Wicked for Hire (Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Book 1) by Lotta Smith

Author:Lotta Smith [Smith, Lotta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

While the detectives from the 34th Precinct were hard at surveying John Sangenis, I was having a problem of my own.

Rick Rowling decided it was a good idea to home-deliver me to my parents’ townhouse in the suburb of Queens. I declined his offer politely, but he didn’t listen.

“You know, you’ll be disappointed. It’s a no-frills, boring suburb with nothing interesting to see,” I warned Rowling while riding shotgun in the Ferrari. “And the house is small.”

“Sounds very interesting,” he said nonchalantly. “As a resident of Fifth Avenue, visiting a little house in the suburbs is good for a change.”

When we crossed into the neighborhood casually referred to as ‘the hood,’ my phone chirped.

“Hello?”

As soon as I took the call, Nana’s chipper voice jumped into my left ear. “Guess what, Mandy? Mrs. Luciano just called me, and she says she saw a flashy Ferrari speeding through the town.”

“Oh, really?” I responded. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yup. Then again, her vision’s not so clear due to cataracts and everything, so I’m pretty much skeptical,” she said. “By the way, where are you?”

“I’m close to home. Will be there in, say, three minutes.” I looked out the window. It should have been the same old view, but this time, it felt like I had wandered into The Twilight Zone.

“Good. Don’t be late. Today’s dinner will be meatloaf, and it won’t be good when it’s cold. Look out for the Ferrari and take a photo if you can, okay?” Nana said, and she hung up.

“Ciao,” I said to the silent phone, and turned to Rowling. “Hey, Rick, guess what? Mrs. Luciano has called everyone in the neighborhood about a flashy Ferrari. I guess the whole town’s talking about you.”

“Hmm, no problem.” He pushed on the gas.

A minute later, we came to a skidding stop at the driveway of my parents’ townhouse.

Nana and Mom were outside, probably waiting for me. Nana was from my mother’s side of the family, and she had been living with my parents since Granddad passed away three years ago. She resided in the room that used to be my younger sister Alicia’s. Good thing she was happily married to a corporate lawyer in L.A.; otherwise, I’d have to share my room with Nana. I loved her, but she snores like a locomotive. Anyway, I had yet to be accustomed to the hustle and bustle of living with my folks. I really needed space.

When I crawled out of the Ferrari, trying my best not to puke, Rowling was already shaking hands with them. And before I had a chance to make an intervention, Rick Rowling was invited to dinner at my parents’ place.

In an attempt to scare my boss off, I warned him, “You know what? They’re not serving Kobe beef, not even grass-fed Angus beef. Are you sure you’d like to eat commoner food in the commoner neighborhood?”

“For your information, I’m a commoner, just like you,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“Guess what? Nana’s Italian and my mother’s half-Romanian and half-Italian, and they’ll ask you a lot of personal questions.

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