by Lotta Smith
When I shut my eyes and started dozing off, Rick held me closer to him. “Don’t even think about falling asleep here. I have a hunch you might stumble into the water. It’s chilly, and we didn’t bring extra clothes. Oh, don’t forget that it’s deep enough to kill an adult man.”
“Come on, I won’t fall into the pond. Guess what? I’m not a five-year-old with too much interest in aquatic life,” I pointed out. “Hey, when did water hazards stop being a problem for you?”
“What are you talking about?” He brushed the stray locks away from his forehead.
“You know, little kids tend to fall into whatever water hazards are nearby, such as fountains at shopping malls, parks with little artificial streams running across the property, and so on. Whenever we went out to such places on weekends and vacations, either Alicia or I, or both, fell into the water.” I chuckled fondly. “When we were little, we really liked little aquatic critters like tadpoles, frogs, newts, goldfish and koi, so we always looked for them in the water until one of us came too close and fell in. Still, such faux pas weren’t always bad, as we got new clothes whenever we accidentally wet ourselves. Ah… memories…”
“You girls just wanted new clothes, I presume?” He snorted. “I was a clever kid, and I never fell into water.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” Clara chimed in. “He literally walked into the water whenever he found it at malls, hotels, or wherever.”
“Kids are kids. They can’t help falling into water at wrong places and wrong times,” Jackie concluded.
“Hey, Rick, Clara says you’re lying.” I nudged his elbow.
“Mom, don’t tell my wife about my life as a kid, okay?” he grumbled. “In case you might not have noticed, I’m a grown man now, and some things are better untold.”
“Oh really?” Clara let out a hearty laugh and winked at me. “Mandy, I’ll tell you all the juicy details about his childhood, but you can’t tell him I told you.”
I suppressed my urge to chuckle.
“What?” Rick asked, illuminating my face with the flashlight.
“Nothing,” I replied, pushing the light away. “Hey, did you hear that? I just caught something that sounded like a car approaching.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Rick steered the flashlight in the direction of the road.
“I heard that too,” Fynn chimed in. “It should be Nikki’s minivan.”
“Fynn says Nikki is likely to have arrived,” I said.
“Wow, I’ll go and check her out,” Jackie offered when we heard a car door slamming.
Within a minute, she flew back to us. “Hey, Fynn, you married a really beautiful lady!”
“You think?” The ghost of Fynn broke into a goofy grin.
“Of course!” Jackie bounced. “She’s so cute. You know, she looks a little like Taylor Swift meets Shakira. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I always felt.” Fynn blushed.
“Wow, Fynn just turned pink,” I whispered to Rick. “That’s a really rare color to see on dead people.”
“Seriously?” he whispered back.
“I’m serious.” I nodded. I’d seen ghosts turning purple and blue, but pink was uncommon.
Jackie went on. “Oh, and I saw your daughter. She’s sooo adorable!”
“Why thank you! I’ve never felt happier since my death,” Fynn exclaimed. The fact he was dead didn’t change, but I interpreted his reaction as a sign of him taking things positively.
“They were with an orange cat, by the way.” As Jackie said that, I caught the sounds of footsteps and the leaves crunching coming toward us.
When we looked in that direction, we were almost blinded by the flash of a Maglite directed in our faces. At the same time, something hissed menacingly.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” a woman demanded.
She was in her mid-twenties and wearing a white hoodie and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. Her wavy blonde hair was knotted into a ponytail. Her eyes were sharp, glaring at us skeptically. Perhaps that had something to do with her carrying a little girl in her arms.
“This is Nikki. She visits me every morning,” Fynn said proudly.
Before I had a chance to relay his words to Rick, a big fat cat jumped toward us and hissed even more fiercely. It seemed to be snarling at Jackie.
“Hey, kitty, you don’t have to be so hoity-toity,” Jackie complained.
“Come on, Mr. Bubbles, be nice. She’s my new friend, Jackie, who’s helping me with Mandy and Rick over there,” Fynn cooed, still standing in the middle of the water.
