by Lotta Smith
Then Woody and Jackie looked at me. “Why don’t you share my opinion with the others?” they said in unison.
Harriett shook her head as I told her the ghost duo’s comments. “Anna doesn’t serve cake at her art gallery. Cake needs to be served with coffee or tea, and she hates risking the customers spilling anything at her store. Also, she doesn’t have a niece or a daughter. Actually, she’s helped us a lot after I inherited this bakery, saying things like Meg and I are like her daughters or nieces.”
Madame Roloff added, “She doesn’t even have a nephew since she’s an only child.”
“Oh, wait a minute!” Woody jumped up. “Like I said, Anna was actively helping with the association, and guess who happens to be the top of that group? It’s that bastard Keith Schuyler! What if he asked her to purchase the cake server for him so he could plant it in my condo?”
“But… in that case, why didn’t the police find Anna’s fingerprints on it?” I tilted my head to the side.
“She was wearing gloves at the funeral,” Jackie said. “Maybe she likes to wear gloves?”
“It’s possible to have no trace of the buyer’s fingerprints on it,” Harriett interjected. “When Meg processes the purchase of a cake server, she wraps it in a fancy plastic wrapper with the store logo. Also, in order to prevent shoplifting, only the sample of the cake server is accessible for customers. The wrapper might have had fingerprints, but if the person who planted it in Mr. Napoleon’s residence was careful, it’s possible not to leave his or her fingerprints.”
“What if Anna purchased that extra cake server as a favor to Schuyler?” Woody’s eyes widened. “You heard him praising the killer for offing me. He loathed my guts, and…” He wasn’t burping as he spoke, like he’d suddenly forgotten about his problem.
He seemed inclined to continue his theory about Keith Schuyler being the killer, but then the bakery’s door opened.
“Hello, everyone.” The person who came in was Mrs. Laurence, late Mr. West’s secretary. “I’m in a terrible need of a sugar fix.” Her eyes were bleary and her nose was red.
“Mrs. Laurence!” Madame Roloff stood up and scurried toward her. “I’m so sorry for your loss. What a terrible day! Mr. West seemed immortal.”
“Mrs. Laurence.” Harriett sniffed. “My condolences. We’re all so shocked to hear the sad news.”
“He was so full of energy yesterday,” Mrs. Laurence said. “We said, ‘See you tomorrow,’ just like any other day when we finished working yesterday. And just like any other day, he was at the office when I arrived. He was sitting at his desk, which he cherished so much, but… unlike other days, he didn’t say, ‘Good morning, Mrs. Laurence.’ He didn’t even return my ‘Good morning.’ So I went close to him… and he wasn’t breathing…”
As she spoke, fat tears rolled out of her eyes and down her round cheeks.
“Words can’t express how sad we are to hear your loss,” I offered my condolences.
“What a sad story.” Jackie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Woody was openly blowing his nose.
“Thank you so much.” Mrs. Laurence took out a handkerchief and wiped her tears. “I know he was at a very mature age, and I remember how he used to joke about me finding him dead in the office. He always said, ‘Please make sure you take care of my body before I start rotting and creepy bugs start devouring me,’ but obviously I wasn’t ready for that day.”
“I know.” Madame Roloff patted her shoulder. “No one is ever ready for their loved ones’ deaths. When my Stephen passed away, I wasn’t ready, despite knowing he was dying of cancer.”
“Thank you so much for being so supportive,” Mrs. Laurence hiccupped. She wept for a while, but when Harriett brought a tray of hot tea and an assortment of sweet baked goods like cannoli, cream puffs, and chocolate chip cookies, she was beginning to regain her composure.
“If I recall it right, Mr. West has no children, am I correct?” Madame Roloff muttered almost to herself as she took a bite of a cream puff.
“Yes, he has no children, and Mrs. West has already passed away.” Mrs. Laurence nodded. “I can’t thank him enough for being so generous and leaving quite an asset to me.” Then she blushed. “I mean, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but just before I came here, his lawyer visited me.”
“So, are you taking over his building?” Madame Roloff’s tone was casual, but I caught her eyes flickering with a keen interest.
