by Lotta Smith
“That makes us even.” He lifted my chin and kissed me. On the lips. Deeply.
He tasted hot and sexy with a hint of hazelnut coffee and mint-flavored toothpaste, and I loved it. I caught Jackie fanning herself from the corner of my eyes, so I shut my eyes and let the good times roll.
When our lips parted, I asked, “Rick, if I were murdered, would you just forget about me and go on with your life?”
“What? Were you thinking about that while kissing me?” Rick narrowed his eyes. “Not to mention that’s an unfair question.”
“You’re the one who started kissing me,” I pointed out. Then I turned to Jackie, who was still fanning herself with her hand. “Jackie, you don’t like it that your killer hasn’t been caught, do you?”
“No.” She shook her head while sticking out her lips. “Okay, investigating her murder might not be such a bad idea. Though I’m not sure how she’ll take it.”
“Hey, Jackie, stop making that kissy face!” I snapped, and she stuck out her tongue.
“Hell,” Rick muttered, “considering that you’ve been seeking every possible option to quit interacting with dead people until recently, you can be pretty stubborn.”
“Stubborn? Who, me? Okay, I’ll take the word as a compliment.” I smiled.
“I’m impressed with your optimism,” Rick muttered under his breath.
“Good. I have a hunch that she was in a steady relationship with someone following the breakup with Adrian Micelli.”
“What?” Rick frowned. “Agent Woo denied the presence of other men in her life, with no suspicious gifts, texts, or e-mails.”
“I know, but what if she was seeing a married man? In that case, texts and e-mails tend to be avoided,” I said. “Five of my classmates used to have affairs with attendings and/or professors—mostly surgeons—and all of the physicians were married. According to those naughty girls, the men never allowed their extramarital girlfriends to send texts or e-mails for fear of having their wives finding out, since getting caught having an affair would probably not be good for their divorce settlement negotiations. As for the gifts, they often bitched about not receiving anything decent. Anyway, I heard most of the girls were sleeping with faculty members to have advance access to exam materials, or for the whole purpose of a thrill.”
“I see.” Rick tapped on the counter with his long fingers. “Doctors are not known for their fidelity,” he commented, giving me the full-body once-over.
“What?”
“Mandy, have you ever…?” For the first time since I had met him, Rick stumbled over his words.
“No, I’ve never slept with an attending physician or surgeon,” I said, before he finished the question. “I didn’t get along well with them. Why do I have to answer that question? I didn’t ask if you slept with the models and socialites who brought you flowers, chocolates, and champagne last night, did I?”
“Uh-huh. Good.” A corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I told you they’re my fans, and I don’t sleep with my fans because I have standards.”
The previous night, five models, two TV sitcom actresses, and three socialites—all of them sporting long legs and slightly anorexic figures—visited Rick’s condo. All of them acted like I was invisible until they offered to stay with him for the night. Rick declined their offer, telling them he already had someone taking really good care of him, and introduced me to them. Then, for the first time, they noticed my presence. I would have been dead if looks could kill.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I need to ask her how she did that trick on me—I mean, strangling with her hair. So far, no other ghost, including Jackie, has ever touched me,” I explained while pouring the beaten eggs onto the skillet.
“All right.” Rick sighed. “You can try contacting Ellie Hochman, but I’ll come with you, and I’m bringing Brian Powers.”
When he mentioned Brian, I felt like rolling my eyes. Brian might’ve been a dependable exorcist, but he scared me. Still, I knew better than to argue.
* * *
“It’s dangerous to interact with dead people with no preparation or training. I told you!” Brian Powers declared, pointing at Rick, who was sporting a freshly applied moon boot and crutches following a visit to Dr. Grey.
“Still, your idea of training is likely to kill me.” I bit my lower lip. I was always intimidated by him. Standing at 6’5”, he was even taller than Rick and had the body of a former NFL recruit. Also, he looked like the mean-spirited attending in orthopedic surgery, even though Brian never wore scrubs. As always, he was in a mafia-style black suit, pairing it up with black mirror shades. He often invited me to take his military-style training course.
