Dial W for Wicked

by Lotta Smith

“We’re good,” I said. “Adam, are you able to call the hypnotist from the game show?”

  Maybe I should’ve played along with being Rick’s assistant, as that was my assumed role, but I couldn’t help asking for the hypnotist. I had no earthly evidence, but I knew that hypnosis was the key to solving this case.

  “The hypnotist?” Adam furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean Monsieur Albatross?”

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “There’s someone I’d like him to put under hypnosis.”

  “You want a real hypnotist?” He cocked his head to the side. “If that’s the case, you may want to ask for someone else.”

  “Why?” Rick interjected.

  “Because Monsieur Albatross is just an actor doing really minor roles off Broadway. He can’t even put a banana under hypnosis.”

  “Pardon me?” I exclaimed. “But the moderator guy treated him like a seriously famous hypnotist.”

  “Welcome to the universe of TV, where every lie seems like a truth happening onscreen.” Adam winked.

  “Hmm, he has a point.” Jackie nodded.

  “All right then, can you call the actor playing Monsieur Albatross?” Rick chimed in. “We want to recreate that scene.”

  “For what purpose?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

  “In order to explain everything.” Rick extended his arms to indicate the total mess of the corridor, where the huge glass walls had shattered, and the floor was covered with shards of glass. “Maybe you’d appreciate having some plausible explanation for this damage?”

  “That’s right.” Adam grimaced. “Can you believe it? I have no idea how much this glass wall alone costs. For your info, this floor-to-ceiling glass was something specially tailored for this studio and took a fortune to install. Not to mention the damaged equipment doesn’t come cheap.”

  “I can imagine.” Rick shrugged. “Hope this company has a nice insurance policy.”

  “Me too.” Adam shook his head haplessly. “If Monsieur Albatross can actually put people under hypnosis, I’d rather have him doping my boss into saying ‘You’re not at all responsible for this mess’ before hypnotizing anybody else.”

  Rick crossed his arms and irritably tapped the floor with the tip of his right shoe. “Actually, we’re not joking.”

  “Oh yeah?” Adam furrowed his eyebrows. “You didn’t get a chance to tell me why you’re here.”

  “We’re looking for—” As I started, forgoing my role as just an assistant, Rick touched my arm, prompting me to stop.

  “Actually, we’re working on a cold case about three missing girls.”

  I pouted a little as he stole my line. Okay, so I was his assistant when I met him, but sometimes a girl has to be in charge.

  “Mandy, you’re supposed to be his assistant, and the TV people will think it strange if they keep seeing you taking the initiative.” Jackie moved her hand as if she were patting my shoulder.

  She had a point, so I gave her a subtle nod.

  “Wait a moment. Did you just say three missing girls?” Tina Baldwin chimed in, suddenly appearing keen. Looking up at Rick, she said, “Can you tell us more about that case?”

  I was glad Rick was doing the talking and not me. Had I been taking the lead, I might’ve blurted out about Luke Winston mentioning the three missing girls while being under hypnosis, potentially prompting the media to believe him to be the culprit who abducted those girls. In case he was actually innocent, I’d be in seriously hot water.

  “Well, I can’t disclose the details about the current working case,” he replied.

  “Oh?” Tina threw her head back, prompting her long hair to flow like a cascade. Batting her eyelashes, she went on. “Still, we need the studio executives’ permission to call Monsieur Albatross and use studio sixteen. Without explanation, it’s not easy to proceed with what you’re thinking about.”

  “Mandy, watch out!” Jackie said in apparent alarm. “I think you’ve just encountered the first woman who’s attempting to seduce your husband!”

  I rolled my eyes, but just to be safe, I clutched Rick’s arm possessively.

  Rick was silent for a while but pulled me close, embracing me. Finally, he said, “Actually, we had a tip about a five-year-old missing persons case that happened in Massachusetts. That’s all I can say for now, but this case happens to be a high-profile one. If you guys could assist us in solving it, this studio will have the biggest scoop of the year.”

