by Lotta Smith
Wicked, Manor, and Murder
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 7
By Lotta Smith
Copyright
Wicked, Manor, and Murder© 2017 Lotta Smith.
Cover copyright 2017 Viola Estrella
Editing and proofreading: Hot Tree Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the author/and publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. None of the characters in this book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and an unintentional.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of content
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
EPILOGUE
Before you go…
PROLOGUE
“Impressive… I mean, very impressive,” Leo Edenfeld muttered as he looked up at an old storehouse that sat in a corner of the garden of the Kimmelstiel house, which was often referred to as the Kimmelstiel Manor by the folks in the neighborhood. “I’ve never seen such a huge storehouse.”
Indeed, it was an awe-inspiring building. Fiona grew up in the manor until she headed for college. She’d seen the building over a gazillion times, and every bit of the architecture, from the huge walls made of honey-colored limestones to the roof covered with navy tiles, should have been the same as that in her memory; however, even Fiona herself was astonished by the size. Perhaps it was because she’d grown so used to living in a small apartment in Manhattan, but the storehouse looked way bigger than the one in her memory.
“It’s over a hundred years old. My folks used to say you can’t build the same building nowadays.” Fiona touched her husband’s arm affectionately. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Of course you can’t build it now,” Leo replied. “And we don’t need to build it now. Hey, Fiona, it’s so hot. Can’t we do it later on, say, in October?”
“Come on, this kind of storehouse has its perks. The temperature inside is stable regardless of the outside climate, and thanks to the stucco walls, the humidity is kept out and the stuff inside doesn’t get mold or catch on fire. Don’t worry, honey, you’ll feel more comfortable once you come inside.”
“Oh, I see. I wasn’t complaining about it, by the way,” Leo said hurriedly. After all, he was staying at his wife’s family manor. “Actually, considering the proximity to the sea, everything here is kept in pristine condition. It’s just that I was a little taken aback by the size. You know, we’re the ones tidying this place up, and it won’t be easy.”
Fiona smiled. “It’s okay, we can take as much time as we’d like to. It’s ours, and I can already picture this place turned into a beautiful café.”
Fiona Edenfeld—née Kimmelstiel—had been married to Leo for almost three years, and she was still working at a PR firm in Manhattan.
“Anyway, let’s go inside. It will be fun. We might even discover some hidden treasures.” Fiona pulled her husband’s arm excitedly. She raised the brass key the size of a wallet. “Ready to go inside?”
“Is that the key?” Leo’s hazel eyes widened. “Hmm… in case of an intruder, perhaps you can whack him with it.”
“Assuming said intruder isn’t packing heat.” Fiona chuckled. “Now, Leo, let’s open the door.”
“Sure.”
Leo inserted the key into the tall oak door, but due to the key’s size and the age of the structure, it didn’t turn easily.
“Oh crap. It won’t budge,” he muttered.
“I’ll get some machine oil. It’s the only key to the storehouse, and we don’t want to end up breaking it.” Fiona ran for the main building to bring lubricant.
By the time Leo was able to turn the key and open the oak door, he was practically panting. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face. Instead of going down to his neck, the sweat fell off one of his puffy cheeks that reminded Fiona of a chipmunk’s cheek pouch stuffed with nuts. It was still late June on the calendar, but the sun was burning and the humidity was high.
“Thank you, Leo. Nice work!” Fiona patted his back.
The oak door was not just tall but thick and heavy, and Leo had an additional hard time opening it, complete with cussing.
“Let’s come inside.” Fiona led the way, pulling his arm.
“Hey, sweetie, why don’t we put it off till tomorrow? It’s not like the treasure is gonna run away,” Leo protested, then muttered under his breath, “Assuming any treasure actually exists.”
“What did you say? I didn’t catch the latter part.” Fiona looked back at him.
“Don’t bother, I guess I zoned out a little. It’s the heat and humidity that jammed my brain, I guess,” Leo said, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. Once he stepped inside the storehouse, he let out a sigh of relief. Despite the scorching heat outside, the inside was cool and comfortable. Also, he didn’t feel the damp humidity that had been molesting him outside at all.
Fiona took a deep breath. “Wow… it’s so comfortable, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s so refreshing. I wasn’t expecting it,” Leo agreed, looking around. “To be honest, I was expecting more mess with lots of dirt and stuff scattered around, but this place is so well-organized.”
Fiona noticed a pure adoration in his tone. She’d known Leo for years, but he wasn’t good at organization.
There were layers of shelves by one of the walls, containing small wooden boxes on the upper racks. Uncountable numbers of different-sized wooden crates were stuck by other walls.
“It looks like things are systematically stored, which makes it easier to inspect them,” Fiona said.
“I see. Then again, we’re talking about a lot of boxes.” Leo tilted his head to the side. Then he noticed the narrow stairs leading to the upper floor. “I wonder what the upstairs looks like.”
“Let’s go up and take a look.” Taking Leo’s hand, Fiona led the way up the steep stairs.