We were waiting for the elevator in order to visit the apartment where Ellie Hochman died.
“Shut up, Brian,” Rick shot back, thumping the floor with one of the crutches. “I was a tad bit too eager to feel ski boots on my legs.”
“Except you’ve only got one of them.” Brian chuckled, holding the elevator door for Rick and me.
“Thanks,” I said, helping Rick hobble into the elevator.
“No problem. Hey, how long do you have to wear that?” Brian asked, glancing at Rick’s boot.
“Three to four weeks.” Rick grimaced at his boot.
“Well, I’ll give you a discount if you put my business stickers all over your boot and get photographed at social functions,” he suggested, punching the button for Ellie’s floor.
“Your stickers? The ones featuring your giant head? I’ll pass.” Rick shrugged off the offer. “I don’t want to hex my healing bone with your haunted stickers.”
I snorted while laughing, which prompted Brian to give me the eye. “Where’s your guardian angel today?” he demanded.
“She took a day off to avoid being exorcised by you,” I replied.
When Brian opened his mouth to say something, the elevator door opened.
We ambled toward Ellie Hochman’s apartment. Luckily, the NYPD was happy to accept our involvement, and I had the key.
The investigator in charge of the case told us to feel free to go inside as it had already been processed. I assumed from his reluctance to come to the crime scene that he was afraid of being assaulted by the ghost.
When we entered the unit, I noticed the mess hadn’t been cleared. The bookcase that fell on Rick was still on the floor, its contents scattered like the innards of a smashed squash. The curtains had been torn down, the writing desk was dusty, and the bed mattress was turned up.
“Is that your ghost?” Brian asked in a low voice, pointing at the bedroom.
“Yes,” I confirmed, watching him roll his broad shoulders as if he were doing a warm-up exercise before getting rid of the ghost. “Please don’t exorcise her immediately. Can I have a moment to talk to her?”
“Of course, but I won’t ask your permission to do my job when things start to deteriorate.” Brian crossed his arms.
“Okay.” I nodded. Avoiding the clutter, I approached the bed. “Hi there.”
Ellie Hochman, still sitting on the bed like the time it was tidy, raised her head. “Oh!”
“Do you remember me?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened.” Then she caught Rick in her sight and gasped. “Gosh, was he hurt because of what I did to you?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said.
Ellie buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry… I am so sorry.”
“He just has a minor fracture. Luckily there’s no need for surgery,” I reassured her, which drew Rick’s involvement.
“Hello? Just a minor fracture?” At Rick’s sarcasm, the ghost of Ellie Hochman started to sob.
“You made her cry,” I snapped.
“Did I? Is that my fault?” Rick raised an eyebrow.
“The hell it is,” Brian chimed in.
“That means she can hear me.” Rick harrumphed and hobbled over toward the bed as close as he could reach with all the mess on the f
loor. “Ms. Hochman, I’m Rick Rowling, Special Agent in Charge from the FBI’s New York City field office. I need to ask you a few questions, and I hope you’ll cooperate.”
“I will.” Ellie nodded, and Brian relayed her words to Rick.
“We noticed your emotional distress during the previous meeting. Mandy, my assistant here, assumes that you had recalled your killer, leading to this.” Leaning on the wall, Rick indicated the chaos of the place. “You were in a relationship with another man other than Adrian Micelli, right?” He dropped the bomb with the casualness of asking the time.
“Rick!” I tried to shush him, but of course he didn’t care.
“In addition, I have a hunch that whoever you were seeing—who is, most likely, the person responsible for your death—was married,” Rick went on, telling my theory as if it were his.
“That was my deduction!” I pointed out.
“So what?” Rick cocked his head to the side. “Mind you, there are no copyrights with a deduction.”
“But….” I bit my lip.
