by Lotta Smith
“We’ve checked the surveillance camera, and no one came in or out of the salon.” The detective shook her head. “Also, Cordelia Spa doesn’t have a back door.”
“How about the stairs? Like, the one with the fire escape?” Rick interjected.
“Each floor of the building has a door to the fire escape, but there’s no direct route to the fire escape door from the salon.”
“Oh, crap…” Brian muttered as Detective Rogers explained.
“Ow, kwaaap,” Sophie parroted.
“No, darling.” Rick looked at her with a serious face. “That’s a bad word.”
“Kwaap,” she repeated, flashing a wide grin.
“Sophie, the bunny wants to play with you.” I shook the pink bunny from right to left.
“Bunny!” Her face lit up, and she grabbed for it.
“Woo-hoo! What fun it is to play with you!” Jackie exclaimed, dancing around us. “Whee!”
Indicating our daughter giggling, I looked at my husband. “Now she’s forgotten about the bad word.”
“I’m impressed.” He chuckled. Then he looked at Brian. “Well, the situation’s not in your favor.”
“What do you mean? Are you implying I’m the prime suspect?” The vein bulged on Brian’s neck. “Come on, Detective. Like I said, I can talk to dead people, and I’m sure Shannon’s still staying in the salon. Let me talk to her and find the killer.”
“I can’t do that.” Detective Rogers shook her head. “I’m beginning to think you may be able to talk to the victim, but that doesn’t let me check your name off the persons of interest list.”
“Persons of interest?” Brian perked up. “That means I’ve been downgraded from a suspect to a person of interest, right? If that’s the case, can I go home now?”
“No.” Detective Rogers raised her eyebrows. “Why do I grow more suspicious of you the more aggressively you insist on going home? You’re going to cooperate with us until we catch the killer.”
“Oh, shit.” Brian pulled his hair.
Sophie looked at him. “Ow, shiiii!”
Rick pointed a finger at Brian. “Do not cuss in front of my daughter. Or else, I’ll come up with something to lock you up for twenty-five to life, is that clear?”
With his lips compressed, Brian looked at Rick and then at Sophie, who was swinging the bunny happily, singing, “Bunnnyyy!”
After a long-lasting silence, he gave in. “All right. I’ll cut out on my swearing,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Good.” Rick flashed a triumphant grin while Brian muttered something like “Why hadn’t I thought about capturing him on video?”
* * *
Five minutes later, we were visiting Cordelia Spa, located on the seventh floor of a fashionable building holding a smorgasbord of high-end shops and cosmetic dental offices.
While the officers in uniform handled the reporters with the van and cameras and the tourists with their smartphones taking tons of photos, Detective Rogers led us into the building and up to the seventh floor.
Rick whistled as he took a step inside the spa. “Wow, this is a heck of a decadent place. Talk about indulging yourself, Brian.” He flashed a cocky grin at the exorcist.
“Ha.” Brian snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, when you’re in showbiz, looks matter.”
“Says a guy who’s clad in nothing but a bathrobe.” Rick made tsk-tsk sounds, moving his index finger in a sweeping motion.
“Shut up,” Brian mumbled through gritted teeth.
“You’ll thank me later,” Rick said breezily, winking at his longtime pal. “At least you’re out of that depressing interrogation room.”
Brian bit his lower lip but said nothing.
Detective Rogers decided bringing him to this building as a guide, trusted by Rick and me, would be a good idea. Brian was still in his spa robe, which made him truly, madly unhappy. I was accustomed to seeing him wearing all black from head to toe. He often wore a black suit à la Italian mafia style, black tie, and a black velvety top hat.
“Bah.” Sophie patted his arm like she was trying to console him.
“Brian, Sophie says everything’s gonna be all right, so Uncle Brian, cheer up and smile!” Jackie interpreted, floating around us.
“Oh, is that so?” For a moment, his scowl softened a little. “That’s great to hear. Thank you so much, Sophie. Your lovely personality must be coming from your mom’s side, right?”
“Rah!” Sophie giggled happily, swinging her arms and the bunny.