As she took each step, she recalled that she used to go up and down the passageway over and over when she was a child.
Fiona used to like the upstairs of this storehouse so much. She could spend hours sitting on the wooden floor, looking at the small windows forming rectangular shadows. Walking slowly, she took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of wood and history. It was like déjà vu. There were so many things she didn’t understand when she was little, but in retrospect, the storehouse had been well-organized as far as she could remember. She recalled how her neat grandfather used to tidy the place up whenever he had time.
&nb
sp; “Hey, is it a projector?”
Leo’s voice pulled her back to the present. Fiona approached Leo behind a large column.
“Look here. They are 8mm films, right?” Leo was looking at the films encased in plastic containers. “This one says ‘Fiona’s sixth birthday.’ How cute!”
“Really?” Her face lit up. “Shooting 8mm videos used to be my late granddad’s passion. Digital video was around in my childhood, but he loved old-fashioned technology. I’m so excited! Do you think this projector is still alive?” She glanced at the machine wrapped in a vinyl cover.
“It looks old, but it seems to be in good repair. Why don’t we try showing some film on screen?”
“Fabulous!” she said. “Why don’t we bring it to the main building? Watching old films of my family sounds like a fun pastime.”
“All right.” Leo grasped the projector in both hands, lifting it up. “Oh, this is heavy.”
“Ooh, take care. Let me help you,” Fiona volunteered, but Leo shook his head.
“I’m good. I’m a big boy, and I can carry it on my own. You carry some films, okay?”
“Of course.” Fiona took up several films in both hands and started walking, following her husband. “Ow!” One of the films slipped out of her hands, dropping to the ground. And it went rolling away and away. Squatting, she tried to retrieve it, but more films ended up on the floor.
“Hey, are you okay?” Leo looked back at her.
“Peachy. I guess I was trying to carry too many of them. I think I’ll have to bring a bag to carry the films.”
Fiona left them on the floor and went after Leo. She’d seen some shopping bags and paper bags stashed in the main building.
Her decision turned out to be a great one, as Leo was huffing and panting while he went down the steep stairs, and she was able to lend him her hand. Otherwise, he might have lost his footing and ended up falling down like Humpty Dumpty.
Five minutes later, the couple managed to settle the projector in one of the rooms in the main building.
“It says ‘Super 8.’ Wow, this is cool. I’ve heard about it being one of the elite, top-of-the-line home video projectors back in the old days, but I’ve never seen it before,” Leo said, unwrapping the projector. “Hmm… this is the power cord, and it comes here. Oh, I see.”
“I’ll bring the films while you work on the projector.” Fiona left the room with two of the shopping bags that looked to be the most durable. Knowing Leo’s background in engineering, she knew the newly found 8mm projector and films would keep him happy.
When she returned to the storehouse, she mumbled, “What? That’s strange.”
The door was closed, and she recalled leaving it open. When she was helping Leo with the projector, her hands were full, and so were his. Though she was slightly OCD about locking up, and she might have shut the door unconsciously.
Tilting her head to the side, Fiona reached for the door. It wasn’t locked and it opened smoothly, as if Leo’s struggle with it a while ago was a joke. With the light touch of the door, the memory of visiting the storehouse over and over in her childhood came to her mind like flashback.
Fiona frowned as she went inside. It was so dark—almost pitch black—but just a few minutes before, light was spilling from the windows and she had no problem examining the boxes and crates in the building.
Fiona looked back. The door was still open, and outside, the sun was still shining and the sky was blue.
Of course, the storehouse had lights. Shaking her head, Fiona put the light on, and the soft glow of a lightbulb filled the place.
She climbed up the stairs, picked up the films from the floor, and put them into the shopping bag. Then she looked for the one that went rolling over the floor, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, where are you?” she talked to the film as if calling a kitten playing hide and seek.
When she’d dropped it, it hadn’t gone too far, but she couldn’t find it easily. She had other films in her bag, but when she couldn’t find something, she tended to be even keener on finding it.
Fiona lay on her belly and looked under the racks by the wall.
“Gotcha.” She smiled. Finally, she located the film stuck in the narrow space between the bottom board and the floor. It was surprising that it went that far.
When she pulled the film out, she realized it wasn’t the same one she’d been looking for. The one she was initially carrying had a label indicating its name on the container; however, this film had no name.
She contemplated whether to bring it to the main building or not, but she put it into the bag sitting on the floor. The bag looked like it was getting heavy, so she put some films into the other bag.
Fiona approached the stairs carrying a bag in each hand. She was about to go down the stairs when she heard a noise. She wasn’t expecting any company, not even her husband.
“Hello, Fiona, sweetie!”
Waving her hand, Nana was smiling at her.
“Be careful,” she said, wearing her favorite Lilly Pulitzer floral print dress. “You used to fall down the stairs so often.” She smiled affectionately at her grandchild.
“Nana?” Fiona gasped. Beverly, her grandmother, had passed away years before.
“Welcome back home,” Beverly said.
