by Lotta Smith
“That should be Kathryn Anderson, the pioneer of women’s graphic novels. I’m writing a series for the same magazine she writes for,” she said. “Basically, the field of graphic novels and comics used to be, and still is, almost exclusively a boys’ club—as in created by men, targeting men, and even the majority of editors are men—but when she started releasing one smash hit after another, she caused a hell of a revolution in the industry. At first, she used to write for boys’ magazines among male creators, but then little by little, female creators jumped into the industry, forming a niche of women’s graphic novels. That’s how The Wonderland was born. Indeed, I started to aspire to be a graphic novelist when I read her work and was totally captivated. Seriously, her work was what kept the young, innocent Eve Wellington alive in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin where nothing exciting has happened since the Ice Age.”
Listening to her explanation bordering on a total diss of Wisconsin, I was tempted to add the residents in that state to the list of suspects.
“She sounds more like an inspiration for you. Why would she want to kill you?” Rick interjected after I relayed her words.
“That’s because I had inadvertently stolen her Numero Uno position in the readers’ popularity vote. Look, she’s the equivalent of Nora Roberts, Danielle Steel, and Janet Evanovich all rolled into one in the little universe of women’s graphic novels.” Arms flapping and eyes wide, she told me the story of her “sin,” as if she’d committed a crime deserving to be murdered. “Can you believe that I did that? She’s been at the number one spot for the past five years, and last month, I popped up from out of nowhere and stole her regular position. She loathes me, enough to kill me. It’s not an assumption. It’s the truth.”
“Okay….” After relaying her words to Rick while recording it with the app on my phone, I muttered, “Then again, would anyone commit murder for such a trivial reason?”
“Trivial? Did you just say trivial?” Eve’s pink hair flared up in the air. Oh my God, she was angry. “You have no idea about the world I’m in! The readers’ favorite votes are something that could either let the humble creators like me live or kill or ruin!”
“Um… of course, if you’re in the number one spot, you should feel better than number two, I guess,” I said, but Eve’s fury was unstoppable.
“I’m not talking about feelings. Depending on the results of readers’ favorite votes, your series could be canceled! Of course, you have no idea when you’re married to the COO of a multibillion-dollar security-based conglomerate! All you worry about in the world is what to wear to the next party or charity ball!”
“Hello?” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you just call me a bored housewife? For your information, I have things to worry about—namely how to avoid getting killed by a menacing ghost!”
Rick put his hand on my shoulder. “Chill,” he said, then took over the interview. “So, your prime suspect would be Kathryn Anderson. Who would be suspect number two?” Considering that he could hear the victim’s words only through my interpretation, he absolutely rocked at interviews.
The moment he started talking, the temperamental ghost calmed down. “The number two suspect would be Frank Wingate, an editor with The Wonderland. He’s the editor in charge of me,” she said. “I think I’ve been such a huge burden on him, which could have driven him to kill me.”
As she explained, looking intensely at Rick, she was smoothing her hair with her hands. Even though she knew Rick couldn’t see her appearance, he had this effect that drove women to be extra-conscious about their appearances.
According to her, the official deadline for The Wonderland was the third of every month; however, her approach with the deadlines used to be somewhat sluggish. And as a result, Frank often had to beg the printing company to bend their schedules. Also, speaking of schedules, the printing company’s weren’t the only ones that needed bending. Basically, every month, he ended up staying in the editorial room at the publishing house. On good months, he got to sleep on the couch, and on really bad months, he ended up not sleeping at all.
“Wow, that sounds tough,” I commented.
“Right.” She nodded like she was commiserating with her editor. “No thanks to being in charge of me, his girlfriend broke up with him. Not only that, he’s been suffering from stress-induced hives, and though he was trying to conceal it, he developed a little quarter-sized bald spot on his scalp.” She lowered her voice like she was sharing the secret of the century.
I wondered if she’d forgotten about her living—or rather nonliving—status of being dead, but agitating her wasn’t high on my to-do list, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, she seemed more stable and relaxed when Rick asked her questions.
