Dial W for Wicked

by Lotta Smith

  “I know, but I’m not sure if I’d pick up the phone if I changed its sound to something easier on the ears.” I shrugged. “Paranormal Cases Division. This is Amanda Rowling. How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Mandy, it’s me,” said the deep voice that sounded slightly raspier than Rick’s.

  “Hi, Dan. How are you?” I said, smiling. Not that the phone was a video phone, but I couldn’t help it. Rick’s dad was almost the spitting image of Rick, only older, and he had a wicked sense of humor. He was really fun to be around. Not to mention I got to picture the older version of Rick just by looking at his father. Dan, once divorced and then widowed, is a well-known playboy who currently has five girlfriends, starting from Miss Monday to Miss Friday.

  “I’m good, thanks. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that a potential client will be visiting you and Rick soon.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready. What does she need, if I may ask?” I thought my soon-to-be-client was a woman. I didn’t know the reason why, but so far, all my clients were females, so I assumed this one would be a filthy rich lady, or a lady with a filthy rich husband.

  “Actually, we’re talking about a guy. You might have heard about him, as he’s a bestselling author. His name is Darren Fender.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jackie, who had been eavesdropping on my conversation by my side, and I said in unison. Darren Fender was the hottest author specializing in romantic suspense. His background was kept mysterious, and so far, the only information most people had on him was an obscure sepia-colored photo of him and that he had hit multiple bestsellers lists, including but not limited to the New York Times, USA Today, and the Wall Street Journal.

  “Oh my God!” Jackie flew around in excitement, bordering on panic. “We’ve got to run to the bookstore and get a copy of his book so you can ask him to sign it.”

  “Yes, we will,” I mouthed at her, nodding.

  “No, I’m serious.” Dan chuckled. “By the way, Mandy, if you’re thinking about making a bookstore run so you’ll have a copy of his book to have signed, I’d appreciate it if you’d get a copy for me. I’m a huge fan, and personally, I’d love to be present at the meeting, but unfortunately my schedule doesn’t allow it. So….”

  “Sure, I’ll buy you one too. What title would you like me to get?”

  “The Book of the Heroes would be nice, but if that’s out of stock, anything else will do,” he said, sounding like a kid on Christmas day.

  “Fabulous. I’ll go fetch the books.”

  He said, “Take care,” and we disconnected the call.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Rick and I—and Jackie—welcomed the famed author Darren Fender to our office.

  He was a heavyset guy in his mid-thirties. Standing at about six feet tall, he had dark hair and dark eyes. Darren was nice enough to sign the copies of his books I’d purchased at the bookstore nearby.

  “So, how can we help you?” Rick asked, sounding all business.

  “Thank you for taking time to meet me on such short notice,” he said, looking at me. “I saw the news about you finding the missing girl, and I felt this insane pull towards meeting you. There are people I need your help to find.”

  “As in estranged family?” Rick said, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, that’s not the case.” Darren shook his head.

  “Who told you about my wife being the one who actually found Stella?” Rick asked. His eyebrow was still raised, and his jaw was tight. Darren hadn’t had time to be briefed by USCAB agents. If the author had access to our classified info—aka my skill at talking to dead people—the company had a serious security breach problem.

  “Actually, I used to be a cop with the Berkshire County Police Department until I hit the jackpot with my Inspector Amy Scardoni series four years ago,” Darren said.

  “Oh, he used to be a cop? That explains how he writes about the cases like a real cop,” Jackie interjected, who had a habit of reading books on my Kindle.

  “Oh, so you’re from Berkshire. That’s a beautiful town.” The tension in Rick’s jaw loosened a little.

  “Right.” Darren nodded. “Back then, I’d heard about the FBI’s department dealing with stuff that can’t be handled by the usual investigation and science. I knew that section was in New York City, and when the media was buzzing about you being a former fed about to inherit his family company, I knew you were the go-to people for me. Also, one of my acquaintances from another police department, who knew someone who worked with you, said that the female was the person who does actual paranormal investigation.” He looked at me and then at Rick. “That’s how I deduced Mandy to be the person with paranormal skills.”