  CHAPTER 7

  That evening, I was slouching on the sofa in the living room. Since leaving the FBI, I hadn’t had such a long and exhausting day. I didn’t have the motivation for cooking, so instead of forcing myself into the kitchen, I ended up paying a visit to the deli to order food. On the way home, I came across a drugstore. Under normal circumstances, I’d have just passed it, but for some reason I decided to drop by, and the next thing I knew, I’d purchased a pregnancy test—which was a huge mistake.

  After taking a shower followed by a long bath in order to clean away the day’s dirt and sweat and get rid of the stray shards of glass in my hair, followed by a lovely dinner of meatloaf and some trendy-looking chopped salad, I went to the bathroom and used the test.

  I was behind schedule on my period, and for some reason I couldn’t really verbalize, a part of me expected to see a positive result. Prepared to see two bars on the little stick that I’d peed on, when the test turned out to be negative with just a single bar, I was… well, depressed.

  Trying my best not to think about the negative result, I wondered why I went to that deli instead of the one just across the street from the condo where we lived. Or I could’ve ordered something to the concierge. Instead, I bothered to go to the deli, and even took the time to visit the pharmacy and purchase that evil little stick….

  As I went on with my fruitless thinking, I started to wonder why I wasn’t blessed with the skill to rewind time, or wisdom to know if some actions were going to disappoint me or not.

  Also, I found myself missing Mom’s meatloaf, which disturbed me even more. I knew she was more than happy to fix plenty of meatloaf and bring it to us if only I’d made a call, but after seeing just the single bar on the kit and her excessive keenness for me to produce a new grandchild, and the apparent scenario that she’d bring Nana, Alicia, and her two girls, I decided to put off my craving for her meatloaf.

  Rick was taking a phone call in his study, so Jackie and I were alone in the living room.

  We were chatting about nothing, and I kept my mouth shut about my latest news—or no news at all.

  When we fell in a companionable silence, she broke it by saying, “Hey, girlfriend, I know that look.” After returning home, she’d changed into cozy baby pink loungewear, complete with fluffy bunny slippers. “You’re in serious need of a quick sex fix. Want me to leave here for the night so you can have time alone, just the two of you?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” I replied halfheartedly. “It’s just that I was mentally comparing tonight’s meatloaf from the deli and my mom’s.”

  “Ah, you were thinking of food.” Jackie threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “I think my detection skills for sexiness have been dipping lately. When I saw you sighing occasionally and looking mellow, I thought you were thinking about you know, the very intimate activities with your too-hot-to-handle hubby.”

  “Hmm… when you say it that way, I feel slightly sexier than my usual self.” I chuckled.

  “Hey, you could’ve called your mom for the meatloaf,” she said. “You had a long day, and you deserved that.”

  “I weighed the pros and cons of calling her, but I came to the conclusion that I’m better off without her meatloaf,” I admitted.

  “Why?” She looked puzzled for a moment, but soon clapped her hands. “Oh, you don’t have to answer that question. Okay, so your mom’s been slightly too excited about the possibility of having a new grandchild.”

  I sighed. “Thanks for reminding me about my oh-so-nosy folks.”
>
  “Oops, my bad.” She covered her mouth with her palms. “Still, being nosy is what makes a family.” She winked.

  “You have a point, but it’s not their nosiness I’m particularly uncomfortable about,” I said. “It’s me, not them. And I’m slightly freaking out about this baby stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” She sat by my side—not that she could actually sit, but in the past years of life as a ghost, she’d mastered the art of behaving like gravity mattered. “You’re not a baby hater, are you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m not one of those women who shriek ‘Ooh, what a cute little baby? How adorable!’ whenever I see some little wailing creature that bears more resemblance to Yoda than an average human, but I sometimes feel babies are adorable.”

  “If that’s the case, what part of having a baby freaks you out?”

  “Well….” I bit my lower lip. “It’s not the part about having a baby. What I’m concerned about is the part about not having a baby. Okay, so we’ve been married for less than a year, but we’ve been together for way longer. The question is why am I not getting pregnant? Why did the pregnancy test I did an hour ago turn out negative?”