“What do you think about her story?” he whispered in my ear.
“If it’s true, that should warrant her some hating, I guess?” I whispered back, sounding more like a question than a statement. So far, this case was tricky mostly because the murder victim was talkative with a drama queen personality. Interviewing silent and depressed ghosts was hard in its own way, but the chattier ones had their own set of challenges.
Eve went on. “Sometimes, I had sporadic work with other magazines targeting other demographic readers, and I had a hard time keeping their deadlines, so the editors must have had a ton of trouble.”
“So, you suspect they might hold grudges against you.” Rick raised an eyebrow as I passed on her words.
“Exactly. I believe my assumption is highly possible.” She nodded.
“Can you list the names, addresses, and phone numbers of the editors who might have hated you?” Rick tilted his head to the side.
“Well….” Eve knitted her eyebrows. “Look, there are too many, and I’ve totally lost track of them. Oh, can you ask Holly, my dear older sister and superduper manager?”
According to her, Holly was twenty-nine years old and lived in a house on the Upper West Side. She was the person who took care of all the behind-the-scene jobs, including communications with the publishing houses and many day-to-day tasks, such as accounting.
Holly was asleep at home on the night of her sister’s murder. Considering that she spent busy nights with her sister and assistants, she seemed like the sane one of the group. Going out till late in a sleep-deprived status was insane.
“Okay, other than Kathryn and the editors working with you, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill you?” Rick said, apparently resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
“My assistants.” She held her head in her hands. “Indeed, I have a hunch they hated me a lot.”
“Are you serious?” I said. “But… you said you had entertained the assistants on the night of your death.”
“I know, but what they’ve gone through couldn’t be compensated by just some entertaining.” She shook her head slowly. “I had three regular assistants who periodically came to help me complete the work whenever the deadline was close. Their names are Kylie Minnons, Jessica Lawrence, and Beverly Walker. Usually, they stayed at my place for a week to ten days every month, only taking five-hour naps on the two last days before the deadline, and then going through the deadline date without sleeping at all.”
“Wow, how would you stay up for so long?” I asked.
“By guzzling coffee and caffeine-rich energy drinks,” she replied nonchalantly.
Rick chuckled as he listened to my interpretation. “Hmm, your story reminds me of my own youth. I wasn’t an artist, but I was busy partying all night.”
“Also, I tend to be egoistic and difficult, and I’m obsessive about the pictures I draw,” Eve went on, completely ignoring Rick.
Throw in the drama queen traits in the list of your flaws, I thought.
“When things were out of my control, even with my three beautiful assistants… well, one of them could have killed me, but still, I couldn’t exist without them. Holly used to hire temp assistants for me, which means that the temp workers were totally deprived of the luxury of hav
ing nap times between hard work. They must have hated me.” Taking her hands from her head, Eve looked up at the sky.
“Can you give us the names of the temp assistants?” Rick asked.
Eve shut her eyes tightly as if she was trying to search her memory, but after a while, she shook her head. “No, I can’t recall anything. Can you ask Holly about it, please?”
According to her, she was highly dependent on her sister regarding administrative tasks, as she was clueless about that field.
One of Rick’s eyebrows twitched as if there was something he wasn’t convinced of, but then he said, “Okay.”
All of a sudden, Eve sucked in air. “Also, I’m afraid Brian Powers, the exorcist, must have hated me.”
“Am I hearing you right? Did you just say Brian Powers?” My eyes widened. For a moment, I’d forgotten about relaying her words to Rick.
“Brian Powers? What about him?” He tilted his head to the side.
“Yes, I said Brian Powers, the very tall and very muscular guy who dresses in all black suits a la Godfather characters.” Eve nodded. “You might have seen him on TV. He used to supervise my current series, The Wizard Smirks Under the Twilight.”
“Wow.” My jaw dropped. “Talk about expanding his business to new horizons.” I told Rick about Brian’s new project, about which we had no idea. He had been Rick’s BFF since kindergarten, and he’d helped us with cases many times.