  “That was brilliant. I’m impressed, Mr. Fender.” Rick clapped his hands.

  “Oh no, please call me Darren.” The author offered a warm smile.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, Darren, there’s something you may want to know about me. So, I have this little paranormal ability to talk to dead people, but there’s no guarantee that I’d be useful for a missing person case.”

  “But you found Stella Daniels, didn’t you?” Darren watched me with keen eyes. “Can I ask how you found her?”

  “I was in the car with Rick, and we were circling around the same neighborhood.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Rick interjected. “It was very weird. I was desperately attempting to get out of that spot, but no matter which route I took, the car ended up in the same neighborhood with the knitting store where Stella was being held captive.”

  As Rick gave him the synopsis of Stella’s discovery, including the part about me catching her voice begging for rescue, Darren listened silently.

  “That’s… incredible.” He nodded again and again. “So, it was like the girl in captivity was trying to capture your attention.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” I said. “I have better hearing with the voices of dead people compared to most people, but catching the phantom voice belonging to someone who’s still alive is very rare for me. I’m assuming it was mostly coincidental that I caught her voice, and a part of the reason was that I happened to be close to her.”

  Darren’s face turned serious. “I understand your skill has its limitations, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d at least listen to my story.”

  “Of course,” Jackie agreed before I could respond. As I gave her a warning glance, she said matter-of-factly, “Hey, don’t spoil the fun before I’ve gotten to listen to him. He’s one of the most rocking storytellers in our society. Whatever he’s gonna talk about, his story should be good.”

  Rick seemed to share the same opinion as my flamboyant ghostly friend. “Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged Darren.

  “First of all, do you recognize these names?” Darren offered me a letter-size paper with three names typed.

  “Lucy Chesterton, Meghan Atwood, and Skyler-Mizuki Wilkinson.” Reciting the names on the paper, I knitted my eyebrows. “These names don’t ring a bell. Am I supposed to know them?”

  “Not really. They’re not high-end celebrities or anything.” He shook his head.

  “Wait a minute, I think I’ve heard about them,” Rick interjected. “Then again, I don’t recall the specifics about these three women.”

  “Actually, they’re the girls who helped me create my debut novel, Spirited Away in the Mountains,” Darren said.

  But somehow, he didn’t sound happy at all with that.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Okay, now I remember.” Rick nodded. “There was a series of young girls disappearing like smoke in Berkshire.”

  “Right. It was five years ago. I was just a small-town detective. I didn’t envision myself living in New York as an author, and I hadn’t even met my wife back then. I used to believe that I’d spend my whole life as a cop,” Darren explained. “Berkshire is a picturesque town in the mountains. I was born and raised there. During spring to autumn, many tourists from big cities, like Boston and New York, visit there for hi
king and relaxing. And in winter, it turns into a skiing capital close to New York.”

  Listening to his story, I visualized a small town resembling Grandma Moses paintings, but assuming from his facial expression and tone, I was mentally bracing myself for some tragic information.

  “But in that particular year, three girls went missing, one by one.” When Darren said that, he looked as if he were in severe pain.

  “Lucy Chesterton, Meghan Atwood, and Skyler-Mizuki Wilkinson are their names,” Rick muttered. “Now I remember. The media had a field day, and the TV was all about the missing girls’ case for a while.”

  “Exactly,” Darren said bitterly. “Some tabloids and a lot of Internet garbage liked to use the phrase ‘taken away by the spirits,’ treating the whole case like a sick joke, and some TV shows went so far as summoning psychics.”

  “I’ve seen that show,” Jackie agreed. “Had they asked you or Brian, the girls might’ve already been found.”

  “And you were involved with the investigation, am I correct?” Rick asked.

  “Exactly. The whole police department was looking for the girls, fully cooperating with the sheriff’s office and the FBI. Even the local volunteers were actively involved, having the dogs search for anything that could’ve led to the girls. Divers searched for their bodies in the ponds and rivers, literally looking everywhere.”

