Last Stop in Brooklyn

by Lawrence H. Levy

Jeffrey had no idea what that meant as Leo stepped toward him.

  Elizabeth Handley was upset that Jeffrey was late getting home. “My dinner is going to be ice cold,” she complained to Mary, “and your father will be the first one to point that out.”

  Knowing that the butcher shop would be closed, Mary had come straight home to speak with her father. She needed to find out where Leo lived, and her mother kept going off on tangents.

  “Mother, I can’t wait until Dad gets home. Do you know where his boss, Leo, lives?”

  “Yes, you’ve asked me that before, and I told you he has numerous homes.”

  “I need you to be more specific.”

  “Oh, let me see. There’s an apartment in Manhattan—”

  “Where?”

  “The Stuyvesant Apartments. Very ritzy…He rents a summer home on Long Island.”

  “That’s for vacations. He wouldn’t be traveling back and forth to work from there every day. So, the Stuyvesant Apartments. Thanks.” Mary headed for the door.

  “Wait. He’s also renting a house by the beach.”

  Mary stopped. “Which beach?”

  “Stop badgering me and give me a second to think.”

  “I’m not badgering you.”

  “Yes, you are. Believe me, I know what badgering is.”

  “Mother, this is important.”

  “I know. Everything you do is important. Everything I do isn’t.” Suddenly it hit her. “Brighton Beach!”

  “Brighton Beach. Are you sure?”

  “Well, close to it. It’s really in Coney Island. You know, your father and I used to love taking you and Sean there when you were children—”

  “Where, Mother, where in Coney Island?” Mary was sure that was where she could find him as she stood there, waiting for her mother to remember.

  Because of what was at stake, Mary’s ride out to Coney Island on the train seemed excruciatingly longer than usual. The last stop felt like it was in London and not Brooklyn. There was one positive. It gave her a chance to review the mounds of information she had and put some of the pieces together. Working from the premise that Leo had killed all those women starting with Carrie Brown, Ameer was the only person convicted of one of his murders. The others were shoved under the mat by Byrnes to protect his reputation. By keeping tabs on Ameer at Matteawan, Leo found out his brother Basem was coming to New York to help prove his innocence. He obviously tracked down Basem and offered him a job, so he could have firsthand knowledge of the investigation. That was probably also the reason why he bought Flanagan’s Butcher Shop and kept Mary’s father employed there. Questions still remained. Who were the blond man with the mustache and the redheaded woman? Were they all in it together? The blond man’s thumbprint was on Carrie Brown’s key and that thumbprint was a perfect match for Leo. The only conclusion that Mary could draw from that was that Leo disguised himself to throw suspicion off of him and possibly direct it toward Dr. Lawrence. That appeared simple enough, but who was that redheaded woman? These weren’t the type of crimes where one had an accomplice, though at this point almost anything was possible. Then Mary remembered something. In the few dealings she’d had with Leo he’d repeatedly mentioned how much he loved the theater and that he was especially enamored with Shakespeare. In Shakespeare’s time, there were no actresses. Boys played the female roles, and cross-dressing was a recurrent theme in his plays.

  Could it be?

  32

  Jeffrey was passed out on the bed in Leo’s bedroom. Emanating from the bathroom was a female’s voice singing one of the most popular songs of that decade, “After the Ball.”

  After the ball is over, after the break of morn,

  After the dancers’ leaving, after the stars are gone,

  Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all—

  Leo, dressed as the redheaded woman, danced out of the bathroom with a flourish, wearing a black silk dress with long sleeves, black leather buckle shoes, and the necklace with the diamond and gold heart locket. He looked incredibly feminine as he modeled, striking various poses.

  “So, how do I look, Jeffrey?” he said, maintaining his feminine voice. “Oh, I know silk shoes are more in style, but I find the leather ones give me more support. We large girls can’t be too careful.” Jeffrey was silent, still passed out. “What’s that, Jeffrey? What’s my secret? Well, a girl should never tell, but you’re special.”