“Hmm… Brian Powers supervising a horror suspense series for women? Why do I have an urge to roll on the floor and laugh my ass off?” Rick smirked. “So, Eve, how did he come to be a part of your project?”
“Because Frank thought it was a fabulous idea to have it supervised by Brian. He’s been appearing quite a lot on TV, and having his name alone gives us some sort of credibility and exposure. But….” She twitched her lips.
“But what?” I asked.
“But I had small issues with him,” she said sheepishly. “Look, he’s been so helpful and enthusiastic about the whole project, not to mention his expertise in exorcism and related fields, such as many kinds of spells for hexing and blessing, and non-Christian methods to fight the evil spirits. Then again….”
“Then again?” Rick asked patiently as I repeated her every word. “Did you happen to discover his dirty little secret or something like that?”
“I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “The problem was most of his advice was… you know, slightly lacking on visual impacts. What I’m creating is called a graphic novel, which is supposed to have strong visual impacts and impressions. So, occasionally, I had to pass on some of his advice, and alter some scenes.”
“That doesn’t sound like such a huge issue,” I commented.
“Except I didn’t tell him about the alteration, and he was upset.” She shook her head. According to her, Brian had made several angry phone calls to the publishing house.
Rick was roaring with laughter as I relayed Eve’s story. “Holy crap! That’s hilarious!” he exclaimed between guffaws. “The guy has this tendency to get seriously upset at times, but rest assured, he’ll be back to happy as a clam when you give him something like chocolates.”
“Really? I didn’t know that,” I said. “Why didn’t you give him chocolates whenever you ticked him off?”
“Because it’s such a pleasure to enjoy a little chuckle at his expense.” He winked and I rolled my eyes, thinking that I could have hated his guts if I hadn’t fallen in love with him.
“Hey, do you happen to know him?” Eve asked curiously.
“Oh yes.” Rick nodded. “I’ve known him for a very long time, and he actually helps us with some cases. By the way, I don’t think he killed you.”
“Seriously?” She leaned forward, but her interest was on something other than her own murder. “How would an exorcist and a security company executive know each other?”
“They’ve been BFFs since kindergarten,” I said.
“Oh my God! How cool is that?” She swooned. “Look, the muse of story creation has just spoken to me, and she says I must write about the two of you.”
“Oh really?” Rick raised an eyebrow. He seemed inclined to point out that Eve was missing a body to draw characters, but I eyed him with a look that said not to discuss that part. To my relief, he shut up.
“So we can check him off from the list of suspects, right?” I suggested.
“Removing Brian from my suspects?” Eve wrinkled her forehead. “But hey, he was really upset and so persistent about his complaints. I still remember Mr. Barnes, the editor in chief, massaging his temples whenever he mentioned the angry exorcist’s fury. Actually, I suggested starting a new series titled ‘The Diary of an Angry Exorcist,’ but Mr. Barnes begged me to focus on the current series. So, why don’t we keep him on the list?”
“Um… okay, let’s keep him on the list.” As I agreed with her, Eve nodded contentedly and Rick rolled his eyes.
Crossing his arms, he said, “Okay then, so far the suspects of your murder are Kathryn Anderson, Frank Wingate, your assistants, and Brian Powers. Is that correct?”
“Yes, and—oh!” Eve gasped. “How could I have forgotten about that?”
“Did you recall any other suspects?” I asked.
“I don’t know… but I’d been getting tons of angry e-mails and letters since killing Shane,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. “One of his fans could be my killer.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean, killing Shane?” I asked breathlessly. I’d never seen anyone confessing a murder so casually. Then again, I wasn’t talking to anyone ordinary, and she could have killed off someone as a part of her research project.
“Who’s Shane? What are you talking about?” Rick interjected.
