by Lotta Smith
“Did you have any progress with the murder case?” Brian asked, taking a bite of stewed lamb chops. “How is the Mendelssohn guy doing?”
“He’s all clammed up.” Rick shrugged. “That guy’s denying any involvement with Ellie Hochman, much less her murder.”
Adam Dawson was Ellie’s immediate supervisor at the design firm she worked for and one of the people who visited the victim’s apartment to find her hanging. Dawson was a classical music aficionado who still played the violin with the orchestra team of the university he had graduated from, and he was married with two kids. The NYPD had been digging, but so far nothing supporting his fling with the victim had been found.
As for the Mendelssohn CD left, it had no fingerprints at all—not even Ellie’s. Rick figured the CD had been wiped out to erase the prints.
“He denied buying that CD for the victim. We’re not talking about one of them million-unit sellers, and at first, finding the buyer of the item seemed like a piece of cake, but it wasn’t purchased using a credit card,” Rick went on.
“Maybe Ellie bought it herself, like she told us,” I said carefully.
“Yeah, I remember her saying that. Anyway, you need solid evidence, or at least someone who can help you find it.” Brian rolled his neck.
“Brian, were you able to talk to her?” I asked sheepishly, poking at lamb stewed in tomato-based sauce. I was the one who stewed the meat instead of pan-roasting it, and the sequence of events regarding my choice of cooking was all a blur. I was thinking about the ghost of Ellie Hochman’s whereabouts while I was sprinkling herb salt on the lamb chops. When Rick asked me what I was making for dinner, I was shaking the meat in a plastic bag containing flour, and the tomato sauce was simmering in the pot. It was too late to realize that the recipe of the dish I was preparing didn’t include covering the meat with flour. So, I pretended I was making lamb chop stew from the beginning, sautéed the meat and soaked it deep in the simmering tomato sauce.
“What is it? It’s not beef or pork, is it?” the exorcist asked without answering my question.
“It’s lamb stewed in tomato-based sauce with assorted vegetables,” I replied. “I hope you like it.”
“Of course, I like it,” he said.
“Oh really? That’s good to hear.” I smiled. It was always great to have someone speaking highly about my cooking. I felt momentarily giddy until I realized I still had no information about Ellie. “Look, Brian, did you just try to change the subject?”
Brian cocked his head to the side. “Maybe… I guess. And no, I couldn’t contact her. I’m assuming she left for a better place. By the way, it’s really delicious.”
“I know, you’re a genius, Mandy,” Rick chimed in.
I groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Rick and Brian asked in unison.
“You know what? The more you guys act like the ghost’s disappearance had nothing to do with me, the worse I feel—like you’re just trying to comfort me without saying, ‘Hey! No worries, it’s not your fault,’ when you actually believe it’s totally my fault.” I took a large bite of a lamb chop. Hmm… it was much better than I expected. Indeed, it was yummy. “Okay, so I might have expressed my frustration over her attitude, but that doesn’t mean I’m the one who got rid of her forever, does it?”
It was a shocking experience to see her ghost disappearing with a harrowing shriek. After that, we all tried to call her back, but even Brian couldn’t contact her.
I had no intention of having her disappear, but she vanished from this world.
Rick and Brian exchanged glances. “Considering the time lag between your rant on her attitude and disappearance, I think it’s highly unlikely to assume you made her disappear.” Rick frowned.
“Still, you were pissed when Ellie called you an evil witch,” Brian pointed out.
“I know.” I sighed. “Do you think it’s possible to accidentally kill a ghost? If so, did I eradicate her just like a roach without even noticing? Oh my God, I feel so horrible!”
“Don’t worry, Mandy. She was already dead in the first place,” Rick said matter-of-factly.
“Still, I’ve never killed a person! Even if she was already dead when I met her, and even though I had no intention of killing her, I feel totally, horribly, extremely bad about erasing her from this world.”
“Come on, Mandy, you’ve killed three people just by touching—” Rick started, but he stopped short the moment he met my glare. “Just saying! Hey, why are you swinging your legs as if you’re thinking about kicking me?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps my legs have their own will.” I shrugged.