  “Oh….” Jackie furrowed her eyebrows. “So, your test turned out to be negative. But look at the bright side. Considering that you’ve been through such a fiasco today, and that you had a little fall, you’re lucky not to be pregnant. If you were, the baby could’ve been hurt.”

  I thought for a while and nodded. “You’re right. At least I didn’t end up hurting the baby.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “Are you concerned that you might be having infertility issues?” she whispered, even though we both knew I was one of very few people who could hear her voice.

  “Maybe… I don’t know.”

  “Hmm.” Jackie thoughtfully cupped her face in both hands. “If you’re so worried about it, maybe visiting a clinic would be helpful, right? You can google it and talk about it with Rick. He should know the topnotch clinics. And even if he doesn’t, Dr. Grey should know.”

  “No way!” I shook my head adamantly. “By no means will I talk about my potential fertility issues with his friend from kindergarten. That’s so embarrassing! Imagine talking to your boyfriend’s childhood friend about your prostate problems.”

  “Oh.” Jackie covered her face with both hands. Having been born with a boy’s body and a girl’s heart, the prostate was a sensitive topic for her. “You have a point, but don’t mention my prostate, pretty please?”

  “Okay. Besides, the embarrassment and awkwardness aren’t the only things that I’d rather avoid talking about at… you know, the clinic. In case it turns out there’s a problem or two, the treatment won’t be fun,” I went on. “All the patients I’ve talked with in my previous life as a med student said ovary stimulation with hormones made you bloat like a balloon and miserable, and they sucked big-time.”

  “Ooh, that’s terrible.”

  “And the next step is even less fun. When you’re done with ovary stimulation, you’ve got to have your oocytes, aka eggs, retrieved. And I’m not talking about Bob the golden retriever picking up the Frisbee his owner John has thrown. I’m talking about getting stabbed in my belly with a needle with a tube as long as a foot.” Recalling the procedure, I did a full-body shiver. “On top of all that, you’re gonna be skewered like barbecue on a stick without anesthesia, and during the whole procedure, you’re going to have a probe stuck in your vagina! Suppose I have some really bad illness like a tumor. I can understand the importance of being cut up and having the sick part of me removed, but do I deserve such scary procedures just because I’m not pregnant? Besides, think about how men have their sperm cells retrieved.”

  “Hmm, a bit embarrassing, but not at all painful.” Jackie tilted her head.

  “Exactly!” I nodded like a bobblehead. “That’s the part I’m having a hard time fully believing is politically correct—particularly the crap about gender equality. Nowadays, the world is going bananas about gender equality—or rather, denial of having gender at all. But no matter how loudly they scream, they can’t change the anatomical differences between men and women. Oh, and did I mention the risk of women contracting nasty viruses such as HIV and HPV doubles that of men when they have sex under the same conditions? That’s because most parts of men’s sexual organs are protected by keratinized epithelial cells, whereas women’s are mostly composed of unprotected mucosa layers. If they’re so adamant about equality, they have to do something about our anatomy! Talk about inequality, and turning blind eyes to the most critical issues!”

  As I fumed, Jackie rolled her eyes. Indeed, I was getting slightly lost in my rant, and I no longer knew what I was mad about, but boy, I was mad.

  I was about to go on another bout of ranting, but then Rick came into the living room.

  “Hey.” He waved at me. “Having fun with Jackie?”

  “Yes. Sort of,” I hedged. I couldn’t say, “Hi, I was giving the ghost of a drag queen my biggest speech of the century so far about the true issues of gender inequality,” right?

  Sitting on the sofa by my side where Jackie was, he said, “Hey, I got a call from the lab, and the red liquid you collected with the handkerchief turned out to be real blood.”

  “Really?” For a moment, I managed to forget about my non-pregnancy issues. “Was it human blood?”

  “Yes, but the DNA wasn’t in the system, and its owner is unknown,” he said, studying my face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.” I tried to smile. “Why?”

  “You had a long day, and you look a little sad.” He cupped my face. “Are you sure everything is all right?”