  “But no sign of the girls,” Rick said.

  “Unfortunately, we couldn’t find any of them.” Darren shook his head. “Suppose just one child goes missing, it could be an accident. But three girls vanishing in the matter of a month? Everyone was convinced that they were abductions—except there were no letters, phone calls, or text messages demanding ransom.”

  “How old were they when they went missing?” I asked.

  “Lucy and Meghan were ten years old, and Skyler-Mizuki was eleven,” Darren replied.

  “Oh my… how terrible.” Jackie shook her head and whispered in a pained tone, “I can only imagine their loved ones’ pain. When I was murdered, my mom and dad were totally broken. And their loved ones had no closure, not even the bodies….”

  I raised my hand to reach for her. We both knew we couldn’t touch each other, but I wanted to show her support. Before becoming a ghost, Jackie was an up-and-coming Broadway actor, but all her dreams and ambitions were halted when a psycho stabbed her to death on the night of the Pride Dance.

  Darren looked at me questionably.

  “She has a ghostly friend who volunteers to be her guardian angel,” Rick explained.

  “Wow… really?” Darren’s eyes twinkled with curiosity while Jackie enthusiastically waved at him. “That’s incredible.” He didn’t sound sarcastic as he said that.

  “Her name is Jackie, and she says hi,” I said, a part of me bracing for him to roll his eyes. “She’s right here.” I gestured to the blank space right next to me.

  “Hi, Jackie. You’ve probably already heard my introduction, but my name is Darren Fender. I’m an ex-cop who now writes mysteries and thrillers.” The bestselling author waved at the direction I’d indicated.

  “Wow, I thought you’d treat me like a joke.” Jackie’s eyes widened. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you. By the way, I love your books, and I really, really love Inspector Amy. Mandy, will you pretty please relay my words to him?”

  I did as I was asked, and he smiled. “Believe me, my job is to write about nonexistent people. In my opinion, having a ghostly pal sounds way more thrilling than absurd.” He chuckled. “I can’t see or hear Jackie, but I wish I could. That way I’d have someone who might help me with the story when I’m having writer’s block.”

  “Oh, Jackie would be extremely helpful to an author,” Rick interjected.

  “Right.” Darren chuckled.

  “So true,” I agreed.

  “Oh my God, I’m sooo honored!” Jackie danced happily.

  “Were there any connections between the three girls?” Rick asked, returning to the case.

  “They were in the same elementary school, and their family members knew each other. It’s a small town where everyone knows everyone. Actually, Lucy’s grandma was my landlord, and I knew the Chestertons.”

  “So things must have been difficult,” I said.

  “Yes, it wasn’t easy.” Darren nodded. “When the initial search was discontinued without a clue and I went to deliver the news, I couldn’t look them in the eyes. A part of the reason I quit the police department and moved to New York to start my career in writing was this series of cases.”

  “But you had suspects, didn’t you?” Rick asked.

  “Of course we did. We did interrogations and searches among the local ex-cons and pedophiles, but nothing that warranted an arrest came out.”

  “So it could have been some outsider,” Rick commented.

  “That possibility was considered. It was in the middle of the high season for autumn hiking and camping, and there were several camping grounds nearby. We went there, asking for any info and handing out the brochure about the missing girls, but the city council didn’t take it very kindly. Being a tourist town dealing with the hikers and campers, broadcasting about the cases and potentially scaring the tourists away weren’t in their best interests.”

  “Bureaucracy sucks,” Rick muttered begrudgingly.

  “I’m curious, what made you decide to meet me about this matter after five years?” I asked, thinking about how having a daughter missing for five years without a clue must be excruciating.

  “Like I said, you found Stella, but that’s not all. To be honest, it’s not like I spent the past five years just thinking about the three missing girls. Things got hectic for me during that time, and I had almost forgotten about them. Still, there was a shocking incident that grabbed me by the neck, making me recall this cold case,” Darren said, enthusiastically leaning in.

