by Lotta Smith
“Murdered? You mean, someone intentionally killed him?” My eyes widened more than they had to this point at her bombshell revelation.
“I believe so.” Lady Chanel nodded, her face serious.
“But…by whom?” I leaned in, lowering my voice.
“John, his dad,” she said matter-of-factly.
“But…why?”
“Like I said, being a gay used to be considered unacceptable back in that era. John had been with the state’s department of education for his entire career—just like his dad—and he was running for the chair. My son used to say his dad always considered him to be a liability by not being a straight guy like his ancestors and disgracing the Davis family.” She shook her head. “My son used to be an intern at a magazine, and the death of Teddy caught some editors’ attention. Just a few weeks before his death, he had talked to them for a potential feature of him in an article that was something like ‘From NFL hopeful to an advocator of men kissing fellow men.’”
“Oh. That must have been sensational back then,” I commented.
“That was what my son had hoped,” she agreed with me. “Ted’s feature article was supposed to be the first one to carry his name for my son, but when Ted passed away, the project died altogether. Instead, the article was replaced by something featuring John instead like ‘Overcoming the deep grief of losing his son, John Davis goes on.’ Anyway, John won the election and served as the chair for a very long time.”
“Really?” I sucked in air. According to her story, it seemed like Ted’s dad had fully utilized his son’s untimely demise for his election. Whether he’d killed his son or not, he didn’t seem to be a loving dad.
“Yes.” She grimaced. “Tragically mysterious, isn’t it?”
“So, what happened to Rachel?” I said. At this point, I couldn’t see why she was haunting that apartment unit. Santa Clarita was a good neighborhood, but it wasn’t as glamorous as Beverly Hills.
“Oh, Rachel, poor thing. May God save her battered soul.” Lady Chanel made the sign of the cross. “She was beyond devastated when Ted passed away. After all, he was her only son. I still recall she’d been seeing psychiatrists following the tragedy, but eventually, she filed for divorce. I guess she couldn’t tolerate everything about John.”
“I can imagine.” I nodded.
“Me, too. Then again, I wouldn’t go for divorce if I were in her shoes.” Lady Chanel crossed her arms. “Soon after the divorce, John had remarried to an actress who’d appeared in a soap opera as the mistress who immediately got killed in the beginning of an episode. I had a hunch that he’d been having an affair while he was still married to Rachel. I’d have stuck with him, just to drive him mad by getting in his way for his new wife.”
“That’s interesting,” I said half-heartedly. The more I heard about Rachel and her family, the more I grew confused about all the letters hidden in the apartment in Santa Clarita. I knitted my eyebrows.
She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I just remembered chatting with Harry.”
“Harry? Who’s that?” I said.
“Who was he? Well—” She tilted her head, as if she had a sudden lapse of memory.
I recalled I had Ghirardelli, so I took a packet out of my purse. “Would you like chocolate? Some sugar may help you remembering things.”
“Sure! Thank you so much!” She beamed, popping a dark chocolate with mint filling inside into her mouth. “Mmm…this is so good. Okay, now I remember. Harry used to deliver mail in this neighborhood. He’d been delivering a lot of mail to the Davis residence from Rachel, and all the mail was addressed to Teddy. We all knew he was deceased, but the letters kept on coming. John demanded Harry and the post office stop delivering the letters in the first place, but somehow, they always found their way to the Davis’s mail box. Eventually, John and his new wife moved to somewhere else.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered to myself. In the letters, Rachel always wrote like she was trying to communicate with a living person. Apparently, Ted had been dead in the time frame she used to write to her estranged son.
Maybe in Rachel’s mind, Ted was just estranged but alive and living happily. I didn’t have the means to confirm my theory or console Rachel’s and Ted’s spirits. Then again, I wouldn’t be there if it was not for my newly recognized skill to hear the voices of the dead.
I used to take Great Mama Jane being a witch and naming me as her successor to be something like a joke, but finally, I realized everything was moving in the direction it was meant to be. My great-grandmother was so right; I was a witch. And, I was beginning to find it something really special.
“Thank you so much for all the information, ma’am. It’s been a pleasure to talk to—” I was about to finish my sentence, showing my appreciation to the lady in Chanel for talking to me and going the extra mile to inform me about Rachel and Ted—but I couldn’t.
She wasn’t there anymore.
“Hello? Ma’am?” I looked around, wondering where she went. A moment ago, she was standing in front of me, feeding me all the juicy gossip about Ted Davis and his family, but she wasn’t there now. If she had to leave, she’d have said something like goodbye. Besides that, she was on foot when she came to talk to me, and she should have been in my sight even if she’d decided to go home or something.
But she was gone—as if she’d evaporated into thin air.
“She was real…right?” I muttered, cocking my head and knitting my eyebrows.
A car horn dragged me back to reality, and a police cruiser pulled to the side of the street and parked. An officer in uniform came out. “Hello?” he said with scrutinizing eyes.
“Hello, Officer.” I offered him a smile to show him that I wasn’t his enemy and I wasn’t in the middle of some criminal activities.
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t return a smile.