“Thank you for your kind words, Brian.” I chuckled. “Sophie and Jackie are right. Everything’s gonna be okay, and we’re all going to leave here smiling.”
“I hope so, Mandy.” Brian nodded. “I’m glad you’re here to help me.”
“It’s okay.” I reassured him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“All right. You can thank me when everything’s settled, Brian,” Rick butted in as he observed the spa.
The place resembled one of those super luxe European hotel lobbies from James Bond movies. The floor, ceilings, and the walls were all made of shiny black marble, and warm, mellow lights flooded into the whole place from a huge chandelier made of Baccarat crystals.
There was no window, and like we’d previously discussed, the huge oak door seemed to be the only way in and out of the salon. Close to the door was a reception desk sporting a huge vase full of extra-large white calla lilies.
“I like the way these flowers are arranged,” Jackie commented. “Good thing we’re here to appreciate its beauty. With no one except for the CSI and the cops, this could have ended up as a huge sacrilege of beauty. Not that I’m discriminating against the people in law enforcement, but generally speaking, they’re too busy to admire the flowers at the crime scene.”
“Unless, the flowers had something to do with the case itself,” Rick interjected as I relayed her words. Jackie had always been a chatty ghost. But occasionally, her small talks turned out to be a breakthrough, and Rick wanted to know what she was talking about.
“Did you find anything of interest?” Detective Rogers talked to one of the CSIs—a guy in his mid-twenties with a full head of carrot-colored hair.
“Nothing noteworthy,” he replied, looking in our direction. His eyes widened as they registered Sophie’s presence.
“It’s difficult to find a good babysitter at the last minute,” I explained.
“I can imagine that.” He nodded. “I have a sister with twins, and she says the same thing.” His lips parted into a smile as Sophie waved at him. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“She says ‘I’m feeling great after taking a good nap at the precinct. Thank you very much,’” Rick said.
“They’re Mr. and Mrs. Rowling from USCAB. They’re helping us as consultants.” Detective Rogers introduced us to CSI Stevie Callaghan.
“Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” Callaghan offered us a smile. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.” Then his gaze moved to Brian. “And you look like Brian Powers, the psychic hosting TV shows.”
“That’s because he’s the Brian Powers,” Rick interjected.
“Seriously?” Callaghan’s eyes widened. “I love your shows! Are you also here to help with the case?”
“No, he’s not,” Rick replied before Brian opened his mouth. “He happens to be a person of interest—meaning he could be our killer.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Brian spat.
“That’s what you say.” Rick winked.
“No need to argue about Brian’s involvement in the murder, I’m afraid.” Detective Rogers raised her eyebrows. “So far, nothing incriminating against Mr. Powers has been detected, and we’re here to interview the victim anyway.”
“That’s a good point, Detective,” Brian said appreciatively. “Shannon should be able to tell us who killed her.”
“I hope so. Except, you won’t be interviewing her,” the detective said matter-of-factly.
“Fine.
” Brian nodded. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let a person of interest directly talk to the victim.” Then he turned to me. “Mandy, do you see the corridor down there? When you come down from the lobby and go to the corridor, you can find the locker room just on the left side of it.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “That place is the most likely location where I could find the ghost of Shannon.”
“Exactly.” He nodded again and again. He was breathing faster than usual.
“No need to hyperventilate, Brian.” Jackie popped up by our side.
“Oh!” I gasped. Jackie had this bad habit of materializing whenever I least expected her dramatic entrance.
Detective Rogers looked at me. “Have you already found the victim, Mrs. Rowling?”
“No. I’m afraid not.” I shook my head. “That’s Jackie, my guardian angel.”
“Jackie!” Sophie said. “Gaaardi aingee!”
“Ooh, Sophie! You’re sooo sweet!” Jackie danced around Sophie. “And, you’re super smart. You’re right. I’m Jackie, and I’m the guardian angel of your mom and you.”
Sophie giggled, repeatedly exclaiming, “Jackie!”
“Let me take you to the locker room.” Detective Rogers led us along the corridor, but suddenly, she stopped. “Perhaps, Sophie would be better off staying in the lobby with her daddy. The place is still rather bloody.”
