by M. Z. Kelly
The two detectives laughed. Jenkins said, “A mime, huh? Maybe you should see if they’ve got a class in reform school about how to be a real detective.” He looked back at his partner. “Let’s finish up with Reynolds and call it a night. I’m beat.”
Max apparently saw that I was about to go on meltdown and let Hammond and Jenkins have it as we walked back to the conference room. She touched my arm and shook her head, a message that it was useless to argue with them.
When we were back in the conference room, Hammond took the lead again, recapping what Reynolds had said earlier. After asking her about her husband’s possible whereabouts and getting nothing back that was worthwhile, I sensed they were about to end the interview. I decided I had nothing to lose by speaking up.
“What about other killings, Colleen?” I said. “Did Adam order anyone else to die?”
Jenkins was about to interrupt when she said, “Not that I know about, but it isn’t Adam who makes the final decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“Legend is the one who sends the final word. He’s the one who told us the girl who was dressed as an angel had to die.”
Jenkins took over. “Who is Legend?”
“Michael told me that Adam said he sits at the right hand of God. He’s the one who makes the ultimate decision about who is to live or die.”
FORTY
Max and I were exhausted when we arrived at the Central Records warehouse the next morning. Hammond and Jenkins had finished up with their interviews just after midnight. Since they had nothing directly tying either woman to Remy Powell’s murder, Mary had been allowed to call her father, who took her home, while Colleen had been released to a homeless shelter. Both subjects were advised that they would be in contact with them if they had further questions, but Max and I doubted that would happen.
We spent our morning reorganizing evidence files from the 1990s. At noon, Amy joined us for lunch down the street at Tony’s Café, where I gave her and Max my thoughts about the Powell case. “My guess is that, since Sutton already confessed to the crime, what happened last night isn’t going to change anything.”
“You’re probably right,” Max agreed. “As they left, I heard Jenkins telling his partner something about there might be a cult at work in the graveyard, but it probably had nothing to do with the murder.”
“Where does that leave us?” Amy asked. “Besides circling the crapper.” She groaned. “Shit. What I said just brought Jake to mind.”
“Forget about him,” I said. “Where it leaves us is trying to find Adam and the guy they call Legend on our own.”
“How we gonna do that?”
I looked at Max. “Maybe we should talk to the detectives in Binghamton, see if they have anything more that links that murder to ours.”
Max shrugged. “Seems like the only way forward.” She rubbed her chin. “Maybe your guy Holmes has some ideas, too.”
“If he does, I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”
I glanced back at Amy, who, I could tell, was down. “Anything new on Sophia or her sister?”
She shook her head, brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Nothing, but Mojo’s been hanging out at Puig’s gym. He said word has it Alex and Bobo’s big fallout was definitely over money, probably because Puig’s boxing purses were taken, just like we speculated.”
“I had my friend Rosie do a little more checking into Bobo,” Max said. “Not only is he deep in debt for his strip clubs, he’s in default on the mortgages on almost every piece of property he owns. It probably explains why he’s stealing from his client.”
“I guess being the head of a major drug cartel doesn’t pay so well.”
“Someone’s probably squeezed Bobo out, taken over his territory, like we figured. It would explain why he’s in need of money.”
“Whatever’s happening, it doesn’t bring us any closer to finding my client, or me getting a payday.” Amy sighed. “The only thing that might save me from a homeless shelter is I got a couple of side jobs that might pay the rent.”
I touched her hand. “No one is going to end up homeless. Things will work out.”
“If you say so.” Amy looked at Max. “Maybe you could ask Rosie to check into Sophia’s sister, Maria, when you get a chance.”
“You think she could be in trouble with Bobo, just like Sophia’s in trouble with Alex?”
“Not sure, but we don’t really know anything about her, and Sophia never mentioned her. I just got me a feeling there’s a lot more stuff going on than we know about.”
“Consider it done.”
Amy’s blue eyes were fixed on Max. “You got your happy face on again. You and Sonny getting chummy?”
Max’s smile grew wider. “We’ve just chatted a few times, and are still planning to go out Friday night. I got a feeling we’re a good match.”
Amy looked at me. “Anything more from Sam?”
I shook my head. “As far as I know, we’re still on for that picnic.”
She sighed again, but this time it came out as a groan. “Tell me something: how did I end up the world’s biggest loser?”
“You’re not a loser.”
“I still can’t believe that idiot Jake was cheating on me.”
“We don’t know for sure that the woman he was with wasn’t his sister. It might be that you overreacted.”
“Overreacted.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder how you can be a cop and be so naïve, Mads. I’ve decided to try another dating site, since I got nothin’ to lose.”
“Just be careful. Make sure the site is something more legit than Hunks in a Tux, and, if you find a guy, be sure you meet in a public place.”
She rolled her eyes. “I just realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not my best friend, you’re my mother.”