“Mandy had nothing to do with that self-righteous, cranky ghost bitch.” Jackie popped up from out of nowhere, singing like a musical star.
“Thank you, Jackie.” I smiled at her.
“Are you sure?” Brian knitted his eyebrows.
“Come on, Brian. I can assure you of Mandy’s innocence regarding Ellie Hochman’s disappearance.” Jackie batted her long fake eyelashes. “You know, we’ve been together for months and, of course, there were bumps and rocks during our relationship. Okay, so sometimes Mandy throws a temper tantrum, which can be best described as a perfect storm, and yet I’ve never been spiritually killed by her temper.”
“Oh yeah, there is that.” Brian summarized Jackie’s words to Rick, who muttered, “Their relationship? Seriously?”
“Wasn’t she trying to mention a name before shrieking and vanishing into thin air?” I recalled.
“Was she?” Rick asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, she was,” I said enthusiastically. “She was going on like ‘What was her name?’ and as she started to say something, she clutched her throat like she was playing a poisoned victim on the stage. And the next thing, she was gone like poof! Oh my God, I so didn’t kill her spirit!”
“Seriously, Mandy?” Jackie’s eyes widened. “If I was there with you guys, I might have been wiped away too!” She put both of her hands on the sides of her face a la The Scream by Edvard Munch.
“I know! That might have been possible,” I agreed and felt cold in the gut. Seeing Ellie vanishing was dreadful even though I didn’t like her at all. I couldn’t imagine Jackie being eliminated like a stain on the kitchen floor.
“Jackie, you’ve got to thank me. I’m the reason you took a day off at that time, right?” Brian chimed in.
“Right. Thank you so much, Brian!” Jackie blew a kiss at the exorcist, who responded with a scowl.
“By the way, Ellie was talking about someone who informed her that Amanda Meyer is an evil witch,” Brian continued. “Can you think of anyone who could have contacted her saying things like that before our previous meeting with her?”
“I have no idea.” I shook my head.
“Me either.” Rick frowned. “I don’t like it. Whoever pumped false information about you on Ellie sounds annoying. No, annoying is an understatement because it means some kind of a crooked psychic’s messing around us. And whoever that is can at least communicate with dead people.”
* * *
The following afternoon, Rick and I were at the NYPD precinct in Chelsea, watching Adam Dawson being questioned in the interrogation room from the connecting room through a one-way mirror.
Adam had been upgraded from a person of interest to a suspect. The apartment where the victim lived didn’t have working surveillance cameras, but he was captured running out of said building in a video shot by a wannabe YouTuber. While the detectives were trying to find a breakthrough, this particular video had been watched several hundred times.
I peeked inside the interrogation room from the one-way mirror. Now that the NYPD had stronger evidence, the Mendelssohn CD might not be of use after all. The detective questioning Dawson didn’t even mention the CD, which was sealed in a plastic bag and left in the connecting room. It was a shame considering that we had finally located the store where Ellie purchased it.
It was the first time for me to see Adam Dawson up close. He w
as in his mid-thirties with thinning hair, average height, average weight, and wearing a suit. He was sitting at the table in a no-frills room with no décor. Across the table sat a youngish detective and an older detective.
“Mr. Dawson, how would you explain this video of you coming out of the victim’s apartment building? The timing just matched Ellie Hochman’s time of death,” the younger detective said.
Adam Dawson looked at the detective and then moved his gaze to the ceiling. His head bobbed as his shoulders shook. He was jiggling his foot unconsciously. I figured he was nervous.
“Since when has walking on a public sidewalk become a crime?” Dawson countered.
“It’s completely legal to take a walk in public areas, except the apartment building happens to be private property. For what purpose did you visit the building?” the younger detective asked nonchalantly.
“It was just an accident. I wandered into that building while I was strolling around the neighborhood, thinking about the upcoming project. As soon as I realized my mistake, I ran out of the place in a hurry. Trespassing wasn’t in my best interest.” As Adam Dawson explained, the older detective, who was listening to their interaction quietly, excused himself.
