by M. Z. Kelly
“Sonny and me just had a couple drinks, but it was nice,” Max told Amy and me the next morning. It was Saturday, and we met in the kitchen to plan our day. “He told me he’s got a daughter in college. When she graduates, he plans to retire.”
“What about his ex?” Amy asked, finishing her breakfast burrito and fixing her blue eyes on Max.
“What about her?”
“Just make sure she’s not in the picture. You can’t be too careful, especially when it comes to dating cops.”
I looked at Max. “I guess that’s why we’ve both been on the shelf for a while.”
“You know what I mean,” Amy said. “You guys know as well as me that most cops got a ton of baggage. That includes ex-wives, girlfriends, and drinking problems.”
“Sonny told me his ex-wife lives in Florida. They’ve been divorced for over ten years. Don’t know about any other girlfriends, but he said he hasn’t dated in a while. As for a drinking problem, he had one beer last night.”
Amy lowered her eyes. “Sorry. I was just trying to look out for you, since I got no life.” She looked at me. “I got a friend named Ladybird who says she’ll do our makeovers. I’m gonna call her today and set something up.”
My brow tightened. “Ladybird, huh?”
“She was named after some ex-president’s wife and hates her mother because of it.”
“Can’t say that I blame her.”
“Why you two gettin’ makeovers?” Max asked us, after slurping her coffee.
I munched on my toast. “Amy’s putting her profile on a dating website called GuySwatter.”
Amy told Max about the site, adding, “I gotta up my game if I’m gonna catch a decent guy.”
“We got your back. Madison and me will personally swat the guy if he’s a loser.”
We discussed the merits of the site, before I changed the subject and told them about Holmes’ phone call last night. After filling them in, I added, “I thought we could do some research this morning, maybe ask Thorndike what he knows about the asylum. It might be that someone who used to work there still lives nearby.”
“It figures that an insane asylum was next door to this place,” Amy said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Thorndike was a resident before coming to work here.”
“Finding out about the asylum is a nice piece of history,” Max said, “but finding any connection to our case sounds like a long shot to me. Even so, I’m willing to help you out.”
Amy stood and headed for the sink. “’Fraid you guys are gonna be on your own today. I’m meeting Armando at ten and plan to pump him for what he knows about Sophia and her sister.” She looked at me. “I should be back this afternoon, so we can head for Monticello and look for your mom.”
After Amy was gone, and we finished breakfast, I got out my laptop and did some research. I learned that the Brooklyn Inebriate Asylum, or BIA, had once housed about two thousand patients and employed a couple hundred people. I found a site with some old photographs of the place and showed it to Max.
“The building hasn’t changed much on the outside,” Max said, seeing the familiar architecture of the dark Gothic-style building. “But I got me a feeling, on the inside the place was a house of horrors.”
“It says here, the BIA became a psychiatric hospital in the seventies, just like the one in Binghamton. It was closed down after about a decade.”
Max stretched and yawned. “Like I said before, it’s interesting, but I doubt there’s any connection to what’s happening now.”
I closed my computer. “Let’s go ask Thorndike what he knows, then walk across the street to the place.”
Max and I bundled up, then made our way through the Habitrail beneath the cemetery to Thorndike’s body prep room. We didn’t find the little mortician there, but we did run into Merrill and Darryl.
“How’s it hanging?” Merrill asked, holding up an arm. “Johnathon Baxter, the unfortunate victim of a run-in with a semi on the interstate.”
Max and I saw the man resting on their preparation table was in the process of having his body parts reassembled.
Darryl, his younger assistant, said, “The dude reminds me of my high school science teacher, so I’m thinking about hooking him up to an electrical outlet, see if we can get his heart restarted.”
“I heard that’s your boss’s specialty,” Max said. “Where is the little troll this morning?”
“You might stop by and see if he’s with Katerina. I think they’re moving bodies into the new fridge.”
We were about to leave when Darryl said, “I think our boss and his niece are having some issues.”
“What kind of issues?” I asked.
“Katerina told us she wants to get a real job. Thorndike isn’t happy about the idea.”
“Can’t say that I blame her.”
“If I had to hang out with Eddie Munster Sr. all day, I’d go crazy,” Max added.
A couple minutes later, we found Thorndike and Katerina in the new morgue room, moving bodies into the freezers.
“What do you want?” Thorndike demanded, mopping his brow. “Can’t you see we are busy?”
I saw Katerina roll her eyes before she told us, “I tired and need a break. Come in.”
She went over and slumped into a chair in the corner of the room. I had the impression she wasn’t happy with her duties.
“We’re checking into reports that the building across the street used to be an inebriate asylum several years ago,” I said to Thorndike. “What can you tell us about it?”
“All I know is the place became a psychiatric hospital and closed down in the eighties. Now it’s a medical office building. What does it matter?”
