Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Box Set
Page 1
Wicked Witches of Midtown
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Boxset: Books 5-8
By Lotta Smith
Copyright
Wicked Witches of Midtown: Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Boxset: Books 5-8© 2019 Lotta Smith.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the author/and publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. None of the characters in this book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and an unintentional.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Sweet Wicked of Mine
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 5
PROLOGUE: Jackie
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
EPILOGUE
Wicked and Haunted
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 6
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
EPILOGUE
Wicked, Manor, and Murder
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 7
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
EPILOGUE
Wickedly Ever After
Halloween Hijinks
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 8
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
EPILOGUE
Sneak Peek: Speak of the Wicked
About the author
Sweet Wicked of Mine
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 5
By Lotta Smith
PROLOGUE: Jackie
Detective Jamie Alabaster read the case file over and over, feeling edgy.
She was investigating a serial assault/murder case happening near Pier 26, and Jackson Frederick Orchard, a Broadway actor, was the latest victim.
Though she was desperate to find the killer of the three innocent people and one other severely injured person, she was running out of time. Not that she was terminally ill or too old to expect tomorrow to come like any other day, but she was leaving the NYPD in a few weeks. Her family ran a high-end sports bar and restaurant near Yankee Stadium for generations, and her father decided to retire early. As an only child, she didn’t have much choice not to succeed him at the establishment, and obviously, a detective’s salary was just a fraction of the earnings coming from the family business.
Reading through the case file for the umpteenth time, she finally realized what had been bugging her. She’d met all the family, friends, and acquaintances of the latest victim, but one of them triggered Jamie’s sixth—or seventh—sense as a detective. On the surface, the person—a choreographer from the Aladdin production, which Jackson had been working on just before his untimely death—seemed like a quiet, soft-spoken guy, but she felt an eeriness about him. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint the cause, but she sensed a sinister vibe.
As she rallied her courage to pay him another visit, her desk phone rang.
“Hello?” she answered.
Words escaped her as the caller informed her Ryan Francine, the man who Jamie was going to meet, had died in a car wreck just a few hours before.
* * *
Almost five years later…
The sky was blue with just a few small clouds floating like little piles of cotton candy. The wind was quiet, and the Hudson River was calm. Reflecting the rays of sunshine, the river almost looked like a mirror. A couple of young, attractive, openly gay males kayaked down the river, breaking the tranquility, turning the mirrorlike surface of the water into an actively flowing stream.
On the greenway by the river, people jogged, worked out, and walked the dogs. Everyone was smiling, laughing, high-fiving with their loved ones—looking happy and carefree.
Jackson Frederick Orchard, a.k.a. Jackie, sat alone at a table in the outside garden of City Vineyard at Pier 26.
Watching the happy people coming and going across the riverside walkway for fun and exercise had been her favorite pastime when she used to be a budding actor.
Jackie liked to be addressed as a female, and she was blessed to have friends who treated her as a lady without questions or argument. There were times when she was a male actor who was often described as a heartthrob among female audiences, but nowadays, gender didn’t mean anything to Jackie anymore. After all, touching someone was physically impossible—much less hugging, kissing, or making love.
When an elderly couple, probably in their seventies, was escorted to her table, Jackie waved at them. “Hi, there! How are you? It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” But neither of them acknowledged her, nor smiled. Jackie wasn’t saddened or offended by their response.
She was used to such reactions—or lack thereof—from most people, and she understood their reaction wasn’t based on discrimination against her. For the majority of people, someone like Jackie was simply imperceptible—because, after all, she was dead and her body didn’t exist in this world anymore.
Sometimes, she appreciated their inability to recognize her. No thanks to getting killed on the night of Pride Dance, she had been stuck in a skintight, neon pink tank top and a skimpy, neon green skirt. Her hair was big and messy, sporting a white boa headdress, and her heels were sky-high. Her necklace screamed ‘FESTIVE,’ which was inappropriate on occasions, like a funeral. Not to mention the huge knife sticking out of her side and a portion of her gut peeking out of the wound weren’t flattering her looks.
The couple at her table ordered a glass of wine each before looking at the lunch menu.
Sitting at the same table as them, Jackie learned that the wife’s name was Mandy and the husband’s was Rick. Jackie’s eyes widened in amusement. She knew a young couple with the same names. Mandy happened to be one of very few people in this world who could communicate with Jackie. Rick couldn’t see or hear dead people,
but he was a topnotch FBI agent, and with Mandy’s help, he’d been trying to find the person who killed Jackie.