Mr. Bubbles seemed to grasp the situation, meowing once before he sat down by Rick’s legs, but on the other side, Nikki couldn’t look more skeptical.
“Hello? Mr. Bubbles? What are you doing? Come back to Mommy.” She gestured to the cat, who responded with a yawn. As she called the cat, her gaze didn’t divert from us.
“Hi, you must be Nikki, right?” I did a little finger wave, displaying a small smile while Rick cast the flashlight at her direction.
“Yes?” she said, sounding more like a question than a statement. Her fingers gripping the flashlight turned white at the knuckles, indicating her anxiety. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, but Fynn was right, she was beautiful. “And you are?” she demanded.
“Hi, Nikki.” Rick raised his hand, displaying the dazzling smile he usually reserved for special occasions. “I’m Rick, and this is my wife, Mandy. We knew your late husband, Fynn, and we decided to visit here to pay our respects. Though it’s an odd time to visit the cemetery, I’m sorry for your loss.”
While he offered our condolences, Jackie was playing peekaboo with the child. Very young children are more likely to see ghosts. The toddler in Nikki’s arms giggled as Jackie revealed her face with different kinds of makeup after covering it with both hands for a second.
“Who’s the good, smart girl? It’s you, Jennie!” Jackie was laughing with the girl, who was holding a little bouquet in her small hand.
“Thank you,” Nikki mumbled, then took the flowers from Jennie’s hand, placed it on the ground, and turned on her heels. “Mr. Bubbles, let’s go.”
Obviously she was leaving. “Nikki, please don’t go!” Fynn shouted, but of course Nikki didn’t hear him. Before I could say anything, he was sobbing again.
“Mandy, you have to stop her,” Clara pleaded in horror. “Whenever she leaves this place, Fynn sobs for hours, making all of us crazy.”
“Um… Nikki? Well…”
While I was stumbling with my words, Rick grabbed her attention in seconds by asking, “By the way, Nikki, what will happen to the wedding?”
“Wedding? Whose wedding are you talking about?” She stopped walking and turned back to us.
“I’m talking about yours and Fynn’s wedding,” Rick replied. “He said he’d made a booking for a wedding venue as his gift to you for your third anniversary.”
I wasn’t sure if asking a widow about her upcoming reception to her late husband was appropriate, but Nikki seemed more curious than offended.
“Which wedding venue did he book?” she asked.
“Well…” Rick tilted his head to the side as if to recall his memory, except he had no idea about the venue. “What was the name of the venue, sweetheart?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were waiting for the right answer.
“Garden Bay Hotel in Brooklyn,” Fynn said hurriedly.
“I believe he said he’d booked the wedding at Garden Bay Hotel in Brooklyn,” I said.
“Right. Now I remember.” Rick nodded and fumbled with his phone.
“Garden Bay Hotel?” Nikki sucked in air.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Fynn said he was booking the venue without telling you, making it a surprise party. He said he’d borrowed like twenty grand from some consumer financial service agency to pay for the wedding.”
“Are you sure?” Nikki looked me straight in the eyes, 95 percent of her gaze doubt, with the remaining 5 percent being
indecisiveness.
Rick opened his mouth. “Look, I know we haven’t met each other before, and it may sound weird to receive news about your own wedding from total strangers, but you can just call Garden Bay Hotel to see if we’re telling the truth.”
Nikki knitted her eyebrows in silence for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll go there and see if your story checks out,” she said, then started walking in the direction she came from with long strides. “I don’t have their phone number.”
“Wait a sec,” Rick called.
“What?” she said, without looking back.
“You can just call them to see if it’s actually reserved. Their number is…” Glancing at his phone screen, he recited the phone number, but Nikki didn’t stop.
“Thanks, but I’d rather see it myself in person.” She raised the hand carrying the flashlight.
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s before five o’clock,” I said.
“Hotels are open twenty-four hours, right?” She stopped, looking back at us. “Want to come with me?” Her eyes were so intense, as if she was challenging us.
