by Lotta Smith
“Wow, look at her, Clara. She’s giggling!” Jackie exclaimed.
“Of course, young kids are known for their brilliant eyes. Their awareness is much sharper than adults’. That’s why they see people like us.” Clara nodded proudly as Jennie extended her little arms toward her.
Unaware of the ghosts’ antics, Rick answered Nikki’s question. “Either an accident, or a murder, I presume.”
“A murder?” Nikki’s lips parted into an O.
“Look, I’m just talking possibilities,” he added cautiously, casting a glance at me as if asking me if he gave the right response.
I offered a subtle nod.
“How frustrating!” Clara threw her hands up in the air. “Things would be so simple if only I could tell her, ‘Look, your husband was murdered by a man he used to consider his best friend!’ She should understand what happened.”
“I know your frustration,” Jackie agreed. “When you’re dead, things get so complex.”
“I see.” Nikki nodded, her expression serious. “To be honest, I wasn’t really convinced Fynn’s death was a suicide. I won’t believe he killed himself, as if he was running away from us. But murder…”
“Anyway, it’ll help if we could chat a little more at a later time. What do you say?” Rick asked.
“I work downtown until five o’clock every day,” Nikki said.
“Okay. My workplace happens to be in the same area.” Rick nodded. “Perhaps we could meet up nearby.”
“Mandy, please tell Rick to set up a meeting today, will you?” Clara said hurriedly, moving her hands as if she was tapping my shoulder. “The earlier, the better.”
“Nikki, can we meet up after work today?” I interjected.
“Wha—” Rick began to object, but he stopped short seeing the expression on my face, which coincided with Clara shushing him. Not that he could hear her, of course, but Clara’s tone was serious.
“Rick, darling, you have to meet up with her as soon as possible. Otherwise, Fynn will cry the whole night again, and I’ll have to crash with you at your residence. On top of it all, my neighbor ghosts might come with me. Are you sure you want that?” She was practically threatening him even though he couldn’t hear her.
“Well, I might be able to leave the office earlier, and I can ask my mother to pick Jennie up from daycare,” Nikki said, collecting Jennie back from me. “I’ll call you when I know what time I can leave work.”
“Okay then. You can call my wife at your convenience. Does that sound good?”
“Good.” Nikki nodded. “Let me give you my number.” I entered it into my phone and sent her a quick text so she’d have my number. “M-A-N-D-Y. Am I spelling your name correctly?”
“Yes.” Saving her number, I nodded.
“Okay then. See you later. Thanks again.” Nikki waved at us as she left.
“Mandy, you’re an absolute genius with children, aren’t you?” Clara cooed, waving at Nikki and Jennie as they drove away in the minivan.
“Thanks.” I chuckled. Turning to Rick, who was looking at me curiously, I informed him, “Clara just complimented my baby skills.”
“That’s exactly what I was guessing.” He grinned.
“Really?” I looked up at his beautifully sculpted face. With him standing at 6’2” and yours truly at 5’4”, I often suspected that the only facial parts he saw of me might be the tip of my chin.
“Sure.” He cupped my face and planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Perhaps it’s about time to seriously consider growing our family,” he said.
“Jackie, you shouldn’t spy on them while they’re producing their offspring. Are we clear on that?” Clara whispered to Jackie.
“All clear. I won’t peek,” Jackie said. “I don’t go into their bedroom unless it’s an absolute emergency. Mandy and I made that arrangement since acquainting with each other, and I’m totally sticking to it.”
“Good.” Clara nodded contentedly.
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something both insightful and humorous, but all that came out was “Nice.”
Smiling, Rick planted another kiss on my cheek. “Okay then. Let’s go home.” He opened the passenger side of the car for me, yawning.
“Yes, let’s,” I said, climbing into the car. “Hopefully we can go to bed again and grab some sleep.”
“Hopefully.” As he grasped the steering wheel, his phone pinged. “Crap.”
“What’s up?”
“I have a meeting at seven o’clock.” He groaned.
