After thinking about it for a second, a realization came across Luella’s face.
“No one gives you power, Luella. You have to take it.”
Luella paused and thought about what Edgar said. She looked at the flyer and then looked up at him.
“You’re right. I have to be smarter,” Luella grabbed her cell phone and placed it back in her purse.
“You’re leaving now? What about drinks?”
“Thanks. But I got to go,” Luella leaned over and gave Edgar a kiss on the cheek with the flyer in her hand. “I can probably still catch the the tail end of this thing.”
Luella left the bar in Long Island City and headed for the subway to jump on a train heading for Jackson Heights in Queens.
Damn them, she thought.
On the way to the station, Luella wondered why Lawrence wanted to kill the story. The circulation numbers of the Queens Gazette spiked when her last article broke.
Damn. It was Lawrence who wanted her to rebuild the missing prostitute story from the ground up, from a different angle. She wondered if Lawrence used her as a guinea pig. It was Lawrence who had her digging around for newspaper clippings, interviews and everything else that she collected about dead prostitutes over the last couple of weeks.
The past only taints the future. It spoils things, like a crooked frame over a well-balanced picture. Lawrence, once told Luella. Man. Lawrence was full of shit, she thought. Maybe, he was good to her because he just wanted to sleep with her. It didn’t matter anymore.
As the train rushed toward Jackson Heights, Luella was lost in a picture on her phone. She sat on a light blue bench of the 7 train looking at a picture of Violet. In the photograph, she was sitting with her renter, La Negra on the armrest of the couch. She wore jeans and black t-shirt with her curly hair up in a bun. Her green eyes sparkled with the flash of the camera. On the surface, she seemed happy, content.
But, Violet’s eyes told a different story.
The more Luella thought about it, the more she felt that Violet used her make-up as a mask. Her lipstick was bright red and the foundation of her face was caked on. Taking a closer look at the picture, Luella noticed that Violet’s eyes were sad, maybe tired, reserved, maybe used up. Maybe Violet was into drugs. It was as if her eyes were guarding something that she did not want anyone to know. Maybe she was into something more than prostitution, something worse.
With a swarm of people moving around Luella, she felt different from before. It was at that moment when she realized that this was something more, than a serial killer story.
It was darker.
Luella grabbed her iPhone to access her files from work. The Gazette had her only copy of her article in progress stored on the computer at work. However, her access was denied, since she couldn’t go back in the building.
Who cares, she thought. Fuck it.
Luella opened up a notepad and started re-writing her next article from memory.
The Long Island City Serial Killer, aka. the L.I.C. Killer, she typed. In her next article, she would release the letter that the killer sent her. She didn’t care if it was authentic or not. She would release it herself. It would be their loss and her win.
Tonight, the mothers of victims gathered around La Negra’s living room, holding hands to console each other and devising a way to bring more attention to Violet and girls like her. There were three families from out of state who lost a loved one that were lost inside the meat grinder of the new York City Streets. They were girls who worked on the stroll in Long Island City, Queens.
Later that night, Luella made it to Violet’s fundraiser, where she interviewed Irene Robinson on the steps of La Negra’s porch. Irene drove all the way from New Jersey to meet the family members of the other victims.
Luella tape recorded the conversation between her and Irene, whose daughter wound up as a prostitute and then missing.
Irene started speaking first, “My daughter went by the street name, Jasmine and wore a pale yellow dress, most of the times. That’s how I knew she was going to the City. Jasmine was a beautiful girl, taller than most. She had curly black hair and the most beautiful face that I had ever seen. Then, Jasmine went out one night and never came back.”
“Did you know that she was working as a prostitute?”
“Whenever, she walked down the street, everyone noticed her. She really was the most admired person in our neighborhood. However, she was a quiet girl. I never knew that she was taking the bus into New York City to work the streets. I had no clue.”
“Weren’t you ever concerned when she went out at night?”
“Of course, I was. But, I trusted her. She was an intelligent and caring girl. I really didn’t know this other side to her. Eventually, she told her sister that she had a boyfriend and she told me. She never wanted to speak about him. For the most part, Jasmine kept to herself.”
“What about her father?”
“Her father abandoned us when she was 12. I’ve been trying to take care of her ever since. But she slipped through my fingers.”
“Do you have any idea why she would choose to do her business in New York City. Was there someone, a friend who she hung out with, who told her about the stroll in New York City.”
For a moment, Irene talked about her daughter who didn't have it easy growing up.
“Do you know if she had a pimp or some kind of handler? She wasn’t pulling in small change.”
“Since I got here, I’ve been getting to know more about the place, called the stroll. There’s a girl named Iris who I met today while I was out here last night.”
“What were you doing at the stroll?”
“I was out passing out flyers like this one here.”
Irene passed Luella a pink flyer.
“Yeah. I made this for La Negra.”
“Maybe you you should take a closer look.”