“Look, it was all my decision. Frank was totally against me, but I knew it was the right time… so I killed Shane,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
All of a sudden, a high-pitched voice shrieked from out of nowhere. “Oh my God! Did you kill Shane? How could you do that? That’s outrageous!”
CHAPTER 5
I knew the owner of the voice without looking, but I glanced in its direction anyway and found Jackie shrieking her heart out. “Oh my God! That’s sooo terrible! You shouldn’t have killed him!”
Jackie is the ghost of a drag queen who used to be a Broadway actor with a flamboyant diva soul trapped in the body of an alpha male. Thanks to her former occupation, her voice was loud, strong, and piercing. We met at Pier 26, the place where she was stabbed to death. She’d appointed herself as my guardian angel and was almost always hanging out with Rick and me.
“Jackie! I thought you were on a hot date tonight,” I said.
“I know! Oh yes, I was on a hot date, but he had some emergency to take care of.” The ghost shrugged. “Can you believe that? I always used to imagine there would be no more being stood up on a date when you’re dead, but you know what? I was soooo wrong!” She pouted. On this occasion, she was in a shocking pink dress with lots of spangles and glitter, with heart-shaped embellishments.
“Oh my God, she’s floating!” Eve’s eyes widened. “What…? Who…?” Opening her mouth and closing it, and repeating this process a dozen times, she stuttered, “Are you a g-ghost?”
“Oh yes, I’m a ghost.” Jackie extended her hand toward Eve. “Hi, I’m Jackie. You’re Eve Wellington, right? Look, I used to be a huge fan of you when I was alive. Oh my God, I wish I were alive! Seriously, I still can’t believe I’m dead, even though I’ve been like this for quite a while. If I were still alive, I could have brought your books and asked you to sign them. What a waste of a totally fab opportunity!”
“Why, thank you for the kind words!” Eve beamed. “Oh my God, I’m talking to a ghost! Can you believe that? I’ve never talked to, much less seen, a ghost, and…” As she babbled, I weighed the pros and cons of informing her that she was also a ghost. When she said, “Oh, I’m a ghost, too,” I was slightly relieved. “Look, Jackie, if we both had a body, I’d be more
than happy to sign your copies.”
“How nice of you! The words alone made my day—or rather my night. I love everything about your work. I love your stories, characters, and the beautiful artwork. You’re an amazing author and artist.” Jackie was all smiles. “So, now that I’m a ghost, I can’t hold, carry, or purchase a book, but I often drop by bookstores to see if anyone’s reading or has purchased one of your latest releases. When I get lucky, I can read your fabulous work from over their shoulders.”
“Wow, being a ghost is tough!” Eve put her palms on her cheeks.
“Right. The hardest part is having my body going through everything,” Jackie agreed.
“So, who’s Shane?” Rick asked after listening to my interpretation for a while. “Excuse my interruption, but why don’t we get back to the case?”
He had a point. They were so deep in chatting, they could spend the whole night—if not nights and days—talking about their backgrounds.
“What? You don’t know Shane?” Jackie’s lips formed an O. “Mandy, how could you not know Shane?”
“Sorry, no.” I shook my head. “Am I supposed to know him?”
“Look, The Wizard Smirks Under the Twilight is Eve’s hottest series, and the heroine’s name is Andy. There’s this guy called Mick, who’s Andy’s boyfriend. And there’s Shane, Mick’s BFF.”
“Aha.” I nodded and relayed her words to Rick.
Massaging his temples, he said, “Okay, so you’re talking about the murder of a fictional character.”
On the other hand, Jackie sounded thrilled despite the previous shock bordering on devastation. “So, how did Shane die?” she asked.
“The episode is about Andy almost being taken over by an evil spirit. In an attempt to save her, Shane fights the spirit. He manages to get rid of the evilness, but he chose to sacrifice himself and drags the evil spirit into the cold nothingness.”
“Oh my God.” Jackie sucked in air. “I knew he was secretly hot for Andy, but sacrificing himself to protect her? It’s so touching and sad at the same time. So, did he tell her about his feelings toward her?”