  Leo whispered, “Alopecia universalis.” He abandoned the whisper and returned to his masculine Leo voice. “Well, not completely universalis. I was spared some hair. My eyebrows. You know how important they are to us girls.” He walked closer to Jeffrey, as if he were confiding in him. “I thought I was cursed. I mean, small unnoticeable features and no hair. How was I to stand out? Then I went to the theater, and I realized what a blessing it was. With the help of makeup and some minor prosthetics, very minor, I can be anyone.” He curtsied, stuck his arms out, and once again spoke as a woman. “Voilà! I have dubbed myself Leticia. That name has an exotic feel to it, don’t you think?”

  Leo paced around the room, returning to his male voice once again. “I must admit your daughter has caused me some trouble. I have to sell my butcher shops for much less than they’re worth, but making money has never been a problem for me and there are positives. I was getting bored with imitating Jack the Ripper. It’s time to move on. Leticia is a true original and tonight she will burst onto the scene. There is an abundance of male degenerates out there, and when they reach down for Leticia’s goodies, boy, will they be in for a surprise!”

  Leo burst into laughter, then looked at Jeffrey, who was beginning to stir, mumbling incoherently. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a rag. “I apologize. I hate seeing you miss out on all the fun.”

  He covered Jeffrey’s mouth and nose with the rag, and he once again became still.

  After Mary got off the train, she made her way to Surf Avenue and West Tenth Street. Her mother had told her Leo’s house was across the street from Feltman’s Restaurant. Anyone who had been to Coney Island knew Feltman’s. Charles Feltman had invented a new food by simply putting a hot sausage on a bun. Hot dogs had quickly become a Coney Island staple, and his business had grown from being a little cart on the street to a large restaurant.

  The area had become very commercial, and there were no residential structures on the four corners. Mary was concerned that her mother had been mistaken until she saw a house on West Tenth Street nestled behind a novelty store. One of the many things she had contemplated on the train was how she would handle this meeting. Leo had been privy to so much of her investigation. Should she assume he knew she was aware of his guilt or invent some reason for her traveling out there, possibly to tell him about what happened to Basem? There was no real answer, and she decided to see how he reacted to her showing up.

  As it turned out, there was no mystery. Leo answered the door in full dress as Leticia.

  “You’re early, Mary. I was expecting you tomorrow.” She entered, keeping a close eye on him as he closed the door. “Ivan Nowak must have gotten to the thumbprints sooner than he had thought.”

  “Were you aware of every move I made?”

  “Most every one. You did fool me with the chopped meat.”

  “You’ll be happy to know it was an accident.”

  “I wouldn’t say happy. It forced me to make some changes.”

  Mary indicated his female persona. “I see.”

  He temporarily went into his female voice. “We’ve never been formally introduced. Meet Leticia. She is an enchantress.”

  “Is that what they’re calling a deranged killer nowadays?”

  Leo returned to his male voice as he started pacing. “All this could have been avoided. You never would have had a client if it weren’t for your friend Lizzie. She took two months to convince, and then she bungled the job.”

  “It’s hard to predict the insane,” Mary said pointedly.

  “Touché. I must ad
mit though, radicalizing Basem was fun. It’s amazing how easily the right literature with the right lies can influence a troubled man.”

  “Basem is dead.”

  “He didn’t do anything that he didn’t want to do. I just showed him the way.”

  “Like you showed Carrie Brown and all the other women you killed?”

  “Carrie Brown was a mistake. August thirty-first was my plan. She was my dress rehearsal, but that infernal woman started butchering Shakespeare and, well, you know how much I love Shakespeare.”

  “And how much you hate women.”

  “You think I hate women?” Leo laughed as he extended his arms to assume a model’s pose. “I have plans, a list that will keep me busy for years—grandfathers, baseball players. Wouldn’t it be fun to see how truly religious a priest is as the light goes out in his eyes?”

  “My, my, the little orphan is branching out.”

  “Orphan by choice.”

  “So we must add parricide to your illustrious résumé…something you don’t include in that boring life story you spout to everyone you meet.”

  “They were stifling, insufferable people, and the story worked. You didn’t suspect me.”