The younger detective went on as the door closed. “Mr. Dawson, we need a DNA sample to support your story.”
“I feel violated. Being treated like a murderer based on circumstantial evidence is a horrible experience.” Dawson pouted.
“Detective Bacus, do you mind if I join you in the interview?” Rick asked the older detective when he came into the connecting room.
“No, I don’t mind.” Detective Bacus gave him an immediate thumbs-up.
“Rick, if you’re thinking about whacking the suspect in the head with your crutches, you can’t do that.” Okay, so I wasn’t in a position to tell Rick Rowling how to do his job, but when he played the evil cop instead of a traditional bad cop, he could take extreme measures. As the old saying goes, it’s better safe than sorry.
“I’ll need them for a while longer, and I don’t want to have his cooties on them.” Snorting, Rick reached for the CD and stood up. When I stood to tag along with him, he gestured for me to stay seated. “Mandy, you’re staying here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He nodded and hobbled to the interrogation room, accompanied by Detective Bacus.
“Hello, Mr. Dawson,” Rick pleasantly greeted the suspect and introduced himself as he went inside. Indeed, he was uncharacteristically pleasant—he was the kind of investigator who grabs the suspect by the neck and shakes him down until he surrenders.
“Hello,” Dawson replied, casting a curious look at the new guy in the room, who took a seat and leaned his crutches on the side of the table. “What did you do to your leg?”
“Oh, this?” Rick lifted his leg, showing off the moon boot. “I’ve got a hairline fracture on the outside of the ankle. Due to this, I had to cancel the ski trip I was planning to go on next week.”
“That sucks. Shit happens.” Dawson shrugged.
“Yeah, right. Shit happens.” Rick agreed, wincing as he shifted on the chair. “I shouldn’t have visited the victim’s apartment. I was there looking at the crime scene, and the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the floor in the ankle. The tall bookcase suddenly fell over and crushed my leg.”
“That bookcase in the bedroom?” Dawson said, and then he paused. His eyes widened. Palpable panic was surging from him.
“So, you’ve been to the victim’s room, Mr. Dawson,” Rick said, grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t say that the bookcase was in the bedroom, did I?”
“No.” The detectives shook their heads. For me, it was the lightbulb moment. In the beginning, I couldn’t grasp why Rick was so talkative about his injury. Chatting about his fracture seemed equivalent to showing his weakness to his opponent, but the previous talk was his way of trapping Dawson to blurt out that he’d been to Ellie’s bedroom.
“It was just a lucky guess.” Dawson took a big breath and insisted. “I have one in my bedroom.”
“Oh yeah? What a coincidence!” Rick said with a grin.
“Yes, that’s a coincidence,” Dawson squeaked. “Did you come to ask me about the bookcase?”
“No. Actually, I have a few questions about this Mendelssohn CD found in the victim’s home.” Rick tilted his head to the side.
“I have already denied having sent it to the victim as a gift,” Dawson said sarcastically, eyeing Rick. “If you haven’t already heard about it.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that.” Rick nodded. “And you were telling the truth. Indeed, you didn’t buy this item. I was able to confirm that Ellie Hochman had purchased it herself.”
“I told you.” I could see Dawson’s attempt to keep a straight face, but his fists were clenched.
“You just helped her select which version of Mendelssohn’s violin concerto to purchase at the music store close to West 4th Station,” Rick went on, tapping on the CD with an index finger. “Ellie wasn’t an expert in classical music. When she reached for the one conducted by Karajan, the king of the classical music industry, you recommended she buy this one instead. The violin was played by Nathan Milstein, conducted by Claudio Abbado. You assured her this version was more of her taste—powerful and, at the time, sweet.”
“Excuse me, but that’s merely a groundless wild guess,” Dawson retorted.
“Oh, did I fail to mention the sales clerk gave testimony about my previous remark?” Rick went on.
“That’s impossible! You have no idea how many customers the shop has every day. Even if I had visited that shop, how could it be possible for the sales clerk to remember me?” Dawson snapped.
