by Lotta Smith
Wicked and Haunted
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 6
By Lotta Smith
Copyright
Wicked and Haunted© 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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T able of content
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
EPILOGUE
Giveaway info
Before you go…
PROLOGUE
She was alone, roaming the street around 1:00 a.m.
The stores in the neighborhood were closed as it was a mostly residential area, and she was the only person walking. She was probably in her seventies, but she might have looked older than her actual age. Her legs were wobbling, her gait was unsteady, and her gray eyes were sparkling with desperation, yet she was looking at nothing. It was odd that she was wandering about the posh uptown Manhattan at this grave hour, practically looking like a zombie.
Her attire was what could have been described as terribly inappropriate. She was clad in pajamas and she wasn’t wearing shoes.
Under normal circumstances, she would have looked homeless, drunk, or like a drug addict, but she wasn’t reeking of alcohol. Considering that she had no shoes, her feet appeared relatively clean. Also, her hair looked like she’d just taken a shower a few hours ago, and her skin didn’t show the telltale sign of accumulated dirt.
The oddest part about her was that she was sporting a fancy ring on her finger, despite the unkempt appearance. Mounted in the center of the ring was a large sapphire the color of the deep ocean.
Like a woman on a mission, she kept on walking—or tried to continue walking, at least.
Her shaky gait got shakier until she stumbled into the boulevard and crumbled to the ground.
Her life was about to end as a man in a black BMW sped toward her. Due to the late hour, the neighborhood was dark without much of traffic, so the old woman was invisible to him. The tires screeched and the car slid, apparently losing the control, but the driver managed to stop the BMW just three inches from the old lady who lay on the ground, passed out cold.
Luckily for the old woman, the driver was neither an ax murderer nor an alien looking for his prey. He was decent enough to call 911 for help.
When the police arrived, one of the officers joked, “You must have super night vision like Batman, huh?”
The driver shook his head, looking confused. “Actually, I saw this young girl standing in the middle of the road,” he said. “She wore a white, frilly dress with a balloon-like skirt.” He was frowning like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said himself.
“Like a Downton Abbey costume?” the officer asked.
“Yes, something like that, I guess.” The driver tilted his head to the side. “One moment, there was no one in front of me, but the next moment, she materialized in the middle of the road like smoke. If she wandered into the road, I should have seen her coming from the sidewalk, but she just popped up from out of nowhere. That’s why I desperately tried to stop. She was looking down at the ground, snickering, as if she were enjoying that very moment. That’s when I noticed the old lady.”
“Sir, are you under the influence of anything?” The officer’s tone turned skeptical.
“No, no.” The driver shook his head. “I was working until well past midnight, and alcohol does nothing for my productivity.”
“Did she wink at you or something?”
“Um… actually, our eyes met,” the driver admitted. “And I’ve never seen such a cold stare. Her blue eyes were literally icy.”
“Oh really? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She disappeared like smoke, just like when she appeared.” His whole body visibly shook.
The officer flashed a grin. “Good thing you’ve managed to avoid killing not just one person but two. By the way, you need to take a sobriety test.”
Neither the driver nor the officer witnessed the sapphire of the ring glowing wickedly as the woman was hoisted into the ambulance.
CHAPTER 1
Here’s the thing about Alice. She was a gorgeous blonde, with the flamboyance only seen among Hollywood’s movie crowd, and knew nothing of subtlety.
“Amanda, you should really wear this! Ribbon motif in front is a real big thing this year,” Alice exclaimed between munching on mushroom salad.
“Well, I’m not sure,” I mumbled ambivalently. Then I thought perhaps I was sounding too unenthusiastic, so I added, “Look, the dress you’re talking about is very pretty, but….” I left some room for assumption.
“But what?” Alice asked, stabbing a piece of mushroom with her chopsticks.
Sticking to the vegetarian diet at Nobu… seriously? I thought, looking at her, but I didn’t share as I had no intention of getting on the nerves of the woman sitting at the same table at downtown’s most cherished restaurant. So instead, I said, “Having a huge ribbon in front of my tummy won’t compliment my figure, I’m afraid.”
I was sounding rather desperate. No way was I going to wear a hideous gown with a huge ribbon in front—not that the gown itself was hideous. Indeed, it would have looked pretty, if only someone willowy thin were wearing it. Unfortunately, I was more on the chubby side than a stick figure, and without trying the dress on I knew I’d look like a sumo wrestler ready to show his power and toughness, sporting only a loincloth. Seriously, ribbon motif in front wasn’t a non-skinny girl’s best friend.
In an attempt to calm my nerves, I took a bite of rock shrimp tempura, which was simply heavenly. It was lunchtime on a beautiful Monday in June, and under normal circumstances, I’d have been thrilled about eating in one of the private dining rooms at Nobu, especially since I was being treated. But noooo, there was this catastrophic factor by the name of Alice Wunderlande, a.k.a. Alice from Wonderland.
