by M. Z. Kelly
“There’s people in here who were buried in the early 1800s,” Amy said, examining a couple markers with dates on them. “This must have been the original cemetery, and the current one was built over the top.”
“It’s not only a cemetery,” Max said, shining her light into the recesses of the hidden graveyard. “It’s more like an underground town with an ancient boneyard.”
She was right. As we walked along the narrow path, we saw what appeared to be remnants of some shops and a boardwalk. There was even what looked like the ruins of a small chapel here. Amy and I walked over to check it out as Katerina cowered at Amy’s side, again telling us the place gave her the creeps.
“You’re gonna have to toughen up, babycakes,” Amy said. “You and me are gonna spend some time in Jersey one of these days.”
As it turned out, Amy wasn’t as tough as she thought. When we shined our light through the broken window of the dilapidated chapel, my friend screamed, reminding me of when she’d discovered the body of Remy Powell suspended above the graveyard.
“What is it?” Max said, coming over to us.
I moved the beam of my flashlight over a woman’s body, lying in repose, realizing there were two other bodies nearby. All of the decomposed bodies were posed in a similar manner, each with a wilted bouquet of roses on its chest.
I said to Max, “I think maybe we just found the rest of the Phantom’s victims.”
SIXTY-EIGHT
“It’s beautiful here,” I told Sam, “but a little chilly.”
It was Saturday. We were in an area of Forest Park in Queens, called The Overlook. The park had miles of trails, a bridle path, tennis courts, playgrounds, and a carousel ride that was closed for the winter.
Sam checked an app on his phone and chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. It’s in the low forties.” He took my arm. “Let’s see if we can find a restaurant and get some hot chocolate.”
I smiled. “Or maybe even something a little stronger.”
His grin widened. “You’re my kind of girl.”
It had been several days since we’d found the catacombs beneath Funk’s Forever Fields. The detectives and crime scene investigators had confirmed that the underground burial ground had indeed been the remnants of a small town, probably built in the early 1800s, with a nearby graveyard. The existing cemetery had been built over the older structures that had been left intact during construction.
More importantly, they’d linked the three victims we’d found in the crumbling chapel to the killer known as the Phantom, including the body of Dorothy King. The victims had all had their throats slashed, making the cause of death the same as the Raleigh victims.
While we still didn’t know for sure that William Jeffers was the killer, the detectives had thought it likely. The only good news was they had not found my mother among the victims.
As we sipped our drinks and thawed out at a restaurant called The Tidewater a half hour later, I asked Sam for his thoughts about the findings in the ancient graveyard.
“Three of the victims had gone missing around the time the Phantom began operating in New York, including Dorothy King, who was in the New Beginnings drug program with your mother. Unfortunately, there was no DNA that we can link to William Jeffers or anyone else.”
“But Jeffers is still our most likely suspect.”
He nodded. “Yes, but...”
When he didn’t go on, I said, “What aren’t you telling me?”
He sipped his Guinness, set the glass down. “Something’s been nagging at me ever since I looked into the Phantom case and your mother’s disappearance.” He rubbed his jaw and regarded me. “Do you know if your mother was ever in trouble with the law before she went into the drug program?”
“She didn’t have any criminal record, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m talking about some trouble that might have not risen to the level of a conviction. Maybe an investigation in another state or jurisdiction that didn’t go anywhere.”
I was still drawing a blank. “Maybe you need to tell me exactly what you’re thinking.”
“I checked the financial records at New Beginnings. Your mother paid for her entire six month stay in the program in advance, even though she didn’t complete it. She never requested a refund for the remaining time she’d paid for.”
“I don’t understand. My aunt told me that Mom was broke at the time she left me at her doorstep.”
Sam nodded, his gaze moving of, but kept quiet.
“How is that possible?” I said.
He shrugged. “It means your mother had financial support from some source we don’t know about, or maybe she had a benefactor of some sort.”
“You’re thinking she was involved with someone who was committing criminal acts?”
“Maybe. Or it might be that someone with the means assured that she was accepted into the program ahead of other patients because of her financial resources.”
“Do you think it was Mark Banuelos?”
“I doubt it. From what we know, he didn’t want your mother in the program and probably was instrumental in her leaving early.”
I sipped my Manhattan, then set the glass aside. “None of it makes any sense.”
Sam took some time before speaking again. “There’s something else that you need to know about.”
I felt my heart racing as I asked him to explain.
“I called the police department in the Village of Monticello yesterday to ask about any contacts they might have had with your...with Donna Wallace before she went missing. As part of my inquiry, I gave them the address for Edith Long, where Donna last lived. They told me that there was no record of contacts with their department for the time period she lived there.”
I knew there was more he had to tell me. “And?”
“They had a murder in their township recently, the first one in over five years.”
I held my breath. “Don’t tell me it was my...” I took a breath. “Was it Donna?”
Sam shook his head. “The neighbors said there was a man hanging around Hudspeth Avenue in the days after you left. Two nights ago, Edith Long was bludgeoned to death in bed.”
I felt my heart sink at the thought of the elderly women being murdered in her own home. “Do they think her murder had anything to do with...with Donna?”
Sam pushed his Guinness around the table, but didn’t take a drink. “Edith Long filed a police report a couple of days after Donna moved out. She said someone got ahold of her bank account information and stole every cent she had. The police think Donna might have been involved.”
“I don’t understand. Long never mentioned anything about that when we met with her.”
“The police think she was being threatened and kept quiet about it. They believe Donna Wallace is a scam artist, maybe working with William Jeffers to steal from anyone who’s vulnerable, and...”
“And what?”
Sam exhaled. “I don’t want to believe this, but you need to hear all of it.” He hesitated, then said something that struck me like a knife piercing my heart. “They think your mother, if Donna Wallace is your mother...” He reached over and took my hand. “...they’re speculating she might have been working with William Jeffers to find his victims. They think your mother is a serial killer.”
THE END
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Copyright © 2017 by MZ Kelly
Published by Kingston Roads Press, L.L.C.
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