The Chocolate Kiss-Off (The Persephone Cole Vintage Mysteries Book 3)

by Heather Haven

  “Sounds right out of a Dickens novel.”

  “You still reading him?”

  “Finished. Moved on to Virginia Woolf. Go on, Pop.”

  “The Sister and the girl would write letters from time to time. Never lost touch.”

  “The Sister the one who told the girl who her real mother was?”

  “I asked and she said she finally told the girl a little over a year ago, even though there’s a letter in the file saying Carlotta Mendez didn’t want the child to know her name.”

  “One of these days it’ll be against the law to reveal the woman’s name, even to the child, when she says she doesn’t want it known.”

  “Respect for privacy and all that? Well, Sister Mary Margaret blushed when she told me, not that nuns don’t do that a lot, I expect, not seeing much of the real world.”

  “Might be they’ve seen too much. Could be why they left it. What else, Pop?”

  “Marianna Christensen ran away when she was fourteen, fifteen, coming back home only after her adopted mother died about three years ago. She’s still got the cottage her mother managed to pay the mortgage on. Any of this of help?”

  “Yes, the fact she was in an orphanage until she was six-years old.”

  “Sister Mary Margaret doesn’t know why. She remembers her as a pretty little thing who liked to sing and dance, do playacting, things like that. Smart, too, but no one wanted her. Sad that. One more thing, the midwife who delivered the baby was Iris Clancy, just like you thought.”

  “So she blackmailed Carlotta into giving her daughter, Regina, a job.”

  “More than likely, Persephone.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. On Leonard. When the officers came to his mother’s door to tell her Leonard had died in the accident, she told them he wasn’t married, that she was his only next of kin. That’s why you didn’t get notified.”

  “They don’t check on things like that, Pop?”

  “Apparently not or it got by them. Kathleen Donovan claimed his body and buried him.”

  “How’d you track this down?”

  “I called her up and asked her if that was the case, Persephone. Seemed the simplest way.”

  Percy let out a chuckle. “You’re where I get my learning from, Pop. That was the simplest way.”

  “She was proud of herself, too. I started to give her what for, but it don’t matter. She’s an unhappy woman, Persephone. Once you find out whether the body in the car was Leonard’s or not, I wouldn’t dwell on her part in this.”

  “Good advice. Pop, Jude called earlier to say Howie makes bail in a couple of hours. I need you to go over to the jail when he gets out. Stay with him, look out for him. Once he’s free, he won’t be as safe as he’s been.”

  “That mean you were right about the phrasing of the will?”

  “Jude just confirmed it. If something happens to Howie, the factory reverts back to the next of kin. Same thing if he’s convicted of a felony.”

  “What about the cousin?”

  “He’s safe enough. Let me have that address in Staten Island. I’m heading for there now.”

  Pop gave her the address, adding the words, “You be careful, Persephone. She’s already killed two people.”

  “That we know of. I’ve got the Mauser with me.”

  “You bundled up? Got your scarf?”

  “Yes.”

  Percy gave out a small laugh. Her father ignored it.

  “You have a good breakfast this morning? Your mother and I worry that you eat nothing but apples and those danged pistachio nuts.”

  “Filled up on oatmeal before I left. Hated it, but I knew what I had in store for me. Speaking of eating, don’t let Howie eat or drink anything you don’t give him.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is. I’ll try to call you from Staten Island. Love you, Pop.”

  “Love you more.”

  They hung up.

  Percy exited the phone booth just as a group of teenagers, perhaps ten in all, clomped down the stairs, heading toward the train. Giddy on the idea of no school, the teens, mostly boys, were loud and rambunctious.

  Four of the boys jumped over the turnstile, goading the rest to do the same thing. Another boy tried, missed his footing and much to the delight of the others, became tangled in the turnstile’s arms. The other boys dropped in their tokens and were suitably razzed by the first four boys. The two girls put in tokens, as well.

  A smaller boy, separated from the group possibly by shyness, watched the antics with a laugh. Like the girls, he put in his token, but stood off to the side of the grouping. The boisterous youngsters went down the stairs to the train platform, Percy on their heels.

  Several levels beneath the surface the air was agreeably warmer, if not a little stale. The teens, still laughing and rough-housing, went to the back end of the platform where the last of the subway car would arrive.

  Percy paid little attention to them, lost in thought over her next task. She sat on the hard bench in the center of the platform awaiting the arrival of the train back to Manhattan.

  The trains were running on a holiday schedule, meaning every twenty minutes, instead of the usual five to ten. The waiting platform began to fill up with stragglers, people who would not or could not take a day off, no matter what the weather. Percy knew what it was like.

  There was a soft rumbling sound, and movement of warm air coming out of the tunnel. The reverberating sound increased in volume. Percy stood and neared the edge of the platform. The IND train, dressed up in a bright red E sign and lit from inside, clattered on the rails and came to a stop with a high-pitched screech of the brakes.

  There were fewer cars than usual, only five, and the train ended in the middle of the platform. The teens, seeing the last car was some twenty yards in front of them, scrambled toward it with hoots of laughter. Pushing at each other, they clamored aboard, moving in and out of one other like water sloshing in a glass.

