by Lotta Smith
I relayed the ghost’s words to Rick, who shook his head, saying, “No, I’m not asking you for a loan. It’s about your existence. By the way, I can’t see or hear you, except for your gross burps.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he went on. “By the way, I’m Rick Rowling, the COO of USCAB, and this lady here is my wife, Mandy. She’ll be our interpreter, as she can communicate with people like you.”
“Okay. Don’t be so formal. You can call me Woody, okay?” Woody burped, prompting everyone to groan.
“Come on, Mandy and Rick told you to hold the burping!” Jackie shushed him.
“That’s a difficult task. Look, I didn’t burp that often when I was alive, but since I dropped dead, I can’t help it. I just can’t. Perhaps it’s some kind of side effect of the poison. So, all they want is for me to hold my burps.” Woody shrugged.
“Actually, it’s for the best if you’d leave for a better place. Don’t you think so?” I said, trying to sound easygoing and friendly.
“Are you insane? Why do I have to leave for a better place? Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I can’t stick around here for a while to savor the residue of my life. That’s discrimination!” he protested.
As I relayed his words to the living people at the table, Madame Roloff opened her mouth. “Look, Woody, I’m sorry for your death, but you can’t stay here burping and groping their customers. Thanks to your bad behavior, this historical bakery, which has been run by Harriett’s family for generations, could go out of business.”
“So what? I like it here.” Woody indicated the women in charge of running this shop with his arms. “It’s so funny to pat their asses unnoticed, and I like the aroma of freshly baked goodies.”
“Woody, have you heard about Brian Powers?” Rick said casually.
“Brian Powers? That TV psychic guy?” Woody cocked his head to the side. “I’ve seen his shows a few times. He’s funny.”
“You’re right.” A corner of Rick’s lips quirked up into a lopsided grin. “Then again, that guy’s talent isn’t limited to his crooked humor. Indeed, he’s a topnotch exorcist who can actually expel stray spirits out of this world.”
“Are you threatening me?” Giving Rick a sideway glance, Woody told me, “Hey, Mandy, tell him he can try threatening me, but I’m gonna fight like hell and I’m gonna win.”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I said, “Woody says he’s not going to surrender. He says he’s gonna fight like hell, and he’s gonna win.”
“Still, you’re dead, and you can’t stay here forever,” Harriett interjected in a trembling voice. Then she glanced at me, and boy, she looked desperate.
“Of course he can’t,” Madame Roloff declared. “Meg, Harriett, you ladies have nothing to worry about. He’ll be out of this bakery soon.”
Woody burped defiantly. “You can call Brian Powers if you want, but I won’t go without fighting.”
“Come on, Woody. You don’t want to be so hostile against them.” Jackie patted him on the shoulder. When we living humans and ghosts attempted to touch each other, our hands and arms usually passed through without touching, but the funny thing was, when both parties were ghosts, they were able to have physical contact. “You talk about fighting and resistance so casually, but it’s not what you think. When you’re forcibly removed from this world, basically your spirit will be destroyed and it will be shattered into total nothingness. Look, it won’t be fun.”
Woody scratched his receding hairline and furrowed his eyebrows. “Hmm…” He crossed his arms, looking slightly saddened.
Jackie came close to me, whispering, “Look, Mandy, I know I’m being too soft, but I’m beginning to feel a tad bit sorry for him. He was murdered, and his killer hasn’t been caught. Perhaps he might want some closure… or perhaps he has something like a bucket list he wants to do before leaving for a better place?”
She had a point. When I was about to ask him if there was anything we could do to help his transition, Rick took out his phone.
“I’ll call Brian Powers now,” he said. He was about to speed-dial the exorcist.
“Wait a minute!” Woody said hurriedly. “My killer hasn’t been caught yet, and I’ve got to see justice served before moving to another world. And of course, I’ll get the hell out of here and move to whatever place I’m assigned to when I see my killer being arrested. Can you relay my words to your macho hubby, pretty please?”
