Wicked as a Christmas Fruitcake

by Lotta Smith

  “My, my, you’re Katie Dawson, right?” Sitting at a large mahogany desk, Mr. West perked up as his eyes registered Madame Roloff. “Look at your hat! You always liked hats, didn’t you? By the way, I like the Madame Roloff logo very much.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. West.” Madame Roloff was smiling, despite the elderly gentleman addressing her with her childhood name. “You look fabulous, Mr. West. I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Me too.” Mr. West smiled, his thinning skin creasing like crumpled paper. According to Madame Roloff, he was over ninety years old, and he looked his age. Still, he was working with a laptop, and so far, he seemed to be working flawlessly. “What do you think about my new design?” The screen he showed us was full of eye-catching vivid colors.

  “This looks beautiful.” I smiled. “Are you working on ads or something?”

  “I am. These days, even an accountant’s office needs good ads to attract clients.” His eyes twinkled as he answered proudly. Then he looked at Rick. “You must be the new COO of USCAB, am I correct?”

  “Yes, you’re correct.” Rick nodded and extended his hand toward him. “I’m Rick Rowling, and this is Mandy, my wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Even if he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

  “This guy was sitting close to where I was. He could have slipped poison into my fruitcake,” Woody commented, then flew by his side. “Hey, answer my question. Did you kill me?”

  But of course Mr. West didn’t hear the dead guy talking to him. “Pleasure is all mine. I saw you over twenty-five years ago at a holiday fundraiser in uptown.” He grinned at Rick.

  “Oh, did you?” Rick looked positively surprised.

  “Yes, I did. Back in the old days, we used to call it the Christmas fundraiser. You were very little, like this.” Mr. West indicated little Rick’s height using his hand, grinning from ear to ear. “But the moment I saw you, I knew it was the grown-up version of you. You know what? You look just like your father when he was your age.”

  “Oh… really?” Rick raised an eyebrow, looking like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

  “Yes.” Mr. West nodded while Madame Roloff apparently itched to cut to the chase. As if he’d seen through her mind, Mr. West turned to Madame Roloff, asking, “So, Katie, are you here asking me to sell this building?”

  “Oh no. I’ve already passed my company on to my kids, and I’m not actively involved with land acquisition anymore.” Madame Roloff shook her head. “As a matter of fact, we’re looking into the death of Mr. Woody Napoleon.”

  “Oh, I remember him. He was sitting close to me when he dropped to the floor.” Mr. West furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What a shame such a young gentleman dropping dead so suddenly. I have a hunch that the people at that occasion would have thought it should be me to do that, no thanks to my age.”

  “Mr. West, do you have any suspects?” Rick asked him, prompting my eyes to widen. He wasn’t the guy who asked, much less cared, about other people’s opinion when it came to looking into cases.

  “No way!” He shook his head. “At first I thought it was a heart attack, but then I learned he was murdered. How horrible!”

  “Why don’t you ask him if he put poison in my fruitcake?” Woody said into my ear, prompting me to shiver.

  I cleared my throat. I simply wanted to get rid of Woody. “Mr. West, you said you were sitting close to the victim at the time of his untimely demise.”

  “Yes, I did.” He nodded, and then his eyes widened. “Are you implying that I killed him?”

  “Oh no! I mean, I was wondering if you saw any suspicious behavior from someone close to you.”

  “Well… I guess we were all focused on something—conversation, food, beverage, and so on—at that time, and I can’t recall anything that points to the killer.” He shook his head, and then he turned to Madame Roloff. “Look, Katie, when I saw you, I half expected you to tell me that I should sell you my family land. You’re a savvy businessperson, and I almost suspected you of trying to push the empathy button, saying things like ‘Acquiring the land was Mr. Napoleon’s dream, and I’d humbly succeed his vision,’ and so on.”

  “Excuse me?” Madame Roloff exclaimed. “Did he demand you sell the land?”

  “Yes, he did.” He shrugged. “But I politely declined his offer. He was so pushy. I think he was trying to buy the whole neighborhood here, including Charmed and Sprinkled.”

  Madame Roloff sucked in air. “He was?”

