Brooklyn Blue: A Madison Knox Mystery (Book 1)

by M. Z. Kelly

  “I might be able to get him down further, providing we’re willing to do a little extra work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Just some occasional security duties. We’d be kinda like part-time caretakers.”

  “Where is this place?”

  “It’s got great views and wide open spaces, and…”

  “Amy, don’t make me wait for it.”

  I heard her sigh. “Okay, let me just put it out there. We’d be living in the caretaker’s residence in the mortuary at Funk’s Forever Fields.”

  “A cemetery? Are you kidding me?” I went on mini-meltdown, asking her if we were expected to do embalmings in our spare time.

  “It’s not so bad, once you lose your corpse virginity,” Amy said, chuckling. “Stick a needle in his groin, drain the blood, and you’re in business.”

  After she listened to another rant, Amy said, “Just give it some thought, Maddie. Where else we gonna get a place on twenty acres in the middle of the city for a grand apiece? This is the deal of a lifetime.”

  ***

  The next morning, while taking the subway to the neighborhood where Precinct Blue was located, I had almost convinced myself that living in a cemetery was a good idea. Maybe it was the thought of living with Twisted Mister, Little Sister, and a Camp Wannafuckya graduate, but the prospect of living with dead people suddenly didn’t seem so bad. All I knew was that time was running out, along with our options for finding another place.

  After arriving at the train station, I walked the two blocks to Walker Street, my broken toe almost as good as new. I looked around for my new precinct, but all I found was an office building in one of the worst parts of the city. I made a stop at a donut shop and asked a clerk about the police station.

  “I think that place in basement,” he said in broken English and pointed across the street. “People go in there, never come back.”

  I thanked him and wandered across the street, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Maybe Precinct Blue was like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, where they gave you shock therapy and you lost your mind. It could be that I’d end up roaming the grounds of my new home at Funk’s Forever Fields like a mindless zombie.

  I made a mental note to shoot myself if I began taking on zombie characteristics before finding my way into the lobby of the supposed precinct building. The area was deserted, except for a large black woman who also seemed lost. She circled the lobby and came over to me. “Do you know if there’s a police station ‘round here?”

  “Precinct Blue?” She nodded. “I’m also trying to find it. It’s my new assignment.” I introduced myself, telling her about my last assignment.

  “Detective Maxine Carter,” she said, holding out a big soft hand. “But most people just call me Max, or Ms. Carter, as in Beyonce.” She laughed and regarded me with her dark eyes. She had short brown hair and beautiful skin. “You also get demoted to the junior varsity?”

  I told her about the Conan Stufflebeam episode, adding, “He conked his head on a dumpster and drowned in a vat of chicken grease. Somehow, they think it was all my fault.”

  “Chicken grease, huh?” Her heavy breasts rose and fell. “I suppose there’s worse ways to go, but I’m not sure what they would be.”

  We got in an elevator and found a button at the bottom of the panel that read PB. Maxine shrugged. “Let’s give it a try. Nothin’ to lose at this point.”

  As we rode down, I asked her how she’d made the junior varsity, as she called it.

  “Me and my partner got a DV call. The guy had been using a knife on his girlfriend, cutting her in places it wouldn’t show. Long story short, when I had him handcuffed, he accidently slipped on some ice gettin’ into the cruiser, cracked his head open, and died before the bus got there. I got the blame and was given the same ultimatum as you: formal discipline or a stint here in Prison Blue, ‘scuse me, I mean, Precinct Blue.” Her big eyes made a full orbit as the elevator continued to drop. “On second thought, maybe they just sent us to hell.” She regarded me. “Just so you know, some people say I got reassigned ‘cause I got an issue with authority. I say some people are full of shit.”

  The elevator doors opened as Max finished her sentence. Her final word seemed fitting, considering where we’d landed. There was a group of people that seemed to be aimlessly shuffling around what was clearly the basement of the building. The place smelled musty and had furniture that had probably been popular forty years ago stacked against one wall. I could instantly tell by looking at the group they were all cops, no doubt also suffering their first day in Blue Hell.

