Wicked or Treat! (Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery: A Cozy Mystery Book 16)

by Lotta Smith

  His tone was lighthearted, but he carefully observed the woman in front of him.

  “What… what did you just say?” The tavern owner blinked rapidly, looking like she was having a hard time deciding whether to be amused or annoyed.

  “The thing is, I happen to be with the police.” He took his badge out of his jacket pocket and showed it to her. “We’re working on a case in which Mrs. Hepburn suffered a premature demise by falling off the balcony of her condo. It’s tragic, huh? I suppose you’ve heard about it.”

  “I think I heard about it on the afternoon news,” she said quietly.

  “Good.” Detective Rochester snapped his fingers. “Anyway, someone told us you’re dating Mr. Hepburn, and we’d like to ask you some questions.”

  She opened her mouth, but before words could come out, the detective butted in.

  “So, you’re Ms. Ellis Goodman, am I correct?”

  “Yes.” She nodded curtly. “Excuse me, but I’m in the middle of business. Can I ask you to postpone my interview until a later time? I’m begging you.”

  “Fine.” The detective nodded, and Rick stood up.

  When they came out of the tavern, the street was buzzing with excitement and nightlife.

  “Holy crap, she was so hot!” Detective Rochester exclaimed.

  “You think?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

  “Did you hear that?” Jackie poked Clara. “He has no interest in that Ellis woman.”

  “I knew he was better than falling for her cheap flirting tactics, but it’s a relief to hear that,” Clara agreed.

  Detective Rochester went on with a serious face. “Oh yeah. In my opinion, Ellis is too good for Matt.”

  “Detective, I didn’t expect you to go in so aggressively,” Rick commented. “Your tactics bordered on harassment. I’m glad Mandy wasn’t with us, because Jackie would have made a big fuss over that, and she’d be rolling her eyes.”

  “Sounds funny.” Detective Rochester chuckled. “I was checking to see how she’d react to my words. Anyway, if she was in cahoots with Matt, she’ll be calling him by now.”

  “Are you wiretapping her phone or something?” Rick asked.

  “No, but I have a plainclothes guy surveilling her,” Detective Rochester said matter-of-factly. “We’ll know the truth as soon as we meet Matt Hepburn. He sucks at keeping a poker face.”

  “Okay,” Rick muttered.

  “Anyway, if this alleged murder of Christina Hepburn was committed by Matt and Ellis,” the detective concluded, “Matt would have given her a key to the condo.”

  “And she pushed Christina off the balcony. Theoretically, that makes sense, as Matt has a solid alibi when that happened,” Rick said thoughtfully. “Still, something doesn’t seem to add up with that theory.”

  “Like what?” Detective Rochester furrowed his eyebrows.

  “From the photo of the victim, she was way bigger and heavier than Ellis Goodman.”

  “Haha! Mr. Rowling, I thought you knew more about women.” The detective cracked up laughing, prompting Jackie and Clara to exchange glances. “I guess you’re still in the sweet lovin’ phase of the marriage, but you wanna keep in mind that women can be really fierce.”

  “I know.” Rick shrugged. “So, how about the motive for her to kill Christina in cahoots with Matt? Under normal circumstances, money would be the most likely option, but her tavern seems to be doing well.”

  “I doubt money would be the motive.” Detective Rochester snapped his fingers. “In my opinion, she’s the kind of woman who devotes her body and soul and everything to the man she loves once she’s hooked by him. Besides that, two million dollars’ worth of insurance money appeals to a lot of people.”

  “Oh yeah?” Rick rolled his eyes, then reached his phone. “Let me make a call.”

  “Are you calling Mrs. Rowling?”

  “Yup. The ghostly duo is supposed to be hanging around with us, but it’s not as convenient as initially expected because I can’t communicate with them.” Rick raised his index finger to silence Rochester. “Hey, Mandy? You sound sleepy. Were you sleeping? Oops, sorry for the interruption. Can you try talking to Jackie and Mom over the phone? Thanks!”

  “Hi, Mandy! Can you hear me?” Jackie spoke to the phone in Rick’s hand, and Clara joined. “Hello? I’m here too.”