“The building? You mean the Cambridge Building? Oh no, I’m not inheriting that. I’m just his employee.” Mrs. Laurence shook her head. “Besides, he was so keen on the Manhattan Avenue Arts and Heritage Association, so years ago, he’d written a will to donate the building to their foundation.”
“That’s him, Schuyler!” Woody pumped his fists. “He killed both of us! He hated my guts and regarded me as an obstruction that could destroy the historic building in the neighborhood, and by offing Mr. West, that bastard can preserve that ancient Cambridge Building as long as he wishes to.”
“But Mr. West would have passed away sooner or later, I think?” Jackie tilted her head, her words sounding more like a question than a statement.
“Come on, Schuyler is old enough, and old folks are known for their inability to wait and hope. He’s the killer. I know it.”
Woody’s theory sounded crazy, but at some parts, he seemed to have a point.
“What are they saying?” Madame Roloff whispered in my ear. Clasping my arm and escorting me out of Mrs. Laurence’s earshot, she said, “You’re frowning as you’re listening to Woody and your ghost pal’s conversation, right?”
“Right. Woody is suspicious that Mr. Schuyler might be the guy who killed him,” I admitted in a stage whisper.
“No, I’m not talking about my suspicions. I know he offed me!” Woody declared by my side. “Don’t try to soften my words, will you please?”
I rolled my eyes. “Actually, he’s strongly convinced that Mr. Schuyler is the one who killed him.”
“Hmm, in that case, we should confront Keith, I guess.” Madame Roloff pumped her fists. “I knew he was up to something. Look, he was this kind of sneaky bastard who always—and I mean always—plotted little schemes to outsmart others and take advantage of everybody.”
“Still, we can’t accuse him of a double murder based on the accusation by Woody, can we?” I said, picturing Mr. Schuyler calling 911 for assistance, saying something like “Yes, I need an ambulance, the kind specially tailored for mental patients. Two women accusing me of double homicide, and one of them insists that she hears the voices of dead people.” In my mind, Keith Schuyler was flashing that sarcastic half grin on his face.
“Hmm… you have a point.” Madame Roloff nodded. “All right then, why don’t we pay a visit to Anna, in that case? We’re going to ask her if she was asked to purchase that extra cake server as a favor for the association, or Keith, which would be even better. We might be able to gather some evidence and a witness who could help us build a case against Keith.”
As she went on, her eyes were literally twinkling, indicating her excitement.
“That sounds reasonable.” I nodded.
“Okay, we need information to build a case,” Jackie chimed in. Then she turned to Woody. “That’s how an investigation goes.”
“If you say so. You’re the expert,” Woody agreed.
Jackie winked at me, prompting me to seriously want to roll my eyes.
Then again, visiting Anna and asking a few questions didn’t seem like it would harm anything. She could have precious information, and she seemed like one of those people who’d kill to gossip.
“Harriett, we have someone to visit, but we’ll be back soon. Mrs. Laurence, I hope you enjoy your sweet delights. Your happiness is what Mr. West wants.” Madame Roloff raised her hand at the baker and her most wanted customer in nearly a week.
Then she marched out, pulling me with her slim but deceptively strong arm.
Leaving the bakery, I caught Mrs.
Laurence saying, “Harriett, your sweet creations are absolutely fantastic! I’ll tell everyone to come visit here to enjoy gourmet pastries. Charmed and Sprinkled will be literally packed with customers.”
CHAPTER 10
“This is where she lives. Oh, the classic beauty of the colonial house hasn’t changed at all,” Madame Roloff said fondly, indicating a midsize Georgian-style house with white and brown walls. Her tone was quiet, but her bright orange McLaren literally skidded to a stop. Climbing out of the car, I noticed a greenhouse built in the small garden.
Anna Linton was in the greenhouse with a pair of large scissors in one hand. Madame Roloff’s McLaren was as noisy as Rick’s Ferrari as it moved, and Anna was soon coming out of the glass-walled sanctuary. Even from outside, the vivid colors of greeneries and exotic-looking flowers were noticeable, despite the cold weather in Manhattan in December.
