by Lotta Smith
I took a step toward Shannon. “Hello? You must be Shannon, the top esthetician here at this salon, aren’t you?”
The ghost of Shannon finally responded. Oh, yeah! She did. I didn’t miss the tip of her fingers slightly twitching, and Sophie looked at me, pointing at what used to be a blurry, whitish shadow of Shannon Kavanaugh’s spirit, which suddenly looked livelier and more animated. She even appeared to be much more vivid in colors.
I went on. “Hi. It’s my first time trying out a spa treatment experience. I’ve heard so many nice things about the super esthetician Shannon Kavanaugh. And hopefully…”
Before I’d finished the sentence, she turned back to me. And the moment her eyes registered me, she offered me a social smile—not too friendly, and not too intrusive, but wide enough to show off her perfect set of pearly whites.
“Yes, I’m Shannon Kavanaugh. Thank you so much for kind words.” She nodded at me. She didn’t ask me what I was doing at an exclusive spa for gentlemen.
“I’m Amanda Rowling.” I offered her a small smile.
“Dah!” Sophie said, waving at her.
“And, this is Sophie, my daughter.”
“Hello, Sophie.” Looking cool and composed, Shannon waved back at my daughter. In spite of this spa exclusively dealing with male clientele, she didn’t look puzzled at all as she talked to me—a woman with her baby daughter.
For a moment, I wondered if her memory about her workplace had been shaky from the trauma of getting killed. I decided to go with some small talk. “So, this is the first time for me to visit here. My friend Brian Powers has been raving about this spa and you.”
“I see. So, you’re here by Mr. Powers’s referral. How nice. It’s a pleasure to meet you. So, Ms. Rowling, shall we go to the counseling room? This room is equipped with a state-of-the-art machine to check out the condition of your skin. Then we can talk about the plans and options as we look at the data,” she said smoothly, taking steps toward the door.
“Sounds fabulous!” I said perkily. Not that I was excited about the potential treatment, but she looked ready to go out of the locker room. If she could do that, she was going to meet up with Brian, and things might become easier. Detective Rogers didn’t allow him to come into the locker room, but she didn’t ban the ghost from coming out and talking to him.
Except, she couldn’t come out into the corridor.
She tried to leave the locker room and go over the threshold three times, but she was unsuccessful each time.
Sophie looked me, tilting her head—as if she was asking me “What’s she doing, Mommy?”
I smiled at her, squeezing her hand.
For a moment, puzzlement crossed Shannon’s eyes, but she recovered immediately. “Basically, we have three plans—facial, body, and hair removal,” she explained. “Ms. Rowling, you have beautiful skin, but you can get a lot of benefits from rejuvenation treatment. May I ask you about your lifestyle?”
“Sure.” I nodded, playing along with her. I noticed she asked about my work instead of asking when I was planning to return to work. “I’m a full-time mom, but recently, I started doing some consulting with the NYPD.”
I put an emphasis on NYPD, in hopes of implying that I was talking to her while here on police business.
“I see. You’re in law enforcement.” She eyed me curiously.
“Oh, yes.” I nodded, trying to figure out the right timing to break the news about her death. Considering that she was so keen on checking out my lifestyle, she wasn’t aware of her situation, but at the same time, she was communicative. So, I decided to play along with her for a while until she realized something was strange about herself. “I usually deal with murder cases,” I added, trying to give her clues.
“Oh.” She sucked in air, furrowing her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
For a moment, I stopped breathing. I half-expected her to realize her deadly situation and half-panicked about bringing Sophie to the place where the ghost might cause some kind of a catastrophe.
Her reaction wasn’t anything substantial. “I can imagine your career could be very stressful.” She tilted her head, sounding slightly sympathetic.
* * *
Five minutes later, I was still talking to Shannon, and I was providing her a smorgasbord of info about my skin. As she kept on digging about my skin issues—the tendencies for drying up to the point of getting all scaly, especially around the mouth—I was getting more and more interested in the ultimate moisturizing treatment.