  “Yes, I can hear both of you,” Mandy mumbled, and then she gasped. “Wow, I’m talking to ghosts over the phone!”

  “Good,” Rick interjected. “I need Jackie and Mom to keep their eyes on Ellis Goodman, the alleged other woman of Matt Hepburn. Can you ask them to do that?”

  “Sure!” Clara and Jackie said in unison.

  “We’re going on a stakeout. I’m so excited!” Clara exclaimed.

  “Rick, they’re willing to keep their eyes on that woman. Will you be home soon?” Mandy asked between yawns.

  “Yeah, I’ll be with you in twenty,” Rick said. “You can go back to sleep. Thanks for the translation, darling.”

  “You’re welcome. Take care. “Jackie, Clara, I hope you’ll enjoy your first ever stakeout.”

  “We will!” The ghostly duo bounced excitedly.

  CHAPTER 7

  The next morning, I got up early. Thanks to going to bed early the previous night, I was feeling fresh and full of energy. We were also expecting my parents, Nana, and my younger sister, Alicia, and her family, so I had to get up early regardless.

  After feeding Sophie and eating breakfast, I started working my magic in the kitchen. I’d always loved my parents, but what I loved most about my family was that Mom and Nana never failed to bring great food. Thanks to having them over, I didn’t need to fuss over food, but sometimes I had a craving to show them that I can actually cook, so I started working on my signature pumpkin mousse.

  It was a super easy recipe with just three ingredients, and I’d prepped the mousse made of condensed milk, pumpkin puree, and heavy cream the previous afternoon. While Rick was playing with Sophie, I whipped cream to add the finishing touch to the fluffy orange concoction.

  As I was finishing up and putting the dessert into the fridge, Rick came in with Sophie in one arm and the phone in the other hand.

  “Hey, someone came in to sample the mousse,” I said teasingly.

  “Ooh, look at the pumpkin mousse.” Rick’s face lit up. “You love it, baby?” He kissed the top of our daughter’s head, prompting her to giggle and playfully slap his jaw with her little hands.

  “Here’s the great news. I’ve set aside some so you can sample. Ta-da!” I offered a small portion in a little glass bowl.

  “Sounds good,” he said. “Actually, I’ve got news to share with you, and in my opinion, mine is a little bit juicier.”

  “Oh?” I tilted my head.

  “I just got a call from Detective Rochester, saying he’s arrested Matt Hepburn for Christine’s murder. According to the detective, the hubby fessed up about offing his wife.”

  “Really?” My jaw dropped as Sophie frantically moved her arms in an attempt to reach for her favorite dessert.

  * * *

  A few hours prior, while the Rowlings were just getting up and prepping for the day, Detective Rochester was visiting the condo in Brooklyn for the umpteenth time.

  On that day, he went straight to the Hepburns’ unit.

  When he rang the bell, the door cracked open a slit. Peeking behind the door chain was the face of a thin man with small eyes—Matt Hepburn, the husband of the late Christina Hepburn.

  “Detective?” His eyes widened slightly. “What do you want today?”

  Just like the last time, his gaze moved fast and his voice was shaky, though Rochester knew better than to assume the widower was under the influence of controlled substances.

  “I just wanted to come here and offer my prayers to the late Mrs. Hepburn,” Detective Rochester said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s not necessary, Detective.” Matt slowly shook his head, but Rochester wouldn’t back off.


  “No worries. When I came across this neighborhood, I realized I needed to pay my respects to her and promise you that justice will be brought soon. Thanks for opening the door.”

  “But….” Matt looked like he wanted to reject the detective, but he let out a resigned sigh and opened the door.

  One step inside the Hepburns’ unit, Detective Rochester noticed the place needed a serious tidying up. In spite of the resident running a dry cleaning business, laundry was piled up on the sofa, gaming devices and food wrappers scattered on the floor.

  Detective Rochester went straight to the corner of the living room where Christina’s photo and her favorite rosary sat on a small display shelf. For a while, he stood there mumbling quietly, and then he turned to Matt. “Let me see the balcony once more.”