“Well, I’m not from here, and I was lost. A nice lady came out, asking me if everything was okay, and we had a small chat.” While I gave him an explanation, I wondered if he’d demand that I take drug tests. Not that I had an issue taking the tests as I’d never used recreational drugs. But I suspected he’d label me as crazy or under the influence of some mind-altering drugs after listening to the full version of my story. “But suddenly, she’d disappeared, and I was wondering where she went.”
“Was she an elegant-looking old lady in a pink Chanel suit?” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Exactly.” I nodded. “Do you know her?”
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head. “But sightings of her had been repeatedly reported in this neighborhood. She pops up from out of nowhere, talks to people who stop on this block, enjoys a chat by mostly talking about a decades-old scandal, and disappears like a cloud of smoke.”
“Pardon me?” I frowned. “That sounds like a ghost.”
He didn’t deny my words. “The rumor says so.” Then he picked up the wrapping foil of a square chocolate. “Did you bring it here?” He extended his hand toward me so that I could take a better look.
“I’m afraid so, but—” I sucked in air. It was the wrapping foil of a Ghirardelli square chocolate—dark chocolate with mint filling.
“But?”
“I gave that to her, and I saw her eating it.” I shook my head.
“Did she say it was yummy?” he asked.
“Yes, she said it was good.” My voice was hoarse.
“Fine.” He nodded. “A litterbug ghost who eats chocolate. I’ll have to give her a warning sometime in the future. Nobody is allowed to litter the streets—dead or alive.”
My jaw dropped. Who could have expected to see not just one but two ghosts in a mere twenty-four hours?
The officer looked at me. “So, you might want to go home and forget about this encounter. Take care.”
“Um… Officer, can I ask you something?” I called to his back as he was turning on his heels.
“Yes? How can I help you?” He turned his head toward me.
�
�Have you ever heard about the Davis family?” I asked.
“You mean the one with the son who died of an accident?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m afraid so.” I sucked in air. “So, Ted died from falling off the grand staircase of their residence, am I correct?”
“Yes, you’re correct.” He nodded. “Where did you learn about this story?”
“Well…that lady in Chanel,” I replied, and for a moment, the officer fell silent with his jaw practically dropping to the ground.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he muttered, but before I said anything, he shook his head. “Never mind. Look, you don’t get to talk to a ghost all that often, so no worries,” he said in a tone sounding like he was trying to console me.” He scurried back to his police cruiser, slammed the door, and left, saying, “You have a great day!”
“Thank you! You too.” I did a little finger wave at the police officer and his vehicle.
Watching the police cruiser becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between it and me grew larger, I wondered who that lady in Chanel was. I knew she was a ghost. Usually, people didn’t disappear like poof! but Lady Chanel did.
If that happened a month before, I’d have convinced myself that I’d eaten the chocolate myself, but now, I was sure the chatty old lady in Chanel attire was real.
I took a deep breath and started to walk. I was going to call another ride service, but I wanted to wait for my transportation somewhere else.
* * *
A week later, I got another letter from Quest Realty
Following the conversation with Jack Adams, I knew I had most likely been accepted, but I couldn’t help hyperventilating as my heart raced when I opened the envelope in my parents’ presence.
I was accepted to the company.
Instead of hooting and hollering, I let out a whoosh of air
“Come on, Fio. No need to be disappointed,” Dad encouraged me. “Why don’t we try that new Tuscan restaurant?”
“Dad, I was just accepted by Quest Realty, and I’ll start working the next month,” I said.
“Francis, the new guy at the bank, said that place rocks. Their wine selection is superb, and they serve truffle risotto to die for. Fio, darling, working for a giant company is not for everyone, and I’m sure you’ll be landing on a—”
“Dad,” I interrupted him. “I said Quest Realty is hiring me, and I’m starting this new job on the first day next month.”
“Congratulations, Fio!” Mom clapped her hands. “I knew you were gonna win that position. I’m sooo proud of you!”
“Me, too!” Dad joined her, as if he’d completely forgotten about the words he’d said a moment before. “You’re gonna do great with Quest. Alrighty. Tonight, we’re gonna celebrate our lovely daughter’s new career!”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
“You’re welcome, Fio.” I caught a distant voice coming from somewhere. It sounded just like the one that told me to apply for Quest Realty, and again, it sounded just like Great Mama Jane.
EPILOGUE
Three weeks after receiving the acceptance letter from Quest Realty, my life was moving on, and it was moving fast.
I’d moved into an apartment in Mount Washington. Actually, it was the first time for me to live all by myself, and I wasn’t absolutely thrilled about this moving part. It had been nice to have my parents convince me that I just heard the construction materials making noises when I’d actually heard some dead people’s spirits enjoying a rave. At the same time, I couldn’t stick around with my parents forever, driving every business generous enough to hire me into bankruptcy. Anyway, I took the offer to work for Quest Realty and moved to my new home—partly for me to grow up and partly to save the economy of Napa Valley.
Anyway, soon after the move, I realized that I loved having a place of my own. It was a fifteen-minute drive from my new workplace, and the neighborhood was rich in natural greens, just like my hometown. I also liked the part about my employer paying half of the rent. If I had to pay the full price, there was no way I could afford to live there.
