by M. Z. Kelly
THIRTY-THREE
Christina groaned and brought a hand up to her pounding head. Blood. Lots of blood. She took a moment, trying to clear her head.
She remembered hitting her attacker with the steel bar. He had gone down, and she thought he’d lost consciousness. When she’d bent down to check on him, his hand had suddenly moved, grabbing her wrist. A struggle had followed, and he’d pinned her down before his fists rained down on her.
Her eyes shifted, seeing the round windows on the wall opposite where she lay. She sensed there was movement, a rocking motion. Sky and then water appeared in the windows. The sudden realization hit her. She was on a boat, probably somewhere at sea.
A shadowy figure appeared above her, staring down. “It’s about time you woke up,” the man said.
It took a couple of tries before Christina managed to sit up. “Where...where am I?”
“That’s the least of your concerns.” The man took a seat in a chair across from her. She studied him. He was the same man she’d recognized from Billy Mercer’s funeral. He had cuts and bruises on his face from when she’d hit him. “Who are you?”
He smiled, but Christina realized it wasn’t really a smile. This was a look of predation, like an animal ready to pounce on its quarry.
“Let’s just say I’m someone who has taken an interest in you.”
She still had no idea who he was. Her adversary was probably around forty, with a round shaved head, speckled with flicks of black hair. His eyes were deeply set and dark, with just a glimmer of light in them. They reminded Christina of a scene from a movie she’d once seen, a far away and forbidding land, illuminated as a shadow in the distance.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“On my boat. You’re going to be here for a while, so get used to it.”
“What do you want from me?”
The question hung in the air a long moment as he studied her. She had the impression that he was trying to decide how much to tell her.
“Let’s start with your uncle.”
“My uncle?” How did he know about Uncle Charlie? “He’s dead.”
“Yes, but he loved you very much.”
Christina blinked back her tears. “Yes,” she finally said.
“In fact, he loved you so much that he left you a gift, a trust fund.”
Suddenly, everything that had been happening was clear to her. This was about money, taking all of her money. The money she had inherited had been in a trust, and she hadn’t thought about it in years, except for maybe using it for her children’s education someday...if she ever had children. Christina sat in stony silence, refusing to acknowledge what he’d said, or even look at him.
“By my calculations, the fund is worth almost six hundred thousand by now. I would have taken only half of it, but since you’ve been difficult, the cost of your freedom has doubled. You can think of it as payment.”
She finally cut her eyes to him. “Payment for what?”
“For Billy. For letting him die at the hands of that murderer you called a boyfriend.”
“Jeremy was mean to Billy, but I...”
“You did nothing!”
His words had been so loud and vehement that they shocked Christina. She took a breath, but didn’t respond or look at him. What he’d said was true, and she knew it would haunt her the rest of her life.
He went on. “You’re going to need to give me access to the account.”
She finally looked at him. “It’s not that simple. The funds are in trust. They can only be released to me at the bank with identification.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Then it looks like we’ll be doing some banking.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Amy and I got home as Max was having dinner and getting ready for the night shift at Hunts Point. We joined her, telling her about my upcoming surgery, what Amy had found out about Grady Winston, and Mojo telling us that Jeremy Halsey was living in Hoboken.
Max’s only concern was my health. She reached over and took my uninjured hand. “You gonna be okay, baby?”
I blinked several times. “I think so. I just have to get through this, do some physical therapy, then get back on the job.”
She nodded, released my hand, and sighed. “Well, all I know is that Precinct Blue, Corker, and Hock will all be there when you get back.”
“That bad?”
She shrugged. “It’s a work in progress.” She smiled. “The only good news is I’ve knocked off about fifteen pounds.”
“That’s great. I guess I’ll go by Blue tomorrow and let Corker know about my surgery.”
“I’m gonna be there for some classroom stuff, so I’ll go with you.”
“What about Halsey?” Amy asked me. “You up for trying to find him with me tomorrow afternoon?”
“That should work. We also need to go by Rikers and talk to Harold Washington.”
“What about the Jessie Walker case?” Max asked. “It sounds to me like we got two murders that were committed to cover up a shitload of killings at the hospital.”
“And no suspects and nobody working the cases,” Amy said.
“We still need to talk to Evers,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow, if there’s time.”
Max worked on her dessert, a piece of strawberry pie. “Who?”
“Herman Evers. He’s the shrink at the hospital. Holmes thought he might know something.”
Max nodded, chewed. “You ever wonder how Holmes knows what he knows?”
“He admitted to me that he was a cop at one time. Not sure if it was with the department or somewhere else, but he apparently still has some sources on the inside.”
“That could make him dangerous.”
I agreed, but said, “So far, he hasn’t let us down, so I think we need to trust him.”
There was a knock on the door. Amy went over and answered it, showing Kat into our living room. She had her gaze lowered, and I asked her if everything was okay.
She sighed and slumped into a chair. “I think I be needing to go back to my home country.”
“Why is that?” Amy asked. “Don’t tell me your uncle is working you to death. Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“He work me hard, but I be missing Merrill. And then there is my aunt.”