  “Pardon me?” Matt’s jaw dropped.

  Without answering him, the detective went to the floor-to-ceiling window that led to the balcony and opened it. Cold, dry air blew inside.

  The Hepburns’ balcony was rather spacious for the unit, approximately a yard in width and nine yards in length. A barbecue grill sat in the corner, and there was a metal garden table with four matching chairs, plus a small stool that Christina must have been standing on when she fell to the ground. The metal fencing stood at approximately four feet in height, and at about eight inches up was the handrail. Just like the victim herself had explained to Mrs. Rowling, planters of dead and dried plants were hanging at about five feet five inches.

  “Detective, you’ve checked this place before with the CSI,” Matt mumbled grudgingly.

  “What did you talk about during the phone conversation you had minutes before Mrs. Hepburn’s death?” Rochester asked.

  “How many times should I repeat the same answer? All we talked about was irrelevant stuff, such as the weather and politics.” Matt shook his head irritably, looking away from Rochester, refusing to meet his eyes. He was sweating profusely.

  “Are you sure about that?” Rochester turned to Matt. According to Mrs. Rowling, Christina’s story was different. Her version was about discussing what to eat for dinner. Of course, Rochester wasn’t naïve enough to believe he could make a case out of a dead person’s words, but Mrs. Rowling’s translation had helped him and other detectives at the NYPD solve cases that initially seemed impossible.

  Without saying anything, he glared at Matt. He knew either the wife or the husband was lying, but wasn’t sure which. Or else they both could be lying.

  Matt cleared his throat loudly before shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. “It’s been two months, Detective, and no matter how hard I try, that’s all I can come up with. Whatever I say, Christina wasn’t a woman who’d resort to deliberately ending her own life.”

  “Oh yeah? Initially you claimed your wife had been depressed before her death, and now you’re saying she’d never have resorted to killing herself. What made you change your mind?”

  “Well….” Matt bit his lower lip.

  “Besides that, can an adult fall over the fence and handrail so easily?” Rochester raised his eyebrows at Matt.

  “But… she fell off the balcony to the ground. No matter what you say, that won’t change!” Matt snapped, his voice trembling. He seemed on the verge of tears.

  “Mr. Hepburn, you’ve lost a lot of weight in the past two months, haven’t you?” Rochester said sympathetically, prompting Matt to tighten his shoulders.

  “What about it, Detective?” he said defiantly. “That’s none of your business.”

  “You haven’t been sleeping well these days since Christina passed away,” Rochester observed. “And you’re not eating very well. Am I correct?”

  “But… that’s because I’ve been busy arranging her funeral, burial, and the paperwork.” Matt shook his head.

  “I have a suggestion for you,” Rochester said abruptly. “Why don’t you tell me what you know? It’ll make you feel better.”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt stuttered.

  “How about Ellis Goodman? The woman running that lovely tavern called Chez Amie.”

  “What?” Matt’s face blanched.

  “Don’t underestimate the police.” Rochester winked at him.

  “I… I have no idea wh-what you’re talking about…” Fumbling with his words, Matt’s gaze darted rapidly, as if he was looking for something, anything that would help him.

  “Your wife seemed to know you were having an affair,” the detective said casually.

  “Christina knew about that?” Matt muttered and started shaking.

  “Was Christina getting in the way of your relationship with Ellis? Or did you kill your wife for the death benefit of two million dollars?”

  “Come on! Don’t be ridiculous. I was in Midtown that morning. How could I kill someone from miles away?”

  Rochester shrugged. “I know you have a solid alibi. That’s why you appreciated having Ellis’s help killing Christina, isn’t it? I don’t mean to be judgmental, but in my opinion, taking advantage of another woman is so low.”

  “No, I didn’t!” Matt shook his head violently. “You’re wrong, Detective. Ellis had nothing to do with my wife’s death.”

  “But you had something to do with her death, right?” Rochester gave him a hard stare.

  “Well….”

  “Mr. Hepburn, I think it’s about time to unburden yourself.” Rochester’s tone grew softer.

  Lips tightly shut, Matt held his head in his hands.