Unlike the majority of workplaces where newcomers just joined the company and started working, Quest Realty had recently hired more than a dozen new workers and were holding a welcome party in a huge and extravagant mansion in Bel Air.
The mansion, located close to the Getty Center, was one of the properties the company owned. With its massive swimming pool and the spacious garden with artistically cut bushes, I felt like I’d wandered into the world of some movie featuring the super riches of west Los Angeles.
Honestly, I was beyond excited, and I was beginning to mistake myself as a character of a story featuring the world’s most glamorous people—say, like a newbie model in an elite model agency.
That had to do with the executives. I knew that both the CEO and the chairperson of the company were females, but I didn’t know that the majority of the executives were all females, and all of them were glorious in their own ways. I didn’t know the average male-female ratios in real estate industry, but I could see that my new workplace was a company holding huge potential for women to climb the corporate ladder.
In retrospect, I’d almost forgotten about the section of the company by which I was hired—mostly because Jack Adams wasn’t attending the party. When I went to bed, I had a hard time falling asleep. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve, I was almost bursting with excitement.
The next morning, I went to the company’s headquarters downtown. I had full understanding of the terms and conditions of my employment at Quest Realty in the H&H Management Department, located in the basement of the super fabulous high-rise in the heart of the financial district in Los Angeles; however, I felt left out as I caught all the other people going up on the stylish elevator while I waited for the one that looked like it belonged to the warehouse.
The basement floor was as dimly lit and deserted as it was during my previous visit. I wasn’t frightened as I initially had been as I walked in the long corridor.
“Good morning!” At the end of the corridor, I opened that no-frills door. I moved the door discreetly after knocking on it, but I wished I’d busted it open. From inside, the overly loud sounds of keyboard chattering greeted me. I assumed it came from mechanical keyboards with blue axis switches. I was keen on electrostatic capacitive key switches myself, but I wasn’t going to complain. Anyway, I could have made my entrance more dramatic—after all, there was no second first time for anything.
“Hey, you’re here,” Jack Adams, the director of H&H Management Department, acknowledged me, keeping his hands on the keyboard and eyes on the screen on his desk.
The office of H&H Management Department was as chaotic as the day of my aptitude test. I was sure anyone unfamiliar with the department would confuse this place as a warehouse. Then I noticed there were a brand-new desk and chair along with a side table complete with the latest model computer.
“So, Director—” I tried to strike a conversation with my boss. I was going to thank him for making preparations to have me on his team, but he interrupted me in mid-sentence.
“First things first. Don’t call me Director—that’s rule number one.”
“Excuse me? But, you’re the director here, right?” Confused, I approached my desk and put my business bag on it as he led me there using just his gaze. No additional words came from him. He was busy comparing a paper he held in one hand with something else on his computer screen.
I didn’t expect him to throw a welcome party for me, but I’d anticipated something slightly warmer than this.
Having nothing better to do, I switched on my computer. Being the latest model, it seemed to operate flawlessly, but before the machine had fully booted up, the door burst open.
“Hi there! Ooh, you must be Fio Valentine! Congratulations, and welcome aboard to Quest Realty!”
My jaw dropped as I took in the speaker. He was a tall guy—probably at six foot two or so—and his height alone wasn’t wha
t captured my attention. With his perfectly balanced physique, complete with broad shoulders, I wondered if he’d ever walked the catwalk in one of those Calvin Klein’s men’s underwear shows. His face was an absolute masterpiece.
I’d never seen such a beautiful guy. In short, drop-dead gorgeous was an understatement to describe him. When he smiled, his green eyes with a hint of a golden honey color lit up, and he exuded absolute sweetness.
“Oh… Thank you so much,” I replied, realizing I’d kept my mouth open for a long time like a total idiot.
“I’m Andy Russel, one of the chiefs of the First Management Department. I also happen to be Jack’s buddy from childhood. So, I heard about a new employee joining H&H, and I’ve been picturing someone like a female MMA fighter meets the evil witch of the west, but I was so wrong!” He let out a hearty laugh. “Who could have imagined such a lovely person would start working for this God-forbidden section which is the equivalent of The X-Files?”
“The X-Files?” I parroted.
“Oh, yes.” Andy winked. “Welcome to the H&H. Oh, don’t worry, Fio. You can look at it as a privilege to work here. This floor is off-limits to most of the company. Some may argue they avoid coming here on purpose, but—”
“Cut it out, Andy,” Jack interrupted Russel, but his eyes were still glued to the screen. “Since when did you decide it was okay to try to scare off a new employee with my section? Oh, did I mention me having a coworker is as rare as encountering a real Sasquatch in Los Angeles?”
“Come on, Jack. Can’t you at least smile? You’re having a coworker is rarer than the Loch Ness monster. You’ve got to behave like you’re glad to see her joining you.” Russel let out a sigh when Jack completely ignored him. Shaking his head, he held a file between the screen and Jack’s face.
“What’s this?” Jack demanded.
“Here’s a new case for H&H. No need to thank me,” Russel said breezily, sounding like he was used to having such interactions with Jack.