Brooklyn Blood

by M. Z. Kelly

  “What about Woody?” Max said.

  “He’s too old.” I glanced at Amy. “Don’t you have a cousin who just graduated?”

  “Danny.” She worked her mouth back and forth in that way she had when she was thinking. “He’s a little eccentric, but that’s par for my family. Let me ask my mom if he’s seeing anybody.”

  “Are you and your mom talking again?”

  “Yeah. I called her. We’re gonna get together for lunch next week.”

  “That’s nice.”

  I was quiet, thinking about my own mother. Images of finding her and meeting for the first time drifted through my mind. I pushed the thought away and asked Amy if there was anything new with her case.

  “I talked to Sophia this morning. She’s planning to stay with her sister and proceed with the divorce. I did find out that Alex owned a couple of apartment buildings that she’s going to try and get in lieu of alimony payments, since it looks like he’s headed for the big house.”

  “You still having thoughts that she and her sister might have a hidden agenda?”

  “Yeah, but I also think my mind’s been working overtime, ‘cause I been worrying about my fee. She promised to send me a partial payment, so I’m feeling a lot better about stuff.”

  We got to Monticello just before noon and stopped for lunch at a café just off the interstate. The city was typical of those you find off the highway, with older brick buildings, churches, a theater, and a courthouse. Several of the storefronts were empty, the town having seen better times. As we had lunch, I asked the waitress if she was familiar with the town.

  “Yeah, unfortunately. I grew up here and married my high school sweetheart,” she said, smacking her gum. “Three kids and a divorce later, I’m stuck.”

  “I’m looking for a woman named Donna Wallace. She lived on Hudspeth Street at one time. Does the name sound familiar?”

  “Sorry, no, but I know the street you’re talking about. It’s about three blocks over, off Hudson. You guys cops?”

  I smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

  “I can spot one of you a mile away ‘cause I got a brother who’s a drug addict. What did this Wallace woman do?”

  “I can’t say, but thanks for your help.”

  “Thanks for nothin’,” Amy said after she was gone. “I got me a feeling finding out anything about your mom ain’t gonna be easy.”

  Max picked up the check, then said to me, “Let’s go take a look at your mom’s old neighborhood.”

  As we drove, Amy had googled the town and gave us a geography lesson. “Looks like they got a raceway that they turned into a casino nearby, a closed hospital, and a Masonic lodge. Not much else.” She looked up from her phone. “Hey, guess what. That Woodstock festival where all those hippies got together is just a few miles from here.”

  “Peace, love, and drugs,” I said.

  “Turn here,” Max said. “Hudspeth Street’s a block up.”

  I did as she said, and we found Donna Wallace’s former residence mid-block on a street of older homes, most of them in disrepair.

  As we walked to the door, Amy said, “I got a feeling you can get just about any drug in existence around here.”

  What she’d said made me wonder if my mother was using drugs while living here. It would explain the reason she’d left the drug program and maybe took up with Banuelos again.

  A pit bull suddenly made a run at the chain link fence in the adjacent yard as we made our way up the walkway. An elderly woman came out of the house where we were headed and yelled at it.

  When we got to the porch, she apologized. “His name is Killer, but the owners say he’s harmless. I don’t believe them.” She regarded us. “If you’re selling something, I can’t afford anything.”

  I introduced ourselves, then told her, “We’re looking for a woman named Donna Wallace. From what we know, she used to live here.”

  Her tired features sagged. “Oh, my. Maybe you should come in.”

  We followed the woman, who we learned was Edith Long, into her small, ramshackle house. We took seats at her kitchen table, as she brewed us some tea. Long, who told us she was a retired school teacher, was probably in her seventies, with short gray hair and blue eyes. After some small talk, she asked us why we were interested in Donna Wallace.

  “I think she might be my mother,” I said, surprised at the emotion in my voice surfacing. “She had some drug problems and left me with my aunt and uncle to raise when I was a girl.”

  After filling our teacups, Long took a seat at the table and fixed her eyes on me. “I can see the resemblance, even though...”

  “Even though what?”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Donna was sick.”

  I brushed a tear. “She had cancer.”

  She nodded.

  “Can you tell us how you came to know her?” Max said, taking over as my emotions surfaced.

  “I met her at the drug store. We chatted, and she said she was looking for a room to rent. I needed the extra money, so it worked out well for both of us.”

  “What...? What happened to her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even and dreading what her answer might be.

  “I don’t really know. I got up one morning and found a note on the kitchen table. She said something about having to take care of some personal matters and thanked me for letting her stay with me.”

  “Do you have any idea where she went?”

  She shook her head. “Not really, but I don’t think she felt safe.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She said something about a man being in town who was looking for her. I think maybe she left because she was afraid of him.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No, but a couple days after she left, a man knocked on my door. He claimed he was selling insurance, but he kept looking behind me into the house. He even asked me if I lived alone. I think maybe he was the reason Donna left.”

  “Can you describe him?” Amy asked.

