by M. Z. Kelly
Blaze took a seat at the table again but didn’t look at us. She sighed as her head slumped forward. “On the day Billy Mercer fell off the parking structure, my daughter was there.”
“What are you trying to tell us?”
“Christina told me she’d gone to the parking garage because Billy called her. When she got there, he was extremely distraught. She tried to stop him from jumping, but Billy pushed away from her and fell to his death.” Effie exhaled and dragged a hand through her long hair. “Christina blames herself for what happened.”
Amy looked at me, then back at Blaze. “Did Christina ever mention a man named Harold Washington?”
She shook her head.
“He’s been working with Jeremy Halsey to extort money out of Christina. He’s in jail and had been sending the emails to her, demanding money.”
Blaze began to tear up. “Does he know where Christina is?”
Amy shook her head. “No, but he tells a different story than the one your daughter told you. He says that Christina pushed Billy off the parking garage. It might even be that she pushed Billy so that he wouldn’t go to the police about him being bullied by her boyfriend. That would explain why Jeremy has been blackmailing her.”
Blaze cut her eyes to Amy and brushed her tears away. “I know my daughter, and there’s one thing I can tell you for certain: This Mr. Washington is a liar. Christina didn’t kill anyone. Billy Mercer’s fall off that parking garage was a suicide, because Jeremy Halsey had been harassing him.”
THIRTY-NINE
The rocking motion of the boat had lulled Christina into a restless sleep. When she awakened, she lay in bed for a long time, feeling hopeless and lost. The cabin where she was held was cramped and hot. She’d made her way over to the portholes several times, but saw nothing in the way of land. It might even be that they were hundreds of miles from the city by now.
Images of the man who held her prisoner flashed through her mind. Who was he? Something about him seemed familiar. Maybe she’d seen him somewhere other than Billy’s funeral, but where? She searched her memory until something finally surfaced. She remembered leaving school one day, a few days before Billy had died. She’d dropped her keys in the parking lot. After retrieving them, she’d looked over, seeing a young man on the sidewalk. She was almost certain it was the same man. Who was he?
After wrestling with that question for a long time, Christina decided he must have been a friend of Jeremy’s, despite what he’d said earlier about Jeremy killing Billy and that she’d done nothing to help him. Maybe the man had been a causal acquaintance of Jeremy’s, someone who had become closer to him over the years and saw a payday. She decided that Jeremy must have sent him to try to get every last cent she had.
The trust fund then came to mind. It had been left to her by her favorite uncle about three years ago. Other than occasionally seeing the bank statements, she seldom thought about the money. But now, the thought of giving Jeremy, or one of his friends, everything her uncle had given her seemed completely wrong. Jeremy was the one who had taunted Billy into jumping. He didn’t deserve a dime. Maybe the man holding her prisoner would kill her and throw her overboard. She didn’t care. This was her final chance to make amends for not being there for Billy, and she was determined not to give into his demands.
Hours passed before the door to her small cabin swung open, and her abductor entered. He carried a bowl, which he put on the counter across from her.
“It’s a casserole,” he said, smiling as he took a seat. “Something my mother taught me to make as a boy.”
“Who are you?” Christina demanded. “And why are you doing this?”
He studied her for a long moment. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. You can call me Aaron.”
“I saw you before, when I was in college. You were following me.”
“You have a very good memory.” The smile came back. “And I thought I was being so stealthy. Guess I was wrong.”
“It was a few days before Billy died.” He stared at her, not responding. “Are you a friend of Jeremy’s?”
His smile melted. “I already told you Jeremy killed Billy and you did nothing. I hate him.”
“How did you know about the money I have in trust?”
The smile came back. “Let’s just say I have my sources.”
She sighed and hugged her sides. “Where are we going?”
“Back to New York. We should be there in a few hours.”
“Then what?”
“Then we go to the bank and withdraw the money you have in trust.”