  “Of course, I’m good.” I stared into his mesmerizing green eyes. “We’re both unhurt, and I’m not pregnant. Isn’t it great that I didn’t run the risk of hurting a baby as I wasn’t pregnant when the shards of glass rained on me?”

  I was trying to keep my tone lighthearted, but before I knew it, fat tears were trickling down my cheeks.

  By the time he cuddled me, whispering, “Hey, don’t cry. I really hate it when you cry,” I was full-blown sobbing.

  Between sobs and hiccups, I shared the frustration I felt about not conceiving and my worries about potential infertility treatments.

  When I had finally run out of things to cry about, he gently caressed my hair. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

  “Hello? Did I mention you’ve been sitting on me for a looong while?” Jackie said, but then she knitted her eyebrows. “Oh, I just remembered I can move.”

  “How so?” I asked Rick, still hiccupping.

  “First off, we don’t know for sure if we’re indeed having infertility issues. Secondly, even if it turns out that we do have some issues, the reason could be me, not you. Let’s not be sad about things we don’t know yet, okay?”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “But… what if I can’t produce the next heir to USCAB?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” He kissed the top of my head. “Having kids isn’t all life is about. In case we don’t produce the heir to USCAB, we can consider selling the company. Or my old man might end up producing some younger siblings who could stand as his grandkids. You never know what’s in the future. Besides, I really like my current lifestyle with just the two of us.”

  “Really?” I blinked my tears away.

  “Of course.” He kissed my lips.

  Jackie cleared her throat. “Hello? Am I making a crowd?”

  “Jackie doesn’t like your comment about ‘just the two of us.’” I chuckled.

  “Oops, my bad.” He waved apologetically in the direction of Jackie that I’d indicated. “I didn’t mean it that way. No offense, okay?”

  “None taken.” Jackie nodded.

  I took a deep breath. “I think I was overreacting a little.”

  “A little?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, slightly more than a little. Anyway, I think I’m ready to visit the clinic. L
ook, I was so freaked out about the scary, painful procedures, but I just recalled that there are way milder procedures, such as dietary and lifestyle modification. Unless either of us turns out to have some anatomical anomalies, initial treatment shouldn’t be that invasive.”

  “Good.” His lips quirked up into a smile. “Why do you have to imagine the worst-case scenario when you haven’t grasped the situation? It may turn out that we don’t have issues at all.”

  “I know, but I’d like to brace myself for the worst.” I buried my face in his chest. Taking in the scent of him mixed with the citrus and jasmine–scented Sabon shower gel, I felt safe and happy. “When you were a kid, I wasn’t there, and I’m really keen on seeing mini Rick.”

  “Hmm, I like the idea of seeing mini Mandy.” Chuckling, he took me in his arms. “Where’s Jackie?”

  “I’m here.”

  She waved, and I said, “She’s there,” indicating where she floated.

  “Okay. Jackie, can you excuse us for tonight?” he asked, turning to her. The green of his irises had turned darker, totally morphing into bedroom eyes.

  “Of course. Enjoy your intimate night together.” Waving at us, she winked and disappeared into the night.

  While carrying me to the bedroom, he whispered, “I love you,” in my ear.

  “I love you too.”

  Kissing him on the jaw, I thought about the prospect of spending a few more years with just Rick and Jackie as a family—and I really liked it.

  CHAPTER 8

  Three days later, we were revisiting the TV studio. On this special day, I wasn’t panicky or obsessed about my pregnancy, or lack thereof. The next morning after the meltdown, I’d collected my courage and made an appointment at a fertility clinic. My—I mean our appointment was for the following week. Rick said he could make some calls and move said appointment days earlier, but I insisted that wasn’t necessary. Having taken this case, I wanted to bring it to closure. Call me chicken, but I didn’t want to know the results of our potential medical issues until I’d finished the case. I was scared we’d discover something really bad, such as my having some kind of rare anomaly with my fallopian tubes, and I knew I’d be too devastated to work on the case if I had to cope with cold, hard reality. So instead, I decided to put off our appointment as much as I could. To tell the truth, I was more than glad to have something to distract myself from my potential issues, and I was determined to find the missing girls no matter what.