“Mandy, Rick, what are you doing? Stop standing here like a duo of scarecrows and follow her,” Clara commanded, clapping her hands. “Chop, chop. Hurry up!”
She sounded almost identical to when Rick used to bark orders at me before we were romantically involved.
“Mandy, I think Clara’s channeling Steve McGarrett from Hawaii Five-0,” Jackie whispered in my ear, prompting me to ask, “Is it even possible for a ghost to channel a fictional character?”
I’d seen more than my share of dead people taking over living people, but if dead people could possess other dead people, I had a hunch it would take the word “complicated” to whole new level.
“Look at Fynn. He’s crying again.” Clara brought my attention back to the surreal reality.
When I looked at Fynn, he was on his knees, clutching his chest. “Mandy, please, please, please go with Nikki.” Crying like a desperate kid, he was seriously begging.
Nikki was still awaiting our response to her challenge. “The hotel shouldn’t be so far from here,” she added. “With you there, I can accuse you both to your face for feeding me this BS in case Fynn didn’t make such a reservation.”
“Okay. We’re coming.” Rick shrugged, muttering, “Personally, I’d prefer to go home and grab some sleep.”
When we went out to the road, Nikki’s car—a blue minivan—was parked ahead of Rick’s Lamborghini. They were the only two vehicles present, and I saw a child safety seat inside the minivan.
“Is that yours?” Nikki indicated the Lamborghini with the tip of her chin.
“Yes, as far as I can remember,” Rick said, unlocking the vehicle with a smart key in his hand. “Wanna ride with us?”
“Of course not. Who knows for sure you’re not a couple of axe murderers ready to kill me and my daughter? No way.” She shook her head defiantly.
“Hmm… that girl sounds like quite a tough cookie,” Jackie commented.
“Yes. I don’t know how she could tolerate a guy like Fynn,” Clara agreed, subtly dissing the new ghost on the block.
“Us? Axe murderers?” Rick raised an eyebrow.
“I was just kidding. Don’t you have a sense of humor?” Nikki said, fastening her daughter in the car seat. “It’s just, when I saw your car parked here, I braced myself for an encounter with a group of rich, spoiled brats from Upper East, partying in the graveyard in the middle of night, drinking and doing drugs perhaps.”
“So you must be relieved to see us,” I said. “I’m from Queens, and we live in Midtown, instead of Upper East. Also, we’re not using any alcohol or controlled substances.”
“Personally, I think it’s weirder for someone sober to hang around the graveyard in the middle of the night.” She frowned, ushering the orange cat into the back seat.
“I see your point.” Rick snorted. “My mom happens to be a resident here, and sometimes I get this impulse to visit her, regardless of the time.”
Nikki sucked in air. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. Let’s go.” Rick climbed in the Lamborghini. “Mandy, get in.”
“Honey, it’s always nice to have you here.” Clara kissed him on the cheek. “But you don’t have to visit me that often, as I’m usually out of town.”
I relayed her words to him, and he responded with a kiss on my lips.
I wasn’t prepared for that. “Wow!” My eyes widened, but I liked it.
“I love it when you look surprised.” Chuckling, he kissed me again.
“Oh my God! This car is sooo hot with two lovebirds! Don’t you think so, Jackie?” Clara exclaimed, fanning herself with a little portable electric fan that popped out of nowhere.
“I agree with you,” Jackie chimed in. “But here’s the thing. I love it hot.”
“I know.” Clara broke into a wide grin.
CHAPTER 5
After driving for approximately twenty minutes, in tandem with Nikki’s minivan, we arrived at the Garden Bay Hotel. Despite the early hour, traffic wasn’t nonexistent. People were awake and working. It was so true that the city never sleeps.
When our cars rolled into the hotel’s parking lot, the indigo of the night sky was turning slightly lighter. I had a hunch that I was about to witness the dawn.