***
Max and I spent the remainder of the day digging through barrels and sorting files. It was tedious work, made worse by the fact that we doubted any of the files we went through and organized would ever see the light of day again. There were cold cases, then there were cases like these that should be considered to be in a perpetual state of deep freeze.
Late in the day, Max came up with an idea that intrigued me. “What do you think the chances are there’s some records in here on the Phantom and that woman who was in the drug program with your mother who went missing?”
“Dorothy King?”
She nodded. “When did you say your mama went into the drug program?”
“In the year 2000, when she left me with my aunt and uncle.”
Max’s dark gaze moved off. “The way I figure it, the rack for that year oughta be over there.” She cranked her head in the direction of a bank of files that receded into the darkness, then looked back at me. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “I think we’ve got nothing to lose.”
The files in the massive warehouse were roughly organized by decade. As we moved toward the records for the new century, we saw that there were boxes instead of barrels, stacked high on metal shelving. We stopped in the dim lighting, where Max used her flashlight to illuminate the top of one of the racks. “Looks like some knucklehead began the new year and the new decade at the top, then worked his way down.”
She was right. The lower shelves contained the records for the more recent years. “Let’s get a ladder, and I’ll see what I can find.”
It took us several minutes to move a ladder from another part of the warehouse and get it positioned in place to examine the files. After climbing the ladder, I took my time, using my flashlight to examine the dates on the boxes.
“You see anything?” Max called up to me as we heard a door closing somewhere in the building.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice pitching higher with excitement. “There’s one here from the year 2000. It’s marked King, first initial D.”
“Bingo. Get it do...” Max stopped talking in mid-sentence when we heard foots
teps. She lowered her voice. “Somebody’s coming. Better get down here.”
I managed to scramble down from the ladder before we heard Sonny calling out to us. Max tugged on my arm, and we made our way back to the table at our workstation, where we found our boss.
“For a minute, I thought you two had gone missing,” Sonny said, with his perpetual smile. “You get lost in here and you might never be found.”
“We was just taking a look at some boxes, trying to get organized for tomorrow,” Max said.
Sonny nodded. “Let’s call it a day. A person spends too many hours down here, they can forget there’s an outside world.” He looked at Max. “Just wondering if you might wanna get a drink after work. There’s a place nearby that makes great Manhattans.” His gaze found me. “You’re welcome to come along.”
I smiled. “You two go ahead. I promised my friend Amy I’d have dinner with her.”
After Sonny left to get his coat, Max said, “Guess the Dorothy King records will have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”
I smiled. “I’m glad it’s for a good cause. Just be sure you’re home by midnight.”
It was Max’s turn to smile. “Amy was right about you. See you later, little mama.”
FORTY-ONE
I was lying when I told Sonny I was going to dinner with Amy, so that he and Max could have some time together. When I got home, I realized that my friend was already having dinner—the liquid kind.
“Pull up a glass and join me,” Amy said, as I walked in the door. “I’m trying to drown my sorrows, but, so far, I’m just treading water.”
I got a glass, took a seat on the sofa across from her, and she filled it with wine. After taking a sip, I said, “That bad, huh?”
“This is almost as bad as that night we did the Midnight Massacre.”
Amy was talking about us getting revenge on a guy she was dating in college, who cheated on her. We came up with the idiotic plan to put tanks of slime on our backs like we were a couple of ghostbusters. We then sneaked up on “Pete the Cheat” and his date in a movie theater and slimed them from head to toe. We’d managed to escape with our lives, and some of our dignity, only after being chased down the street.
I worked on my wine again. “You’re not thinking about sliming Jake, are you?”
“Nah. I gotta move on. You know anything about GuySwatter?”
“It sounds like a way to take care of a guy who’s a pest.”
“It’s a new dating site. I’m thinking about joining, but first I need to come up with a profile picture. I’m not very photogenic, so I been thinking ‘bout getting a makeover before I post anything.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re very photogenic.”
Amy got her wallet out of her purse and showed me her driver’s license photo. “No matter how you try and frame it, that’s ugly.”
I laughed, already feeling the effects of my wine, as I looked at her picture. Her eyes were half-closed, and she had a goofy expression, like the photographer had taken the photo before she was ready.
I handed the license back to her. “Well...” I tried to come up with something positive to say. “Driver’s license pictures are supposed to be bad.”
She put the license away. “Just tell it like it is. I look like a fuwking deranged female serial killer. I should change my name to Lizzy Borden.” She sighed. “Maybe you can go with me when I find somebody to do the makeover.” Her eyes brightened. “Hey, maybe we can both get makeovers.”
I dragged a hand through my messy hair, thinking I did need a root job. “I think it’s ridiculous, but if that’s what you wanna do, I’m there.”
We clinked glasses, and she asked about Max.
“She’s having drinks with Sonny. I think this could turn into something serious.”
“Good for her, I guess.” She swigged her drink and didn’t go on, obviously still depressed.
“What’s the latest with Sophia?” I asked, just to try to get her out of her funk.