“Oh my goodness! I was afraid that something like a tank was charging into my humble house,” Anna said, clasping her chest with the other hand that wasn’t clutching the scissors.
“My apologies for disturbing you.” Madame Roloff winked, not looking the least bit apologetic.
“Oh no. Not at all.” Anna shook her head. “I was just cutting off the dying flowers from the stems. Quite boring stuff.”
“Do you need any help with the flowers?” I asked her. The greenhouse seemed to have quite an impressive collection of plants, and I was tempted to take a look at them.
“Thank you for the offer.” Anna smiled at me. “You’re so sweet, but no, thanks. I was getting bored with talking to my plants while humming an assortment of micro-fractions of songs, the lyrics I don’t even remember.” Then she turned to Madame Roloff. “I gather you ladies are truly frequenting this neighborhood. Madame Roloff, are you trying to acquire land here or anything?”
“Oh no. I have no ambition for land acquisition here.” Madame Roloff shook her head. “I spent about half of my life acquiring land and transforming it into condotels. You might not have noticed it but I’m not a total scourge. I like this town just as I grew up here, and I’m honestly hoping to see it just the way it is twenty years later. That is, if I’ll be around then.”
“Oh, Madame Roloff. My mom used to tell me what a romantic you’ve always been!” Anna cooed.
“Oh, please don’t talk that much about my past.” Madame Roloff blushed as if she’d been suddenly morphed into a schoolgirl. “By the way, did you purchase an extra cake server with Charmed and Sprinkled logo as a favor for the Manhattan Avenue Arts and Heritage Association?”
Anna tilted her head to the side like she was trying to dig up her memory. “Well… maybe I did. What about it? Did it suddenly become one of those sought-after collectable items?” she joked. After letting out a chuckle, she suggested, “Why don’t you ladies come inside and have a little chat over tea and cakes? I have some sweet delights from the newest bakery in Hell’s Kitchen. Oh, please don’t tell Harriett and Meg. I don’t want to upset them, but you know, sometimes a girl’s got to try new flavors.”
Without waiting for a reply, she put the scissors into the denim tool belt she was sporting strapped across her slender hips, entwined her arm in that of Madame Roloff’s, and started walking toward the house.
“Can you take a look at that bush?” She indicated a corner of the garden outside of the greenhouse. “I planted tulips in the fall. Come spring, that corner will be blossoming with colorful bulbs.”
“How nice. I can’t wait to see them.” Madame Roloff smiled, looking at me. “Isn’t it exciting, Mandy?” But a flicker of confusion was in her eyes.
As Anna led us through the hall into the living room, she went to the kitchen adjacent to where we were. “Have a seat, both of you,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll be back in a sec with tea and pastries.”
“Can I help you in the kitchen?” I offered, mostly out of courtesy. As for other reasons for my offer, I wasn’t quite sure.
“Oh no. It isn’t something that could bear being featured in Country Living magazine. It’d be so embarrassing to have you witness my unstylish kitchen.” Anna shook her head.
Meanwhile, Madame Roloff was observing the living room.
“I like this little glass vase. Looks like an antique piece, but at the same time, it’s so stylish and somewhat futuristic even,” she said, pointing at a winding vase holding a little flower. The vase was sitting on the display shelf by the wall. Having the light against the flower, its color was hard to determine. Red, maybe? “Are you selling this at your store?” Madame Roloff turned back to Anna.
“Actually, it’s not something I’d handle at my little place.” She offered an enigmatic smile and shrugged. “It’s something really cheap. Indeed, it was like three dollars. It’s imported.”
“Wow, you really have to tell me where you got it.” Madame Roloff’s eyes widened.
“I will. I’ll give you the map to the store. Now, let me fix some tea for you.” Anna waved her hand and left for the kitchen.
Madame Roloff and I sat at the coffee table in a companionable silence. Well, not exactly silent for me as Jackie was hovering around the living room, making comments like “This is a nice chair” and “Ooh, this magazine looks really lovely. I wanna look inside!” Mixed with the clinking of china and the cutlery while Anna worked in the kitchen, it felt almost like I was at a busy café or something.