  “Looks like we’ve been invited to a party with a bunch of rejects,” Max said, shaking her head at the gathering. “Reminds me of junior high school.”

  She wasn’t kidding about rejects. The dozen or so cops looked like they were in a death row waiting room, expecting the warden to arrive at any moment and walk them to the electric chair. I didn’t recognize anyone in the gathering, and it occurred to me that the officers had probably been culled from precincts around the city.

  We heard a woman’s high-pitched voice a couple minutes later. The sea of humanity parted as a tubby woman in her forties told us to gather around.

  “Listen up, people. If you’re in this room, it means you’ve been reassigned to Precinct Blue, the department’s official retraining unit.” She began issuing each of us a binder full of rules and regulations. “This is Blue’s handbook. It outlines policies and procedures that must be followed to the letter. Any deviation will result in your removal from the precinct and referral back to your original assignment for discipline.” She pointed toward a couple doors that had just opened. “Take a seat in the squad room, and Lieutenant Dennert will be with you shortly for orientation.”

  The squad room was damp and squalid, with a bare cement floor, and posters on the wall about different kinds of insurance, probably left over by the former occupants of the building. We took seats on metal chairs that barely contained Max’s ample girth.

  While we waited for the lieutenant, one of the officers, who introduced himself as Lenny Stearns, told us he’d been reassigned for insubordination, and asked us about our disciplines. Stearns looked like he was pushing forty, with a beer belly and receding hairline. After Max told him about her domestic violence case, I briefly mentioned the Stufflebeam incident.

  “You’re the cop that killed the alien,” he said with a grin. He stuck out his hand. “Congrats. I heard that asshole had it coming.” He turned to his friend before I could shake his hand. “Hey, O’Brien, this here’s Madison Knox. She’s the one who beamed Conehead back to his home planet.”

  I felt compelled to defend myself. “Just so you know, I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Some laughter and mumbling came from the others, as word quickly spread about my commitment offense. I’d had no idea until now that my situation was known outside the 43rd Precinct, where I’d worked.

  “Seems like you’re a celeb,” Max said to me. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “Great,” I said, thinking about how I would forever be known as the cop who shot the nuts off her training officer and then bagged an alien.

  “Awright, people,” Lieutenant Henry Dennert said, coming into the squad room. “Let’s shut up and sit down.”

  Dennert gave everyone some time to quiet down, his dull gray eyes moving over the gathering. Our new lieutenant looked to be around sixty, with sagging features, wispy gray hair, and the disposition of a corpse. Maybe he was on loan from Funk’s Fields. Being in charge of a group of recalcitrant cops in need of retraining was probably not a prime assignment.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out,” Dennert began, “you’re now in Precinct Blue. I’m going to spend the morning going over the mission and goals of this precinct, then make assignments. Your daily schedule will consist of morning training modules, followed by assignment to precincts in need of additional manpower throughout the city. You have the option o
f choosing someone in your new precinct as a partner, or letting me choose for you. A word of caution, however: if you’re prone to making bad choices, don’t make another one. Let me do the choosing.”

  “You wanna partner up with me?” Max said, lowering her voice and eyeballing the others in the room. “I don’t think I’d fit in with the rest of these knuckleheads, and I’m sure as hell not gonna let Lieutenant Dimwit choose for me.”

  I chuckled and we bumped fists. “I promise not to drown you in chicken fat.”

  We spent the next three hours listening to Lieutenant Dennert’s lecture, first telling us how lucky we were to be given a second chance, as he termed it, before droning on about the history and expectations of those assigned to Precinct Blue. Our new boss reminded me of a high school algebra teacher I once had who could put you to sleep faster than Michael Jackson’s doctor.

  We were halfway through the second hour of Dennert’s lecture when I heard snoring beside me. I looked over and saw Max’s heavy chin resting on her chest. I nudged her. It had no effect. I realized other people had now realized she was asleep. Only Lieutenant Dennert, who was droning on like an engine stuck in neutral, seemed oblivious to what was happening.