Fiona was dumbstruck and at a loss for words. She had many questions for Nana, but she didn’t know where to start. So she nodded.
“Take your time and watch your step, and you have to be very careful. Danger awaits you.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “Nana, did you just say ‘danger’?”
“Yes, and I’m talking about really grave danger.” Beverly nodded, slightly shivering. “You want to take every precaution to avoid that. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Nana—” Fiona wanted to ask more, but Beverly disappeared out of sight.
Fiona climbed down the stairs, looking for her grandmother. “Nana? Where are you?” she whispered, but no one responded, and Fiona realized she was all by herself.
She took a deep breath. “What’s going on?” she muttered.
Fiona had never used recreational drugs, and she’d never had a hallucination. And so far, she had never had a daydream.
Still, that was definitely her dead grandmother…
Was that… Nana’s ghost? Under normal circumstances, she would have laughed it off, but what she had just witnessed was so… real.
It wasn’t cold, but she shivered. Not that she was scared of Nana, even supposing she was a ghost. She loved her grandmother so much, and her loving smile had always made Fiona feel safe and happy. However, her words “Danger awaits you” were playing in her ears over and over.
Fiona couldn’t figure out what that meant, and it bothered her.
“Fiona, what’s wrong?” she heard Leo calling. She caught his footsteps approaching the storehouse. “Are you sick or something?”
“Oh nothing. I’m fine. I’ll be right back,” she replied.
Switching the light off, she went out of the storehouse.
CHAPTER 1
Okay, so suppose I’m going with blue, but what kind of blue? What shade? That is the question, I thought to myself as I looked at all those super cute cupcakes in so many colors lined up behind the glass showcase.
Not that my days were limited and I was looking for my last supper as a living human being, but I was thinking about bridesmaids’ dresses. As the old saying goes, “Something blue,” so I was going to use blue with my bridesmaids’ dresses. Well, at least for the time being I was thinking of blue. However, there were so many other tempting colors, such as rose pink, purple, yellow…. Even if I had made up my mind with blue, there were approximately a gazillion shades of blue in the world. I was seriously regretting my idiotic mistake of pursuing a medical education. I should have gone to pursue something else, such as art or fashion. Okay, so I wouldn’t have become the next Nanette Lepore myself, but at least I wouldn’t be having trouble color coordinatin
g my wedding, which was just around the corner, if only I had a fashion or art degree under my belt!
“Next in line, please!”
I caught the voice of a woman, but I wasn’t listening. My attention was purely focused on the colors of the sweet delights. By the way, did I mention it was the first time that I was more obsessed about the color of food rather than the taste or what I wanted to eat?
I was groaning when she added, “Ma’am?”
“Hey, Mandy, girlfriend.” Jackie popped up by my side from out of nowhere.
“Yow!” I gasped.
“Come on, you don’t have to act like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Because you’re a ghost,” I pointed out.
“You want to place your order pronto, I suggest. The girl manning orders doesn’t look happy,” the ghost of a drag queen said matter-of-factly.
“Oh.” I was about to say, “Triple-chocolate,” but…
“Ghost cake it is. One?” the young girl manning the orders asked, slightly squinting at me.
“Yes, yes.” I nodded, because I didn’t seem to have much choice.
“Are you sure?” Jackie squirmed. “You’ve just placed an order for a squid-ink-flavored cupcake.”
“What—” I glanced at the cupcake in the very dark hue of black. “Oh…”
“Anything to drink?”
“A glass of iced tea would be nice, thank you,” I mumbled, trying my best not to flinch.
“Okay. Proceed to the right and pay that guy at the register.” She handed me the order sheet scribbled with illegible handwriting.
As instructed, I went to the cashier guy, handing him the order sheet. “Twelve eighty-nine!” he said.
“Mandy, you’ve got to tell me all the juicy details about your cupcake,” Jackie said happily, grinning from ear to ear.
I rolled my eyes. I was tempted to express my dismay to the guardian angel in a neon yellow skimpy dress, but I opted out. I was getting more than enough stares that screamed “suspicious” for the day, so I started walking toward the dining area carrying a tray with my black cupcake and iced tea.
My name is Amanda Meyer. Most people call me Mandy. I used to work for the FBI’s New York City headquarters, but Rick Rowling, my boss and only colleague at the Paranormal Cases Division—and gasp! my fiancé—left the feds and joined USCAB, United States Cover All Bases, a huge security-based conglomerate owned and run by his family. I guess you’ve figured it out by now, but I have a unique skill communicating with dead people. And thanks to—or rather no thanks to—this ability, the FBI invited me to keep working for them after Rick’s departure, but Rick didn’t trust my expertise of staying out of danger, and to be honest, neither did I. So I joined USCAB with him as one of his secretaries. However, having our wedding scheduled within a month—we were having the ceremony in early August, and it was already July… it’s so true that time flies!—most of my time was focused on meeting with the wedding planner about the wedding dress, bridesmaids’ dresses, flowers, food, and beverages.