Irene turned over the pink flyer, revealing a something written in blue marker. It was a message for Luella.
“Here,” said Irene. “Take a read for yourself.”
“Okay.”
“Just one more thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t mention any of this to La Negra.”
Irene went back inside and Luella sat on the steps. She was about to read the message, when she saw a girl wearing a purple dress. The girl stood on the sidewalk staring at Luella.
Luella looked back at her and then at the message. It was Iris, the prostitute who also worked the stroll. Luella could see the fright on Iris’s face, looking around, as if some one were following her. That night, Iris wanted help, in exchange for something else, for protection. Iris told Luella that she could identify Violet’s Coyote.
At that moment, Luella thought of James Night.
Later that night in the middle of a small triangle-shaped park on Roosevelt Avenue, Luella found James sitting on a green wooden bench underneath the shadow of a tree.
As Luella walked up to him, she said, “I’m no longer with the newspaper. Just got canned tonight.”
“That was quick.”
“I know…. But, I’m still in.”
“How can you still be in, if you have no access to the press. What good can you do me?”
“I’m not going to turn my back on those girls, James.”
“But maybe, it’s for the best. You should be careful with the ladies who you spoke to tonight.”
“Anyways, here is everything that I have put together so far. There is another streetwalker called Iris, a 26 year old young woman, who reported the eighth prostitute missing this week. Tonight, she was at La Negra’s house and she is still working the stroll.
“Really?” James eyebrow arched.
“What is it?” asked Violet who glowed with blue light under the dark canopy of a tree. “Oh no. Don’t do it James. You’re going to get Iris killed.”
“What is it?” asked Luella.
“So, Iris wants protection.”
“Yeah. She wants to get
out of the circuit and be free of her Coyote. But, can’t without protection.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I would see what I can do.”
“You mean me.”
“Yeah.”
“First, she has to do something for us, if we are going to make any in road with this new lead. If she wants to help us with the case, I will protect her.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, Luella was taken by the way James freely gave his support to Iris. James and Luella sat on the bench looking at the dark branches crisscrossing above them. For a moment, they looked at each other for something else. She was so taken by James, that Luella forgot to mention the letter in her coat pocket.
The letter was probably a hoax. But, she knew how to make some coin off of it.
Afterward, James watched Luella walk away down the path of the park. Luella curved through the path until she disappeared into the night, as if she never existed.
Maybe, Luella’s plan with Iris’ would work, thought James. There was a chance that Iris could lead them to the last person that really knew Violet, her Coyote.
12
She of Ten Thousand Names
The following morning, Chief Harris passed by Detective James Night’s office, when he heard James talking to himself. He leaned in and listened, to see if what Charlene told him the other night was true.
Did James Night really speak with the dead?
At the time, James stood over his work table, looking at the photograph of the severed arm.
“Is that me?” asked Violet.
James looked at her, but said nothing . Something didn’t feel right. Then, he picked up his voice recorder and started talking to it. He reviewed the case.
“There is still no ID on the body part that was recovered from the street. No one has seen a thing. I tried to find something with the missing persons database. But, there was nothing. The only thing that we have going is this picture. It’s the only piece of data that we have.”
James recognized the tattoo inside the arm as some kind of branding that as been showing up on the skin of prostitutes in the last month. This women must have belonged to one of the Coyotes. But to which one?”
“Are you suggesting that a Coyote killed me?”
“It’s worth eliminating off the list,” said James.
“Then, who was that man wearing a mask. We both saw him on the roof? I know you saw him too. You even shot at him.”
James ignored her and continued talking into his recorder, “Maybe there is a Coyote out there that knows something more.”
“So this is where Iris comes in?”
“Maybe, Iris could identify Violet’s Coyote. Maybe, the Coyote knew her real name. It’s worth a try.”
The next morning, NYPD Chief Harris walked into Detective James Night’s office, with some files and a newspaper in his hand. James was lit by a single lamp with blue shade on his desk. Another bag was found. The fifth black bag with a severed body part was found by another beat cop on Queens Boulevard.
The Chief threw three brown files wrapped with a red rubber bands on James's desk.
“Detective Night, I got three more missing persons that are a priority.”
“This?” James placed his hand on the files.
“This is pretty much all I could wrangle from the FBI. Don’t ask me how I got it. But I want you to start an investigation on these cases and see what you can find.”
“More streetwalkers?”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
James stared outside the window at the empty street, hoping that it would all go away, the missing, the severed body parts and Violet. It was easier not to care.
Then, he noticed Violet appear in the dark corner of the room. James glanced over at her and then back at the chief.
“Do you hear me James?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, Chief Harris threw a newspaper on top of the missing person’s file.
“And what about this!”
James read the headline. It was reporter Luella Matos article for Queens Gazette. The Boulevard of Death, sprawled over the front page.
James glanced at it. Then, he looked up at the Chief.
“And?”
