s not all about art pieces, historical books, and so on. The architecture does matter, but no, Mr. Napoleon never shared our value. Indeed, he joined our association for the pure purpose of acquiring land in the neighborhood so he could demolish all the beautiful historical buildings and replace them with strip malls!”
At the end of his statement, he was practically spitting every word.
“What I was trying to build was an upscale mall, not one of those shoddy strip malls! Don’t you see the difference, you idiot!” Woody yelled by my side, except his words didn’t seem to be heard by the guy resembling a monkey. On second thought, he also looked slightly like Yoda.
“Oh, Keith, I can see you hated Mr. Napoleon’s guts so much,” Madame Roloff commented, practically shoving Rick out of her way. “By the way, did you know he was murdered?”
Mr. Schuyler turned to Madame Roloff. “Of course I heard about that. You know what? Everyone’s talking about the murder at Charmed and Sprinkled. What a shame. I said we should hold the afternoon tea event at Mandarin Oriental’s tearoom instead.”
“What’s the problem with Charmed and Sprinkled? If you care so much about the local history, I’d think you’d be happier to use our local bakery,” Madame Roloff retorted.
“I don’t have any problem with Charmed and Sprinkled. Just like you, I grew up eating their pies and pastries. Then again, getting one of our members—regardless how much he was loathed—poisoned to death by the waitress at the venue should still be considered a shame,” Mr. Schuyler said nonchalantly.
“Excuse me? What did you just say?” Madame Roloff leaned over his desk. “Are you implying Meg killed Woody Napoleon? How could you make such an irresponsible remark?”
“Madame Roloff, can you please whack him really hard on his little nose?” Woody waved his arms, yelling, “I’d love to do it myself, but unfortunately I can’t.” He was punching and kicking Mr. Schuyler, but his arms and legs just went through his opponent’s body.
“Come on, Woody. You don’t have to yell!” Jackie yelled, covering her ears with her hands. “No matter how loudly you scream, neither Madame Roloff nor Mr. Schuyler here can hear you.” Then her face turned serious. “And how could you grope women at the bakery when you can’t punch this old schmuck?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care!” Woody snapped.
Rick cleared his throat. “Mr. Schuyler, what makes you believe Meg killed Mr. Napoleon?”
“Oh, I was looking for such a question.” Mr. Schuyler was smiling. “I’m not making a wild speculation. She was responsible for serving the food and beverage, which gave her the opportunity to slip poison into whatever Mr. Napoleon was eating. Not only that, she had the motive. After all, she was inappropriately involved with that man.”
I turned to Woody and looked at him sharply. I was tempted to demand, “Were you?” but managed to restrain myself.
“No way!” Woody shook his whole body. “Okay, so I like her. She’s a really gentle girl with a golden heart. After all, she was the only person who bothered to stand up for me when that ugly bastard ranted at me.”
“I don’t believe Meg is capable of such a cold-blooded murder,” Madame Roloff stated firmly.
“Then again, she didn’t take it nicely when I terminated her internship with the association.” Schuyler wiggled his eyebrows. “If you witnessed her temper, you’d change your opinion about her.”
“Wait a minute. Meg is a paid intern, right?” Madame Roloff demanded. “You can’t terminate an employee based on speculation. If she decides to hire an attorney, your association will be in hot water.”
“She was a paid intern, and even if she hired an attorney, we’re safe from legal troubles,” Schuyler declared, emphasizing the past tense. “She signed a contract upon starting the internship, with a clause that clearly states ‘No relationship at the workplace’ in all capitals. Do you understand what that means?”
“You’re hopeless.” Madame Roloff shook her head. “Since grade school, you’ve been the type of guy who’s lurking in the corner of the classroom, savoring every moment of someone else’s demise.”
“And you’ve been this nosy girl who can’t help sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Schuyler snorted.
“Hmm… this guy here is a really mean-spirited Yoda, but I have a hunch he likes Madame Roloff,” Jackie commented.
“When did you fire Meg?” Rick asked abruptly.
“Just this morning,” Schuyler replied. “Oh, I forgot to add murder to the list of reasons to terminate her. She was interviewed by the police.”
“Have you heard the saying ‘Innocent until proven guilty’? Besides, if I were to poison someone as a food server, I’d avoid slipping the poison in the food. What kind of an idiot uses a method that directly points at herself as the killer?” I said.
I half expected Rick to say something along the line of “You’re an idiot,” but on that day, he was uncharacteristically quiet. Arms crossed, he was mostly observing the office cluttered with aged stuffs.
Schuyler snorted. “To be honest, I’m more than willing to award her when she’s back from prison.” A vicious grin appeared at the corners of his thin lips. “Indeed, it was perfect timing. Woody was harassing Vince West to sell his land to him so he could demolish the historical architecture and build something new and ugly.”
“Come on! I’ve never harassed anyone to sell their land!” Woody snapped. “All I did was ask him nicely to please sell his land to me so I could build a beautiful shopping mall with shops including Louis Vuitton!” He let out a loud burp, making me squirm with disgust.
“You mean Mr. Vince, the elderly gentleman who was already old when we were kids?” Madame Roloff tilted her head to the side.
“Correct.” Schuyle
r nodded. “I was worried that old guy could be duped into selling his land to that slimeball, but fortunately that lizard went before Mr. West. Talk about life being full of surprises!”
“I’m not a slimeball, and I’m not a lizard!” Woody burped again.
Schuyler furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m afraid something is not quite right with my ears. For some unknown reason, I heard something very disgusting, like someone burping. I know I’m not making sense, but if you’ll excuse me.”
He stood up and indicated the way out with his hand.
* * *
“I can’t believe his audacity!” Madame Roloff spat the moment she left Schuyler’s office. “You know what? He’s always been the slimeball of the class who acted as if he was the center of the universe. Oh my goodness, I’m so disgusted.”
“Me too!” Woody agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the one who poisoned me.”
“Woody says Keith Schuyler must be the one who poisoned him,” I relayed.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s a sneaky guy,” Madame Roloff agreed.
“Except, for someone who’d just offed Woody, he seemed too open about hating his guts,” Rick commented. “Madame Roloff, do you happen to know Mr. West too?”
She nodded as he mentioned the guy Schuyler name-dropped. “Of course I know him. To be honest, I’m surprised to hear he’s still alive. When I was a kid, Mr. West was already as old as a dinosaur.”
Mr. West’s office was located on the top floor of a five-story art nouveau–style building with metal ivy decorating its entrance.
“Hello, Katie! Long time no see!” An elderly lady with red hair perked up as she noticed Madame Roloff. “Look at you! You look exactly like those Madame Roloff ads. Of course, I know I’m supposed to address you with your formal name, but I’m so thrilled to see you again!”
Being embraced, Madame Roloff looked slightly uncomfortable, but soon she hugged her back. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Laurence. So, how have you and Mr. West been?”
“We’re great! Can you believe Mr. West still uses the stairs to come to his office every morning?” Mrs. Laurence led us into Mr. West’s corner office.