I explained about the two women who were nearly burned alive in the cemetery, the cult known as the Strand, its leader, Adam, and the man known as Legend, who gave him orders. “I have a friend who learned about the asylum and he thought there might be some connection to what happened. Have you heard anything about this cult?”
Thorndike shook his head, his dark gaze moving off. “Rumors, that’s all.”
“What kind of rumors?” Max asked.
“They crazy people,” Katerina said, speaking up.
I went over to her, with Max following. “Tell us what you know.”
“I talk to man who deliver bodies to the cemetery the other day. He say he hear rumors it crazy outside at night. People killing each other.”
“Did he mention anything about this guy named Adam?”
“Just that he some kind of leader, make everyone do what he says.”
“I doubt it’s that bad up there,” Thorndike said. “I think it’s just a bunch of talk. You have to go now, we’re busy.”
“We’re going to check out the building across the street,” Max said, before we headed for the door.
“I want to come,” Katerina said, following us. “I tired of working with dead people all day.”
“I need you to help me,” Thorndike told her.
“I come back in little while. I need some air.”
After Katerina got a coat, and we left through Balfour Chapel, I asked her about life with her uncle. She sighed and said, “Lola spend all his time with dead bodies. I think it make him...how you say...? Weird.”
I chuckled. “That’s probably one way to describe him.”
“I also been getting some calls from Mojo. He want to go out. I think maybe it is not such a bad idea.”
We stopped. I faced Katerina, and put both hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. Mojo is a pervert. He only wants one thing from you. He cannot be trusted.”
She lowered her big brown eyes. “I guess you’re right.” Her gaze came back up. “It just that I get lonely.”
I glanced over at Max. “Tell you what. Max and I will try to find somebody for you.”
Her voice kicked up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Just give us some time to make the arrangements. In the meantime, stay away from Mojo.”
She no
dded. “I promise.”
As Katerina followed Max and me, Max lowered her voice and said to me, “Where we gonna find her a guy? We’re not exactly part of the in-crowd, especially with the younger generation.”
I sighed. “I’m not sure, but we’ve got to keep her away from Mojo. Let me know if anyone comes to mind.”
We pulled our coats tighter as we moved toward the street. The weather was in the low forties, with snow flurries expected that night.
After we crossed the street and stopped on the sidewalk, Max commented on the looming building in front of us. “I don’t care if it is a bunch of medical offices now, the place looks scary as hell.”
She was right. The Gothic revival style building was a four-story gray limestone structure, with a massive stairway leading up to the front entrance. The landscaping was overgrown with dead vines snaking up the front of the structure, giving the impression the place hadn’t been properly cared for in years, just like our cemetery.
“What do you say we see if we can poke around inside,” I said to Max and Katerina.
“I feeling scared,” Katerina said. “Maybe it is haunted.”
Max laughed. “It can’t be any worse than where we live.”
Katerina reluctantly followed us up the front steps before we made our way inside the massive lobby. There was a directory on the wall, announcing the doctors and suites where they practiced.
An elderly black man sitting at the counter called over to us. “How can I help you?”
Max went over, and we followed. She showed him her police credentials. “We just need to look around. We’re doing a little follow-up on a crime that occurred across the street.”
The doorman ran a hand over the gray stubble on his cheek, and his dark eyes grew wider. “You mean that girl who was murdered?”
“Yeah. You know anything about what happened?”
“I just heard she was dressed up in some kind of costume. Do you think someone here was involved?”
“You got anyone in the building who’s worked here a long time, maybe back in the day when the place was a hospital?”
The doorman’s gaze drifted off, came back. “You might try the basement. Ask around for Rosa.”
“Who?”
“She’s the custodian. Been here over thirty years.”
We went to the end of the hallway and trudged down a long flight of stairs, because the elevator was out of order. The basement was dark and smelled musty. If I didn’t live in a cemetery, it would have creeped me out.
After making a couple inquiries in offices that did medical billing, we found the custodian cleaning a vacant office. Rosa Washington was probably in her seventies, with a shock of bright red hair and matching lipstick. She seemed happy to have company.
“Take a seat,” she said, after introductions. “I was just about to take my lunch break.”
We took seats around a conference table, where Rosa’s gaze fixed on Katerina. “You’re very pretty. Are you from around here?”
“Thank you. Actually, I come from a small town in Europe.”
“Really?” She smiled and lowered her voice. “You be careful around here, especially near the cemetery. It’s not safe.”
“That’s part of the reason we’re here,” I said. “You probably heard about the girl who was murdered there a few days ago.”
Rosa nodded. “She was dressed like an angel.”
“There’s some facts you probably don’t know.” Max and I spent the next few minutes telling her about the cult and the involvement of the man who called himself Adam. I then added, “Apparently, Adam believes he was chosen by God to administer justice to those who don’t carry out his will. He takes orders from someone we believe he calls Legend.”
Rosa’s dark eyes grew wider. “Legend.” Her gaze moved off, came back. “You’re sure that’s what he called him?”