“At seven o’clock? Oh my God!” I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was almost six o’clock. It would take about thirty-five minutes to get back home, and fifteen minutes to go to USCAB headquarters downtown. “Do you have a suit at the office?”
“I did. Except it’s currently at the dry cleaner, and I haven’t picked it up.” He shrugged. “Buckle up. If we hurry, I can make it to the office in a suit.” He revved up the engine.
Thanks to the traffic still being scarce—and Rick breaking a few traffic laws while I crossed my fingers, hoping we wouldn’t get caught for speeding—the Lamborghini soon rolled into the underground garage at the condo on Fifth Avenue.
He had just enough time to have a really quick shower and an even quicker breakfast of toast topped with ham and cheese, and a glass of OJ. So much for my plotting to cook a healthy, nutritious, and delicious hearty breakfast.
At six forty, he left for the office, looking fresh and groomed, and oh-so-sexy, armed in a Tom Ford suit.
“Okay then. See you later. Come to my office around, say, three o’clock?” he said as I saw him out at the foyer.
“Okay. I’ll be there.” I nodded, adding, “You’ll have a better breakfast tomorrow morning. I promise.”
“That’s good to hear.” He chuckled, cupping my face. “No worries, I used to go with just a cup of coffee for breakfast before you moved in here. So basically, anything is better than my former diet. Now go to bed and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you later.”
Kissing me lightly—okay, with full disclosure, a little tongue was involved—and saying, “I love you,” he left for work.
“I love you, too,” I murmured, waving at his back. I kept standing in the foyer with my mouth open like a total idiot. I half expected Jackie to pop up from out of nowhere, fanning herself and teasing me, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I fanned myself, muttering, “God, marriage is good.”
Then I yawned. Gosh, I was so sleepy. I went back inside, wandered into the bedroom, and then literally crawled under the duvet. Taking in the scent of the linen with the hint of Rick’s shower gel, I fell asleep within a minute.
I really, really needed a fix of beauty sleep.
CHAPTER 6
While I was enjoying my much-needed sleep, Jackie was accompanying Clara back to the cemetery.
As they approached the destination, the sun peeked from beneath the horizon, spilling rays of light all over the place.
Jackie looked around the area, admiring the garden-like design of the cemetery with the sculptures and arty objects placed here and there along with expensive-looking tombstones. It was just across a bridge from Manhattan, but the neighborhood was so serene and tranquil, as if she had trotted into a completely different world. She had heard about it being a tourist destination in New York City.
“Wow, it’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It must be cool to rest in peace at a place like this. I understand why tourists come here. It’s so worth admiring. If our world of the dead had a museum, I know it would look exactly like this.”
“A museum of the dead? Hmm, I’ve never thought of it that way, but maybe you’re right,” Clara said breezily. “Actually, having tourists on a daily basis can be a nuisance sometimes. But at the same time, they can be great entertainment to us. Sometimes we have visitors who can see and hear us chattering, and nothing is as hilarious as talking to them and watching their confusion as they ask their companions if they saw and heard us a
s well.”
“Wow, do they communicate with us like Mandy and Brian do?” Jackie asked, looking intrigued.
“Not exactly. Mandy and Brian are in a completely different league, as they can talk to us just like they do living people.” Clara chuckled. “Most visitors just have a feeling of someone invisible whistling into their ear, twitching like when insects brush their face. Look there, Fynn is waving at us.” She waved back at the ghost still standing in the pond where he drowned.
“Let’s go.” Jackie took Clara’s arm, and the ghosts flew over.
“Hi, Fynn. We’re back!” Clara floated toward the center of the pond. “I brought Jackie with me.”
“Thank you, Clara! And thank you, Jackie!” He smiled. “Where’s Mandy?”
“Oh, she went back home to catch some much-needed sleep. She couldn’t sleep last night, having dozens of visitors, including us,” Clara replied. “When I was her age, I used to attend party after party without sleeping.”
“Oh I see.” Fynn nodded.
“Don’t worry, honey. She’ll be helping you as soon as she’s recovered from sleep deprivation.”