“Nothin’. I gotta come up with a new tactic. I’m thinking ‘bout using Mojo and Katerina to go undercover at Bobo’s penthouse again.”
“That’s not a good idea. Mojo’s in heat for Katerina.”
“But she’s as close to a Russian girl as we can get, and we know Bobo likes Russians. I think she could pass.”
“I think it’s a bad idea. Katerina’s very innocent, and I don’t think we should put her in harm’s way. Or Mojo’s way, for that matter.”
Amy sighed. “Maybe you’re right, but I gotta come up with something soon or I’m screwed on ever getting my fee.”
“Why don’t you give Armando a call? Maybe he’s got some ideas.”
Another sigh. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
We sipped our drinks, and I told her about possibly finding the records on Dorothy King. “We weren’t able to look in the box because Sonny interrupted us, but I’m hoping to get a look tomorrow.”
“You think there could be something in there about your Mom?”
“She and Dorothy were in the drug program at the same time when she went missing, so I can only hope.”
Amy yawned and stood. “We’re still on for that trip to Monticello tomorrow, so let’s hope you find something. I’m going to turn in, get an early start tomorrow.”
After she said goodnight, I had a bite to eat and was getting ready for bed when I got a call from Holmes. “I heard you had some more excitement in your back yard last night.”
“You could call it that.” After some chit-chat and him reminding me that he’d been in law enforcement, I filled him in on last night’s events. I told him about the cult called the Strand, the man known as Adam, and what Colleen Reynolds had said about him working with someone called Legend. “According to Reynolds, Adam takes his orders directly from Legend.”
“The name’s a bit strange. Did she have a first name for him?”
“No, she just said her husband, Michael, referred to him only as Legend.”
He mulled things, then said, “I’ve come up with something interesting, but I’m not sure exactly how it fits into your case.”
“I can use all the help I can get. Let’s hear it.”
“I did some research on the area surrounding Funk’s Fields. It seems that back in the middle of the last century, there was an inebriate asylum across the street. The building has since been converted into medical offices.”
“I pass by there every day when I go to work. It was really a place for alcoholics?”
“Back in the day, inebriety was considered a disease, similar to mental illness, requiring medical and moral treatment for its cure.”
“Thankfully, in some ways, we’ve come a long way from that.”
“Yes, but here’s the interesting fact: The place was considered an adjunct to the main state asylum that was upstate. It was located in Binghamton.”
My voice pitched higher. “That’s where the other victim was murdered.”
“I know, so just maybe there’s some kind of connection. The place up north was converted to a psychiatric hospital back in the 1970s, but has since been closed. It’s now on the National Registry of Historic Places.”
I paused, mentally sifting through what he’d told me. It might be that it was just a coincidence the asylums were near where both murders occurred. Then something else hit me.
“You still there?” Holmes asked.
“Yes. Do you suppose it’s possible that the man, Legend, has a connection to the asylums?”
“That was my initial thought, but, if that was the case, he would probably be dead by now, at worst, or elderly, at best.”
“I’ll ask Thorndike what he knows about the asylum that was across the street. He’s our mortician, so he might have some history of the place.”
“Good enough. I’ll call in a day or two and touch bases again.”
“Wait. We’re really going to continue like this, me not knowing who you are?”
“That works for me. Cheers!”<
br />
FORTY-TWO
“The money’s been transferred to the offshore accounts,” Maria said. “Bobo is broke and should realize that soon.”
“How much did we get?” Sophia asked.
“Almost three million. It not as much as we originally planned, but it enough for us to start a new life.”
Sophia exhaled and brushed back her dark hair. “What happen now?”
“Alex has come to the building a couple times, trying to get to Bobo. I going to make sure he gets in, then we hope things take their natural course.”
“You mean that Alex kills Bobo. What happens if he doesn’t?”
“I kill Bobo and set up Alex.”
“You really think that will work?”
“It’s an option if things don’t go as we want.”
Sophia sighed. “I worried.”
“Everything is for Tata. She be watching over us.” Maria paused as her emotions took over. She took a breath. “You stay put. I will call you when everything is finished.”
“What about the PI that I hire? She be trying to call me.”
“Call her back and tell her you’re in hiding. Make it sound like Alex has been threatening you again, but tell her you’re afraid to go to the authorities.”
“I hope she doesn’t realize we be setting Alex up.”
“You haven’t told her anything, have you?”
“Of course not, but she...she very persistent. She don’t give up.”
“Just keep playing her. Everything will be over soon. I’ll be in touch.”
After ending the call, Sophia walked over to the window in her hotel room, seeing that darkness had settled over the city. She knew Alex was out there somewhere, still wanting to kill Bobo. She prayed that would happen and their scheme to steal his fortune would never be uncovered. After that, she would divorce Alex, take what money he had left, and then she and Maria would go back to Colombia with Isabel.
A new life was waiting. It was just a matter of sorting out all the details.
FORTY-THREE