Brooklyn Blue: A Madison Knox Mystery (Book 1)

by M. Z. Kelly

“There won’t be a next time. I’ve got to move. There’s no other option.” I mentioned my discussion with Max, adding, “She seems nice enough and is willing to share the rent with us. I can bring her along tomorrow night if that works.”

  We headed for the door as she said, “It works for me, since it will bring our rent down if she moves in with us. So she’s your new partner?”

  I told her about Max, describing her, and then adding, “She claims she’s psychic.”

  Amy stopped at the door. “You mean like that woman from Long Island who’s on TV talking ‘bout dead people?”

  “Kind of. She says she gets vibrations about certain things. We’re looking into a situation about a girl who went missing from a park. She thinks she could have been taken, along with some other girls.”

  As we left the house, Amy said, “Maybe we could use Max’s skills to find us a couple of decent guys one of these days.”

  I followed her to the car, saying, “That’s probably going to take more than a psychic.”

  “I’m thinking about trying out one of those online dating sites. It’s called Hunks in a Tux. If things work out, maybe I can get us a double date.”

  “Hunks in a Tux? Really?”

  “I’ve got a thing for guys who dress well, maybe ‘cause Stinky wears wife-beater T-shirts. I know the name for the site sucks, but I’ve heard good things about it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It sounds really promising.”

  Forty minutes later, we met with Dr. Cornelius in the hospital cafeteria, where I’d met with him before. After introducing my friend, I updated the doctor on what we’d learned about his brother.

  “Billy looks like he was pretty heavily into drugs,” I said. “He was also dealing, but on a small time basis. We found some paperwork showing that he owed about ten grand to a guy named Dorsey.”

  The doctor rubbed his cheek. I was again struck by his handsome features. I could also tell that Amy was also a bit smitten.

  “The name doesn’t sound familiar,” the doctor said, “but, as I mentioned before, Billy had some substance abuse problems, so I guess in some ways it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “What about a working girl named Ronnie Powers?” Amy asked. “From what she told us they had a regular thing going on once a week.”

  “A prostitute?”

  “Yeah. A tall black girl, with some attitude.”

  Cornelius shook his head. “I guess there were a lot of things about Billy’s life that I had no idea about. He never said anything about her.”

  “Ronnie mentioned that Billy seemed stressed the last time they were together. He said something to her about finding out something that could make him rich or get him killed. Ronnie thought his cousin Asia might know something about what he meant.”

  “Asia?”

  “What can you tell us about her?” I asked.

  The doctor took a moment, sipping his coffee, before answering. “Asia’s the family’s black sheep, so to speak. I haven’t talked to her in years. I had no idea she and Billy were still in touch.”

  “Why is she the black sheep?”

  He rubbed his jaw again, his gaze moving between Amy and me. “The last I heard, she was involved with some gang members. All I know is that she’s bad news.”

  “Any idea where we can find her?”

  He shook his head. “I can ask my aunt, a couple of other relatives, see what I can find out, but I think most of them have cut their ties with her.”

  Amy handed over her business card. “Let us know. Time’s running out.”

  “You mean for Billy?”

  We stood, and Amy shrugged. “All I know is that I’ve seen enough missing persons cases to know there’s something bad going on here, and the sooner we get to the bottom of things the better. By the way, we’re going to need some expense money to continue our investigation. Five grand should cover it for now.”

  Cornelius’s handsome features hardened a bit. He looked at me. “Five grand?”

  “She’s the PI,” I said.

  “How bad do you want Billy back?” Amy asked him.

  The doctor exhaled. “I’ll get you the money first thing tomorrow. He’s my only brother and he means the world to me.”

  THIRTEEN

  I got to Precinct Blue a couple minutes early the next morning, because I was awake most of the night thinking about Mojo popping out of the shadows and trying to rape me. I went into the breakroom and poured myself a cup of coffee.

