by M. Z. Kelly
“Tell us what’s going on. Why is Maria trying to kill you?”
His uneven features drooped. “I helped her out with a situation and I think she’s afraid I’ll tell someone about it.”
“A situation. What the hell does that mean?”
“I borrowed something from the gym for her.”
“What kind of something?”
“Just something Maria said she needed.”
Amy grabbed him by the ear and twisted it. “Stop paying games. Tell us what the hell you took and why she wants to kill you.”
“Owww!” he cried, and twisted away from her. “Okay. She had me borrow a gun.”
“Whose gun?”
His gaze fell away as he rubbed his ear. “Alex’s.”
Amy looked at Max and me. “She had this idiot steal Alex’s gun so she could frame him for Bobo’s death.”
“That’s the way it sounds,” I agreed.
Amy looked back at Mojo. “What the hell did she give you for taking the gun?”
Mojo sniffed. “Just a few bucks...” He smiled. “And some time with the girls from Bobo’s club.”
Amy shook her head. “You’re disgusting. How much did she give you?”
“It was about five hundred, give or take.”
“Tell me something,” I said. “Why did Maria want Bobo dead?”
“I’m not sure, but she said something about him and Armando being assholes and getting what they had coming. I think she has some kind of grudge against both of them.”
“A grudge.” Amy looked at Max and me. “I think this is a hell of a lot more than a grudge.” She looked back at Mojo. “Here’s the plan. Use the money that Maria gave you to rent a room for a couple days, but consider it part of your salary from me. Take the battery out of your cell phone and lie low. Don’t show your ugly mug to the world until I say it’s okay to come out of hiding.”
“What you gonna do?”
“We’re going to find Armando, and then Maria and Sophia, and get to the bottom of this giant cluster-fuwk.”
SIXTY-FIVE
The drive to Sophia’s godfather’s house in Queens took us the better part of an hour. We knocked on the door of the small duplex apartment several times, but got no response.
“Let me try the neighbor,” Amy said, stepping off the landing. “I’m about to reach my frustration limit on this whole fuwking case.”
After a couple tries, an elderly man living next door finally responded to Amy ringing his bell and calling out. He was wearing an undershirt and drinking coffee.
“We’re trying to find Armando Guillermo and his wife,” Amy said. “Do you know if they’re home?”
The man’s gray eyes swept over us. “You cops?”
Amy shook her head. “Friends of his goddaughter, Sophia. She wanted us to check on him.”
The elderly man’s features softened. “It might be a good thing you came by. I was beginning to worry about them.”
“Why is that?”
“I haven’t seen them since the day before yesterday. It’s not like them.”
“I don’t suppose you have a key?”
He scratched his bald head. “Somewhere. Give me a moment.” He started into his house, then stopped and said, “I’m Larry, by the way.”
“Amy.” Her gaze moved over to us. “These are my friends, Madison and Max.”
He nodded in our direction, then went into the house while Amy came over to us. “I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this.”
“Maybe you should try calling Sophia,” I suggested. “It might be that she would be willing to meet us somewhere away from her sister and tell us what’s going on.”
Amy was about to respond when Larry came out of the house with a key. The sleeve of his shirt was wet and he said, “For some dumb reason, I put it in my fish tank for safe keeping.”
“If you wanna give me the key, I’ll check on things next door while you change your shirt,” Amy offered. “It’s freezing out here.”
He did as she suggested while we went over and unlocked the Guillermos’ front door.
“Hello,” Amy said, peeking inside. “Anybody home?”
When there was no response, we followed her inside and searched the small house. We found Armando Guillermo and his wife, in bed, shot through the head.
“Son of a bitch,” Amy said, after Max checked the bodies and confirmed they were dead. “This case is like dodging turds in a giant shit storm.”
“We need to find Sophia,” I said, as Amy’s phone rang.
“Speak of the devil,” she said as she answered the call. “Sophia, what the hell’s going on?”
“It’s my sister,” Sophia said, her voice hysterical and loud enough for both Max and me to hear her. “She killing everyone. Now she after me.”
SIXTY-SIX
We raced to the Baylor Grand Hotel, where Sophia had been staying with her sister. As I drove, Amy called the police, explaining that she was a PI and that Armando Guillermo and his wife were dead. She also explained about Sophia’s desperate call and that her sister was probably behind the murders of the couple and Bobo Calderon.
When she ended the call, she huffed out a breath and dragged a hand through her hair. “This is the world’s biggest crap storm.”
“What’d the police say?” Max asked from the back seat.
“They said they would dispatch a unit to Armando’s place. I’m not sure they believed me about Sophia and her sister. They said a supervisor would call me back.”
“By then it will be too late,” I said. “Sophia sounded desperate.”
Amy agreed. “I got a little background on things from Sophia before she ended the call. It seems that Bobo’s father was a big-time drug dealer in Colombia. Sophia, Maria, and their younger sister, Tatiana, were kidnapped when they were children and forced to work in the jungles in the drug trade.