“No word on Merrill?” I asked.
She shook her head. “He still not answering my calls. I wonder if something bad happen to him and Darryl.”
“It sounds like we need to add him to our list for tomorrow,” Amy said to me. She looked at Kat again. “We’ll find him, even though you might not want to hear what he’s been up to.” I saw that Kat’s eyes were still heavy as Amy asked her, “What’s going on with Dominika?”
“I not sure, but she been making stuff that smells really bad, talking about...”
Kat stopped in mid-sentence when we all looked over and saw a dark, hooded figure had pushed our door open. I realized it was Dominika, swathed from head to toe in dark clothing, and carrying a small pitcher.
“Can’t you see that we’re having a private conversation here, Morticia?” Amy said, going over to her. “What’s in the jug? You bring us some of your gruel?”
Dominika’s dark eyes swept over us, then fixed on her niece. “You best be going. This is not for children.”
Kat stood and said to us. “I am sorry. I will talk to you later.”
When she was gone, Amy levelled her eyes on our unwelcome guest, “What the hell’s going on?”
Dominika held up her pitcher. “This is a flagon. It be holding powerful forces that I warn you about. I need you all to be leaving these premises now.”
Amy put her hands on her hips. “We already made it clear, we ain’t going anywhere.” She took the little woman by her arm and turned her toward the door. “You need to leave.”
Dominika moved quickly, turning in a full circle, and breaking free of Amy’s grip. She then took her pitcher, or flagon, as she called it, splashing its contents onto Amy’s blouse.
>
She then mumbled some strange words that sounded like an incantation. “Earth, air, and water shall scald. Turn on this girl, make her bald.”
Amy was so shocked by what happened that, for a moment, she seemed frozen in place. She then snapped out of whatever spell or shock she’d experienced and grabbed Dominika by her arm again. This time, she physically pulled the woman by her arm and pushed her out of our apartment.
“I see your ugly mug around here again, and I’ll show you what a Jersey spell can do to someone. Get the hell out and never come back.”
Dominika was in the hallway, but stood her ground. “You have brought the dark forces upon yourself. You must live with the results.” She turned and tottered off.
Amy slammed the door behind her and came back over to us. “Do you believe that shit? She really thinks throwing some stinky water on me is gonna make me go bald.”
Max and I looked at one another. Her dark brows went up. “Maybe you should take a shower, get that smell off you.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Amy grumbled. “If I see that ghoul again, I’m gonna shave her head.”
After she was gone, I said to max, “What do you think?”
Max shook her head. “Don’t know. But, just in case the spell works, I got a wig or two in my closet.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“Fuwwwwwckkkkk!”
I jumped out of bed the next morning to the sound of Amy cursing. I rushed into her bedroom and found her in the adjacent bathroom. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my god-damned hair.” She held a clump of her locks out from her head. “I think it’s falling out!”
I went over and took a closer look. There were several strands of hair in her brush on the counter. “I’m sure it’s just normal shedding.” I saw that she was examining her hair in the mirror and I also took a closer look. “I don’t see anything unusual.”
“Shedding, huh?” She moved her head closer to the mirror, parting her hair with her hands. “I can see my damn scalp!”
I studied what I thought might be the beginnings of a small bald spot. “Maybe we should go by and see Bella today.”
“You do think I’m going bald, don’t you?”
“No, it’s just that...I’ve been thinking my own hair could use some more conditioner. If you’re really worried, you could ask Bella for her opinion.”
“What time you gonna be through at work today?”
“It shouldn’t take me more than a couple hours. I can meet you at Bella’s salon around ten.”
Max and I dealt with a couple more meltdowns before we took the C Train to the station near Precinct Blue. As we walked up the street, Max said, “I sure hope Amy ain’t really losing her hair. If she is, we’re gonna have a homicide on our hands.”
“You think she could murder Dominika?”
She smiled. “I can see the newspaper headlines now: Bald Woman Attacks Mistress of the Dark.”
“I think Amy’s overreacting, but I guess time will tell.” As we got to the precinct, I saw Carmine and Lenny entering the building. “Knuckleheads at nine o’clock.”
“Just a warning: Them two aren’t happy with you.”
“Why is that?”
“You’ll see.”
When we got to the lobby, said hello, and waited for the elevator, Carmine scowled at me and said to Lenny, “Looks like the skulker finally showed her face.”
Lenny ran a hand over a belly that was slightly smaller than when I’d last seen him, probably due to his physical conditioning with Sergeant Hock. He regarded me. “How’s the hangnail?”
I glared at them both. “Skulker” was a term used for someone who was a malingerer. “You wouldn’t know, unless you consider having a beer belly a disability.”
The elevator doors popped open and we got in. Max told them, “Just FYI, Madison is going to need surgery on her wrist.”
Carmine rolled his eyes, looking at Lenny. “I’ll bet she’s gonna work this into an ADR.”
The abbreviation stood for Accident Disability Retirement, for officers who were no longer able to physically perform their duties due to injuries suffered on the job.