Christina shook her head. “No. The money’s mine. I won’t give it to you.”
Aaron rose and took a step closer to her. He bent down, and Christina saw both the determination and hatred in his eyes as he said, “Then I’m going to kill your mother.”
FORTY
“Harold Washington tells a different story than the one we got out of Christina’s mother,” Amy told Max that night after we got home. “Mads and me aren’t sure who to believe.”
Max had the night off because physical training with Sergeant Hock was scheduled for the next morning at Fort Greene Park. “In some ways, it doesn’t matter who’s telling the truth,” she said. “Halsey’s the key to finding Christina. Once we find him, I think we’ll know what really happened to Mercer.”
“We’re going to go by the restaurant where he works in Hoboken tomorrow,” I said. “Right after I meet with Dr. Charleston about my surgery.”
Amy was working on a glass of wine, which she put down. “It’ll give us a chance to talk to Dr. Palmer, see what he knows about the deaths.”
“Who?” Max asked.
“He’s the administrator on the oncology ward. Dr. Evers said the deaths at the hospital started about a year ago and thinks Palmer might know something.” Amy poured Max and me glasses of wine. “Drink up. Tomorrow an asteroid might hit the earth.”
“Amy’s a little down,” I told Max.
Amy held out some strands of her hair. “You would be too, if you had this on your head. Too bad I’m not in a rock band, or getting ready for Halloween.”
Max accepted her glass of wine, then said, “It don’t look that bad. I had me a few color-jobs that didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted.”
“Yeah, but this wasn’t the work of a salon. It was the work of an evil bitch who wanted me bald.”
“Speaking of that,” I said, “I talked to Kat earlier, and she thinks she’s got a permanent cure.” I picked up my phone and texted her.
Amy took another sip of wine. “I hope Dominika doesn’t hear about this. I don’t need any more of her evil curses.”
A half hour later, Kat arrived at our apartment with an older woman who was swathed in black.
“This is Ola,” Kat said, introducing her companion. “She is an expert on the mati.”
“The what?” Amy asked.
Ola was a couple inches short of five feet tall, with long dark hair and black eyes. She waddled over until she was inches from Amy. She then reached up and touched Amy’s hair. “You have been given the evil eye. If we do not do something, all your hair will eventually fall out.”
Amy shrank back from her. “I already had me a treatment. My hair’s better, just purple.”
“It no good,” Ola said. “You be needing an exorcism.”
“The mati is the evil eye,” Kat explained. “Sometimes it is used with a potion, like the one Dominika had. Ola is an expert at reversing it.”
Amy stepped back even further from Kat’s companion. “I’m not gonna let you make my head spin around on my body, if that’s what you got in mind.”
“Ola know about these things,” Kat told her. “She be making you better.”
Ola moved closer to Amy. “You want to be bald the rest of your life?”
“No, but I don’t wanna roll around in my bed and spit pea soup, either.”
“The cure not that bad, but it must be done tonight.”
I went over to Amy. “I think you should let her do this. What you’ve got sounds serious.”
Amy sighed and said to Ola. “Go ahead. But it better not hurt.”
Ola said to me, “I be needing a bowl of water.” She looked at Amy. “You need to lay down on sofa.”
While I did as I’d been instructed, Amy laid down. “What exactly you gonna do to me?” she asked Ola.
“Cast out the evil spirits.”
When I arrived with the bowl of water, Ola took it from me. She removed a small bottle from her purse and poured the contents into the bowl, stirring it with a stick.
“What’s that?” Amy asked, as Ola came closer.
Ola said something that sounded like a prayer and made the sign of the cross. “You do not be wanting to know. Now, close your eyes.”
Amy resisted, but, at my urging, finally shut her eyes. Ola sprinkled drops of the concoction on her face and hair, continuing to offer what I thought might be prayers.
“Is my body starting to smoke?” Amy asked Max and me. “It feels like I’m gonna fart.”