  “Oh yeah. The bakery’s location is perfect for my dream shopping mall,” Woody admitted without a trace of guilt. “But now that I’m dead, it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

  Mr. West continued. “Personally, if only the victim wasn’t Mr. Napoleon himself, I’d be casting my suspicion on him for the murder. The purpose of poisoning would be to defame Charmed and Sprinkled, driving them out of business, which would elevate the potential of Harriett giving up on her family business and selling the property to him.”

  Rick’s face was unreadable as a new piece of information was provided.

  “If that was the case, I’d be tempted to kill him myself,” Madame Roloff said, and she didn’t sound like she was joking.

  “Did you poison yourself just to make a point?” Jackie narrowed her eyes at Woody.

  “Of course not! Seriously, you guys have no respect for the dead,” Woody huffed, throwing both hands up in the air.

  I gave him a sideways glance, fearing he might let out another noisy burp.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day, I visited a funeral parlor in Midtown West.

  I was with Madame Roloff, who was in her funeral gear complete with black hat with black lacy veil and everything. Just to show my respect toward the deceased, I was in a black suit.

  “Oh crap! I feel like a total slob stuck in the same outfit from when I dropped dead,” Woody complained, looking uncomfortably at his attire. “Can you believe I had my newest black tux tailored just a week before my death? Hey, how do you change your outfit?” He looked at Jackie enviously.

  “It’s easy when you get the hang of it,” she replied proudly. On that special day, she was in a black day dress with a black hat that was even bigger than Madame Roloff’s. Of course, she was sporting a black lace veil. “Look, when I was stuck in this world with no closure and no happiness, I was permanently stuck in the same outfit I was stabbed to death in, but once I learned about what happened when I died with the help of Mandy and Rick, I learned to change my attire, which is fantastic.”

  “Okay.” Woody nodded. Then he turned to me. “Where’s your husband today? The two of you had a hell of a fight yesterday, didn’t you?”

  “We didn’t have a fight,” I said. “We had a little discussion, but that’s about it.”

  “Yeah, that was a heck of a discussion, which I’d rather call an argument, and she won,” Jackie supplemented, producing pom-poms and shaking them like a cheerleader.

  The day before, we visited Charmed and Sprinkled after visiting Mr. West’s office because Rick wanted to interview Meg. He’d asked her about her relationship with Woody, to see if her story would match what Woody had given via my interpretation.

  Meg’s version involved an incident at a meeting in which she stated her opinion about Woody’s ambition of building a new condo and shopping mall complex by demolishing some of the historic buildings in the neighborhood. Indeed, Schuyler literally had an adult’s version of a temper tantrum, which had astounded Meg, and potentially other directors at the association. After the meeting ended, she went to chat with Woody to console him. According to her, Schuyler had openly badmouthed Woody for being a con man and a fraud, and she thought he didn’t deserve such treatment after paying a fortune to join the board of directors. Apparently, Schuyler hated her guts for standing up for the man he loathed, and now everyone involved with the association was speculating that Schuyler terminated her internship out of spite.

  Rick wasn’t satisfied just from
talking to Meg. Indeed, he went so far as having me touch her to see if she’d break into hives or something like that. In my previous life as a medical student, three people who’d committed murders or rapes but managed to have slipped out of the justice system dropped dead just after touching me. The incident got me kicked out of med school, and even though Rick rescued me from being falsely prosecuted for triple murder, he had me stigmatized with the distasteful nickname “Grim Reaper.” To make it worse, he often tried to use me as something like litmus paper to see if someone was guilty of a crime. On top of all that, instead of asking me to touch her in a nice manner, he deliberately knocked a glass of water on the sleeve of my dress! When Meg scurried toward me and helped me wipe the mess with paper towels, she didn’t break into hives, much less hyperventilate and drop dead.

  I didn’t like his attitude, and we had a looong discussion. At first, he dared to shrug and say, “Come on, having a little help from you makes it easier. Not to mention I’d prefer to close the case while I don’t have meetings to attend.”