  “Max,” I whispered. “Wake up.”

  Nothing. Her snoring grew heavier. A couple officers were chuckling now. I realized I needed to take action before the lieutenant became aware of the situation.

  I shook Max’s arm and leaned over to her ear. “You’re asleep.”

  Max’s eyes opened in mid-snore and her weight shifted. Unfortunately, the metal folding chair didn’t shift with her and she slid into a heap on the floor.

  “What the fuck?” she said, regaining consciousness and rubbing her eyes. “Where the hell am I?”

  I stood, offering her a hand and whispering, “You fell asleep.” As I got her back into her chair, I said to the lieutenant. “Sorry. I think it was just a hardware malfunction.”

  If Lieutenant Dennert realized, or cared, what happened, he didn’t let on. He continued droning away while Max and I made a pact to pinch one another if either of us started to doze off.

  A little before noon, the lieutenant’s lecture, that I was now convinced was worse than water boarding, mercifully ended. We were given an hour for lunch. Max and I agreed to go across the street for sandwiches with Lenny Stearns and Carmine O’Brien.

  Over lunch, Carmine, a twenty-something, short, balding cop with greasy hair, told us the reason for his reassignment. “I was working the thirty-second, chasing a perp who shot his cousin. I got separated from my partner and ended up cornering the guy. He resisted, and I had to use a little physical persuasion, as they say. The next thing I know, he’s claiming excessive use of force, suing the department, and I’m in the dungeon.” He fixed his eyes on me. “So, you really offed the alien?”

  “I didn’t off anyone. He slipped on some ice, went into the grease on his own.”

  “Awesome. You wanna partner up?”

  I glanced at Max. “Thanks, but we’re going to work together.”

  “Come on. Girl on girl’s no fun.” He smiled. “At least for some people. Maybe we can get a drink after work tonight.”

  I didn’t know if Carmine O’Brien had used excessive force, as had been alleged, but I was an expert at spotting pervs. This guy fit the bill.

  “We could make it a foursome,” Lenny said, looking at Max. “You married?”

  My new partner answered for both of us. “Divorced, and I don’t make the same mistake twice.” Her heavy brow scrunched up as she regarded both men. “Don’t you think we got us enough trouble already? Why the hell would we hook up with the likes of you two?”

  Carmine stood and said to his partner, “It’s obvious we’re not wanted here. Let’s go.”

  After they were gone, I told Max, “I’m not feeling so good about our new assignment, or our new colleagues.”

  “Maybe there’s a legit reason why some of these clowns ended up in Blue Hell. Let’s just try and stay together, watch our backs.”

  After lunch, we got our assignments. Most of the duties involved investigating lower level theft offenses, looking for physical evidence at crime scenes, or running errands for the detectives working in other precincts. Max and I chuckled when we learned that Lenny and Carmine were assigned to check park restrooms for subjects engaging in sex. Then we got our assignment.

  “Carter and Knox,” the lieutenant said. “You’re working out of the 19th. Get a pool car and head over to 23rd and Lexington. They need assistance looking for an Article 245.”

  Carmine O’Brien looked over at us. “In case you want some help knowing what to look for, let me and Lenny know. We’ll be happy to lend a hand.” He waved his hand back and forth near his crotch.

  Max and I both knew that Article 245 was the penal code section for indecent exposure.

  My new partner responded for both of us, telling O’Brien, “Honey, I seen a whole lotta bad stuff in my life, but the thought of you with your pants down pretty much puts the ug in ugly.”

  NINE

  Max and I got a pool car that, for some reason, was in a parking garage located a block away from Precinct Blue. Our car was an older model Ford Taurus that backfired as we left the garage.

  “Got me a feeling Precinct Blue’s full of more than one kinda reject,” Max said. She worked the controls on the console. “I don’t think the damn heater in this beater works.”