When Sophie yawned, I realized that I was there to interview Shannon—not the other way round.
So, I cleared my throat. “By the way, Shannon, what happened to your head?”
“Pardon me?” She looked me like I’d just mentioned something really stupid out of the blue.
“I’m afraid your head is hurt,” I informed her, indicating her face. “You have blood on your forehead.”
Discreetly, Shannon touched her forehead with the tip of her index finger. When she looked at the blood on her fingertip, she grimaced. “Oh…you’re right. I have blood on my face. How did it happen? I apologize for meeting you in such bad shape.”
“Oh, no. No need for an apology.” I fluttered my hand. Shannon realizing the gush on her head was a huge step in facing the reality. “Well, the thing is, your injury looks really serious. Are you sure you don’t remember what had happened?”
“Serious injury? Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I pointed at the back of her head. “I think it’s hard to take a look at it yourself, but you have a huge gash in the back of the head—well, the place slightly lower than the top of your head.”
“Really? It’s strange… I don’t feel any pain at all…” As she reached for her wound, something remotely resembling panic crossed her beautiful face. “What… Why… How?” She was already a ghost, and I thought she couldn’t become paler or whiter—but she blanched, turning almost invisible.
“Wah! Goo!” Sophie clapped her hands happily. Well, Jackie had been her playmate who always played peek-a-boo, and unlike us living humans, Jackie was able to literally disappear and reappear in front of her. She looked at me, saying, “Peekahbuu!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her “No, darling. She’s just shocked.” Instead, I offered my daughter a vague smile and muttered some meaningless sounds. Luckily, she apparently found it hilarious, and she started rocking and giggling in her stroller.
Shannon’s lips parted as if she was on the verge of screaming out in shock, but she regained her composure in a matter of moments. Taking a deep breath, she offered me a small smile. “You were right, Ms. Rowling. I’m afraid it’s against our service policy to continue your counseling with me looking so messy. Let me call someone else.”
And she attempted to step out of the locker room, but she couldn’t.
“Wow,” Sophie said, widening her eyes.
“Oh…” Shannon tilted her head, and a large drop of blood trickled down to the floor. Looking away from the blood, she muttered under her breath, “Again?”
I knew why she couldn’t go over the threshold; her spirit was bound to the place where she was killed. That phenomenon often happened when the deceased had been murdered or accidentally killed. After all, most of them were unaware of their death.
Still, the sight of Shannon desperately moving her legs, trying to go out of the locker room was almost painful.
“Shannon, I’m afraid you’re too badly injured to move around,” I called to her. “Why don’t you take a break and relax a little?”
“You think so? Thank you for your kindness.” She nodded apologetically.
“Do you happen to remember how you got so badly hurt?” I asked. “Say, you might have banged your head or something?” I realized my words sounded like a question and not a statement.
“Well…” She touched her forehead. “In retrospect, I think something really hard banged on my head… Oh, yes… That was painful…so painful that my vision turned all red�
��”
“Okay,” I said encouragingly. “And what happened next?”
“I think I’d lost consciousness…” She shut her eyes and then reopened them. “And the next thing… Well, I don’t have the memories of what happened next…” Her face turned so pale it almost looked blue.
“It’s okay, Shannon,” I interjected. I had no idea what was okay about this situation, but when things went crazy, my vocabulary tended to turn into that of a third grader’s.
Panic crossed Shannon’s face. “When did that happen? Was it seconds…or minutes ago…or a long, long time ago? I’ve bled a ton of blood, right? Why doesn’t it hurt at all? On top of all that, why can’t I move out of this room?” Then her eyes registered the droplets of blood that were as large as a kid’s knuckle. “Oh my God… That’s my blood, isn’t it?”
Her shoulders heaved once, twice, and then three times. Her eyes were wide open. Clutching her bloody head in her perfectly manicured hands, Shannon bent down on the spot.