I noticed he’d uttered the word “please” for the first time since meeting us.
I gestured Rick to stop. “Woody wants his murderer captured and justice served. He promises to leave once that happens.”
“What?” Rick crossed his arms. After a pause, he said, “He was poisoned to death at this place, am I correct?”
“Yes, you’re right.” Meg nodded like a bobblehead.
“And that’s another reason for our customers’ reluctance to visit us and shop our baked goods.” Harriett let out a deep sigh, as if she couldn’t help it. “Look, the police and CSI didn’t find any traces that the poison was used from here, but that’s not good enough to clear our name. The killer hasn’t been caught, and as a result, people tend to look at us like suspects.”
“Hmm…” Woody crossed his arms. “In that case, catching my killer should be the best way to clear the whole mess. Don’t you think so?”
“That’s a good point,” Jackie said.
“Maybe,” I agreed, then relayed his words to the rest of the humans.
“Was the fruitcake baked here?” Rick asked.
“Of course. We’re a bakery. We bake bread, cakes, pastries, and everything,” Harriett replied. As she spoke, her nostrils flared a little bit, as if she were slightly ticked off.
“She’s right,” Meg chimed in. “We bake everything from scratch.”
“No offense, but I wanted to narrow the possible routes of aconitine poisoning the fruitcake,” Rick said.
“Oh, okay.” Harriett nodded. “I just wanted to make my point that we bake everything from scratch even though some bakeries purchase doughs from outside vendors. We don’t do that.”
Madame Roloff was silent for a while, as if deep in thought. “Woody, I have a brilliant idea!” she said abruptly. “After all, you want your killer caught, and that’s why you’re stuck here, right? In that case, if we catch your killer, everything will be happily ever after and you can leave for a better place without making any more fuss. Am I correct?”
“We?” Rick muttered, but Madame Roloff didn’t seem to care.
“Hmm, that sounds like a deal.” Woody nodded. “I’ve been snooping around to see if any of my suspects brag about offing me, but so far, no luck. Still, if you living humans could help me, things could be different. Hey, Mandy, can you tell her I’m accepting her offer?”
The ghost who had been previously belching like a broken engine wasn’t expelling gas anymore.
As I relayed his words, Madame Roloff nodded contentedly. “So we have a deal. Under normal circumstances, I’d require you to sign a contract, but apparently you can’t sign physical documents, can you?”
“I can’t, unfortunately.” Woody shook his head and gestured for me to pass his words to her.
Raising an eyebrow, Madame Roloff looked disapprovingly at the place where Woody floated. After a while of silence, she nodded. “Very well. He doesn’t have to sign the contract. After all, I can’t sue a dead person, and giving the press a field day about my insanity, dementia, or whatever bad rap about me isn’t high on my to-do list.”
“Dementia? Oh no, I’m sure you’re never going to be demented no matter how long you live,” Meg cooed, and Harriett agreed enthusiastically.
Rick looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Thank you.” Madame Roloff smiled graciously and turned back at Woody. “Speaking of to-do lists, murder investigation has been on mine since I read Agatha Christie novels when I was a schoolgirl. So rest assured, I’ll find your killer and make sure justice
is served. How does that sound?”
The moment she announced her motivation for sleuthing, Rick’s shoulders twitched. “Excuse me, Madame Roloff? We have the expertise and connection to law enforcement needed for a murder investigation, so all you need to do as our client is sit back and relax while we work.”
She winked. “No worries, Rick. I’m just volunteering to help you with the investigation, and I wouldn’t demand a refund or discount.”
“That’s not what I’m concerned about.” Rick shook his head. “Look, murder investigation isn’t what you probably imagine. It takes a lot of leg work and perseverance to the point you feel numb. Also, the whole process is quite boring, right, Mandy?” He turned to me.
“Oh, yes.” I nodded enthusiastically. “Murder investigation can be quite boring, Madame Roloff. Besides, it often gets very dangerous, you know. One time, the ghost of a murder victim had a temper tantrum and tried to smash my head with a huge vase, and another time, a murder victim tried to squash me with a bookcase.”