“I don’t see no flames,” Max said, “but you do smell kinda funny, and I don’t think it’s gas.
She was right. Amy smelled like sulfur.
“Is this normal?” I asked Ola.
The old woman nodded. “She be deeply possessed. The evil spirits do not want to be leaving quick.”
“Swell,” Amy said. She then addressed whatever possessed her. “Hey, you bunch of ghouls inside of me, it’s time to take a hike. Hit the fuwking road.”
“Shh,” Ola said. “We not be wanting to antagonize them.”
The exorcism, or whatever you want to call it, went on for a half hour, before Ola told Amy she could sit up.
“You are cured,” Ola told her. “There is just one more thing I be needing to do. She bent over Amy and spat on her.
“What the hell you doing?” Amy demanded, rising from the sofa.
“It is the final step,” Kat explained. “It make sure no more evil be inside you.”
I handed Amy a dish towel as she said, “Yeah, cuz who wants to be in a body covered with loogies?”
“My work here is finished,” Ola said, heading for the door. She stopped and turned back to Amy. “I be sending you my bill.” She left without another word.
“Her bill?” Amy said, looking at Kat. “I gotta pay to be spit on?”
“I sorry,” Kat said, “but she be needing to make a living.”
Amy exhaled and looked at me. “How’s my hair look?”
I came closer to her, examining it. “It’s strange, but I think the purple color is gone.”
Amy found a mirror and confirmed what I’d said. “Maybe things are finally looking up for me.”
We all settled back on the sofa, and Kat asked Amy and me about Merrill. “He still not be returning my calls. Do you think he found another girl?”
“Yeah, like maybe a zombie,” Amy said. She saw that her words had bothered Kat. She softened her tone. “Mads and me will take another run by his place tomorrow, see what we can find.”
“I appreciate that. Lola also be missing the help. He say he got another funeral this weekend and needs assistance with the bodies.” She stood. “I better be going. I don’t want to upset Dominika.” She looked at Amy. “Please don’t be saying anything about this to my aunt. It make her mad if she know.”
“Don’t worry,” Amy said, seeing her to the door. “I never want to see the evil witch again.”
After Kat was gone, Max told us the latest at work, confirming what Sam had told me about Precinct Blue moving and the rumors we’d heard. “Word has it that next week we’ll all be working in Manhattan, right across from the commissioner’s office. Guess they want to keep close tabs on us.”
“What about your assignment at Hunts Point?” I asked.
“Dunno. All I do know is that me, Della, and Mavis are gonna kill Laverne and Penny if we have to work with them much longer.”
“That bad?”
“They claim they got seniority on us, so they stand around, make us do all the work.”
“That sounds like them.”
Max went on, complaining about the women, before saying, “We finally caught that Dexter asshole that sliced you open. He’s in jail for felony assault on a police officer.”
“About time,” Amy said. “I hope they throw the book at him.” She stood and rubbed her temples. “That exorcism wore me out. I’m going to bed and hope I wake up with a full head of hair.”
Max yawned. “I’m also gonna turn in. Busy day tomorrow.” She rose. “I hope you get something out of that Dr. Palmer tomorrow. I’m still getting that feeling the killings are gonna continue unless we get to the bottom of things soon.” She stood. “See you in the morning.”
I was getting ready for bed when my phone rang.
“I thought I’d see how your conversation with Dr. Evers went today,” Holmes said, after I answered.
I filled him in. “Evers thinks Dr. Palmer knows something. He’s the head of the oncology department.”
“Do me a favor and hold off talking to Palmer. There’s a chaplain at the hospital, a Reverend Taylor. Why don’t you start by talking to him?”
“You think Palmer could be involved in the deaths?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think he can be trusted. Start with Taylor.”
Holmes had a lot of knowledge about the case, making me wonder if he had been at the hospital, working it. “Dr. Evers said he’d talked to you. He also referred to you as Detective Holmes. Are you ready to tell me what’s going on with you?”