I glanced at Max, looked back at her. “That’s what one of Adam’s victims, who escaped the cult, told us.”
Rosa covered her face with her hands and didn’t respond.
“What’s the matter?” Max asked her.
The elderly woman finally removed her hands. Her expression was grave, reminding me of mourners I’d seen at the funeral services in Balfour Chapel. “I think I know who’s behind the murder.”
FORTY-FOUR
“This place was once a house of horrors,” Rosa told us, keeping her voice low. “When the asylum closed and became the psychiatric hospital, the patients were locked in their rooms and placed in restraints, sometimes for days at a time. There was even talk of experiments. Some of the patients died and were taken away in the middle of the night.”
Max and I exchanged glances. “Taken where?” she asked.
“I can’t say for sure, but rumor had it they were buried across the street in unmarked graves.”
“I hear same rumors,” Katerina said, speaking up.
“From your uncle?” I asked.
She nodded. “Lola say something about terrible things happening in the graveyard years ago. All of it covered up.”
I looked at Max. “The Killing Fields.”
Max nodded. “So it would seem. The little troll knew what happened all this time and never told us.” She looked at Katerina. “Sorry, but your uncle can be a real pain.”
“I know what you be meaning.”
I looked at Rosa. “What else can you tell us?”
“Before the hospital closed, there was a man, Dr. Pierce, who was in charge of everything.”
“He was the administrator?”
She nodded. “He was not a nice man. Even the staff who worked here hated him. I think he was responsible for what happened to the patients.”
“Do you know if he’s still alive?”
Rosa shook her head. “I have no idea. He left the hospital before it closed. He was very religious, and somebody said he started a church.”
Max and I exchanged glances again. “What else can you tell us about him?” I asked the custodian.
“Dr. Pierce had two sons. One of them was named Adam.”
My pulse quickened. “And the other?”
“Legend. I’ll never forget him because his name was unusual, and...”
When she didn’t go on, I said, “And what?”
“He and his father were very close. He took the boy with him on his rounds. I think Legend might have even assisted with what he did to the patients.”
FORTY-FIVE
When we got back to Funk’s Fields, we went straight to Thorndike’s new freezer room. We found him struggling to get a body off a gurney and into one of the refrigerated compartments.
“Why aren’t you here to help me?” he said to Katerina. “I’m working myself to death.”
Max went over and leveled her eyes on him. “How come you never told us about Dr. Pierce and the bodies he was burying in the cemetery?”
Thorndike looked at his niece. “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut?”
“They be looking for a killer,” Katerina said. “We got to help find him.”
“Tell us what you know about Pierce,” I demanded.
Thorndike collapsed into a chair and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “It’s ancient history, and, from what I know, it was all just rumor and speculation. Nothing was ever proved.”
“Do you know what happened to Dr. Pierce and his two sons?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I think maybe the doctor transferred up north to another hospital when things closed down here.”
“Binghamton was the main inebriate center that later also became a psychiatric hospital,” I said to Max, my voice pitching higher. “Maybe Pierce became the administrator there.”
Max looked back at Thorndike. “What do you know about his sons? Their names were Adam and Legend.”
“I know nothing. Like I said before, this is all ancient history.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“The Phantom,” I said, giving voice to what I’d tho
ught about earlier. “Could Dr. Pierce or one of his sons be the Phantom?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with us,” Max said, raising her voice. “I’m sure you heard the rumors about the killer they called the Phantom dumping bodies in the cemetery. He was at work back around the turn of the century.”
“Even if it’s true, that was years after the hospital closed.”
“Tell us about the rumors you’ve heard,” I demanded.
“Nothing. People make up stories, just like with Dr. Pierce.”
I blew out a lungful of air, my frustration surfacing. “If it turns out Dr. Pierce and the Phantom are the same person, I’m going to hold you personally responsible.”
***
When Max and I got back to our living quarters, she got her friend Rosie on the line, asking her to run some record checks on Dr. Pierce and his two sons. While we waited for a callback, we talked about our case.
“I think we could be dealing with serial killer brothers, probably heavily influenced by their crazy father,” I said.
Max agreed. “Daddy not only showed Legend how he abused his patients, he threw in a heavy dose of religion.”
“And both boys eventually decided they were chosen by God to punish those who don’t believe in their teachings.”
“You think we got enough to go to the authorities?” Max asked, as her phone rang. “Maybe that’s Rosie. Let’s see what she has to say first.”
Max answered the call, listened for a moment, then said, “Mads and me are on our way.” She ended the call and tossed me my coat.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“That was Amy. She and Armando followed Bobo Calderon to the Sanford Apartments in Queens. When they went in to check on him, they found him dead.”
FORTY-SIX
Forty minutes later, Max and I made it to the Sanford Apartments building in Queens. Amy met us on the street, where she explained what happened. “We followed Bobo here and watched from the street for a while. When he didn’t come out, we went into the building to check things out and found the door to the apartment was half open. We went inside and found him in the living room, shot in the head.”