Brian Powers, who was in the middle of bringing a chair to Rick, was laughing his ass off.
“That’s not the punchline!” I snapped at the exorcist while Ellie sobbed uncontrollably.
“Thanks, Brian.” Rick took a seat on the chair. “Mandy, take a close look at the CDs over there,” he told me, using a crutch to point at the cluttered floor.
“I’m not your enemy, so please don’t smash me like Humpty Dumpty,” I warned Ellie as I tried not to trip as I approached the mess.
“Take a look at the one peeking out from under the Justin Timberlake album. It’s Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E-minor. Ms. Hochman, it was a gift, presumably from your secret lover, right?”
“It’s something I bought myself. It was one of my out-of-the-blue impulses to purchase that CD,” she replied, but obviously Rick’s abrupt comment shook her up. Her voice trembled and her hands were tightly gripped into fists.
As I relayed the ghost’s words, Rick shook his head. “Oh yeah? I don’t think so. Before this mess, your belongings were organized alphabetically, but Mendelssohn was sandwiched between Justin Timberlake albums. Under normal circumstances, Mendelssohn should have been stored in the M section, but it wasn’t. One possible explanation for that is someone, such as your killer, took out the CD from the right place. Perhaps it had his fingerprints all over, or it had a romantic message or two inside the case. He could have taken away the CD itself, but in that case, there would be a visible gap in the shelf which might have incurred suspicion. He could have trashed your whole place to stage a robbery, except that should have made your staged suicide look improbable. Anyway, all he needed to do was erase that little trace of his presence from your life. The CD itself is just an innocent object, so he left it on your shelf.”
“Why did he leave it between Justin Timberlake albums?” Ellie muttered. She was visibly shaking. “I had been wondering about the reason for his action over and over since….”
When I relayed her words, Rick was silent for a moment. “I don’t have a solid answer, but one probable explanation is a romantic gesture in his part. Your relationship with him wasn’t something either of you could casually mention to your friends, right? I think leaving his gift to you between love song albums was something like his way of treating you with respect as a woman he loved—despite everything that went wrong.”
Ellie said nothing, but the fact that she didn’t deny Rick’s words and the tears running down her cheeks were a dead giveaway. She was as good as admitting the killer was her secret lover. Brian whispered the ghost’s reaction to Rick.
“I recommend that you tell us about who murdered you,” Rick pressed on. “Remember, the person who killed you hasn’t been caught. So you’re the only one at the losing end while the killer may be having a romantic night out with his wife.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I didn’t feel his words to be all that convincing. Still, they were effective for the ghost.
“I… I… wanted to… marry him, but… I knew… I couldn’t… because he has a wife… and kids,” Ellie finally said between sobs and hiccups.
“I see. That’s sad, you know,” I said, nodding sympathetically since I couldn’t say “Why did you bother wasting your time with a married man with kids? He’s not likely to divorce his wife and marry you. Even in the remote possibility that he actually chose to get a divorce to be with you, the chances of him cheating on you with another woman or two were pretty high. As the old saying goes, once a cheater, always a cheater. Haha!”
“I… wanted to… make a family… with him, but I… couldn’t… tell him. I… didn’t want to be… his… burden.” Ellie took a deep breath and raised her head. She had a look of determination. “I knew it wasn’t right to be involved with a married man. Sometimes, I had nightmares of being sued by his wife, or shot to death by her. I didn’t expect him to resort to… killing me. I was… so happy when I found him at my door. I thought he had feelings toward me… and I… teased him a little, but….”
“What’s his name?” I asked the ghost who was rubbing her bruised neck.
Ellie opened her mouth and then shut it. “His name is—”She buried her face in her hands. “No. I can’t tell you.”
I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. If I could touch her, I’d definitely have bitch-slapped her. The ghost’s wishy-washy attitude was getting old.