  If you could harness the energy of a sixteen-year old boy, you could light the city of Manhattan for a year.

  Laughing at their antics, Percy decided not to take one of the many empty rattan woven seats, but grabbed an overhead leather strap. She tried to stay out of the way of the teens, who seemed to be everywhere.

  The sliding double doors closed, and with a jerk, the train began to move. Picking up speed, the train went into a steady rhythm of clacking wheels, pitching from side to side on its route beneath the East River. It would be a full ten-minute ride to the first stop on the Manhattan side, Fifty-first and Lex.

  Restless, Percy dropped her hand from the swinging strap and went to the back end of the car. She looked out of the window of the sliding door into the blackness of the subway tunnel.

  Thanks to the spill-over light from the interior, she noticed the small standing platform built at each end of the cars. Normally, passengers could pass from car to car by going through the sliding doors via these connecting platforms. She had done it many times herself.

  But as this last car functioned as the caboose, there were three chains linked across the iron railing from side to side. The chains served as a warning to passengers not to wander out or get too close to the back end of the train.

  While musing, Percy felt crowded into, jammed against the door by a few of the teenagers. Someone had thrown a ball and, like the kids they were, they began to toss it around, jostling one another and anyone nearby in the process.

  Before she could move, Percy saw the sliding door handle pulled at by a quick moving hand. The door slid open and she was pushed out onto the small platform.

  Wind sucked at her. Noise assaulted her ears. Off balance, she reached out for something solid to grasp. There was nothing. She felt a strong shove between her shoulder blades. Percy toppled over the chains and into the blackness of the tunnel.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Tuck and roll. Tuck and roll, Percy screamed at herself in that split second she felt suspended in
mid-air. Uncle Gil had taught her many things on the trampoline he bought his nieces and nephew one Christmas. At this moment, tuck and roll was the lesson she remembered vividly. Fighting gravity and propulsion, Percy managed to pull into a summersault before her body slammed into the unyielding concrete, gravel, and steel of the tracks.

  In particular, her shoulders smacked against a wooden tie, elevated three or four inches above the ground. She felt the wind whoosh out of her and for an instant couldn’t breathe.

  When her lungs finally could suck in air, Percy struggled to a sitting position. She looked behind her to see the far away lights at the end of the train, round a corner and vanish.

  She pivoted to face the front again and blinked. Blackness, nothing but blackness surrounded her. Percy rose on shaky feet.

  All right, girl. Don’t panic. Things could be worse. At least nothing feels broken and you’re not dead. Yet.

  Her hands flew to the top of her head.

  Damn! My hat’s gone. Where’s my hat? My flashlight!

  Trembling fingers reached inside her coat pocket and withdrew a small flashlight, one Pop insisted she carry at all times.

  Thank you, Pop.

  She clicked the light on. A strong, steady beam flew out from the cylindrical metal. He also insisted she put in fresh batteries once a month, no matter what the cost.

  ‘You never know,’ he’d say.

  You never know, indeed, Pop.

  Splaying the light up and down, she pivoted to get her bearings. Her fedora lay propped against a moist black tunnel wall. She stepped over the track, watching out for the third rail, and walked the two or three steps to retrieve the hat.

  This reminded her of just how narrow the tunnel was in many places, wide enough for a train to travel through, with a couple of paltry feet on either side were often all that separated a train from the walls of the tunnel.

  Percy felt her heart lurch in her chest.

  What time is it?

  She pointed the beam of light at the watch on her wrist.

  Nine-fifty-three. We were traveling for around eight minutes. Give another two for my spill from the train and I’ve got about ten minutes before another train comes barreling through the tunnel right at me.

  Percy shot the beam of light on the walls and ceiling of the square tunnel from top to bottom. Other than the occasional rivulet of water running down from the river above, there was nothing. Nothing. No recess, no door, no ladder, no freedom.

  Ten minutes. I’d better get going.

  Percy turned around, stepped back into the center of the tracks, and began the walk to Manhattan. She measured her footfall, going from tie to tie, not just for better balance, but so she could move faster. She stopped every now and then to glance at her watch. But always, she played the beam of light against both sides of the tunnel, looking for any possible escape.

  There would be none, she suspected, as she was still under the East river or its banks. The only hope to escape to above via a ladder was to clear the river.

  Breathing hard, she came to the place where she’d seen the train rounding the corner. She felt a slight rumble behind her in the distance. She looked at her watch. Nearly ten minutes had passed. Percy noticed that at the turn the tunnel was slightly wider. It gave her hope.

  The rumble increased in sound and pressure. She could feel the ground beneath her vibrate. A train would be upon her soon.

  Maybe I can press myself against the sides of the tunnel. It’s wider here. Maybe the train won’t take my face off.

  Then she saw the metal ladder. An obscure, small ladder attached to the wall. She followed the rungs with her flashlight and saw the ladder went up the side for about thirty-feet and ended at the bottom of a horizontal rather than vertical door. She was still under the banks of the East River.

  No escape yet.

  Percy ran to the bottom of the ladder, just as she saw the headlight of the oncoming train. Barely a pinpoint at first, it grew larger and larger at an alarming rate.