Woody was floating in front of the cabinet, uncharacteristically quiet while his ghostly companion and newly qualified counselor—except I hadn’t witnessed much counseling on her part, but hey, she used to be an actor when she was alive as Broadway’s newest and hottest heartthrob!—ignored him. He was staring at the flower in the little glass vase.
“Is everything all right?” I asked him as he crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows.
“I don’t know, but I feel strange, like something is stuck in my throat and I can’t get rid of it,” he muttered. “And I have a hunch that the reason for my feelings has something to do with what I’m seeing here.”
Jackie turned back to him and looked closely at his face. “Woody, take a deep breath and close your eyes. You’re about to remember something very important. I know the feeling. When I was about to find my killer, I had the same one.”
“You didn’t find your killer, Jackie,” I pointed out.
“Come on, that was just a figure of speech.” She shrugged and reached for the glass vase and the flower in it. “Look at this little flower. Isn’t it cute?”
She knew she couldn’t touch it, and I knew her hand was going to go through those objects, but I still watched her attempt to touch the little flower. With a closer look, I realized the flower was purple, and it wasn’t just one on top of the stem but a group of little purple flowers in a style that looked as if they were bowing their heads. Jackie was right. They were cute.
“Don’t.” Woody touched her arm and stopped her from touching the purple flowers. “You don’t want to touch them.”
“What do you mean?” Jackie looked puzzled. “Look, it’s not like I can actually touch objects. I know it and you know it, but sometimes I like to try the feeling of behaving like a living human.”
“Oops, my bad.” Woody frowned. “I don’t know why I said that to you, but I was so compelled to stop you from touching it. I couldn’t help it.”
Jackie squinted at the flowers. “Hmm… I think I’ve seen it somewhere. Perhaps when I was a Boy Scout?” She sounded like she was questioning herself more than making a statement.
“You used to be a Boy Scout?” Woody and I said in unison. My eyes widened.
“Yes, I was.” Jackie threw her head back, and her long blonde hair swayed like a golden wave. “Back in the old days, my spirit had been trapped in a little boy’s body, and my parents made me join the scouts.”
“Who used to be a Boy Scout?” Madame Roloff asked.
“Oh, it’s Jackie,” I explained while the ghost of a drag queen went on about how much she hated orie
nteering and walking in nature, but after a while, she developed a fondness for looking at her fellow scouts wearing shorts.
“Mandy, I’m so jealous of you!” Madame Roloff said longingly. “You have no idea how much I wish to see your guardian ghost Jackie.”
Under normal circumstances, Jackie should be bouncing all over the place, doing her happy dance. Being an actor, there was nothing she loved more than having someone’s attention, and Madame Roloff’s comments were exactly the ones that made the flamboyant ghost deliriously happy.
Except at that time, Jackie was on a roll. “I still remember the Sunday when we went to one of those activities to learn about wild plants.” Observing the purple flowers without touching them, she continued. “I think this little flowered stem looks similar to monkshood. It’s a plant known to contain some really toxic substance—what was the name? I don’t remember, but I guess it was something like acotoxin, or aconicitine, or… Anyway, it was something starting with ‘aco.’ Still, considering the plant is sitting at someone’s home, it’s probably something different. Monkshood plants are known to be highly toxic, and if you mistakenly eat it, you practically drop dead. These plants are not for sale, and Anna looks like someone who purchases seeds and so on for her gardening. I don’t imagine her going into the wilderness to pick up her plants. Even if she went plant-hunting, no one would bring home such dangerous plants, right?”
When Jackie said the word “acotoxin,” I felt like I’d heard that name somewhere, but I couldn’t recall it.
“Hello, ladies. The tea is ready.” Anna came from the kitchen, carrying a silver tray holding a beautiful Royal Copenhagen teapot and three pairs of cups and saucers, as well as beautiful pastel-colored macaroons.
“Thank you, Anna.” Madame Roloff offered a polite smile.
“Thank you so much.” I followed suit, pretending that I didn’t hear dead people talking.