  After I found a seat, Jenny Abromowitz, a detective I’d briefly met yesterday, came over to my table and joined me. She was probably forty, a little on the chunky side, with short brown hair. She’d told me that her reassignment had something to do with kneeing a child molester in the groin, something that I personally felt deserved a commendation.

  “Here’s to another day in reform school,” Jenny said, hoisting her coffee cup and settling in across from me. “How was your first day?”

  I poured two packets of sugar in coffee that looked like motor oil. “Maxine and I spent the afternoon freezing our wazoos off looking for a pervert in a park. Other than that, it was uneventful. How about yours?”

  “Hung out with a school cop in Harlem, a place I’m glad I never had to attend. Even the teachers look like crooks.”

  We looked up as Lieutenant Dimwit, I mean Dennert, came through the door with a coffee mug in his hand. He was moving at the pace of a snail and looked pale, something that Jenny pointed out.

  “Zombie at twelve o’clock.” She lowered her voice another notch. “By the way, maybe you should tell Maxine she needs to learn to sleep with her eyes open.”

  “It might be a skill we all master before we get out of here.”

  Jenny motioned to Lenny Stearns and Carmine O’Brien, who were in the hallway. “You get a chance to meet the seventh graders?”

  “’Fraid so. Lots of rogue testosterone and small hands.”

  She stood as the lieutenant said roll call was about to begin. “Don’t turn your back on them. I’ve heard they bite.”

  Max got to work just as the lieutenant was asking me if I knew where she was. “Sorry,” Max said to him, taking a seat next to me. “The train was running late.”

  “Excuses are like assholes,” Dennert said, in his familiar monotone. “There’s another one coming along any minute. If you’re late again, it goes on file.”

  When the lieutenant began his lecture, I whispered to Max, “Everything okay?”

  She nodded and kept her voice low. “Just making some inquires with someone I know in Records ‘bout that girl we learned about yesterday.”

  I was anxious to hear what she knew about Maria Ramirez, but had to put my curiosity on hold because the lieutenant’s morning briefing on community policing lasted until noon, putting everyone to sleep. Just before noon, I looked over and saw that even Jenny Abromowitz was dead asleep with her eyes wide open. Max had somehow remained upright during her own nap.

  We were given an hour for lunch. Max and I went down the street to a small café, where she told me what she’d learned. “According to my friend in Records, Maria Ramirez went missing about a week ago. A witness said she saw her leaving the park with a man she described as being in his forties. They got into an older model white van, no plate. They’re considering her a runaway, and nobody’s actively working the case.”

  I took a bite of my turkey sandwich. “I don’t understand. If they saw her go with an older man, why aren’t they working it as a kidnapping?”

  Max levelled her dark eyes on me. “You know as well as me how these cases go. Maria was sixteen and was seen leaving of her own volition with a guy. Even though she was probably under some kind of duress, it’s easier to just call it a missing persons case and do nothin’.”

  I was working on the day’s second cup of coffee. “I know, but it’s just so wrong.”

  “There’s somethin’ else.” Max took a map out of her purse and spread it out on the table. “I had Rosie, she’
s my friend in Records, take a look at similar cases where girls disappeared in the past few weeks. There are at least three other girls, all of them went missing from areas not too far away from where Maria was taken.”

  Max took a couple minutes, showing me the map and giving me details on the three other girls. There were two girls about the same age as Maria Ramirez. A seventeen-year-old named Alisha Moss had been taken just a few blocks over. Tammy Ayala was Maria’s age and had gone missing from a park in Queens. At fifteen, Christina Robles was the youngest of the group, taken from the same park four days earlier than Tammy. All the girls had disappeared within the last two weeks. None of the reports indicated there were any family problems or boyfriend issues.

  “Nobody has connected the dots,” Max said. “They don’t realize these girls might have all been taken by the same people.”

  “You think they’re on the circuit?” I asked, knowing that girls were often trafficked to different cities as part of the sex trade.