  “You did make some costly mistakes. Next time you’ll need to find a better sucker than Dr. Lawrence.”

  Leo’s delight turned to disgust. “The police are idiots. When I first saw Lawrence speak a few years back, it was a magical moment. I couldn’t have devised a better target.”

  Mary pulled a gun out of her pocketbook. “This time the police will believe me.”

  “You may want to wait a tad on that, Mary.” He walked toward the back of the house.

  “Don’t underestimate me because I’m a woman.”

  “Never. We ladies can be a deadly lot.” He pointed to a lever on a wall. “I’ve spoken about my affinity for the theater. What I haven’t mentioned is I’m also a fan of the macabre.”

  “Not really a surprise.”

  “I’m an avid reader of Edgar Allan Poe. Are you familiar with his work?”

  “Every piece.”

  “Then you know what happened in ‘The Pit and the Pendulum.’ I’ve rigged my own little version of it. It’s a bit primitive. No pit, but you can’t have everything.” He pulled the lever. “The pendulum is now swinging back and forth, propelling downward each time it passes over.” He waved his hand from side to side, imitating the pendulum. “By the way, this one is faster than the one in the story. The victim has maybe two minutes.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m presenting you with a choice. You can arrest me or you can save your father’s life.” He opened the door next to him, revealing a well-lit basement below. Keeping an eye on Leo, Mary cautiously walked down a couple of steps to see if he was bluffing. He wasn’t. Jeffrey was tied to a table with a pendulum swinging slightly above him, a huge, razor-sharp blade at the end of it.

  Mary cried out, “Daddy!” Jeffrey wasn’t moving, and she quickly turned to Leo, filled with rage. “He better be alive.”

  “I knew you had that fear in you. I just had to probe a bit.”

  “Did you also know I had this in me?”

  Mary shot Leo in his right leg. A combination of surprise and pain filled his voice as he cried out, “Damn it!” and collapsed to the floor. By that time, Mary was already halfway down the stairs to the basement.

  Leo took a breath, then, balancing himself on a nearby table, he pulled himself up. His red wig was askew and his first step hurt beyond description, but as he limped toward the door, it became more bearable. When he opened it, he saw Harper standing before him. He was about to knock when he froze at the sight of Leo dressed as Leticia.

  “What the hell!” Harper exclaimed. It gave Leo just enough time to deliver a crushing blow to Harper’s jaw, sending him to the pavement. Then Leo limped off into the night.

  The pendulum Leo had rigged up was indeed primitive but also effective and deadly. As the razor-sharp blade swung over Jeffrey, getting closer with every passing, Mary had to decide how to stop it without injuring him or herself. Grabbing the pendulum was too dangerous and shoving it was unpredictable. It could fall away from Jeffrey or onto him. She finally had to take action or face disaster. She kicked the table as hard as she could, knocking it over and sending him out of the range of the pendulum. The pendulum then crashed to the floor, its blade slicing through the legs of the table and splintering them in many directions.

  Mary quickly circled around to her father. She felt his pulse and was relieved that he was alive. “Daddy, Dad.” He was starting to come to. Mary looked around for tools. She found a knife on a workbench and used it to cut the ropes around Jeffrey, freeing him.

  Disoriented, in a cloudy haze, Jeffrey opened his eyes. “Mary?”

  “Daddy, are you in pain, are you okay?”

  Taking inventory, Jeffrey paused. “I’m…fine. Woozy but…where are we?”

  “Leo’s basement. I’m going to help you up now. Are you ready?”

  He nodded. She put his right arm around the back of her neck and over her right shoulder, then slowly helped him to his feet. He saw the pendulum for the first time, and it shocked him further into consciousness.

  “What is that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It can’t hurt you now.”

  “The last thing I remember Leo shoved a rag in my face. It had a strong sweet smell.”

  A voice came from the stairs. “It was probably ether.”

  Mary looked up to see Harper. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thanks for the welcome,” Harper said as he descended the stairs. “Next time I’ll know not to run all over Brooklyn from Lazlo’s to your mother’s to here.”