The lights flickered. Even though we were inside the air-conditioned room, I felt a sudden gush of wind on my cheeks.
Without words, I picked Sophie up out of the stroller, scurrying out of the locker room.
With my few years of experience dealing with dead people, I knew what was coming the next. When ghosts realized their death, they often reacted rather extremely—ranging from blowing wind as strong as a category four hurricane, smashing everything like huge pieces of furniture onto every possible surface, to trying to shoot the messenger who’d brought the bad news.
“Mandy, are you all right?” Rick came running toward us, welcoming the both of us in his embrace.
“I guess so.” I nodded in his arms. “Shannon just realized she could be dead, and the lights started flickering, and we came out of the locker room.”
“Good.” He patted my shoulder and then Sophie’s.
“Wah.” She extended her arms toward him, grinning widely. I handed her over to him.
“Woo-hoo, Sophie. Did you miss me?” Rick held her, cooing happily. Contrary to Daddy’s enthusiasm, Sophie’s demeanor was quite cool. She gave him a slight nod, followed by a gentle pat on his shoulder—as if she was telling him “Okay, you’ve earned a few star points for trying to be a good daddy. Keep working, Daddy.”
Brian cleared his throat. “What did she say about her death? Did she see the killer?”
“Oh…” A mental forehead slap moment. “I was about to ask her, but then she showed signs of a potential meltdown.”
“You did the right thing, Mandy,” Rick chimed in. “We can’t afford to risk Sophie being exposed to dangerous situations. She’s small and delicate.”
“Oh yeah?” Brian raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Sophie swinging the bunny with one hand and fist pumping with the other arm. If she were someone else’s child, I’d have said something on the lines of “Delicate? That’s funny, ha, ha…”
I looked at Brian’s face with undeniable worry and then at the locker room. Unlike what I’d anticipated, no loud noises of the room being destroyed came from there. “Well, I think the situation is under control now. Let me go back to see how she’s doing.” I turned on my heels.
“Thanks.” Brian let out a deep sigh.
“Ma-ma!” Sophie protested, trying to wiggle out of Rick’s arms.
“Oh, darling, you want to come with me?” I exchanged glances with Rick.
“Of course, you’re going, Sophie, right?” His tone was lighthearted. “You’ve got to go back and retrieve your stroller, right?”
Sophie giggled, nodding again and again.
“She says she’s got to keep her eyes on Mommy so that she can stay safe.” Jackie offered me the interpretation.
“Wow, really? Oh my goodness, Sophie, darling! You’re so lovely and supportive.” I cooed at my daughter as she flashed a wide grin.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Still holding Sophie in one arm, Rick took my arm with his free hand.
When we reached the locker room, the door was still open. With Rick standing behind me holding our daughter, I peeked inside.
Shannon was there—crawled up in the corner of the room. With her bloody hands, she held her shoulders tightly.
I took a step inside the room. “Hello, Shannon? Are you okay?” She looked anything but okay, but I couldn’t just say “You look horrible.”
Her upper body twitched, and she raised her head. “Oh. Ms. Rowling…” Her tone was a shaky whisper. She shook her head. “Oh, no. Something’s wrong with me. I don’t usually get so emotional in front of my client.”
“It’s okay.” I raised my hand, taking another step toward her. I had a hunch she’d regained her memories about her head injury and probably more about that. “So, did you recall what happened to your head?”
“Can I ask you something?” she responded with a question.
“Oh, sure. Go ahead.”
As I nodded, she looked me directly in the eyes. “Am I dead?”
CHAPTER 5
“Um…well…” For a moment, I was at a loss for words as she looked me with her intense blue eyes.
“I know Mr. Powers is a popular TV psychic and exorcist, and I believed his ability to talk to recognize the presence of dead people’s spirits and communicating with them to be legit,” she went on. “He’s once mentioned he has a lady friend who has a similar ability to his. I’m guessing he was talking about you… Am I correct?”