  Her eyes fixed on me as she exhaled. “My guess is if they’re not already, they will be soon enough. Rosie’s gonna talk to some people she knows in Vice on the down low. See who might be operating in the areas where they were taken.”

  I realized that Max and I were in no position to really help the girls. “Maybe your friend should see if she can light a fire under someone in the involved precincts. Our hands are pretty much tied.”

  Max agreed. “She’s gonna try, but I got a feeling if we don’t find a way to do something fast, it’s gonna be too late for those girls.”

  FOURTEEN

  Maria lay on her mattress in the dark as Peter’s words skittered through her mind for the hundredth time. “The life you once knew is over. You’re now my property, and I’m going to sell you to the highest bidder.”

  She was now certain about what was going to happen. Men were coming. Men who would rape them and then place bids. They were going to be sold for sex. She’d heard stories about men who took girls and made them have sex. It was the most disgusting thing she could imagine. She was still a virgin. The farthest she’d gotten with a boy was…

  “Maria.”

  She recognized the girl’s voice. It was Christina, calling to her from a room above the basement. “I’m here,” she said, going over to the section of the basement beneath Christina’s room.

  “Peter and Danny just left,” Christina said, trying to keep her voice low. “Have you thought about a way to escape?”

  Maria took a couple deep breaths. Her emotions were surfacing, and she forced herself to speak evenly. “I’m not sure. The basement is underground. There’s no way…”

  “I think I can get out.”

  Maria’s voice pitched high with excitement. “How? Tell me how.”

  “There’s a window that’s covered, but the boards at the top are loose. I’m going to try and pull them away.”

  “Okay, great. Listen to me, Christina. If you get out, you need to remember this house, where it is on the street, so you can tell the police, and they can find us.”

  “Okay.” There was a long pause before Christina went on. “I’m sorry.”

  “What…why are you sorry?”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Just go,” Maria said. “Hurry. And remember to check the street and the house numbers. When you get to a phone, call 911. Tell them where we are.”

  “Okay.”

  After that, Maria only heard the sounds of Christina moving around above her. There was a creaking sound, maybe boards being pulled away from the window, then only silence. She called out to Christina several times, but there was no response.

  Maria sat back on her mattress, tears streaming down her face. Christina had escaped. Now all she could do was pray that she got to the police before Peter and Danny returned. If Christina didn’t make it, she knew that the life she’d once known would be gone forever.

  FIFTEEN

  Max and I spent our afternoon walking along a freeway with a bunch of explorer cops, looking for evidence related to the robbery of a jewelry store in Brooklyn. The local detectives thought some of the jewels from the heist might have been tossed along the highway, but all we found were a couple homeless encampments, some porn magazines, enough trash to fill a dumpster, and about fifty condoms. After finishing up, I told Max that you could probably write a doctoral thesis on what the findings said about our society.

  After work, Max and I took the C line to Brooklyn and walked a couple blocks to Funk’s Forever Fields, where we planned to meet Amy. When we turned a corner and made our way up the street toward the cemetery, I started to get a bad feeling about our potential new home.

  The memorial park was located at the top of a hill and illuminated only by a couple streetlights. A forbidding gothic building, probably used for funeral services, was at the highest point on the street. It was reminiscent of a medieval church, with an ornate gray stone façade, pointed arches, and an odd assortment of creatures resting on the upper corners of the building.

  “What are them crazy things?” Max asked me, pointing to the figures as we stopped in front of the building.

  “I think they’re supposed to be gargoyles. I saw an old movie with something similar once. When it rains, they act like gutters and the water comes out of their mouths.”

  She looked at me, her dark eyes glowing in the dim light. “They’re a little creepy, along with the rest of the place.”

  The rest of the place consisted of rolling hills with large monuments and headstones, much of them in disrepair. A rock wall lined the cemetery grounds, but was crumbling in some places. I had the impression that the entire cemetery hadn’t been properly cared for in several years.