I was about to respond when the elevator doors opened, and we saw Woody standing there. After saying hello to me and Max, Woody turned his gaze on Carmine and Lenny. “The LT wants to see you both in his office right away.”
“What for?” Carmine spat, displaying his animosity for Woody.
“You’re both up for a medal.”
“What are you talking about?” Lenny demanded.
“The lieutenant said you’re both up for the B-Team biggest loser award, and it has nothing to do with your weight.”
The two men unleashed a rant of obscenities on Woody before shambling off. Max and I then walked to the breakroom with Woody, while we waited for Lieutenant Corker to arrive. Along the way, Max told him about my impending surgery.
“That’s too bad,” Woody said, with his typical flat features. “But your timing is impeccable.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Word has it Precinct Blue is being moved.”
I glanced at Max, raising my brows. Despite our precinct being in a poor neighborhood and in the basement of a run-down building, I’d gotten used to the location.
“Any idea where we’re going?” Max asked Woody.
“Rumor has it we’re moving to the Bridge Towers, right across from the police commish’s office.”
Max’s heavy features became pinched. “Why the hell do they want us there?”
We saw that Lieutenant Corker was in the doorway, and Woody lowered his voice. “From what I heard, command staff isn’t happy with the way things are going in Blue. They want to keep an eye on things, turn it into a model program.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Corker said, coming over to me.
I stood. “Can we meet in your office for a moment?”
He checked his watch. “I can give you five.” He waved for me to follow.
The lieutenant’s office was a small, windowless space that always gave me claustrophobia. This morning, the room smelled of body odor, coffee, and the faint odor of whiskey, probably leaking out of Corker’s pores.
After taking a seat, the lieutenant sipped his coffee, his dark beady eyes fixing on me. “All right, what the hell is this about?”
I pushed the note Dr. Charleston had given me across his desk. “I’m going to need surgery, then follow-up PT. I’ll probably be out a couple months.”
Corker examined the note, then looked at me. “Is this for real?”
“Of course. Believe me, surgery is the last thing I want.”
He scoffed. “Sure.”
“What does that mean?”
He pushed a hand through the three strands of hair on his round head. “Nothing. Just so you know, by the time you get back on duty, we’ll be in another location.”
“Bridge Towers?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Rumors.”
He sighed. “It wasn’t my idea, but yeah. We’re moving next week.” He pushed the note back at me. “Show it to Rita. She’ll give you the papers to extend your leave.”
I stood. Maybe it was his attitude and what Carmine and Lenny had said earlier about me being a skulker that caused me to say what was on my mind. “You’d just as soon that I retired, and you never had to see me again.”
Corker smiled, exposing a row of crooked yellow teeth. “Just between you, me, and these four walls, it would make my day. Maybe my year.”
After leaving the lieutenant’s office, I stopped by the breakroom to say goodbye to Max. I found her with Della and Mavis. After saying hello, I took a seat at the table.
“I told the girls ‘bout you needing surgery,” Max said.
“Sorry to hear about it,” Della said, “but, at least, you won’t have to work the Point again right away.”
“And, just so you know,” Mavis added, “we haven’t given up on fin
ding that Dexter asshole who sliced you open.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “Hopefully, I’ll be back on duty in a couple months.”
“How did things go with Corker?” Max asked me.
I rolled my eyes. “He’d sooner see me retired, or dead, or both.”
Laverne Fenny and Penny Kurtz were leaning up against the counter and overheard our conversation. Laverne was about forty, and wore a ton of makeup in a failing effort to hide her splotchy skin and advancing years. Her counterpart was a decade younger, with a fake tan and enormous unnatural breasts.
“Me and Penny are voting with Corker,” Laverne said, looking at me. “We just got word we’re taking your place in the Point...” She looked at Max, Della, and Mavis. “...with these three losers.”
“I heard you’re jaking it, just to get out of shit duty,” Penny added, using another slang word for faking an injury.
“You two need to watch what you say,” Max said. “Madison has a serious injury.”
“I’ll bet,” Laverne said, as Lieutenant Corker called everyone to roll call. “Her only injury is being a slacker.”
Max rose, heading for the two women. I grabbed her arm with my good hand and held her back. “Let it go. They’re not worth it. I’ll see you tonight.”
She held on my eyes for a long moment, nodded, then looked at the two women. “Maybe them two will get what’s coming to them one of these nights.”
***
I was a few minutes late getting to Bella Hopper’s salon. I found Amy was already in a chair, with our friend working on her locks.
“How’s it going?” I asked, coming over to them.
“Bella thinks I’m gonna end up looking like Michael Jordan,” Amy said, as her hairdresser rinsed her hair.
Bella looked at me. She was a big woman, who seldom smiled. Today her expression was even more serious than usual. “It’s not that bad, but...”
“What is it?” I asked, when she didn’t continue.
“There’s some thinning. I’m going to do a keratin treatment and use a special conditioner.”
I looked down at Amy. “I’m sorry, but I hope we caught this in time.”
“If we didn’t, Dominika is toast, and I’m not talking ‘bout the kind with jelly.”