“Oh…okay.” I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment but soon put on a happy face as I bent down to meet Sophie in the eyes. “So, darling, have fun with Daddy, okay? I have something to do, but I’ll come back to you as soon as possible.”
“Mommy?” Her eyes widened.
“Sophie, darling. Let’s go to the lobby and play with the bunny, okay?” Rick scooped up from her stroller seat, but immediately, her big green eyes welled up with tears, and she started to hiccup.
“Mommy… Noo!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Swinging her arms, banging Rick’s jaw with the bunny, she tried to wiggle out of his arms.
“Come on, Sophie, darling. No need to cry. Mommy will be back in a minute or so…” Jackie tried to console her, but her shriek grew louder. “Oh, no. She’s not taking no for an answer. Sophie is adamant that she’s coming with you so that she can help Mommy with her job,” she informed me.
“Careful, darling!” I scurried toward Rick holding our daughter tightly as she kept crying and shrieking and punching her daddy’s face. “You can come with me. Let’s go with Mommy. How does that sound?” I looked at Detective Rogers apologetically. “May I?”
“It’s okay.” She raised her hand before I said anything. “I’ll have the bloody areas covered by drapes or something. With that, she won’t see the blood.”
“Thank you so much, Detective. We appreciate your kindness,” Rick said in an earnest tone. He was sporting not just one but three thin red lines on his right cheek, marked by our lovely daughter. “Sophie, please stop crying. I really hate it when you cry, darling.” He kissed the top of her head, cooing gently.
“Rick, you have scratch marks.” I touched his cheek and did a no-no-gesture at Sophie. “Darling, who marked Daddy’s cheek?”
“Mommy!” Sophie immediately responded and pointed at me, prompting Brian and Detective Rogers to snort and laugh.
“No, I didn’t,” I corrected. “Sophie, you left the scratch marks on Daddy’s cheek.”
She tilted her head and then pointed at Jackie. “Jackie!”
“No, I didn’t.” Jackie shook her head frantically, making Sophie choke with laughter.
“She’s putting the blame on you.” The detective chuckled.
“Oh, yeah. And she even put the blame on Jackie as well. Like father, like daughter. Hey, Rowling, you’ve got to take her to the MMA gym with you when she’s a little older. She could be a future UFC champ!” Brian choked with laughter. “She’ll be a handful when she grows up. I can’t wait till she becomes a teenager.”
“Ha.” Rick snorted, muttering, “I can’t wait till you have your first child, hopefully, a daughter.” He was scowling, but that didn’t last long.
“Daddy!” Sophie stroked his cheek ever so gently, and his mesmerizing green eyes melted—as in, totally.
“I love you, baby,” he said softly, squeezing her little hand in his fingers.
“Swoon!” Jackie danced around. “If he was saying those words to some bimbo, you would want to be worried, but isn’t he so cute when he’s all so sweet and caring about Sophie?”
“I know.” I smiled. “Who could have imagined him turning into such a sweet daddy?”
CHAPTER 4
When the bloody areas were covered by drapes, Detective Rogers let me in. In spite of all the fussing, crying, and shrieking—or thanks to the combination of them—Sophie was nodding off in my arms by that time. The tricky part was that she wasn’t fully sleeping. She was half-napping, which meant she was alert enough to cling to me like a genetically engineered super Koala whenever I tried to hand her over to Rick.
When she finally relaxed enough to go back to her stroller, I felt like crying out in joy and relief.
When I took a step inside the room, the strong stench of blood assaulted my nostrils. The pool of dried blood and bloody footprints on the floor were visible through the white drapes.
On each side of the room, four large lockers, seven feet tall, were lined up. They were the high-end kinds that let individual users punch in unique codes to lock and unlock their lockers without using physical keys. A hollow place was in the center of the wall located at the far end of the room. A gold vase with white Casablanca lilies and baby’s breath was on display. No window. A black trash can and a couple of leather-upholstered chairs were on the floor.
For a moment, I stood in the doorway, rhythmically pushing and pulling Sophie’s stroller. Detective Rogers and Rick were observing from some distance so that I could focus on the ghost.