  “Did you see Leo upstairs?”

  “I think so, on his way out as his fist came down on my face.”

  “From now on, Harper, stick to your typewriter.”

  “Sound advice. Leo shouldn’t be hard to find. He was wearing a dress and sporting a bizarre red wig.”

  “A wig,” said Jeffrey. “That’s how it started. I saw a blond wig.”

  “Dad, this is Harper Lloyd. He’s going to take you home.” Jeffrey nodded that he understood. She removed his arm from around her neck, saw that he remained standing, then headed for the stairs.

  “Mary,” said Harper, “you can’t go after this man by yourself.”

  “I can’t if I have to worry about you and my father. See that he gets home safely.” She continued up the stairs and was soon gone.

  Harper turned to Jeffrey. “Can you walk on your own, Mr. Handley?”

  “I think so.” Jeffrey headed for the stairs with Harper close by, making sure he didn’t fall. “Harper Lloyd,” said Jeffrey, musing out loud. “Sounds made up. What’s your real name?”

  Harper shook his head. “I see it runs in the family.”

  33

  Mary was faced with the task of figuring out where Leo had gone. Outside the house, she found drops of blood that she was able to follow until she got close to Feltman’s. It was September tenth, and the balmy summer weather filled the air. Warm nights and Coney Island went together, and the crowds were out in force even during a weekday. Mary tried to push through, but it was impossible to follow a blood trail with mobs of people covering the streets. She had to stop and try to reason where Leo might have gone.

  He needed medical help. There was a first aid station at West Third Street and the beach that had recently been converted to the Coney Island Reception Hospital. It made sense that he would go there for treatment.

  As she hurried to the hospital, Mary couldn’t help noting the incongruence before her. People were laughing, taking in the amusements. Young lovers were strolling, holding hands. And there she was, stalking an insane mass murderer.

  Mary had always been confounded by how people who are merely out to have a good time wind up getting into bizarre accidents. There were a decent amount of those cases that night at the Reception Hospital, including a s
ideshow barker who had been hit in the eye by an errantly thrown dart meant for a balloon. Added to that group was the normal traffic from the Gut, ranging from drunks who had fallen down to participants in a particularly mean knife fight.

  After a quick inventory of the room, Mary saw that Leo was not one of the many patients waiting to be treated. Repeatedly uttering, “Excuse me,” she pushed her way through the dozen or so people in line to check in with the nurse at the admissions desk.

  “Has a redheaded woman with a gunshot wound come in this evening?”

  “No,” the nurse answered curtly before turning to the next person in line.

  “Are you sure?”

  The nurse was overworked and impatient. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure.”

  “Okay, thank you.” Mary began walking away, trying to devise another plan, but the nurse wasn’t finished.

  “The only gunshot wound we’ve had tonight was a man and he’s sitting right over—” The nurse pointed to a chair currently filled by a midget with a towel pressed against his bruised head, the result of an unfortunate run-in with a door. “He was there. Maybe he left.”

  “Was he bald?”

  “Yes, very.” The nurse returned to the line of people.

  It made sense. Leo was much too smart to wait endlessly in a hospital for treatment. Mary was also confident he would first seek treatment before venturing anyplace else. She began searching the hospital room by room. The staff was swamped and too overwhelmed to notice. She finally came to a narrow door that looked like it might be a supply room. An opened combination lock hung on the outside latch. The door was slightly ajar and Mary heard Leo’s voice emanating from inside. She took the pistol out of her pocketbook and slowly opened the door.

  Now dressed in men’s clothes with his right pant leg rolled up, Leo was sitting on a stool with a hypodermic needle aimed at the jugular vein of a nurse who was dressing his wound. She was rigid with fear as she worked on him.

  “Ah, Mary, come right in. Hilda here is doing a marvelous job. She kindly removed my makeup, then used carbolic spray to ward off any infection to my leg, and applied just the right pressure to the tourniquet in order to stop the bleeding. Lucky for me, your bullet went in one side and out the other without causing much damage…except to that dress. I really liked that dress, Mary.”