Almost five years back, Jackie was stabbed to death, and the killer hadn’t been caught. Following the first three and a half years, she was practically nonexistent, for no one could see or hear her. When she found Mandy—or rather, Mandy found her—Jackie’s dead life had changed. To be exact, it was as if she’d gotten another life to live.
She knew her friends were working hard to find her killer between the many cases they handled. As the saying goes, a crime scene is like Treasure Island in terms of information. Jackie often returned to the place she was killed in hopes of finding information about her killer. But at the same time, she was becoming less and less optimistic about her killer being identified, much less caught. The case was cold, and the detective who’d worked it had retired.
Jackie stared at the greenway where she had been walking at the time of her death.
On that night, she was excited. As a proud member of the LGBT community, participating in the dance party was not only fun but inspirational. Even after five years, she could still visualize the fireworks at the end of the party when she closed her eyes. She’d become acquainted with new people on the dance floor at the pier. One of the boys was devastatingly cute, and she’d felt huge potential for a romance with him. Aside from that, what truly made her happy was her blossoming career. After the years of lessons, followed by minor roles and working as one of many backup dancers, Jackie had finally nailed a larger role on Broadway.
She had been walking along the greenway with her friends, but at some point, she found herself stranded in the party crowd. When a man passed by her side, she considered him to be one of the partygoers, but then he turned back and approached her. He was clad in a hooded black costume, and his face was invisible. At first, she thought the man found someone he knew behind her, but he came toward her.
A dull pain throbbed in the side of her abdomen, and Jackie knew something wasn’t right. She reached down and discovered warm, wet liquid. To her horror, a large knife was sticking out of her painful belly. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but her voice failed to come out.
Meanwhile, her attacker stood there, twisting the blade deeper into Jackie, not uttering a word.
Recalling the night she died, Jackie couldn’t help but wonder if she would have made it to stardom if she were still alive. In the week following Pride Dance, Jackson Frederick Orchard was supposed to stand on the stage of the New Amsterdam Theater.
She took a deep breath and shook her head in an attempt to forget about the future she might or might not have had. As they say, there’s no point crying over spilled milk. Thinking about the future she could never have was a waste of time.
The couple at her table was discussing whether to order desserts as appetizers. Listening to them, Jackie wondered if the Mandy and Rick she’d known for over a year would end up like this mature couple.
CHAPTER 1
Excited about seeing the New York City Ballet’s special gala, she walked down the promenade at David H. Koch Theater in Lincoln Center, shooting selfies with her phone—she was totally active on Instagram—and enjoying every step of her way back to her seat located at orchestra level. The uncharacteristically warm and sunny Saturday in March made her yearn to stroll through the sand in Long Beach, but she had no complaints. The loveliest part about visiting Long Beach was driving there from Manhattan, but she didn’t get to drive anyway. She loved ballet, and having no school for the day helped lift her mood.
Her name was Julie Grey, a third grader at a certain private school in the Upper East Side and a future prima donna at some elite ballet company such as the New York City Ballet, or a supermodel, or an A-list actress and a great philanthropist—at least, those were her aspirations.
For the time being, she was walking on her own like an independent woman, and she absolutely loved it. Actually, she went to the powder room with her mom, Meredith Grey—she wasn't making her mom's name up. It was her real name, which hadn't been an issue until the TV show popped up—who met an acquaintance there. In Julie’s opinion, her mom could talk practically forever when she was on a roll, and Julie often wondered how her mom handled her job as a doctor who had to see many patients every day. Anyway, Julie decided to sneak out, and there she was. Sometimes, a girl needed her privacy.
It also made her deliriously happy and excited that she caught a glimpse of Rick Rowling at one of the boxed suites on the balcony. He was tall, muscular, and had the most beautiful face. He was one of her parents’ long-time friends, and Julie had known him for her entire life of eight years. Rick was more gorgeous than any stars on the big screen, but what made him more adorable was that he happened to be an FBI special agent who caught bad guys. How cool was that? Also, he was the heir to a huge security-based company called USCAB and had been once selected as Mr. Number Two of the most eligible bachelors in New York City. In Julie’s opinion, the judges had poor tastes in men, because Rick should have been voted Mr. Number One.