Clara’s tone was breezy, but Jackie felt like squirming as her BFF’s mother-in-law made promises without the presence or agreement of Mandy. Assuming from the mode of Fynn’s killing, and the fact that he was presumed to have committed suicide, it wouldn’t be easy to prove Johnny as his murderer.
“So, were you able to convince Nikki that I didn’t kill myself?” Fynn asked nervously.
“No worries. Nikki is fully convinced,” Clara assured. “Mandy and Rick took her to the Garden Bay Hotel and confirmed your wedding reservation.”
Jackie noticed that Clara didn’t mention the part about Nikki crying her eyes out when she learned about her late husband’s plan for the surprise wedding reception.
“Oh… thank you.” Fynn took a deep breath. “At least Nikki won’t be tormenting herself anymore.”
“Right.” Clara smiled broadly. “The next step will be arresting Johnny, prosecuting him, and justice being served.”
“Arresting him?” Fynn tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know, arresting him sounds difficult. If that’s too much trouble, I can just forget about him. It’s not like I can be brought back to life by arresting him.”
“No way!” Clara shook her head. “Without the arrest of your killer, Nikki won’t have closure. Rest assured, Rick and Mandy will catch Johnny soon.”
“Wow! That would be great.” A small smile appeared on Fynn’s face. “Clara, you have a wonderful son and daughter-in-law.”
“Thank you, Fynn! Aren’t you so sweet?” Clara giggled as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “Actually, my Rick has been so smart ever since he was little. Can you believe he mastered the art of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division at the age of two?”
“Well…” Jackie cleared her throat. “I’m not sure if arresting Johnny will be such an easy task.”
Not that that matter was any of her business, but listening to Clara making what seemed to be empty promises, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She’d been tagging along with Mandy and Rick for almost two years, and she knew better than to believe that a tip from a murder victim was good enough to make an arrest of the killer. Sure, information provided by dead people often turned helpful, but in order to make an arrest, many more processes are needed.
“How could it not be easy to arrest Johnny?” Clara’s eyes widened.
“It’s okay. You ladies helped me enough. You have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness,” Fynn thanked them again. Tears welled in his eyes.
“But… why?” Clara threw her arms up in the air. “Having the victim’s words should be enough.”
“You heard Rick say that excluding suicide as Fynn’s cause of death and proving Johnny as the killer are totally different things,” Jackie explained.
“Look, I’m trying to grasp the situation.” Fynn knitted his eyebrows, apparently confused.
Jackie went on. “In order to make an arrest of a criminal, we need evidence to prove the person is guilty. Things such as Johnny’s belongings left behind here, or a murder weapon with his fingerprints sure would come in handy to prove his crime. Can you think of anything that could prove Johnny’s involvement with your death?”
“Murder weapon… hmm…” Fynn crossed his arms. “He pushed me, so I doubt there’s any murder weapon. It’s not like I was shot. As for Johnny’s items left behind…” Squinting, he looked around himself.
“By any chance, did you have witnesses?” Jackie asked. Since it was already in October when Fynn was murdered, she wishfully thought there might have been some kids sneaking in the cemetery ground—perhaps for some stupid reasons such as testing their courage.
“I don’t think so.” Fynn’s shoulders slumped. “I guess we were the only living ones visiting this cemetery that night. Can’t I just testify as the witness?” he asked sheepishly.
“Of course not.” Jackie shook her head. “You’re a ghost, remember? And ghosts can’t testify at the trial.”
“Bummer.” Fynn let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I can forget about Johnny getting arrested. Perhaps he regrets what he’s done and might be having sleepless nights.”
“Fynn, I’m afraid that’s not realistic,” Jackie interjected. “I’m almost sure that he has no regret or remorse. If he has any guilt, he would’ve turned himself to the police and confessed his crime.”
“Maybe he’s toasting with some bubbly to celebrate the success of his scheme,” Clara muttered, tilting her head to the side.
“Scheme? Did you say scheme?” Fynn’s ghostly face turned even paler. “Was my death a result of a planned murder? But why…?”