It took him a moment to respond. “I’d prefer we keep this relationship as we’ve discussed. I sometimes use the title ‘Detective’ to assist in getting information.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
He chuckled. “Perhaps it goes with your own job title, Detective.” He returned to the topic at hand. “I’ll call in a day or so, after you’ve talked to Reverend Taylor.”
“What are your thoughts about what’s been happening?”
It took him a moment to process what I’d asked. “I think we’re dealing with a serial killer, and he’s hiding in plain sight.”
Holmes told me he would be in touch, and ended the call. I went to bed and lay awake for a long time, unable to sleep. What he’d said about the hospital killer hiding in plain sight struck a chord with me. I’d known other killers, other cases where the perpetrator was someone who had been passed over, unseen by those involved. I decided to keep that in mind as we went back to the hospital tomorrow.
My thoughts then drifted to my mother possibly working with William Jeffers. If my mother was indeed Donna Wallace, it meant that she was probably only a few hundred miles away from me. Did she ever think about me, or was I a forgotten part of her life, a past that was dead to her? In many ways it felt like my mother had been hiding in plain sight all these years, the two of us separated by circumstances that I knew nothing about. That prospect brought tears to my eyes. I brought my covers up, blotted my tears, and again tried to come to terms with the fact that the woman who had brought me into this world had abandoned me.
FORTY-ONE
“I hope your appointment, and finding our hospital killer, doesn’t take too long,” Amy said the next morning as we drove to Mercy Hospital. “I’m looking forward to being in Jersey again.”
“You hang out much in Hoboken when you were a kid?”
“Nah, but it used to be the poor man’s Manhattan, overlooking the city from the west bank. The place has gone upscale in recent years, with lots of expensive real estate.”
“I wonder how Halsey manages to live there.”
“He’s probably got a roommate in some dirt bag dungeon that’s been subdivided.”
I glanced at her as we got close to the hospital. “Your hair looks good this morning.”
She licked her hand, smoothed out her auburn locks on the top of her head. “It’s a crazy th
ing, but I think all that mumbo-jumbo Ola did last night made my hair better than ever. It even feels thicker.”
“Maybe she drove out all the evil spirits that were possessing you for years, and it will change your whole life.”
She looked at me. “Yeah, and maybe I got an alien up my ass who thinks it’s a See’s Candy maker.” She smiled. “But maybe things are looking up. I got me a date with a guy I met on GuySwatter.”
“You’re kidding. What’s he like?”
She pulled out her phone and showed me a profile picture. “Is it my imagination or does he look like a young Brad Pitt?”
I studied the photo for a moment, then cut my eyes back to the road. “He does look like Brad. Are you sure he’s legit?”
She sighed. “I’m not sure of anything, but he claims his name is Chase Landon and he’s a wealthy movie producer.”
“You believe him?”
“Same as I believe there are aliens up my ass. I figure I’ll meet him in a public place, see how it goes. That way, if he murders me, at least there’ll be witnesses.” I rolled my eyes. “What have I got to lose, Mads? I’m a loser on the rebound from a curse.”
I pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. “You might have been cursed, but, for the hundredth time, you’re not a loser. Go get a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The few minutes turned into over an hour after waiting to see Dr. Charleston and learning that he’d scheduled my surgery for the following week. The reality that I was facing what he explained was a complex and somewhat risky procedure sank in as I met up with Amy in the hospital cafeteria.
Over coffee, I told her about my concerns. “Suppose the surgery leaves me unable to go back to work? Or worse? Maybe my wrist will never be normal.”
“At least it’s your left hand. Even if you end up a limp-wristed wimp, you’ll still be able to wipe your ass with the other hand and come to work for me. Hey, we could call ourselves ‘The Brooklyn Babes’ and wear sexy t-shirts.”
“I’m afraid my t-shirt wouldn’t have the same ammo that you’re packing, and you don’t need a one-handed sidekick.”