I was meaning to scare her away, but on the contrary, she perked up. “Wow, that sounds so thrilling! I want in,” she declared. “Come on, don’t underestimate me. I know the basic protocol. Essentially, sleuthing is about kicking ass, right?”
“I think she’s right,” Jackie commented. “She’s like an old lady version of Rick. Don’t you think so, Mandy?”
I snorted with laughter, prompting Rick to glare at me before demanding, “What?”
“Nothing. It’s something Jackie said, and it’s truly trivial.” I patted his hand as he groaned.
“It’ll be fun!” Madame Roloff said excitedly. “Although I didn’t know Woody, I should know many of the people gathered here when he was killed.”
“Fine.” Woody gave a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you with the investigation, and I’ll be a very cooperative victim.”
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Rick, Jackie, and I visited the 34th precinct of the NYPD first thing. After all, we hadn’t talked to the police yet, and grasping more about the case seemed like a decent place to start the investigation.
“Hmm… the police station…” The ghost of Woody Napoleon squirmed uncomfortably as we arrived at the precinct.
Yes, you heard me right. Woody Napoleon had decided to stalk us instead of staying at the bakery where he died. Usually, the ghost of a murder victim tended to be bound to the place where he or she was killed, but apparently that didn’t apply to Woody Napoleon. Of course, it was good news for Charmed and Sprinkled to get rid of the annoying ghost who belched like a locomotive, but having him around didn’t exactly mean good news for us.
“What? Are you going to wait in the car while we meet the detective handling your case?” Jackie asked curiously.
“That’s the part I’m reluctant about.” Woody scratched his receding hairline. “I haven’t recovered from the trauma of witnessing my mutilated body at the coroner’s office. Hell, I really hate it when they talk about me like I don’t exist.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Jackie patted him on the shoulder, behaving like a real-life counselor for the first time. “Indeed, you’re a lucky guy. You’ve been dead for just a few days, and you’ve already got Mandy and Rick. When I got stabbed to death, I had to spend three years at the crime scene without anyone finding me, much less catching the killer and giving me closure.”
“Oh, that’s horrible.” Woody grimaced. “Still, I feel like a total idiot to drop dead from eating a fruitcake.”
“If you’re not comfortable meeting with the detectives, you can stay in the car,” I said to Woody, mostly because I was a bit nervous when I imagined him burping his way through the police station full of detectives and police officers. I didn’t want any of us to be remembered as the gassiest person in the world.
“Why is he so uncomfortable to meet with the police?” Rick asked me as I talked to the ghost.
“I don’t know.”
I glanced at Woody, prompting Rick to look in that direction and say, “Hey, Woody, have you been previously arrested or something?”
“Hey, stop looking at me like a criminal!” Woody snapped from the back seat of the black four-seater Ferrari. “I’m the victim and not a suspect.”
“Come on, I’ve done my homework, and your business can be best described as sketchy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had your regular cops back in Florida where you used to run your phony developer business,” Rick responded following my interpretation, prompting Woody to belch for the umpteenth time.
It was my turn to snap at him, covering my ears with both hands. “Will you stop that, Rick? The guy tends to burp louder when he’s under stress.” Unlike a real person belching, physically covering my ears offered little help, as the gross sound directly boomed into my brain without coming through the ear canals.
“Hmm, okay. Sorry about that.” Rick shrugged, not looking that sorry. “Hey, if you’re staying here, don’t mess with the car, okay?”
“Okay.” Woody nodded, successfully holding his burps that time.
“Come on, Woody. You’ve got to come with us. It’ll be fun,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s not like the cops can see people like us, and I’ve seen many hot guys and even hotter women in blue.”
“Oh really?” The dead realtor suddenly perked up. “If that’s the case, I should go.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s made up his mind to come with us.”
“Fine. Don’t burp in front of the cops, okay?” Rick cautioned the ghost as he reached for the door. Then he squinted as he focused on a truly flashy neon orange McLaren that seemed like a better fit on the racetrack instead of a real road. “Shit, that’s her car,” he muttered.