  Most of the time, he was a loving husband, except when he was rushing in to close cases. He was a crazy maniac whenever he was in the zone and pushing his way, completely forgetting about important things such as modesty and human rights. When he finally gave in and mumbled something that resembled an apology, it was because I had threatened that I’d never let him know if Clara—his beloved late stepmom—was visiting us, nor relay her words to him.

  “Woody, you should have stayed with us. That argument was spectacular!” Jackie bounced.

  “Oh, she won? That’s good to hear.” Woody nodded over and over. “When Natalia and I used to have verbal duels, I’d get slightly melancholic and had to go out and have some fresh air. So, did you kick him from the investigation?” he asked, turning back to me.

  “For your information, no, I didn’t. Actually, he’s at a meeting, and then another, followed by more. So he can’t tag along with us today,” I replied. Indeed, having Rick on the case for over one day was a total rarity nowadays. To be honest, I liked it pretty much. In retrospect, I wasn’t too mad at what he’d done. I understood he wanted to solve the case while he was able to tag along with me, and I could assume that was the reason for his rush. I made a mental note to be sweet and nice when I met him after work today.

  “Hmm… I think I was more popular than I’d formerly thought. Look at all those people coming to pay their respects.” Woody burped as he indicated the visitors with both hands. “Oops, sorry about that.”

  “Woody, I know it’s your funeral, but you want to behave yourself, okay? You don’t want to be remembered as the guy whose funeral was totally ruined by noisy burping sounds, do you?”

  “No way.” Woody straightened up.

  “Woody, you want to look at the visitors very carefully,” Madame Roloff said. “In my experience, the killer usually appears at the victim’s funeral.”

  “I thought it was your first time to investigate a murder case,” I said, surprised.

  “Yes, it is. But I always watch cop shows,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh.” I tried my best not to roll my eyes.

  At the funeral parlor with ivory wallpaper and neutral-colored furniture, approximately a hundred people were gathering. Most of them were old folks, but younger people were spotted here and there.

  Madame Roloff walked down the aisle with no hint of hesitation and took a seat on one of the rows farthest from the casket. “Mandy, come here.” She gestured me to hurry up.

  The moment we were seated, a woman—perhaps in her fifties—came from behind and spoke. “Is that you, Madame Roloff?”

  “Yes?” Madame Roloff turned back and her face perked up immediately. “It’s you, Anna Linton! Hello there. I heard you’ve inherited your family business. How is your antique furniture and art gallery going?”

  “Fortunately, I’m doing well, even though it’s nothing to be listed in Fortune 500 or Global 2000. Thank you for asking.” Anna smiled. “I didn’t know you were close to the deceased.”

  “I know him only remotely. But we were in the same business,” Madame Roloff whispered graciously. “I didn’t know you were close to Mr. Napoleon.”

  “Well, he was a new member of the board of directors at Manhattan Avenue Arts and Heritage Association.” Anna shook her head sadly and stroked the back of Madame Roloff’s chair with her gloved hands. Then she glanced at me.

  “This is Mandy,” Madame Roloff introduced me. “She’s helping me look into Mr. Napoleon’s murder case. Mandy, this is Anna Linton. I went to the same school with her mom.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Anna extended her hand toward me. I was slightly uncomfortable shaking hands, but I took it. At least she had gloves on.

  “Nice meeting you.”

  “So, Madame Roloff, you’ve expanded your expertise into the world of sleuthing?” Anna said playfully, scratching one gloved hand with the other.

  “Yes, I have.” Madame Roloff nodded. “Charmed and Sprinkled serves what I consider my soul food, and I’d like to help them. It wouldn’t be good for their business to have the killer left a mystery. We all need closure, don’t we?”

  “Of course.” Anna nodded, grimacing. “What a tragedy to be murdered at such a jolly event.”

  “It must have been shocking for her. I remember seeing her faint the moment I dropped to the floor.” Woody crossed his arms, creasing his widening forehead. “At that time, I suspected it was a mass food poisoning or something.”

  “I heard you fainted when Mr. Napoleon collapsed onto the floor,” I said. “How are you feeling today?”