  I took over, also trying the controls, but couldn’t get the heater to work either. I finally gave up, muttering, “Feels like it’s about forty degrees out there.”

  As we made our way to John Jay Park in the 19th Precinct, I shared some personal history with Max, telling her about my brief marriage, and that I was living with my aunt and uncle. I then asked about her background.

  “Born and raised in Detroit. I was married once to a clown named Lamont, before I caught him in bed with my best friend.”

  “What did you do?”

  She glanced at me. “Killed ‘em both.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Let’s just say while Gail was blowing Lamont, I was blowing them both away—at least mentally.” She sighed and shook her big head. “Last I heard, they was married, got two kids. After it happened I decided to relocate and got a job here in the Big Apple.”

  “With the department?”

  She shook her head. “I took me an executive position as a big yellow parrot.”

  I laughed. “Somehow I’m having trouble believing you were a parrot.”

  “It was for one of them minor league sports teams. You ain’t lived till you learn to squawk, flap your wings, and shit candy. The kids loved me.” Her poker face found me. “It was the perfect training ground to become a cop.”

  We chatted about our past jobs and relationships as we drove. The more I was around Maxine Carter, the more I liked her. She had a no-nonsense way about her that was offset by a great sense of humor. I got the impression that she was a survivor in a world that had done its best to bring her to her knees. We had a lot in common.

  After a twenty-minute drive, we stopped in a parking lot near the park, where we met with Jimmy Russell, a detective who gave us a mug shot and explained our assignment. “Our perp’s a guy named Rodney James Walker, aka Rod the Bod. He works out at a gym over on 3rd Avenue. When he’s finished, he stops by the park and shows everyone what steroids does to your dick.” Russell gave us the once-over, his disapproval of having to work with Blue cops was obvious. “You see the little pecker, call it in. Don’t try and be heroes.”

  Max locked eyes with the smug little detective, putting her hands on her wide hips. “You think we can’t handle this situation, don’t you?”

  Russell smiled at my new partner. “If you find him, maybe you should just sit on his ass until I get here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means…” His gaze moved off. “Never mind. Just don’t fuck this up and expect my he
lp.”

  After he was gone, Max apologized to me. “Sorry, sometimes guys like him just rub me the wrong way.” We were in plain clothes, and began walking through the park. She pulled her coat around her. “Damn. It’s cold enough out here to freeze the balls off a pervert.” She looked at me. “What is it with men? Why would a guy, especially some white guy, wanna show off his Willy?”

  I scanned the park. “You’re asking the wrong girl. The only thing I know about men is that when they reach puberty their brains fill up with testosterone and stop developing.”

  “Sounds like you’ve also had your problems with men over the years. Is there anybody in your life now?”

  “No, but there’s about to be. My aunt and uncle are letting some perv relative move in with us. I’m looking for a place to rent with my friend Amy.” We stopped as a cold wind raked the nearly empty park. “We’re looking for a roommate, if you’re interested.”

  Her dark eyes regarded me. “I think it’s meant to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Us meeting like this and moving in together.” She took a breath, her gaze moving off as she scanned the area. “I should probably level with you ‘bout somethin’, but don’t say nothin’ to the other cops.”

  I laughed. “Don’t tell me. You’re my long lost sister.”

  She looked at me. “Damn. You figured it out.”

  I chuckled, meeting her dark eyes. “I think maybe you need to explain.”

  “What I mean is that you’re my soul sister, Madison. I don’t tell other cops this, but I got me a special gift. I’m psychic.”

  TEN

  “Do you tell fortunes and predict the future?” I asked, half joking, but thinking she was serious.

  Max shook her head, the lines on her forehead growing deeper. “I get vibrations from certain people and places. It’s kinda like a sixth sense. I inherited it from my Aunt Ruthie, who was from Jamaica. She practiced Santeria. When she wasn’t drinking goat’s blood and casting spells, she taught me how to feel the vibrations in the ether.” Her eyes bore into me. “Right about now, I’m getting a whole shitload of vibrations.”