Wicked and the Beast (Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery: A Cozy Mystery Book 15) by Lotta Smith

Author:Lotta Smith [Smith, Lotta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2018-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

For a while, time seemed to stop as all of us stood there totally dumbfounded.

All of a sudden, Seyfried shouted, “I told you not to let the outsiders inside, Mrs. Sparks, didn’t I? The Mysterious Art Connoisseur sent you the warning, and yet you ignored it!”

He scratched his head furiously, prompting Jackie to say, “Hello? In case you haven’t noticed, your hairline seems to be receding a little. So, in order to keep your hair as long as possible, I recommend you not do anything that could potentially damage your scalp anymore.”

Radcliffe might have cracked up laughing if only he could hear the ghost’s words, but he didn’t—maybe because he wasn’t blessed with the gift of ghost whispering. Instead, he snapped at the insurance guy. “What do you mean? Are you implying I’m the thief?”

“Well… no, I mean… when I said outsiders, I meant everybody, including the reporter and so on,” Seyfried mumbled, casting suspicious glances at Shannon.

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” Shannon snorted. “If any of us could be the thief, there’s a possibility that you could be as well.”

“Are you accusing me of the theft? How dare—” Seyfried’s face turned a purplish shade of red.

“Everyone, calm down!” Seagal barked in a commanding tone. “I’m closing this place until backup arrives, and you all have to clear this scene for—hey!” he shouted suddenly, giving Rick a hard stare as my husband squatted on the floor close to the ventilator.

“You don’t have to shout like that. I’m not deaf,” Rick said matter-of-factly, without looking up at the detective.

“What are you doing, Rick?” Nicole questioned him casually as the detective and insurance guy looked tempted to strangle him.

“Just looking at the ventilator to see if it’s been tampered with,” Rick said as he grabbed the iron bars protecting the little window and shook them one by one with his gloved hands. Both he and I left the FBI when we got engaged and Rick decided to join USCAB, but even now he always packed a pair of plastic gloves wherever he went. Talk about old habits dying hard. As he explored the thick carpet beneath the ventilator, he picked up something and muttered, “What’s this brown powder?”

Jackie was floating by his side, telling her theory about the thief. “Is it drug or something? Maybe our thief could be a drug dealer. OMG, this case could be truly, madly huge!”

“Mandy.” He looked at me, gesturing me over to him. Luckily, the detective was outside the storage area, perhaps making a call to the precinct, so I walked toward Rick.

“Found anything interesting?” I asked him.

“That depends on your sense of humor.” Standing up, he pulled me closer and whispered into my ear, “Does Claudia happen to be hanging around here?”

“No, she’s not here,” I whispered back, looking for the ghost and trying not to move my head. “Why?”

“I thought we could get lucky if she witnessed the burglary.” He winked. “When it comes to remembering stuff, old folks’ memories

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