“Yes. You’re correct,” I admitted. I took a deep breath. As I looked down, caked blood jumped into my vision. Trying to focus on Shannon’s spirit, I said, “It’s me—the friend Brian was talking about. So far, it hasn’t been determined if your death was caused by an accident or something else, but the police assume the facial massager hit you in the back of the head—resulting in your death.”
As I explained, I avoided using the word murder on purpose. Suffering such an untimely demise was bad enough, I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to keep her cool when the possibility of her death being a murder was brought up.
“The facial massager?” Shannon parroted.
“Yes. They showed me this machine about the size of a microwave oven, connected to a probe…” Using my hands, I illustrated the suspected murder weapon.
“Oh, that sounds like the one called Sonictron, using the sonic wave to stimulate the rejuvenation of the dermal tissues,” she muttered. “Are you sure the machine was in this room?”
“Yes. I heard the machine was lying close to your legs when you were found bleeding on the floor.” I nodded. “Was that already in the locker room when you came in? Or did you happen to carry that here with you?”
“No way.” Her voice was certain and strong. “That machine doesn’t belong here. We never bring the spa equipment to the locker room. After all, this room exists so that our clients can change their clothes—not to treat them in this room. What’s even more ridiculous and outrageous is the machine which shouldn’t be here had dropped onto my head, killing me.” She was furrowing her delicate eyebrows for a while, but then her eyes widened. “Oh my God, it’s a bloody murder! I was whacked to death using the facial massager, right?”
“I’m afraid so.” I nodded, realizing I’d been wasting time trying to deliver the heavily toned-down info about the situation to her. “Did you see the killer’s face?”
“I don’t remember.” She shut her eyes tightly, reaching for the wound on the back of her head. “Then again, considering that I was whacked from behind, it’s highly possible that I didn’t see my killer’s face in the first place.” She reopened her eyes, looking me with a serious face. “By the way, Ms. Rowling, I just noticed you’re talking as if you’re hard at work. Perhaps, you might want to take it easy and relax so that our spa artists can work the biggest possible magic on you.”
“Um…well…” For a moment, I felt like following her suggestion and considered asking for a cup of herb tea. Of course, I’d immediately recalled why I was there. “Actually, I’m here con
sulting with the NYPD,” I confided in her
“Pardon me?” Her eyes widened. “Are you here for work?”
“Yes, I am,” I admitted, rather apologetically. “I didn’t mean to con you or anything like that, but I assumed you wouldn’t take me seriously if I came to you, saying ‘Excuse me, but you’re dead. Can you tell me who killed you?’”
“Oh my goodness. That’s a good point.” Her lips formed the shape of an “O.”
“I hope so. Anyway, we’d appreciate your help very much so that we’ll be able to find your killer as soon as possible and justice can be served,” I said, and I meant it.
“I understand.” Shannon nodded, letting out a small sigh.
“Are you okay? Would you like some time to relax?” I asked. Had she been still alive, I’d have definitely offered her a cup of relaxing herb tea.
“Oh, no. It’s okay.” She shook her head, offering me a small smile. “I had some really fabulous plans for you, and it slightly pains me that I don’t get to set you up with my plans. Why don’t you try the lip-moisturizing pack at least?”
“Hmm…” I felt for my somewhat dry skin around the lips, and her offer almost tempted me, but Sophie’s voice dragged me back to the reality.
“Mo-mmy!” At the doorway, she was frantically waving her arms while Rick held her.
“I think she wants to go back to her stroller,” Rick guessed. “Come on, Sophie. Have you ever thought how much Daddy loves to hold you in his arms?”
Of course, our lovely daughter wasn’t paying attention to his words. “Wah!” As soon as her eyes registered on the stroller, her face lit up.
“It’s okay, Sophie. Mommy’s gonna bring you the stroller.” Jackie popped up by Sophie and Rick, and she cooed, floating over the floor.
“Here you go, darling.” I pushed the stroller to the door, and with Rick’s help, Sophie took a seat, smiling so happily. She yawned, starting to nod off.