  It was a piece of information Madame Roloff didn’t have, but she played along. “Oh yes, I heard about that too. Where are my manners? I should have asked if you’re feeling okay now.”

  “Oh, how embarrassing.” Anna chuckled, still scratching her gloved hand. “I didn’t mean to behave like a Victorian-era lady, but when I saw him collapse, I felt so light-headed, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried into the ambulance. Thank you so much, I’m feeling fine now.”

  “That’s good,” Madame Roloff and Woody said in unison.

  Then Woody pointed at a middle-aged woman by the podium. “That’s Evelyn, my cousin. How sweet of her to take care of my funeral.” But when a fiftyish guy approached her, Woody frowned. “What is Doug doing at my funeral, talking to Evelyn? Oh, that bastard is with our lawyer.” His frown deepened as a tall guy in his late forties came by Evelyn and Doug. “I’ve got to go and check on them,” he said, flying over to them.

  “Can you see that gentleman talking to that lady by the podium?” Anna lowered her voice. “He’s Mr. Napoleon’s business partner, Mr. Carino.”

  “You mean that guy in the checkered suit?” Madame Roloff squinted. “He looks…”

  “Outlawish?” Anna tilted her head to the side. “Indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has ‘bad’ tattooed across his abs.”

  While Woody was eavesdropping on and apparently threatening Doug, Anna continued to scratch her hand over the glove.

  Approximately five minutes later, the funeral director came in and asked everyone to have a seat. After that, things went just like any other funeral. We stood up, sang “Amazing Grace,” and heard Woody’s cousin and then his business partner, Doug, reciting eulogies. I caught Mr. West and his secretary sitting in one of the front rows.

  After all the processes were over, people went to speak to Evelyn to send their condolences.

  “Let’s go. We’ll talk to her.” Madame Roloff stood up and led me toward the apparently grieving woman.

  “Hello, Evelyn. You must have been very close to Woody.” Madame Roloff produced a tone that sounded uncharacteristically warm and sympathetic for the queen of condotels.

  “You’re…” Evelyn seemed to be slightly taken aback at first, but her eyes widened as she looked at the big hat and Madame Roloff. “If I’m wrong, I’m sorry, but you look like that lady whose fa
ce is on every upscale condo and fashion building.”

  “That’s me. They call me Madame Roloff.” She nodded warmly. “Woody and I were very close.”

  “Oh hell. She lies like breathing.” Woody shook his head.

  “She must be trying to obtain information from your cousin,” Jackie observed.

  “Oh, my…” Evelyn’s blue eyes welled up with tears. “Woody used to tell me how successful he was, and I must say I had moments of occasional doubt. But now I’m sure he was telling the truth. Having you as an associate is quite something, right?”

  “Did you hear that? I’m a guy considered quite something,” Woody said proudly.

  Madame Roloff didn’t say anything, just gently patted the grieving cousin on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Mandy, don’t you have something to say to my cousin?” Woody nudged me without actually touching me. “You’re a grieving friend of mine, so tell her something.”

  “Evelyn, I’d never expected to meet you in this manner. He always talked about you.” I produced my most saddened voice, and then I mumbled my condolences.

  “I’m so glad to see so many people at his funeral. I can now see how loved Woody was.” Evelyn smiled between hiccups. Then her blue eyes pierced into my brown ones. “I know you were close to Woody. Look, he was such a ladies’ man, and everyone was smitten by him. Why don’t you visit his condo and get something for you to cherish his memory? Natalia has made it clear that she doesn’t want anything to remember him…”

  “Natalia… you mean his wife?” Madame Roloff asked.

  “Yes. She didn’t even bother to come back from the Riviera,” Evelyn spat.

  “It’s okay.” Woody moved his hand as if to gently stroke his cousin on the back. “We rarely saw each other, but I still like her in my own way.”

  His face was unreadable but he sounded a little sad.

  “Mandy, I think you want to relay his words to Evelyn.” Jackie looked at me encouragingly.

  “Look, Evelyn.” I paused, not quite sure about what I was going to tell her. “Woody used to tell us about his funny marriage with Natalia, but whenever he talked about her, he looked very happy and blissful.”