Alice was a former actress who used to be married to Dan, and she was the woman who gave birth to Rick, but she walked out of her life as a member of the Rowlings when Rick was just three years old.
“All right then, how do you feel about a Beauty and the Beast-inspired ball gown?” Alice said in the same perky tone, batting her devastatingly long lashes.
<
br /> “I don’t think so.” I shook my head and looked at Rick Rowling, my fiancé, and then at Dan, Rick’s father who was the CEO of a huge security-based conglomerate called USCAB—United States Cover All Bases—who happened to be paying the bill for the lunch.
“Beauty and the Beast? Does that ball gown come in yellow?” Rick frowned, breaking the silence that had lasted for what seemed like forever.
“Oh yes.” I reached for my phone in my purse. “Let me show you the yellow ball gown….”
“No, Amanda, you can’t show your potential wedding gown to the groom-to-be! That’ll bring bad luck.” Alice blocked the phone screen with the palm of her hand.
“Oh, no need to worry about it. I have a hunch that this gown isn’t the one.” I forced a smile. “You know, yellow isn’t really a wedding color, is it?” Not to mention the balloon skirt of the yellow gown was guaranteed to make me look like an egg yolk, or Gudetama the lazy egg, rolling on the floor, mumbling, “I’ll be eaten anyway.”
“Amanda, if you were as picky about what you eat as what you want to wear, I’m sure you’ll look completely svelte and stunning in a ball gown with a balloon skirt,” Alice said, picking up a piece of seaweed with chopsticks.
I opened my mouth and then shut it. I was compelled to roll my eyes and ask the ultra-thin woman in a short, sleeveless, yellow and black leopard-printed dress, sitting right next to me at the table, if she’d just said I was fat—but I didn’t.
First off, Alice was somewhat on the blunt side and she might actually say the big F-word if asked—and I’m not talking about the profane F-word. Perhaps that had something to do with her background in Hollywood. Secondly, I had a hunch that I wasn’t likely to get away with stabbing her with chopsticks in case she made some not-so-nice comments about my body shape.
I took a glance at Rick, who was focusing on his lunch while I, his fiancée, was being insulted by his biological mother. I was expecting him to stand up for me and tell Alice that my body was perfect the way it is, and that it was the body he loved and cherished, but he was busy savoring bluefin tuna nigiri with his signature hard-to-read facial expression. According to Alicia, my younger sister who was happily married with two daughters, all men are worthless pigs when it comes to their mothers, and I realized she was so right.
“Mandy, if you’re thinking about stabbing Rick’s mom with chopsticks, I suggest you take a deep breath and forget about it,” Jackie whispered into my ear. “Okay, so she’s annoying, but look at her. She’s wearing a dress that looks like a recycled version of Pikotaro’s costume.” She went on, dancing and singing that viral song about a pen, pineapple, and apple, prompting me to snort out laughing.
“What’s so funny, Amanda?” Alice arched an eyebrow. When she did that, she had a serious resemblance to her son, whom she rarely bothered to meet up with in the past two decades. She wasn’t ugly, despite her excessively West Coast attire. She was built like Carmen Dell’Orefice—the world’s oldest supermodel—back when she was in her late fifties. Each of her facial features was sculpted to perfection—though, I was guessing she’d had the help of plastic surgery, of course—but the most striking thing about Alice was her sparkling violet eyes. Rick didn’t inherit her eyes, as his were an intense green that looked almost blue, a spitting image of his dad’s, but I could tell his resemblance to her.
Finally, Rick opened his mouth. “Alice,” he said in a warning tone of voice. He never called her Mom or Mother, mostly because Alice was never there for him when he was a kid, and he still cherished the memory of Clara Rowling, his late stepmother who raised him. According to Rick, Clara was practically a saint who was always there for him as his mom—until she departed to a better place due to complications of multiple sclerosis.
As I choked, watching Jackie’s performance, Rick looked at me, arching one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Mandy, is everything okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You know, this rock shrimp dish is sooo divine, and I couldn’t help giggling,” I said nonchalantly. After all, I couldn’t just tell Alice that I found Jackie’s dance routine totally hilarious—especially because she was wearing a rainbow sequin dress that was so much flashier than Pikotaro’s regular costume. Did I mention that Jackie happened to be the ghost of a drag queen, and I was the only person in the room who could see and communicate with her?
My name is Amanda Meyer. I’m a special assistant with the FBI’s New York City field office. In my previous life, I was a medical student with mediocre grades, serious germaphobia, and low motivation to be exposed to total strangers’ bodily fluids, but with some tricky twists of life, I got kicked out of med school—with no degree but a ton of student loan debt. Then Rick Rowling recruited me to work for the bureau’s Paranormal Cases Division, and with a dash of magic, I was about to tie the knot with him, my seriously sexy boss and the only heir to USCAB.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be euphorically happy with my engagement to one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan, and I was… until Alice came into the picture.