  We took a couple steps toward the front of the building, when a dark figure came out of the shadows. Our hands instinctively went to our weapons, until I heard a familiar voice.

  “Is this about the weirdest place you’ve ever seen?” Amy asked, her voice pitching high with excitement as she came over to us.

  I moved my hand off my weapon and relaxed. “It definitely puts the c in creepy,” I said. I turned to my new partner. “This is Maxine, or Max.”

  Amy and Max exchanged greetings before Amy looked back at the gothic building and said, “Welcome to our new home.”

  Max’s dark gaze swung over and took in the building. “Maybe we oughta take the fifty cent tour before we move in.”

  Amy smiled and regarded her. “Maddie told me you’re psychic. You gettin’ any kind of vibes off this place?”

  Max grimaced as she looked over at the building. “I’m not sure if it’s a vibe or just gas pains. Let’s take a closer look, and maybe I’ll figure it out.”

  We all moved up the marble steps to the massive wooden door, where Amy rang the buzzer. A series of loud chimes and bells began tolling that abruptly ended with a strange whimpering sound that reminded me of what you might hear if you stepped on a dog’s tail.

  “They must know we’re here,” Max said, raising a painted brow. “Along with half the neighborhood.”

  We heard a man’s voice from somewhere inside, calling out, “If you’ve got a body, you need to take it around to the service entrance.”

  We all looked at one another before Amy called out to him, “There’s three bodies out here, and we’re all still breathin’. Open up.”

  The door cracked opened a couple inches and two dark beady eyes regarded us. “What do you want?”

  “Alex Funk, the owner of the place, sent us over,” Amy explained. “We’re gonna see about renting the caretaker’s quarters.”

  The door slammed shut. “Go away.”

  Amy scratched her head and looked at us. “He must be a member of the neighborhood welcome wagon.” She pounded a fist on the door. “Open up, or I’ll call Mr. Funk and tell him what’s going on here.”

  After repeating her warning, the door creaked open again. The man asked, “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

  Amy pushed th
e door open wider. “Probably because Mr. Funk knew you’d be about as welcoming as a rabid dog.”

  We moved inside, under protest from the strange little man. He was about five feet tall, with black eyes and the same color hair, which formed a widow’s peak low on his forehead. His ghoulish features made me wonder if he’d been the inspiration for the gargoyles on the exterior of the building. Or maybe he was just a small vampire.

  As we stood in the foyer, we got a five-minute rant from Thorndike—no first name—about why we should go away and never come back. Amy responded by using the persuasive techniques she’d learned as a girl growing up in Trenton.

  “Listen to me, Thorndud...”

  “It’s Thorndike.”

  “Whatever. The way I see it, you got two options here: You either cooperate and show us ‘round this place, or I call the owner. And I can tell you he’s none too happy about the way you’re taking care of this joint. My guess is that if I call him, he’s gonna put your creepy little ass back in whatever hole you crawled out of and replace the headstone.”

  Max added her two cents. “He might even drive a stake through your heart, leave you outside till the sun comes out, and watch you catch on fire.”

  Amy and Max did a fist bump, as Amy said to her, “I knew I was gonna like you.” She turned back to Thorndike. “Well, what’s it gonna be, you little creepazoid?”

  The little man lowered his dark eyes. “I suppose I could show you around.” He wagged a finger at Amy. “But you can’t interfere with my operations.”

  “What kind of operations is that?” I asked.

  He fixed his small eyes on me. “I’m a doctor to the dead.”

  SIXTEEN

  “What you talkin’ ‘bout?” Max asked the odd little man who stood in the entryway to what, a sign announced, was Balfour Memorial Chapel.

  “I’m a visiting professor of mortuary sciences at Cromwell University,” Thorndike explained. “When I’m not lecturing my students, I embalm, dress, and pose the dead, all for the benefit of the living.”