Brooklyn Blue: A Madison Knox Mystery (Book 1)

by M. Z. Kelly

  “I’m sure the body’s here somewhere,” Thorndike said, frantically opening refrigerated compartments and looking for our decedent.

  Darryl had brought Mary Jean’s photograph with him and went with the little man as he searched for the decedent. After examining several bodies, he called over to us. “Bingo.”

  We all went over and confirmed that they’d found the body of Mary Jean Seymour, although, in death, she didn’t come close to the photograph of the attractive woman.

  Max put it more succinctly. “She looks like an effing zombie.”

  “Maybe we can help,” Merrill said. He looked at his bro. “I can do something with her hair, if you want to work on the makeup.”

  “It’s my job to take care of the dead,” Thorndike said. “You can’t interfere.”

  Amy went over to him. “Listen to me, you little ghoul. You already messed this up big time. You need to stand back and let these guys do what they can.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we had Mary Jean dressed in a white gown and posed in her coffin, with flawless hair and makeup, at least as flawless as you can get when you’re dead.

  Even Thorndike was impressed. “She looks just like she’s alive.”

  We spent the next couple hours at the funeral for Mary Jean Seymour. It was filled with laughter and tears, thank-yous and hugs. When it was over, the family and friends of the dearly departed all agreed it was the best funeral ever.

  I went over to Amy and Max as the last of the mourners filed out of Balfour Memorial Chapel. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  We all did a fist bump before Amy said, “It’s all in a day’s work for the women’s secret crime-fighting club. We prevented a riot, stopped Frankenstein from burying the wrong body, and raised the dead.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Thorndike just offered me and Merrill a job,” Darryl said, after we’d moved into our new quarters later that night. He was using a pocket mirror to make sure his gelled hair was in place as he spoke to us. “We’re going to do hair and makeup.”

  “As in hairdressers to the dead,” Merrill agreed, beaming.

  “Sounds a long way from hairdressers to the stars,” Amy said. “You sure you two are up for grooming a bunch of corpses?”

  Merrill answered. “My bro is hanging up his gorilla suit, and I’m putting the parking brake on the doo-doo-mobile forever. Life is good.” Darryl put his mirror away, and they bumped hips, making me again wonder about their sexual orientation.

  Max raised a dark eyebrow and regarded the duo. “Just watch yourselves ‘round Frankenfool. After what happened today, I don’t trust the little ghoul.”

  “Me neither,” Amy agreed. “I got a feeling he knows about where the bodies are buried around here.” Her eyes shifted toward the refrigerated compartment containing the unclaimed corpses on one wall of our new dwelling. “And some that haven’t been buried yet.”

  “Are you still getting some bad vibes from our new roommates?” I asked Max.

  She nodded. “I’m gettin’ me a bunch of vibes. None of ‘em are very good.”

  “You’re starting to give me the willies,” Darryl said. He looked at his soul brother. “I think we should leave before it gets dark, and the vampires come out of their crypts.”

  Merrill stood. “Roger that. There’s no telling what goes on in Zombie Nation after the sun goes down.”

  After they were gone, I asked Max what she meant about the vibes she was getting.

  Max looked at Amy. “I think we’re gonna need us a drink for what I got to say.”

  Amy went over and got some wine out of the refrigerator, and three glasses from a box that was still unpacked. We then settled in on the sofa. As she was pouring our drinks, we heard a clanging sound somewhere in the building, then something that sounded like a groan.

  “What the hell was that?” Amy asked, nearly spilling her drink.

  “Maybe it was just the heating system,” I said, pushing down my anxiety.

  “Or the dead walking the halls and groaning,” Max said ominously.

  Amy took a big sip of her wine. “Before you get us even more freaked out about ghosts and goblins, let me tell you both the latest on what I heard about our search for Billy Cornelius.”

  “I also got me a tip on Maria Ramirez and the missing girls,” Max said before sipping her own drink.

  “After the day we’ve had, I hope it’s good news,” I said.

  Amy went first, telling us what she’d learned about Billy Cornelius. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, Asia was skimming some of Bobby Angelo’s proceeds and got paid back. Rumor had it that Billy was working with her to pay off his drug debts to that drug dealer—his name is Ronald Dorsey—but managed to get away when he heard they’d been made. He’s in the wind.”

  “That means Angelo probably knows that Billy knows he’s behind Asia’s murder,” I said. “And Billy knows his life isn’t worth two cents if Angelo finds him.”

  Max agreed. “From what I’ve heard about Bobby Angelo, he’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to take down anyone who crosses him.”

  They both went on, speculating about Billy’s chances of evading the mobster. I then gave voice to something that occurred to me. “I wonder if Billy’s brother knows anything about this. It could be that Angelo has sent his guys over to shake down the good doctor about his brother’s whereabouts. Maybe he’s holding out on us.”

  “It would be worth going back to him,” Amy agreed. “All I know is that we gotta locate Billy fast if we ever want to find him alive. And get paid.”

  Amy and I agreed to find out what we could about Angelo, and talk to Dr. Cornelius tomorrow night. Max then mentioned the latest with Maria Ramirez.