  “And what was that?” Jackie said before I asked the same question.

  “It’s a hypnosis show I saw on TV.”

  “A hypnosis show?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” Darren nodded. “Have you seen the game show called The Quiz Colosseum?”

  “I have!” Jackie bounced. “I once appeared on that show as the guy pushing this huge table with the wheels and holding the prizes. I had to wear a silly rainbow suit and a pair of huge eyeglasses, but the pay was decent.”

  “Jackie says she once appeared on the show as a guy in a rainbow suit carrying the prizes,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s the show,” Darren affirmed. “After the quiz battle, the winner is put under hypnosis by a guy called Monsieur Albatross.”

  “Monsieur Albatross? Can he get any phonier?” Rick frowned.

  “I know. I thought it was another bit of garbage on the TV at first,” Darren agreed. “Actually, I wasn’t the least interested in the show, but my wife, Stephanie, urged me to watch it because her BFF and her husband were on the show as contestants.”

  Then he explained about Tracie and Luke Winston’s huge win on the show and the part about the opportunity to increase their prizes based on the reaction of the audience at the studio.

  “When asked for the names of girlfriends before dating his wife, Luke answered, ‘Lucy, Meghan, and Skyler-Mizuki.’” Darren paused, as if attempting to recreate the lingering feeling of that moment.

  “Lucy, Meghan, and Skyler-Mizuki,” I parroted. “Lucy and Meghan are two very common names, but Skyler-Mizuki is rare.”

  “I know. When I heard them, I felt like I was hit by lightning. Also, he gave the names in the order of the girls going missing.”

  “Hmm….” Rick crossed his arms. “Had Luke been indeed hypnotized, it could be more than a coincidence. And if he were faking hypnosis and said those names on purpose, that’s sick.”

  “I know,” Darren agreed. “I thought about paying a visit to the Winstons, but if I went to them and started throwing questions at Luke, I have a hunch that Stephanie wouldn’t be happy. So I thought perhaps you c
ould feel out if Luke had anything to do with the girls’ disappearances.”

  Rick was silent for a moment, then said, “All right. We’ll work on this case.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Two days later, Rick and I were at a TV station downtown. After listening to Darren’s story, we decided to pay a visit to the studio where Luke’s hypnotic scene had taken place. Thanks to Rick’s connection to Brian Powers—his buddy from kindergarten and the “it” exorcist who now had his own shows on national TV—gaining access to the studio was easy. We were able to make an appointment with the show’s producer, and thanks to the studio’s proximity to USCAB headquarters, Rick was able to come along with me by squeezing this meeting between his other ones.

  I was sitting on one of the chairs that screamed “fashionable but not so comfortable,” waiting as Rick talked to the receptionist about our meeting with Adam Johnson.

  “Oh my God!” Jackie suddenly shrieked, prompting me to gasp in surprise.

  “What was that?” I glared at her, forgetting about placing my phone to my ear as a disguise.

  “Mandy, you want to pretend to be making a call,” she said, making a tsk-tsk sound. “You know, we’re at the TV station, and if anybody discovers your skill of talking to people like me, they’re totally gonna kill to feature you on the show. Personally, I don’t mind being featured on TV, but you said you’d rather stay stealthy, didn’t you?”

  “Right. I like to be off the radar, living a quiet life. But I’m good. I can always pretend I have a really tiny headset in my ear,” I said, reaching for my ear, pretending to adjust my earpiece. “Thank God for others who look totally weird and out of their minds when they appear to be talking to no one in particular.”

  “Okay, so did you see that woman who just went past us?” Jackie said in a dramatic stage whisper.

  “You mean the slender blonde?” I replied, lowering my voice.

  “Yes, yes, yes! I’ve seen her from Lucifer! She had this somewhat major-ish role, like some kind of villain, but I can’t recall her name!” She bounced excitedly. “Whatever, I’m sure she’s a budding actress, and oh my God! I’m so very excited to be here! And I feel awful for Darren. If I were him, I’d be desperate to come here with you.”