“That’s what I was trying to ask you.” Clara leaned forward. “What’s his motive for murdering you? Was it for money… or something else? Any troubles between you and him? Love triangle, perhaps?”
“No way!” He shook his head and paced around. Literally pulling his hair out, he exclaimed, “I can’t think of any reasons!”
“But 99 percent of motives for murder are either greed, love, revenge, or cover-up. I have a hunch that yours should fall in one of them,” Clara said matter-of-factly.
Jackie rolled her eyes. When Clara talked like that, Jackie couldn’t help but find a really strong resemblance to Rick. “You’re so informative, Clara. Did you learn that from Dan?” she asked, out of curiosity for the most part.
“No.” Shaking her head, Clara replied, “I learned about that from Rick Castle from Castle. There was this old lady who rarely left her suite on this Hawaiian cruise ship. During that cruise, I deliberately crossed the bridge to the world of humanity, just like a sightseeing tour. I used to hang around with her as she binge-watched a lot of cop shows. As the wife of USCAB’s CEO, I was intrigued by the crimes. I suppose she joined our league a few years back, but I haven’t seen her.”
“I can’t think of any reason Johnny would want to kill me.” Fynn massaged his temples.
“Okay. Fynn, you don’t need to panic. Take a deep breath,” Jackie said to the apparently frustrated and devastated ghost. “It’s not like we’re out of options.”
“What do you mean?” Fynn asked, wrinkling his forehead.
“Let me guess.” Clara tilted her head to the side, then clapped her hands as if she had an “aha” moment. “Perhaps, if we can obtain Johnny’s confession, it will be helpful, right?”
“Right.” Jackie nodded.
“Getting a confession from Johnny?” Fynn’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open.
“Except this option won’t be easy since most people can’t see or hear us.”
“If he could see people like us, he wouldn’t have killed Fynn at this cemetery,” Clara commented. Then she turned to Fynn. “I wasn’t here when you were killed, but Mrs. Barguil said she saw a man pushing you into the pond. According to her, Mr. Kirkland was pretty upset when she shrieked. Mr. Kirkland tried to hide
himself from Johnny, fearing the murderer was going to kill them as well. Apparently he’d forgotten about the fact that they’re both dead in the first place.”
Fynn groaned. “Whenever we watched paranormal shows featuring ghosts and spirits, he used to call them ridiculous. He said ghosts don’t exist. Oh my God, there’s nothing I can do!”
“I’m sorry.” Jackie tried to console Fynn by patting his back. “I can assure you that Mandy and Rick are superduper crime fighters, but even for them, it won’t be easy to obtain a confession from Johnny.”
“The world is too complex.” Fynn shook his head. “Who would’ve imagined things would be so complicated when I’m dead?”
Jackie felt a sense of resignation in his tone, but Clara held her chin up.
“So, a confession will help with the investigation of Fynn’s murder, right?” she said.
“Yes.” Jackie looked back at Clara. “Well, sometimes a confession serves as a breakthrough, bringing light to the case, perhaps reopening the case, bringing an additional search and so on. If new evidence comes up with said search, then…”
“There might be a miracle,” Clara declared. “All right then, I have an idea. Fynn, rest assured. I’ll definitely help you with your murder investigation. Don’t underestimate me. My husband used to be called the craziest agent in the whole FBI in his heyday.”
Then she floated up in the sky.
“Um… Clara?” Fynn extended his arms up in the air, as if trying to reach her. Except he couldn’t leave the pond he was trapped in. “Damn! Will I be trapped forever?” he yelled, kicking and punching the invisible chain tying him there.
“You won’t,” Jackie said. “When I was stabbed to death at Pier 26 on the night of Dance on the Pier, I couldn’t move from my murder scene for a long while. After that, I was able to move out of the spot where I was killed, but I couldn’t move out of the pier—until Mandy came by with Rick and we found each other. So, you’ll eventually be able to move from here.” She was crossing her fingers, praying the newly dead didn’t ask her when and how, as she had no answer.