  “I talked to a detective named Stan Green who works out of the 32nd. He said rumor has it there’s some kinda territorial dispute going on with the guys that take and traffic girls. They found a couple of bodies in a house over on Lexington Street last night. One of the guys that was murdered was Peter Baylor.”

  “That’s the guy my informant told me about,” Amy said, her voice kicking up a notch. “Was there any sign of the girls?”

  “No, but they’re speculating whoever took ‘em was another broker. They’re probably going on the auction block in the next few days, if they haven’t already been sold.”

  “Have any of the precincts started to put this together?” I asked. “Does anyone realize that these missing persons cases are really cases of child abduction for sex trafficking?”

  “I told Green about Maria and the other girls,” Max said. “He told me he’d take what I had up the chain, but we know what that means.”

  “Hurry up and wait,” I said. I looked at Amy. “Can you go back to your informant tomorrow, see if you can get anything more on the girls?”

  “Consider it done.” Amy poured us all more wine, and we clinked glasses. “It looks like the women’s crime fighting club has a lot more work to do.”

  After we polished off one bottle of wine and opened another, I said to Max, “Okay, let’s hear it. What kind of vibes have you been getting from our new home?”

  Max drew in a heavy breath and released it slowly. Her dark gaze moved over to the wall of bodies that I’d managed to forget about for the past few minutes. “When I told you before that I was gettin’ some bad vibes ‘bout some of our frozen roommates, I think I was underestimating what’s been happening at Funk’s Fields.”

  “Don’t tell me we’re living with a couple dozen murder victims,” Amy said.

  “It’s not just them bodies in the fridge,” Max said. “I’m getting me a bad feeling that this whole place has a bunch of buried secrets, and I’m not just talkin’ ‘bout dead bodies.”

  I set my drink down, my forehead scrunching up. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Max’s dark gaze moved between Amy and me. “I’m talking ‘bout multiple murder victims buried in the cemetery, and a cover-up.” Her eyes fixed on me and she reached over,
touching my hand. “I also think whatever happened here might explain why you haven’t seen your mother since you were a little girl.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  The bottom dropped out of my stomach, like that feeling you get when you’re on the top of a rollercoaster and heading downhill for the first time.

  “My mother,” I said to Max, as Amy scooted closer to me, offering some emotional support. “What…tell me what you mean.”

  “How old are you, Madison?”

  “Twenty-eight, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “You said before that your mama left you with your aunt and uncle when you were twelve.”

  “Yes, but…”

  Max squeezed my hand, interrupted. “This is gonna be difficult, but you need to hear what I think I’ve pieced together.”

  Amy put an arm around me and lowered her voice. “Let’s hear it. We’ll all deal with whatever you think happened together.”

  Max drew in another heavy breath and slowly exhaled. “I never mentioned this before, but my hobby is serial killers. Back around the turn of the century, there was a killer at work in North Carolina. The press got wind of the case and dubbed the guy the Phantom ‘cause he’d show up in different places, take his victims, and murder them without anyone ever seeing him.”

  “I remember reading something about him when I became interested in law enforcement,” I said. “They never caught the guy.”

  Max agreed with me, then went on. “The Phantom began operating in 2000, in and around the city of Raleigh. A total of seven girls went missing, the last one in 2002, before he disappeared into thin air, just like his name. He’s never been heard from since.”

  “What’s this got to do with Maddie’s mother?” Amy asked.

  “About five years ago, some of the women that were believed to be victims of the Phantom turned up buried in shallow graves in a cemetery outside of Raleigh. The women had all been tortured and strangled to death. The investigators took a closer look into the background of the women and found something they had in common. They’d all been in drug treatment programs within a couple of years of their deaths.”

  I had that sinking feeling again, only this time it felt like the rollercoaster was headed over a cliff. I took a breath. “Go on.”

  “The detectives assigned to the case eventually went back and looked at missing persons cases in different cities during the years the Phantom operated. There were several women that also went missing from New York City during that same period that had been in treatment programs.” Max fixed her dark eyes on me. “Do you know the name of the drug program your mother was in?”

  Of course. I asked my aunt about it a few years after my mom left. It was called New Beginnings. I even went by the place when I was in high school and asked about my mom, but they wouldn’t give me any information. As far as I know, it’s still in business.”

  Max nodded. “Like I said, my hobby is serial killers. When you mentioned your mother to me on the train the other day, I made a few inquiries and found out that she was one of the women the investigators looked into as being linked to the Phantom.”

  “But they never…” Amy took a breath. “They never found Maddie’s mother’s body.”

  Max shook her head. “And, for all I know, she’s not a victim of the Phantom. All I’m saying is that the investigators thought there might be a link to the guy.” Her eyes shifted, taking in the freezers with the bodies.

  I took a breath, not really wanting an answer to the question that I had no choice but to ask. “But you think they’re wrong, don’t you? You think my mother could be one of the Phantom’s victims.”

  Max’s dark eyes held on me. “I don’t know, but I’m getting some bad vibes, Madison. I think we gotta keep an open mind ‘bout all this and do some investigating.”

  Amy dragged a hand through her red hair. “Are you saying Madison’s mom is in our fridge?”