  She could now see from the oncoming light.

  Percy shut off her torch and grabbed at the ladder. Rung over rung she climbed, losing her footing once and falling back down to the ground, striking her chin on hard, cold metal.

  The light was almost blinding now.

  She looked into the first window of the oncoming train. A man sat in the engineer’s booth looking out onto whatever the light allowed him to see. Even if the engineer saw her, there would be no stopping tons of moving steel in time. The laws of inertia were not in her favor.

  Fighting back the panic, she climbed more slowly but more carefully. The roar was deafening now. Fast moving air currents fought her climb to safety, but she continued.

  The train was upon her.

  She looked down at the few inches that separated her feet from the top of the racing train and held on for dear life. Percy fairly bounced on the rungs, and hoped not to be dislodged by the vibration or airstream. Fortunately, it was only five cars that passed. If it had been the usual ten to twelve cars, she might not have been able to keep her grip.

  Darkness returned.

  Percy slowly felt her way down the ladder and dropped to the ground. She turned on her flashlight again. The walls were dryer now. Maybe she had cleared the riverbed.

  Plodding on, she thought of her son, her beautiful boy, the child she lived for, and who needed her. She pushed aside the ache in her legs, and the lungs punished by foul and unclean air. She focused on counting the minutes. The pitch-black cavern went on and on, seemingly into oblivion.

  The rustling of a small animal on the other side of the tracks gave her start. Aiming the light in that the direction, Percy saw a large rat heading in the opposite direction. The rat froze for a moment caught in the beam of light, its red eyes reflecting back to her. Then it scurried on its away.

  Twelve minutes were gone and still she pushed forward as fast as she dared. The beam from her flashlight remained steady and strong.

  She was in a rhythm now.

  Gone was the fatigue and pain. She rounded another corner and the tunnel doubled in size. A second set of tracks ran through and into another darkened tunnel.

  Oh God. Where does that tunnel lead? Is that where I should go? Should I turn right? Or go straight ahead?

  She felt rising panic. Would she become lost in the twists and turns of the tunnels?

  No, Persephone Cole. Pay attention. Follow the track you’ve been on since the beginning.

  She felt another vibration coming from in front of her. She fought the panic again, trying to reason it out.

  That’s a train coming on the other tracks. If you stay where you are, Percy, you’ll be fine.

  Nonetheless, she stepped off the tracks and pressed herself against the tunnel wall. The oncoming train was another short one, and roared by a few feet away on the other set of tracks, continuing on its journey.

  Percy stepped back onto the tie and moved forward. Everything told her she was nearing the station. Slightly fresher air, a larger, shared tunnel, and the addition of light, though scant, told her to keep going.

  Sure enough the tunnel continued to widen. She stayed mid-track, avoiding the third-rail, an unseen but definite danger.

  The live electrical rail can kill you with its 625 volts of electricity. It has killed before. It will again. But not today and not me.

  Ahead and in the distance, she saw the faint glow of the 51st Street subway station. But how far away was it? One minute? Five? Ten? She didn’t have ten minutes. She glanced at her watch. She had eight at best. She stepped up her pace with renewed energy, heading for the light and the safety of the station.

  She felt the vibration of the train behind her through the ground before she heard it. She was getting acclimated to the underground. Like one of the rats who lived below, she couldn’t count on her vision, so her other senses were heightened. Judging by the two run-ins she’d had with the subway trains, it seemed to her she had probably five or six minu
tes.

  Percy broke into a fast run.

  The closer she got, the stronger the glow ahead of her became. But as the light became stronger, the roaring noise behind her also became louder. The vibrating beneath her feet almost threw her off-stride.

  The station platform on the right jutted out into the tracks, but was a good sixty feet away. Could she make it? Could she get to the platform in time?

  Lungs burning, Percy saw an electrical panel set into the wall, probably used for maintenance. A short distance from the panel was a set of steep, narrow stairs leading onto the station platform.

  She passed the panel as racing death almost overtook her.

  Flinging herself upon the stairs, she felt a strong blast of stinging air. The train thundered by. Her hat blew off and danced across the platform, landing at someone’s feet. The flashlight was thrown from her hand, bounced, and rolled to a stop near a trashcan.

  Percy lay stretched out on the steps, as the train screeched to a halt. She lifted her head a bit. A small group of people spewed forth from the opening doors; just as many entered into the car afterward. No one noticed her. The doors closed and the train jerked forward slowly at first, but soon took on a goodly speed. It left the station, entering the tunnel’s darkness once more.

  Percy lay her head back down on the top stair, one hand extended before her. She couldn’t move, not so much from shock as sheer exhaustion.

  She heard a pair of feet cautiously approach and lifted her head once more. An elderly black man, dressed in gray overalls and carrying a broom, bent over, studying her.

  “I don’t know where you came from, miss, but I believe this is yours.” He waved her battered fedora in front of her face.

  Blowing the messy and tousled of hair off her face, she reached up with a grime-covered hand. Percy took the hat. She pressed it to her head, looked up at him, and winked.

  “Thanks. I’ll be up in a minute.”