At school, girls often gossiped that Tom Thiel, one of the heirs of a financial giant, was really cute—not to mention obscenely rich—but she knew Tom was merely a little kid who happened to be born with a silver spoon. Besides, the name Tom Thiel had way too much resemblance to Tom Thumb for her preference.
Rick was different from any popular boys at her school. Not only was he totally, devastatingly hot and sexy—yes, being young didn’t mean she couldn’t understand the exact meaning of “adult” words, did it?—but he called her by her favorite nickname, Jules, and he treated her like a human with her own personality, not a big baby who occasionally had temper tantrums. Whenever she was around Rick, and especially when he looked at her with the most intense green eyes, she felt her heart pitter-pattering. She was so in love with him!
Julie was happily toying with the idea of visiting him in the boxed suite—she could even talk her parents into letting her join Rick during the performance, so they could have a nice chat—but then she spotted a woman walking in front of her, chattering and giggling, even though she was alone.
Julie wrinkled her nose. She had seen that woman called Mandy not just once but three times. Each time should have been a happy moment for Julie because she’d unexpectedly bumped into Rick, but Mandy was tagging along with him like toilet paper hanging out of his pants. Julie didn’t like that. Okay, so Rick was a playboy and Julie was used to seeing him with a lady friend, but she rarely saw him with the same girl more than once. If she recalled it right, Mandy was partly responsible for Rick’s injury the previous summer. Julie couldn’t figure out why he’d bothered to accompany Mandy so often.
Unlike other women Julie had spotted with him so far, Mandy was neither a supermodel, A-list actress, nor a socialite. She was merely his assistant. On top of it all, Mandy was a total weirdo who spoke to herself way too much and way too often. She was totally unsuitable for Rick. Julie knew he deserved better—no, he deserved the best—someone with beauty, sophistication, and grace. She wished Mandy wasn’t his date for the ballet gala.
Watching Mandy talking and laughing to the thin air, Julie grew curious. Who’s she talking to? Does she seriously believe she has an invisible friend only she can communicate with? If so, she’s truly crazy.
Mandy didn’t seem to notice Julie, her romantic rival—yes, she should take Julie as serious competition—watching, so Julie decided to ambush her in hopes of uncovering Mandy’s dirty little secret. Stan Goldman, one of Julie’s classmates, was always saying something about the best defense being a good offense.
“Mandy, what’s so funny about this pillar?” Julie asked, sneaking up from behind.
“What? Oh!” Gasping and jumping about a foot, Mandy displayed a forced smile at Julie. “Wow, it’s you, Jules. Hi! How are you?”
Julie looked back at Mandy disapprovingly. She hated how Mandy called her by her special nickname. Anyway, she said, “Hello, Mandy. By the way, who were yo
u talking to? And I prefer to be called Julie. You know, Jules is reserved for my closest friends.”
“Oh, well… okay, Julie.” Mandy glanced to the side, looking a little taken aback, but she recovered soon and went on. “I was on the phone, you know, using a hands-free device.”
“Really? If so, why don’t I see an earbud in either of your ears?” Julie pointed out. She didn’t miss that something was forced in Mandy’s tone. She was hiding something from Julie. Why else would she gasp and jump like that if she had no secret? The place was a public corridor after all, and anyone could talk to her.
“Um….” Mandy felt for her ear with no device, but after a pause, she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, Julie, I heard you’ve been practicing ballet very hard. Are you here with your mommy?” She spoke to Julie like a pediatrician talking to a preschool patient.
“Oh yes. She met someone at the powder room, and I guess she’s still chatting.” Julie shrugged, and then she gave Mandy a head-to-toe once-over. She knew it wasn’t nice, but she couldn’t help it. Unlike Rick’s other dates, Mandy was on the chubby side. “I didn’t know you’re interested in ballet. You’ve never practiced ballet, have you?”
“Actually, I took ballet lessons in my youth, like a couple of times,” Mandy said, “but I wasn’t on friendly terms with gravity, and I’m not that crazy about ballet. Dan was the one with tickets, since he was invited, but he decided to skip the event, saying he’s seen more than his life’s share of ballet, so he gave them to us.”
“Excuse me? Did you just say us?” Julie inadvertently demanded in a very unladylike manner, but again, she couldn’t help it. After all, Mandy called Rick’s dad by his first name! Julie had known Rick far longer than Mandy did, but she still called his father Mr. Rowling. Apparently, Mandy was acting too familiar with Rick’s family. How dare she!