“Excuse me, but what is your problem? Isn’t it about time you tell us the name of your killer? If you haven’t noticed, the agent over there has come here on an injured leg thanks to your previous temper tantrum. Oh, don’t forget that you attempted to kill me with your monster hair. If you ask me, I don’t care about justice being served for you, because obviously all you care about is how you feel, what you want, and what you don’t want. It’s you, you, you! You know what? I’m soooo getting tired of you! And—Hey!” I was super keen on continuing my rant, but I was interrupted by the powerful hands of Brian Powers.
“Stop it already! You can’t insult your interviewee,” he hissed into my ear before turning to the ghost of Ellie Hochman and beaming like he actually enjoyed talking to her. “Hi! I’m Brian Powers, and I’m here to help you.”
“Oh… hi.” Ellie displayed a weak smile. “What would you like to know?”
The moment she said it, I hated her even more. Rick was so right. We shouldn’t have bothered with her in the first place.
“What would we like to know? Of course—” I was in the middle of giving into the urge to make multiple nasty comments, but Rick butted in.
“Ms. Hochman, I apologize for my assistant’s impolite remarks.” Moving slowly, avoiding the mess on the floor, Rick stepped even closer. “I hope you don’t take her so badly. She’s slightly short-tempered.”
“Um… sorry about your injury, you know.” The ghost ran her fingers through her hair and batted her eyelashes at my boss.
I hated her guts, so I decided not to voluntarily interpret her. She was on her own to find out that her words were inaudible to Rick Rowling. But my obstinacy didn’t last long.
“Mandy, tell me what she said,” Rick urged, so I reluctantly relayed her words to him. Of course, I omitted the eyelash-batting part.
Rick raised an eyebrow but went on. “By the way, you almost strangled my noisy assistant here with your hair. So far, you’re the only ghost who has ever made physical contact with her. Other ghosts tried to touch her, but they always ended up going through her body. How did you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything special.” Ellie shrugged. “At the time, I was totally frustrated, and the next thing I knew, my hair had spread all over the place and I was strangling her. In retrospect, that was scary.” She cast a glance at me.
“Do you have any idea what enabled you to do that?” Rick said. “Anything that might have triggered it?”
“Well… I was pissed at everything, and the next thing I knew, I had grown monster hair. I d
idn’t even know I could do that.” Ellie crossed her arms and took a moment to think. “You know, I haven’t been dead for a long while, but some of my memory is already getting shady. Oh, now I remember! Someone visited me soon after my death.”
“Was it after the police came in?” Rick asked.
“No. She visited me before the police.” Ellie shook her head. “She told me that a woman named Amanda, an evil witch who’s going to make everyone’s life miserable, might come. And she blessed me with some power. The power to off Amanda the evil witch.”
“Excuse me?” I chimed in. I wasn’t an evil witch. I wasn’t even a witch. I had been called the Grim Reaper, but I couldn’t believe anyone dared to link me with another damaging moniker. “I’m just a normal person who happens to communicate with dead people. Besides, this woman who visited you sounds much more like an evil witch. Who was she?”
“Hmm… you have a point. She was someone… What was the name? She was a… au….” She almost said the name, but then she gasped. “What is this? Ah, aaarrrgh!” Reaching for her throat and clutching it tightly, she screamed. She didn’t seem to be faking it. She was in total agony.
The window was closed, but a strong gust of wind blew, shaking up the curtains and some of the clutter.
“Aaaaarrrrrgh!” Ellie let out another painful scream; then she vanished.
“Brian.” Rick glared at the exorcist. “I just heard a scream. Don’t tell me you just exorcised her.”
Brian shook his head. “No, I didn’t do that.” Scratching his jaw, he muttered, “It was someone else’s job. Hell, I smell evil.”
“Oh my God!” I gasped. “Whoever did that, couldn’t they have at least waited until Ellie gave us her killer’s name?”
CHAPTER 11
Three days following the visit to Ellie Hochman’s apartment, Rick, Brian, and I were gathered at the table in the gorgeous dining room at Rick’s condo.