  “Sandy hair, gray on the sides. Maybe around fifty. He was tall and slender. Nice looking.”

  Amy looked at me. “Jeffers?”

  “Maybe,” I said, releasing a breath. I looked back at Long. “Is there anything else you can tell us about him or my...about Donna?”

  The elderly woman blinked several times, her gaze moving off. “Sad.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Donna—she was sad. It could have been her illness, but I think there was something else.” She looked back at me. “She mentioned you once, when we were talking about family.”

  I realized my eyes were filling again. “What did she say?”

  “She just said she had a daughter who she hadn’t seen in several years. She also said that she loved you.”

  FORTY-NINE

  When we were back in the car and on the interstate, my tears came so hard that I had to pull over. We stopped at a small park, where I completely broke down. Amy and Max tried to comfort me, but it was useless.

  “She loved me,” I said, a steady stream of tears on my face. “I’ve got to find her.”

  Amy hugged me. “You will, Mads. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “I’ll put Rosie on it,” Max said, trying to be encouraging. “She’s a miracle worker at finding missing people.”

  “Do you think Jeffers was after her?” I asked them.

  Amy answered. “Maybe, but it’s hard to say, without having more information about him.”

  “Why don’t you call Sam and ask him for a description of Jeffers,” Max suggested.

  I drew in a breath and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. “I’ll call him tonight.” I stood and exhaled. “We’d better get on the road again. It’s a couple hours to Binghamton.”

  We made the rest of the trip without saying much. I was inconsolable and had no doubt that my friends didn’t know how to deal with that. It was clear to me that my mother had left her home in the middle of the night because
someone was after her. Whether that someone was William Jeffers or someone else, he clearly was a threat to her. It made it even more imperative that I find her soon and try to help.

  When we got to Binghamton, we found the Pierce house across the street from the shuttered psychiatric hospital. The home was built of stone and brick in a manner similar to the massive Tudor style hospital. We knocked on the door and waited several minutes, but no one answered.

  “The place looks deserted,” Amy said. “I got a feeling nobody’s lived here in years, probably just like the funny farm.”

  “Why don’t we go around back,” Max suggested. “Maybe we can get a look inside.”

  We followed her through a side gate and onto a rear deck. We were walking toward the rear door when somebody called out from inside the house. “Take another step and I’ll drop you where you stand!”

  Max held her hands out. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just looking for the Pierces.”

  The screen door came open. An elderly man with a shock of white hair pointed a shotgun at us. “What’s this about?”

  “We just need to talk to them,” Amy said. “Why don’t you lower that gun so we can explain.”

  The man hesitated, then finally lowered his weapon. “Sorry, but there’s a bunch of squatters around here. I can’t be too careful, since I’m the caretaker for the hospital.”

  I showed him my police credentials, then introduced myself, Max, and Amy. He reciprocated, telling us he was Tom Prichard.

  “We have reason to believe Adam and Legend Pierce may have been involved in a crime in Brooklyn,” I explained. “Do you know where we can find them?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Far as I know, the older brother is still hospitalized. As for Adam, I heard he’s involved in some kind of religious group, but don’t know anything about it.”

  My brow tightened. “You said Legend is in the hospital?” He nodded. “What’s wrong with him?”

  His eyes fixed on me. “You don’t know about his crimes?”

  I shook my head. “What did he do?”

  “Let me get my keys. It’s probably better that you see for yourself.”

  Prichard returned a couple minutes later, and we all walked across the street to the shuttered psychiatric hospital. The building consisted of intricate exterior stonework, stained-glass windows, and medieval turrets. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, but I knew this castle had been part of a nightmare, with a very dark past.

  As he unlocked a side door to the massive hospital and let us inside, Max asked Prichard about the place.

  “It was originally built in the mid-1800s and later became the state’s inebriate asylum. Back in the forties, the hospital began using electric shock, hydrotherapy, and even lobotomy as methods of treatment for the mentally ill. The latter procedure involved scrambling the frontal lobe of the brain with a sharp instrument inserted through the eye socket. It was pretty gruesome stuff.”

  “I got me a throbbing headache just thinking about it,” Amy said.

  We stopped in the darkened hallway as Prichard locked the door behind us. The building smelled musty and was as grim as any place I’d ever visited. We learned that in its heyday, the hospital had hundreds of patients. I couldn’t begin to imagine the horrors that had taken place here over the years.

  Prichard went on as he led us through a maze of corridors, with adjoining rooms. “The hospital even had its own graveyard. Patients who didn’t survive the treatments, or simply died of natural causes, were buried anonymously onsite in numbered shallow graves.”

  “This place was a house of horrors,” Amy said. “Why did the state let it happen?”

  “It was a different time, with different attitudes about what to do about alcoholism and mental illness. It was a sad chapter in the state’s history.”

  It occurred to me that the hospital would have been the perfect place for someone like Dr. Pierce to dispense his own form of perverse treatment. “I understand Atmore Pierce was the last administrator assigned to the hospital. Do you know where he went when it closed down?”