  “The past two months have been hell for you, right?” Rochester gave Matt a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I know you’re a good guy deep inside. You must have had a really good reason.” Wondering what would be a good reason to kill your own wife, Rochester acted sympathetic. Even though he’d had his share of mayhem in his marriages, he was proud to say he’d never even imagined offing his ex-wives.

  A fat tear welled up in Matt’s eyes and then trickled down his cheeks. “I… I… I… was afraid of Christina.” Between hiccups, he said, “I did it.”

  “What do you mean by ‘afraid of Christina’?” Rochester asked.

  “I… didn’t mean to have… an affair with Ellis.” Matt wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was tipsy… and she was… beautiful. Not that I’m saying Christina wasn’t as pretty as her, but we hadn’t had sex for years, and Ellis was so provocatively seductive….”

  “Okay.” Rochester nodded encouragingly.

  “I wasn’t one of those guys who turned out to be an obsessive stalker just because I had one-night stand. I’d almost forgotten about her… like I’d slept with her in my dreams.” Matt sniffed. “But somehow she became rather serious. Not only did she want to see me again and again, but she started demanding I divorce Christina….”

  He started hyperventilating.

  “And you started to freak out,” Rochester interjected. “You had no intention of ditching your family for her, did you?”

  “No.” Matt shook his head. “Christina and I were way past the honeymoon phase, and I wasn’t a touchy-feely husband, but I loved her in my own way. I had two wonderful kids… I mean, I still have my kids, so leaving my family was out of the question. I know I sound like a total asshole, but at first, Ellis was just a one-night stand. Maybe a lucky score would be more accurate, but nothing more than that. I thought she slept with me just out of a compulsion and she’d forget about me pronto, but….”

  “Oh hell. Sounds like you were in a total shithole.” Rochester grimaced.

  “I was, Detective.” Matt sighed. “For a while, I kept telling Ellis that I’d bring up divorce to my wife, hoping she’d forget about me and move on, but she grew jittery.”

  “Oh?” Rochester raised an eyebrow. “She threatened to go to Christina or something?”

  Matt grimaced. “Yes. Ellis threatened to talk to Christina because of my indecisiveness. I couldn’t risk her doing that.” Then he did a full-body shake. “Imagine Christina finding out about my affair. I didn’t need t
o predict my future of going through her thunderstorm! No, thunderstorm would be the understatement of the year. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d killed me. I was in a fight-or-flight state. Idiotically, I thought I’d have to strike her before she killed me. By no means did I kill her for the insurance money.”

  “Mr. Hepburn—”

  “Detective, I feel horrible for what I’ve done,” Matt went on between full-blown sobs. “Had I known I’d feel as crappy as now… I should have fled from both Christina and Ellis. I should have gone somewhere like Azerbaijan. I don’t even know how to get there, so it wouldn’t be easy to track me down there.”

  “Wait a minute.” Rochester raised his hand. “You said you were in Midtown until minutes before Christina’s death. How did you come back to Brooklyn in such a short time?”

  “I didn’t.” Matt shook his head and wiped the tears off his face. “I didn’t use physical force to kill her. All I did was use my phone like a remote control.”

  “Remote control? What do you mean?” Rochester leaned in, wondering if Matt had tampered with the balcony so discreetly that even the seasoned CSI team couldn’t find a trace of the foul play.

  “Christina had her routines. On weekdays, she made a habit of watching a TV show while doing the laundry and cleaning the house. And she always watered her plants at the balcony at around ten o’clock after watching TV. So I called her, knowing she’d be at the balcony, and I told her to look out, lying to her about her favorite actor walking down the street underneath our unit.”

  “And?” Rochester furrowed his eyebrows.

  “Christina said no, she didn’t see anyone resembling the actor. I told her to look more carefully, that he was walking on the sidewalk close to the bushes. I guess she tried to find the actor. The next thing I heard was an ear-splitting noise, and then the line went dead.”

  “Didn’t Ellis push her off the balcony from behind?” Rochester asked again.

  “No.” Matt shook his head, sounding certain. “I planned the whole thing and executed it myself. She didn’t even know I’d been planning such a horrible thing.”