I’m not complaining. After all, she’d generously offered to pay for the wedding, and it was really generous of her… except, she’d also volunteered to plan my—I mean our—wedding, and she was determined to go big. As in some kind of royal wedding, or one of the Kardashian weddings. She never remarried or had another child, so according to her, she wished to be a part of her only child’s wedding. Luckily for her, she came from old money and could afford an almost-royal wedding, not to mention she’d grown richer following many flings with millionaires and billionaires from all over the world.
Initially, Rick wanted to turn down her offer, but I sensed a kind of desperation in Alice, like she was dying to build a relationship with her estranged son, so I persuaded him to let her in. But I was truly, seriously regretting my stupid, sentimental decision.
Alice was planning a huge wedding, and things were getting out of control. Okay, so going big was fine. I personally preferred small and intimate occasions, but I didn’t essentially object to a big wedding. After all, weddings were used as part of marketing strategies by many companies and as the old saying goes, there’s no such thing as bad press. A big wedding could be good for the family business. But since Alice had appointed herself the chief wedding planner, what used to be my dream wedding had literally spiraled. After all, I had no idea about her ambition to make a mind-blowing comeback to Hollywood as a reality TV star when she offered to pick up the tab for the wedding, or that she had every intention of utilizing our wedding as a tool for gaining publicity. To make it even worse, Alice was working her own magic and making our wedding into a nightmare, or the wedding from Hell.
In my not-so-long career working for the FBI’s Paranormal Cases Division, I’d dealt with murderers, ghosts with maleficent intentions, and an evil witch psychic named Aurora Westwood, but Alice Wunderlande was by far the most difficult and dangerous counterpart I’d ever encountered.
“Okay, so you don’t like the big ribbon in front, or a yellow ball gown. I’ll find something more exciting before the next meeting.” Alice flashed a dazzling smile. Then she glanced at her gold Cartier Panthere watch. “Oh gosh, I have to run. I found this awesome cake artist named Nathan Wang. Guess what? He specializes in complete vegan wedding cakes! He can create a total miracle with soy milk and tofu. Can you believe that?”
I wanted to shriek, “Noooooooo!”
As Alice enthused, Rick crossed his arms, visibly frowning. “Look, Alice—” He opened his mouth, but the stormy mother didn’t listen to her only child.
“Oh, Rick, darling, you can thank me later. By the way—” She stood up.
“I didn’t know you’ve turned into a vegetarian,” Dan commented.
“Of course, you didn’t.” Alice gave a meaningful glance at him. “And you didn’t know that I knew you’ve been dating five-plus women for the past few years, did you?”
“So what? Any problem?” Dan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had more lo
vers than Courtney Love.”
Ignoring her ex-hubby, Alice turned to Rick. “By the way, we’ve got to do something more dramatic for the ceremony than an exchange of rings. I’m thinking of a tattoo exchanging. What do you think?”
Rick took a deep breath. “A tattoo exchanging? Wow, that’s impressive, huh? Except the ceremony will turn into a freak show rather than a wedding.”
“Oh, come on, sweetie. Stop frowning.” Alice touched her own forehead. “You don’t want to end up with frown lines. Anyway, I have to run. Ciao!”
She went out of the room like a category four hurricane.
My jaw dropped. “A tattoo exchange? Did she just say tattoo exchange?”
“Yup.” Jackie nodded. And after a brief pause, the ghost of a drag queen flipped herself in the air, changing into a black nylon parka and black skinny jeans—the same outfit Camila Cabello wore on TV, which was amazing in a weird way. We’d been acquainted for almost two years, but until recently, Jackie had been stuck with the same skimpy neon pink and green outfit that she was wearing when she was killed on the night of Pride Dance. According to Jackie, her newly acquired ability to change her attire was related to the fact that we’d uncovered her killer.
“Is she out of her head? Is she out of her mind? If she only knew the type of weddings we like. Don’t think that she can ruin it. What can I say, I’m the maid of the honor,” Jackie started singing in her most sultry voice, with a perfect impression of the Latin pop singer.
“Bravo.” I applauded at the ghost sporting rapper-chic attire. Thanks to her background in Broadway, she could really sing.
“Thank you!” She bowed. “By the way, I caught Alice phoning someone about a possible llama rental.”
“Renting a llama?” I parroted. “You mean, like, the animal?”
“Yes. She seemed to believe that using a llama as the ring bearer was mind-blowing. As for it being mind-blowing, I have no objection. Then again, I’m not sure if I’d feel safe relying on a llama to carry the rings if I were in your shoes.” Jackie rolled her eyes.