  Prichard stopped outside a room on the upper floor and unlocked the door. “This should answer all your questions.”

  He led us inside an office with furnishings that belonged to an earlier era. I saw there were blood-stained walls and dark blemishes on the floor.

  “What the hell happened here?” I asked.

  “Legend came here after burning his mother’s house down, with her in it. He then shot his father several times, along with three other administrators. He was later found criminally insane and sent to another psychiatric facility in Albany.”

  I looked at Max. “I wonder why Rosie didn’t find this out during her record search.”

  She took out her phone. “Not sure, but I’m gonna find out.”

  While she made the call, Amy asked Prichard, “Do you know if Legend is still in the hospital in Albany?”

  “Probably. From what I heard, he’s not only crazy, he’s dangerous as hell.”

  Amy looked at me. “As a boy, he probably saw all the atrocities his father committed and couldn’t take it anymore. And there’s no telling what his father did to him.”

  I nodded. “Now he’s in the same kind of place his father worked. It’s pretty sad.”

  Max ended her call and came over to us. “Rosie said she missed pulling up the records on Legend because, when he was found insane, it became a civil matter, not criminal.”

  “Does she know if he’s still in the hospital?”

  “It looks like we were right about a crazy killer, working with his insane brother. Legend Pierce was found sane by the doctors assigned to his case. He was released from the state hospital late last year.”

  FIFTY

  “The TV news programs say Alex will eventually be getting life for killing Bobo,” Sophia told her sister. “He finally getting what he deserve.”

  “He can rot in hell for all I care,” Maria said. Her smile grew wider. “Bobo’s dead, Alex is in jail, and we’re both rich. Life is good.”

  “How soon you be thinking we can take the money?”

  “We need to wait until Alex’s trial is over and we’re back in Colombia. I don’t want anyone knowing about our change in lifestyle.”

  Sophia nodded, her gaze moving to the darkened city outside their hotel room. “I not sure I understanding something. How did you get Alex’s gun to put by Bobo’s body?”

  “Do you remember that stupid kid who was with that PI you hired and her friends?”

  “Mojo?”

  She nodded. “Armando paid him to take Alex’s gun from the gym before I shoot Bobo.”

  “Can he be trusted not to talk?”

  Maria smiled. “He like girls. I use dancers from Bobo’s club to make it worth his while to keep quiet.” She rose and walked over to the closet. “I got you something to celebrate.”

  Maria returned with a framed photograph, which she handed to her sister. “This was the last photo of Tatiana before...” She took a breath. “...you know.”

  Sophia’s eyes flooded with tears as she ran her fingers over the picture of her sister when she was a teenager. “She was so beautiful.”

  Maria sat beside her, and they exchanged hugs. “She still is. We see her in heaven someday.”

  Sophia put the photograph on the table and took some time to compose herself. The path that she and Maria had followed to this day had been long and torturous, but they had managed to escape the life of poverty they’d known and had gotten revenge for those responsible for their little sister’s murder. It was satisfying, but now the only thing Sophia wanted was to go back to her home country with Isabel.

  “How long you think the trial take?” she asked Maria.

  “Probably several months. In the meantime, you need to stay in touch with the PI and make sure your story about Alex doesn’t change. You take what he has left during the divorce and we...how you say...on easy street.”

  “I ma
ke sure everyone knows what Alex do, even though most of it is a lie.”

  Her abuse at the hands of Alex that she’d reported to the police and had told the PI about had been made up. She and Maria had spent months making it look like she was a victim of domestic violence, even using makeup to convince Amy Ross that she’d been burned with cigarettes. While Alex had been upset over the reports to the police and he’d made threats to her, he’d never laid a hand on her or the baby.

  “The only problem we have now is Armando,” Maria said, causing Sophia’s thoughts to surface.

  “What you mean?”

  “I don’t trust him. He want a bigger cut of our money or say he going to tell.”

  “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like him.”

  “I sure. He becoming a big problem.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Not to worry. You just need to be thinking about the new life we going to have. I be the one to take care of Armando.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  Amy, Max, and I got back to the city just before midnight, after spending the afternoon and part of the evening touring the rest of the shuttered hospital and surrounding grounds in Binghamton with Tom Prichard. Other than hearing more horror stories about the asylum, we hadn’t learned anything more about Legend or his brother, but we now had little doubt they were involved in the killings. Max asked Rosie to do some deep digging on their possible whereabouts and keep us informed.

  The next day Max and I spent an uneventful day at work, sifting through files at Central Records and organizing them. I wasn’t able to access the file on Dorothy King because Laverne Piper and Penny Kurtz had also been reassigned to the Records department for the day.

  On a break, Laverne and Penny told Max and me about our new boss at Precinct Blue.

  “Lieutenant Corker is old school, but seems okay,” Laverne said. “I think Penny and me have found common ground with him.”

  “He mentioned something about supervising you before,” Penny told me. “He said you’re gonna require a lotta extra work.” She regarded both Max and me. “You guys gotta learn how to handle a guy like him.”