“Whose car?” I asked.
“Madame Roloff’s. We’ve got to hurry up.” Rick jumped out of his Ferrari.
“Wow!” Jackie exclaimed. “You know what? When I grow up, I want to be just like Madame Roloff.”
Rick had already made a call to the precinct as the COO of USCAB, and we had Madame Roloff, whose friendship with the chief of police’s grandma was tighter than handcuffs. As soon as we arrived at the police station, we were led inside to meet up with a young guy who introduced himself as Detective Derringer.
According to him, aconitine, the poison that killed Woody Napoleon, was found in his stomach, but the bakery was completely clean with no residue of the poison. The special Christmas fruitcake called Nutty Nutcracker’s Christmas Delight was what delivered the poison into Woody’s system; however, the question was who’d put it there.
“Basically, everyone gathering at the afternoon tea had a chance to slip poison into his fruitcake, but the sad part is I won’t be shocked if all the people there had worked in cahoots.” The detective shrugged.
“What do you mean by that, Detective?” Madame Roloff asked keenly. On this special day, she was sporting a deer stoker hat, a la Sherlock Holmes, in berry pink that matched the pink Birkin she was carrying.
“What I mean is, he was a phony developer bordering on a con man,” Detective Derringer explained. “Back in Florida, he’d been sued by so many people it’s like he was trying to make a phonebook.”
“Okay. I can already see him named the most loathed guy in the city.” Rick nodded.
“Hello? That’s harsh!” Woody complained. “I’m dead, and a dead guy can’t talk! Can’t you at least pretend to have respect?”
He looked ready to let out another burping bomb, so I gave him a warning glare to hold it. I also used my will to tell him to leave this place if he couldn’t stay calm. I wasn’t sure if he got my message, but he shut up.
“So basically, anyone could have killed Woody,” Madame Roloff commented.
“That’s correct.” Detective Derringer nodded. “Mr. Rowling, have you met Meghan Clerke?”
“You mean Meg, the girl helping out at the bakery?” Madame Roloff chimed in before Rick answered. “Don’t tell me you’re suspicious of her.”
Detect
ive Derringer seemed to be slightly taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Actually, she was seen exchanging words with Woody Napoleon at a meeting of the Manhattan Avenue Arts and Heritage Association.”
“Of course, it’s no wonder if she spoke to him. She’s been interning with the association,” Madame Roloff interjected. “She majored in art in college, and her current job is a step toward seeking a better career as a curator at one of major museums.”
“I don’t think she’s the one who offed me,” Woody said. “She’s a nice girl. Besides, what kind of an idiot kills one of the customers at the very bakery she works for? She could not only get caught but risk losing her job.”
“Actually, we have several witnesses describing the conversation between the two as quite heated,” Detective Derringer stated matter-of-factly, unable to hear Woody’s words.
Rick crossed his arms. “Hmm… it looks like we need to talk to her.”
“After we’ve finished talking to her, that is.” Detective Derringer offered an enigmatic smile. “She’s making a statement with the officers right now. And if you’ll excuse me…”
“Come on, you’re looking in the wrong direction!” Woody protested.
“Sometimes police are so dense,” Jackie agreed.
“Does she have a lawyer?” Madame Roloff said sharply.
“Does she need one?” Detective Derringer returned her question with a question. “It’s just a casual chat.”
“Detective, the interview has to wait,” Rick said firmly as the detective turned on his heels. “I’ve called a lawyer. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
Fourteen minutes later, the lawyer Rick had summoned upon Madame Roloff’s request had arrived to attend Meg’s interview with Detective Derringer and his subordinates, and we were heading for the next destination.
“I can’t believe that detective’s audacity! What does he think of himself? God or something?” Madame Roloff fumed while exiting the precinct. Apparently, she was accustomed to having people around her agreeing to her opinions, but this time, Detective Derringer was working based on his opinion.