“How the hell did this reporter find out about what in those black bags? Where did she get these pictures? The FBI is livid. I tried my best to provide some coverage. But, they won’t excuse another leak like this. How did this happen? Tell me the truth.”
James looked at the photos in the newspaper. They were the pictures that a beat cop captured of the scene and that he texted over to Luella. Ever since, he met her, there was a part of him that could not say no to her. He knew leaking the photos was the wrong thing to do. But, he did it anyway.
To find Violet’s killer, he needed to shake things up. He had to make the serial killer nervous. Maybe he would mess up. He had to find who killed Violet. That was the only way Violet would leave him alone. In the end, James knew that Violet would rest, once he caught the killer and buried her body. Then, their time together would be over. He was sure of it.
James threw the paper back at the Chief, “How should I know?”
For a moment, the Chief gave him the side eye.
“Well what?” asked James.
In the end, Chief Harris backed off because he didn’t have any real proof against James. The Chief didn’t have the slightest clue that James wanted the article in the paper because the public needed to know what was going on.
James looked over the headline. Luella called Queens Boulevard the ‘Boulevard of Death’ because of the number of black bags that have been found. Now, there was a mass grave in the basement in Woodside. In total, there were now eight black plastic bags found throughout the Boulevard of death. Strangely, every bag appeared over night.
Along Queens Boulevard from Long Island City to Calvary Cemetery, the cops questioned businesses in the neighborhood. But, no one saw a thing.
Chief Harris knew he had no proof that James leaked the story, only a feeling.
“Detective Night?
“Yes sir. I’m thinking. What about the evidence from the abandoned house. Where did that go?”
“The FBI isn’t letting us know where everything is being taken? Right now, we are the foot soldiers James. We do what we are told.”
“Of course, Chief. I’ll do my best.”
“I need you to stay with this case and find who is responsible for this, no matter what the FBI says. People going missing like this is something that we have to get to the bottom of, before the killer…or killers…find their next victim.”
And for the first time, James saw a bit of fear in the Chief’s eyes.
“James!”
“Yes sir.”
“James, please listen to me and this is important,” the Chief looked dead serious. ‘I need you to promise me that nothing well happen to Charlene. She is all that I have.”
The Chief didn’t know what was going on between James and Charlene. But, things were going south, while he worked on the case with the girl with the violet dress. Nothing would get back to normal, until he laid her to rest.
“I’m done with this case, Chief. To think of it, I’m probably done with the Department.”
"Come on James. Are you hearing me? I have three more cases to work on. Three women have gone missing in three days. These aren’t hookers, too. These are people from the neighborhood. Who have just disappeared off the face of the earth for some reason. Each one disappeared at night.”
“I have to be honest with you. I don't know, if I can take this one.”
James stood with his back to the Chief and looking out the window.
"You have to James. There is something strange happening out there. We can’t let the people who pay us feel like they are not safe out there at night. Once that happens, they’ll start doubting the police force and then the whole system is in trouble.�
�
“Truth is. Since I almost got run down by that maniac, I feel out of it. Something happened to me back there."
"I know James. Charlene told me."
"Really? She told you?”
James was facing the window when he decided to share his curse with Chief Harris. He already told Charlene about his eyes. Suddenly, James slipped off his contact lenses, revealing his eyes that were as white as milk. Then, James turned around to the Chief.
“Did she tell you about this?”
James’s eyes sent a shiver up the Chief’s spine. But, he kept himself composed. The Chief’s reaction came in a calm way.
"Yes. She's my daughter, James. Of course, she told me.”
“Because of this, I’m not fit for duty. Not anymore.”
The Chief took a closer look at James’s eyes.
“I don’t know what kind of affliction you are struck with? But, don't worry about that, right now. My daughter says that you see as well as any other man out there with a badge and a gun. Right?"
"Yes. But..."
"But nothing. That’s good enough for me. You have a duty, Detective. This whole thing with the missing women is leaving a bad taste in my mouth."
"But..."
“But nothing. Think about Charlene. What if she were one of those women missing. Wouldn't you do anything to bring her back. Wouldn't you search the earth for her until you found her.”
For a moment, James thought about what the Chief said. He would search for her.
"Detective!” The Chief snapped him out of it.
“Okay. I’ll go out there again. But what about the mass grave.”
“It’s being taken care of. I’ll keep it out of the press, for now.”
During the morning, James Night wanted to take a look at the dumping field again. He led a group of foot patrol officers down Queens Boulevard. In the afternoon, he would follow up with the three cases that the chief assigned him.
James stood underneath the viaduct of the Queens Borough Bridge where several bags were found. At the each scene, every officer took James through how each bag was found. Other bags dotted several places down Queens Boulevard going east. James and the cops canvassed the area, retracing the moment each bag was found. Along the way, they spoke to several business owners, who might have seen something. But, no one saw a thing.
Never Wake the Dead Page 9