“I think there’s someone over there,” Jackie whispered in my ear, indicating the inside of the room.
I nodded and looked at where she pointed. Within thirty seconds or so, I caught sight of a whitish and foggy shadow. As I kept on looking at that, I was able to recognize the shape of a woman.
She was facing the wall-side locker and didn’t seem to notice me yet. Before talking to her, I took a moment to observe her. She was a slim blonde with long legs, but she wasn’t very tall. Had she been taller, she might have pursued a modeling career. She was in a smart-looking, dark tailored jacket and a pencil skirt in a matching color, but the crimson blood messing up the back of her head was unmissable, and the back side of her jacket looked wet as well—I knew better than to assume the liquid could be water.
It was her—Shannon Kavanaugh, the murdered esthetician. Not that I’d confirmed her identity, but after all, Shannon was the only person killed in this spa, and I thought it safe to assume it was her.
Taking a step back to the door, I turned back and flashed a thumbs-up at Rick, Detective Rogers, and Brian.
“I’ll let Brian know that we’ve discovered a ghost.” Jackie flew toward them.
Brian was visibly relieved when Jackie went and delivered the news. He nodded at Jackie, thanking her, and then his shoulders heaved as he let out a deep sigh.
I turned on my heels and went back inside the locker room. I was going to speak to her, but then I realized she’d been dead for just three hours or so. I was used to talking to dead people, but communicating with such a newly dead person like her was a first for me. Even those who had been dead for years were often unaware of their life—or rather, death—status. In my opinion, nothing was as tricky as delivering the bad news about his or her death to the ghost.
I took a deep breath, and then opened my mouth.
“Hello? You must be Shannon.” I talked to her, trying to sound as breezy as possible.
Sophie’s right arm twitched in the stroller. She yawned, stretched her arms and legs, and then opened her big green eyes. “Ma-mmy.” She giggled.
“Oh, yes.
Mommy’s here,” I replied, tickling her. Shannon hadn’t noticed me yet; what harm could it do if I had a little bit of mother-daughter bonding time? Mom and my little sister Alicia—who became a mother years before I did—used to tell me that kids would talk to you at your least convenient times and I had to be ready for that. It turned out they were so right. Sophie wouldn’t be a baby forever. As I saw her happy smile and excited giggles, I started to relax, and the next thing, I was giggling with her.
We were giggling for ten seconds or so, and by then, I realized something wasn’t right. With the noise, the ghost should have turned back and looked at us. But the ghost was motionless as if she was frozen on that spot.
“Hello? Shannon?” I attempted to get her attention again, without much success.
“Loh!” Sophie spoke up, as if she tried to help me, but even she couldn’t grab Shannon’s attention. “Boo.” Sophie stuck out her lower lip.
“You don’t want to take it personally, darling.” I stroked her silky blonde hair. “Occasionally, dead people are too busy with themselves, and they’re not so responsive.”
“Oh, yes. Your mommy’s so right, Sophie.” Jackie popped up by our side.
“Jackie!” Sophie grinned ear to ear, waving her hands.
“Yes! Jackie’s here,” the ghost of a drag queen sang. Then she looked at me with a serious face. “Still, Brian won’t be thrilled if we couldn’t interview the ghost.”
“I know. What should we do?”
“Well…” Jackie tilted her head. “Oh, I have an idea. Brian told me Shannon was a workaholic. Why don’t you pretend to be a client?”
“Hmm, sounds good.” I nodded. “Then again, this place exclusively targets men. I wonder she might find it odd if I pose as a client.”
“I know. Still, if you could get her attention—maybe she’ll remember who killed her. So, all in all, it’s worth a try. You can always go for Plan B if that doesn’t work,” she pointed out.
“Okay.” I nodded. “By the way, what kind of Plan B are you thinking about?”
“What?” She shrugged, saying matter-of-factly, “if we already had such a plan, that’s called Plan A. So, why don’t you go and try out our Plan A? I can try that, but I have a hunch she’ll be shocked if a ghost talked to her. This sounds annoying and ridiculous, but sometimes, newly dead people are afraid of us ghosts, not at all realizing they’re ghosts themselves.”