  “Not necessarily. But I am saying that some of the Phantom’s victims might be, or they could be buried in our new back yard. I think the more we find out about what happened to them, the closer we might be to finding out what happened to Madison’s mother.”

  I held my breath and asked the other question I dreaded, but knowing that I had to have an answer to it. “Is my mother dead?”

  Max’s dark eyes found me again. “I’m not getting a clear enough vibe to know. All I do know is that your mama was under some kind of distress that led her to using drugs. When she realized she had a problem, she left you with your aunt and uncle so she could go into detox. Whatever happened to her after that could be tied to what happened right here. Only time will tell.”

  “It’s fate,” Amy said, her eyes growing wide as she looked at me. “There’s a reason we all ended up here. We’ve all been chosen to find your mother.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  There were three new girls in the house where Maria and the other girls had been taken. Maria had been up all night after Peter and Danny had been shot and killed. At first, she thought these new men were the police and they were going to rescue them. Maria knew that wasn’t true when they hit Christina after she demanded they be set free.

  After the shooting, a man who called himself Diego had told them what he expected. “You will only speak when spoken to,” he said. “And you will do exactly as you are told. We have zero tolerance for any form of resistance.”

  There were two men who had brought them to the new house. When they got inside, they were all chained together in one room with some others girls who had recently been taken. There was no bathroom here, just a bucket that smelled terrible. When Maria had to use it, she held her breath and took care of business as quick as possible. She was humiliated, frightened, and exhausted.

  After several hours lying on a damp mattress, unable to sleep, Maria’s thoughts began to focus. She no longer fantasized about escaping or someone rescuing her. She knew the chances of that happening were almost zero. Now her thoughts were about how she could avoid the terrible life that awaited her. She came to the decision that there was only one way out: suicide. If she had any chance to find some kind of cutting instrument, maybe a piece of glass or a nail, she would use it to slash her wrists.

  Maria knew there are some fates worse than death, and there was only one way to avoid those fates. She had to die.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Despite our new home being almost as quiet as a morgue, I didn’t sleep well. Maybe it was the thought that my mother’s body could be in one of the freezer compartments across the room. I decided that I was eventually going to have to look into the compartments and compare the bodies with a couple old photos I had of my mother. But, for now, I didn’t have the strength or the energy to do that. I’d lived without knowing if my mother was dead or alive for sixteen years. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference.

  My day immediately went from bad to worse when I got in the shower and realized there was no hot water. I took a short, cold shower, dressed, and met up with Max and Amy in the kitchen where I told them about not having any hot water.

  “We’re gonna have to talk to Thorndike ‘bout the plumbing,” Max said, pouring herself some coffee. “I gotta have a hot shower in the morning or I’m as useless as a sack of potatoes.”

  I agreed with her, then sipped my coffee and took a seat next to Amy. “What are your plans for the day?” I asked her.

  My friend was a morning person. Despite our lack of hot water, she was dressed and had done her hair. “I’m gonna do a little research on Bobby Angelo, maybe check out where he lives in Manhattan.”

  “Just be careful. You don’t want his goon squad knowing that you’re poking around.”

  She smiled. “I got me Jersey smarts and a pair of maintenance overalls. They won’t even know Girl Gotcha is in the building.”

  “Girl who?” Max said.

  “It’s the name of Amy’s business,” I explained.

  “It’s a Jersey thing,” Amy told her.


  There was a knock on our door. Max trudged over to answer it. After letting Thorndike inside, he came over to the kitchen, asking us about our night.

  “There’s no hot water, and the pipes clank and groan all night,” Amy said. “What plumbing company do you use for maintenance?”

  Thorndike smiled and rubbed his hands together. “I’m afraid plumbing isn’t in the maintenance contract. You’ll just have to make do.”

  “Then I’ll talk to Mr. Funk about it…along with a few other things. We’re not living here without hot water and with pipes that make it sound like someone’s being tortured.” Max and I agreed with what she said, before she asked Thorndike, “Do you have a torture chamber somewhere?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Thorndike said, one of his dark eyebrows twitching. “And what do you mean by ‘a few other things’?”

  Amy answered like she had a mental laundry list of needed repairs. “The heating system sucks, the paint’s peeling off the walls, the place has more rats than a sewer, it tastes like there’s lead in the water, the cemetery grounds are crumbling, and there’s no secure lighting anywhere on the grounds. I got a feeling all kinds of hell’s going on upstairs while we’re living down here like a bunch of moles.”

  The little man wagged a finger. “I simply won’t have you disrupting my lifestyle.”

  “What lifestyle is that?” Max asked. “Being a troll who plays with dead bodies all day?”

  “Nor will I put up with your continued insults.”

  “Get used to it, Thorndud,” Amy said. “If you don’t like it, you can always move out.”

  What she’d said was met with odd, creepy laughter from the little mortician, like something you’d hear in a haunted house on Halloween. He turned and headed for the door, but stopped short. “Your boyfriends have agreed to come to work for me. I think it will be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “Yeah, nothing like running a beauty parlor for the dead,” Max said. “’Course, maybe they can help you put the right body in the coffin next time.”