Nikki gestured for us to be quiet as we got out of the car. In the minivan’s back seat, Jennie was fast asleep. Mr. Bubbles the cat was scratching the rear window with his claws. Carrying her sleeping daughter, Nikki told the cat to stay in the car.
“Do you need help carrying her?” I asked, as her hands were full. Not to mention Clara insisted I hold the toddler in order to boost my estrogen level, which, according to her, would help me become pregnant.
“Not that I’m pressuring you or anything, but sometimes I cannot help but envision having grandchildren,” my ghostly mother-in-law said casually, absolutely giving me a ton of pressures.
“Actually, I’m looking forward to their babies.” Jackie giggled. “You know what? I’ll be the world’s coolest auntie ghost.”
“No,” Nikki said curtly. Her tone was so brusque that I almost suspected she might have caught the flamboyant ghosts chatting. Of course, I was just being a little paranoid, as her eyes didn’t follow the ghost duo hovering in the air. Nikki paused for a few seconds and then added, “Thanks for asking. She gets fussy when someone she doesn’t know well touches her.”
“No problem.” I offered a smile, trying to send her a nonverbal message that we were not her enemy. “If you need my help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Do you have kids?” she asked, her tone turning slightly warmer.
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “But I have two nieces, and I used to carry them around when they were babies.”
“Okay. I see.” She gave me a small smile.
“Are we ready?” Rick cocked his head to the side, waiting for our agreement. “All right, let’s go.”
We headed for the hotel entrance and went straight to the front desk, which was manned by a young receptionist who apparently had difficulties keeping himself awake.
When we approached, Nikki asked the young man about her late husband’s wedding reservation.
“The wedding manager won’t be available until nine o’clock,” the receptionist mumbled, yawning as he finished the sentence. At least he had the decency to attempt to conceal the yawn by clearing his throat.
“Excuse me, but I can’t wait until then. I have to be at work by that time, and I have to take my daughter to daycare at eight o’clock. All I’m asking for is confirmation if Fynnley Cochran made such a reservation,” Nikki persisted, sounding desperate. “Will you please check?”
“Well…” The receptionist looked troubled.
“Mandy, can you please help her get the answer?” Clara urged me.
I took a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse and offered it to the receptionist. “Pretty please?” I said.
His fingers moved as if he was tempted to take the bill, but then he stopped and shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. I can’t.”
Rick cleared his throat, producing his card along with a crisp hundred-dollar bill. “Hi, my name is Rick Rowling. Actually, I’m here for a joint investigation with the NYPD about the death of Mr. Fynnley Cochran. It’s an important police matter, and I appreciate your cooperation.”
Apparently, Benjamin helped the receptionist wake up as his eyes widened, suddenly looking alert. He immediately accepted the bill, nodding intensely and muttering, “Police matter? Okay, I’ll get the assistant manager.” He disappeared in the back room with an unexpected attentiveness and speed.
“Police? Are you guys with the police?” Nikki exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say that to me in the first place? I was really afraid that I’d encountered a couple of weirdoes who might be cannibals plotting to kill us and eat us by pretending to know Fynn!”
“Apparently you’ve been watching too much bad TV.” A corner of Rick’s lips quirked up into a lopsided grin. “Rest assured, we’re not into eating humans.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Nikki let out a sigh.
“Even though we’re not quite vegetarians either,” Rick added, prompting Nikki to step back.
“Don’t worry, Nikki. It’s also true that we knew Fynn,” I chimed in. “Actually, my mother knows him better.”
It was a downright lie as my mom knew nothing about him, but she observed, “Wow, I didn’t know he had friends in the police, especially the kind who drive Lamborghinis.”
In a few minutes, the receptionist came back with a thirtyish guy in a dark suit.
“Hello, I’m Ben Hickman, assistant manager of this hotel.” After asking Nikki for her driver’s license, he typed on the computer’s keyboard. “So, we have a wedding anniversary party reservation for November twentieth with Mr. Fynnley Cochran as the groom and Mrs. Nicole Cochran as the bride.”
Nikki’s eyes widened. “So it was true,” she muttered.