“How could this sales clerk recollect you and her? I can explain that.” In front of Dawson, with his bloodshot eyes and trembling shoulders, Rick crossed his legs in a relaxed manner. “First of all, store clerks are actually watching the customers, however bored they seem to be. And Ellie Hochman happened to be a regular customer at the store. In addition, she paid with cash for the CD even though she usually used her store card to save twenty percent of every purchase. This caught the clerk’s attention, mostly because she saw Ellie’s store credit card peeking from the wallet. Meanwhile, you were waiting for Ellie from a good distance. Actually, our witness told us that seeing the two of you acting extra stiffly in front of her had her thinking that Ellie Hochman was having an affair with the guy who helped her pick out the CD.”
While Rick went on, Dawson was silent, but I could see his lips and hands quivering, even though I wasn’t in the same room with him.
“You told Ellie not to use her store card. Why were you so afraid of leaving a trace of her purchase? After all, you didn’t buy it for her,” Detective Bacus chimed in.
“No… I mean….” Dawson, sweating profusely, struggled with his words.
“Why did you insist you had no idea about the Mendelssohn CD? Was that because you wiped off all the fingerprints on that CD?” As Rick pressed on, Dawson had a full-body shake, as if he were being electrocuted. He looked around, and then he shut his eyes.
After taking a deep breath, he started to talk. “I was on my way home from work… I dropped by the music store to browse and perhaps buy a CD or two for myself. I bumped into her at the shop, and she asked me to help her select a Mendelssohn CD… so I… couldn’t resist her. Mendelssohn happens to be the composer I like best.” He went on about having sworn off going out with Ellie near their workplace, but he made an exception on that occasion to shop with her.
“So you asked her not to use her store card,” the younger detective interjected.
“No, I didn’t ask her, but she paid with cash, smiling at me. I was captivated by her thoughtfulness… and…” Dawson tore at his hair.
“For your information,” Rick said, “I had a chance to speak with a friend of Ellie’s. According to her, while in a drunken stupor, Ellie mentioned having someone she cared for and her secret wis
h to make a family with him, having kids too. Still, she never gave your name, no matter how hard the friend pressed to discover her secret lover. Ellie insisted she wanted him to stay happy.”
Following Rick’s words, Adam Dawson held his head in both hands. He was silent for a while, until he muttered, “I need a lawyer.”
CHAPTER 12
A week had passed since Rick’s confrontation with Adam Dawson. During the past few days, Dawson had finally disclosed the details about the murder of Ellie Hochman. According to Detective Bacus, Dawson was lawyered up but cooperating with the detectives for the most part. The murder itself was audacious, but the motive for it was far sicker than it seemed.
On the day of the murder, Dawson saw Ellie walking to her apartment from work. He saw her speaking with a man around her age, and Dawson’s gut instinct told him the guy was someone important—such as a new boyfriend—to her. The guy with Ellie was younger and taller than Dawson, and he had more hair. The guy was good-looking. Ellie was smiling when she waved good-bye. Dawson feared she might have feelings toward the man.
He had made a vow never to visit her place for fear of getting caught having an extramarital affair. He always used large-chain hotels to spend time with her, booking under her name. They went in and left the room separately. Dawson had no intention of leaving his wife and kids for her.
But that time, something was different. As Dawson started to walk away from, he couldn’t shake off Ellie’s smile directed at someone else. He realized Ellie had been distant toward him—blasé, even. As much as he had every intention of sticking with his family, he felt something cold and heavy in his stomach. He thought Ellie was just a fling to him, but losing her to another man—a younger man with more hair on his head—meant that his pride was in jeopardy.
Dawson was heading for the metro station but he turned on his heels, breaking his own promise of never visiting Ellie’s apartment. When he confronted her about seeing someone new, she flashed a coy smile and dodged his question. She went so far as suggesting she had been in a serious relationship with someone for a while. When Dawson urged her to confess to him about her lover, she just smiled, telling him, “It’s a dirty little secret.”