“Alex was Bobo’s enforcer and apparently ended up killing Tatiana when she tried to escape. Her murder resulted in Sophia and Maria hatching a plan over the years to pay back both Alex and Bobo. Sophia admitted that she and Maria were stealing from the two men, and that Maria had set up Alex for Bobo’s murder, using the gun that Mojo stole.”
“You believe things went that way?”
“I’m not sure. It could be that both Sophia and Maria framed Alex for Bobo’s murder. And, it looks like Maria wanted to cut everyone out of the money she stole, including Armando and her sister.”
When we got to the hotel, Amy got another desperate call from Sophia, telling her that she was on the roof of the building and that her sister was coming for her. She ended the call as I pulled to the curb in front of the hotel, and we ran to the elevator. When we got to the top floor, we found a stairway with access to the roof. Max and I had our guns drawn as we burst through the door.
“Police!” I yelled, seeing that Maria had Sophia at gunpoint. Amy’s client was holding her baby in her arms near the building’s railing. “Drop your weapon, Maria. It’s over.”
Sophia’s sister turned to us, but kept the gun on Sophia. “Why you here?”
“We know everything that’s happened,” Amy said, as we moved closer. “We know about you embezzling money from Bobo and stealing from Alex. We also know that you set up Alex for Bobo’s murder, using the gun that Mojo stole.”
Maria turned to her sister, her voice choking with emotion. “You tell them everything, but you don’t understand about Armando.”
“What you talking about?” Sophia asked, through her tears.
“He molest me when I was a girl, and his wife knew all about it. They both get what they deserved.”
Sophia sobbed, clutching Isabel to her breast. “I sorry, Maria, but it’s over now. Put the gun down.”
Maria shook her head slowly, then lowered her weapon. She looked over at us, the resignation in her voice apparent. “I don’t be going with you.”
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Max said.
Even as Ma
x spoke to her, Maria had stepped over the railing. She hesitated, then looked at her sister. “I sorry, Sophia. I should have been better sister. I go see Tata now.”
Sophia’s pleas for her to stop were ignored. Maria teetered on the edge of the roof, even as we rushed over and tried to grab hold of her. It was too late. She slipped out of our grasp and fell to the sidewalk below.
Sophia’s sister was dead, a victim of greed borne from a lifetime of abuse, and a desperate desire for revenge.
SIXTY-SEVEN
My friends and I got home late in the afternoon, after giving our statements to the police. After sorting things out, Sophia had been arrested for conspiracy to commit theft and the murder of Bobo Calderon, although she insisted her sister had acted alone in the killing. Amy didn’t believe her, recounting what Sophia had told her about their plans over the past several years. She thought that Sophia was likely complicit in both Bobo’s death and Alex being framed for it.
We collapsed into our beds when we got home and slept for a few hours before gathering in our living room and going over the day’s events again. Amy’s frustration over the developments was obvious. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but it looks like Sophia used me as cover for her and Maria killing Bobo and framing Alex. And, with her in jail, I’m out a big payday.”
“Mads and me will help out with the rent, if needed,” Max said. “Despite everything that happened, I’d say we had a pretty good day yesterday. The Pierce brothers are in jail, and Maria’s killing spree is over.”
“They caught the brothers?” I asked.
She held up her phone. “It’s all over the news. They were found hiding in a boatyard just across the state line and surrendered.”
I sighed. “Thank God.”
“Can I ask you something?” Amy said to Max.
“’Course.”
“Remy’s case, it seemed personal to you. Why is that?”
Max’s heavy shoulders rose, then fell as she exhaled. “I had a friend, a young girl about Remy’s age, who was murdered when we were in college. I made a vow to never forget her and find justice for anybody in similar circumstances.” She brushed a tear. “It’s the reason I became a cop.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “You did good, Max.”
Amy seconded what I said, then asked, “How do you guys think everything will play out with the department, with you two having been involved in helping capture a couple of killers?”
“We’re going to have to notify our new lieutenant,” I said, looking at Max. “There’s no telling how Corker will take it.”
Max shrugged. “We helped break the case, so I don’t think we got much to worry about. I also had a chat with Officer Davis about Darnell Howser who was pimping out Remy and working the area over on Lexington Street. He’s making it his personal mission to take the asshole down.”
I sighed. “I hope you’re right—about our new lieutenant, I mean. Corker will find a way to make our lives miserable.”
“What about that Holmes guy?” Amy asked me. “Have you heard from him?”
“Yeah, he called me when we got home this afternoon. I filled him in on everything that happened with the Pierce brothers.”
“You have any idea who he is?” Max asked.
I shook my head. “No, but he said he wants to stay in touch. I get the feeling he’s somebody who’s just interested in finding justice for victims that the system fails.”
After chatting about the case for a couple minutes, I asked Amy about Mojo.
“He called just after we got home this afternoon. I told him he could come out of hiding and call the police, so he could make a statement.”
“I wonder if he’ll be charged as an accessory.”
“I doubt it. I think he was too stupid to realize why Maria offered him cash and hookers for Alex’s gun. As usual, he was thinking with his wallet and his dick.”
I’d checked myself in my compact mirror while she spoke. “I think my green tan is finally starting to fade.”
“Yeah, me too. I look halfway normal again, but not good enough to post anything on GuySwatter yet. What do you say we get our hair done this weekend?”
I nodded. “I could use some help, since Sam and I are still scheduled for the coldest picnic on the planet.”
“Too bad we didn’t make it to tonight’s Sex Ed class. You and Max could use the lust ‘n’ thrust refresher course. Me too, if I ever find a guy.”
“I doubt that Sam and I are ready to do the lust ‘n’ thrust.” I looked at Max. “Not sure about you and Sonny.”
Max smiled. “I ain’t sure either, but I don’t need no course on what comes natural.”
There was a knock on the door. Amy went over and said hello to Katerina, letting her inside. After Max and I exchanged greetings with her, she told us why she was there.
“I know you been looking for a fellow for me, but I want you to know I find somebody.”
“Don’t tell me it’s that little weasel, Mojo,” Amy said.
Katerina giggled. “No, I smarter than that. Actually, my guy is working for Uncle Lola.”
“Are you talking about Darryl or Merrill?” I asked.
“Merrill. He close to my own age, and I think we be a good match.”
I looked at my friends. “He wouldn’t be my first choice, but I guess she could do worse.”
“Just take things slow,” Max told her. “He and Darryl have some issues, and I doubt that your uncle’s going to be too happy ‘bout you dating him.”
Katerina smiled. “I keep it a secret, for now.”
“I think that’s a smart move,” Amy said. Her eyes fixed on the rolled-up paper Katerina had in her hand. “What’s that?”
“I find it in a room near where I been working. I think it some kind of map.”
She showed us what looked like a weathered roll of parchment paper. Amy took it from her, released the string tying it, and unrolled it on the coffee table.
“Holy shit,” Amy said. “It is some kind of map. It must be over a hundred years old.”
After studying the document for a couple minutes, I said, “I think this is the original plan for the cemetery, the chapel, and underground rooms.” I pointed out the different buildings on the grounds and the maze of passageways beneath them.
Max agreed with me, then traced her finger across the map to a prominent monument that was still in the graveyard.
She read the epithet written on the monument aloud. “Abbandonare la speranza, tutti voi che entrate qui.” She looked at us. “Anybody got any idea what the hell that means?”
“It is Italian,” Katerina told her. “I study the language in school.”
“Can you translate it?”
She nodded. “I think it was taken from the poet named Dante. It say, abandon hope, ye who enter here.”
The room was quiet before Amy finally said, “Maybe the marker shows another way into the underground passages beneath the cemetery.”
“I think maybe it being the catacombs. Uncle Lola say something about it once.”
Woody had told me and Max that the cemetery had been called the Killing Fields at one time because of the bodies dumped there. If this was an entrance to the Killing Fields, it looked like it had existed for decades.
I asked Katerina, “Have you ever been down there?”
She shook her head. “I afraid. It not a good place.”
Amy stood. “What do you say we go take a look at the monument, see if we can find a way inside.”
After some discussion, and Katerina expressing her fears again, we convinced her to go with us. Amy stopped at the hall closet, where she kept a toolbox. She retrieved a pair of bolt cutters and held them up. “The PI’s weapon of choice. Just in case we need a little help getting inside.”
It was freezing in the graveyard. We wrapped our coats tighter as we made our way, through the snow, over to the monument, which was the size of a small house.
We stopped and looked
up at the imposing structure and the inscription that Katerina had interpreted earlier. Dante’s words and the iron gate to the crypt made me think of the place as maybe actually being the entrance to hell.
“Don’t know if anybody’s buried here,” Max said, apparently having similar thoughts to mine, “but, if they are, I got a feeling things aren’t so good in the afterlife.”
Amy rattled the rusted iron gate, finding it was locked. She looked back at us. “What do you say I use the key I brought?”
“We’ve come this far,” I said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
As Amy worked on the lock, I asked Katerina what her uncle had said about the catacombs.
“Not too much. Just that it a very bad place.”
Amy looked back at her. “I wonder what the little creep is hiding. Sorry, but I got a feeling your uncle has lots of secrets.”
“Me too. I not thinking I can trust Lola sometimes.”
Despite having bolt cutters, Amy took several minutes and lots of ah, fuwks to cut the lock. After working on the gate, with Max’s help, she finally managed to pry open the rusted door.
As the door creaked open, Max and I used our flashlights to illuminate the dark passageway beyond it. A narrow stairway appeared to recede underground, beneath the existing cemetery.
“I’m getting me some vibes about this place, and none of them are any good,” Max said.
“I scared,” Katerina said.
Amy turned to her. “You live in a fuwking graveyard.” She took her by the arm. “Suck it up and stick with me.”
We moved down the stairway, with Amy and her reluctant companion leading the way. We were probably fifty feet below the existing cemetery when the passageway turned and opened up to a large underground room. We stopped, using our flashlights to illuminate the area.
A series of numbered grave markers were scattered around the area, along with hundreds of crypts lining the walls. Everything about the place was unnerving, like we’d stepped back in time to the way a graveyard might have looked hundreds of years ago.
