The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy)

by Marvin Amazon

  “Very well. I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  “What is it?” Annabel blurted.

  “The NYPD discovered a body this morning—”

  Annabel screamed and dropped the phone to the floor, breathing heavily as she held back tears. She put the phone back to her ear.

  “Miss Lopez, are you there?”

  “What happened? Where did you find her?”

  “At Pelham Bay Park, ma’am. Her face was badly mutilated, practically unrecognizable, in fact. We’ve had to use her ID to identify her for now. We’re waiting on dental records and fingerprints, too, but we need someone to formally identify her. I was hoping you could do that for us.”

  She put the phone down. “That fucking bastard,” she muttered under her breath. “That fucking ... She held her hands to her chest and took several deep breaths before placing the phone back to her ear. “What do I have to do?”

  “I would greatly appreciate it if you could come down to the station. I’m happy to send a car to get you if you would prefer.”

  “No, that’s fine,” she said. “Which one?”

  “The Ninth Precinct, ma’am.”

  Annabel wrote down the address and hung up. She stood trembling in the same spot for nearly five minutes before screaming. She picked up her perfume and threw it against the window before throwing everything on her side table to the floor, smashing a few more bottles of fragrance. The tears flowed continuously, her hands planted on top of her head. She slumped to the floor, wailing and smashing her hands against the hard mahogany.

  ***

  As she traveled to the police station, she hoped her sunglasses would prevent the taxi driver from noticing her bloodshot eyes or asking questions. Numerous ideas about what might have happened to Penélope ran through her head. There was no doubt in her mind—if it was Penelope’s body the police found—who the killer was.

  She pushed the “dial” button for the twelfth time since hearing the news. She was diverted to Penélope’s voice mail once more. “Fuck,” she screamed.

  The taxi driver turned his head. “Everything all right, ma’am?”

  Annabel scowled at him. He was a burly man with bright red hair and freckles. “Mind your fucking business and drive, mister.” She fixed her gaze on the crowded sidewalks.

  Twenty minutes later, the cab came to a stop. Annabel’s watch said 1 p.m. She flung a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and held the door handle.

  “You got anything smaller?” he asked.

  Annabel rummaged through her purse, grunting in frustration. “Just give me whatever change you’ve got.”

  The driver sighed and handed her two twenty-dollar bills. Annabel got out and walked toward the police station, her hands shaking uncontrollably. A number of male passersby smiled at her, along with some police officers. She frowned at most of them, close to hurling insults. She didn’t feel especially attractive in her dark skinny jeans, flat shoes and plain white shirt. She assumed they were staring at her double-D breasts.

  She reached the entrance and looked through the glass doors. She hastily turned around upon seeing a large policeman leading a woman away in handcuffs, presumably to the cells. She wondered why she was so anxious. After all, she had not done anything wrong. She pulled a cigarette from its packet, her mind still racing, before shoving it back in. Just then a voice startled her.

  “Can I help you?” the person repeated.

  She glanced to her right to see a slim man in a black suit holding a briefcase. She straightened. “I need to see a Detective Jack Monroe.”

  The man pushed the door open. “No problem at all. Please take a seat. I’ll get him for you.” He walked past a line of people toward a set of large doors at the end of the room. Annabel suddenly felt all eyes on her, searching, questioning eyes boring through her. She walked to the seats in the waiting area and sat between a slim blond woman and an elderly man.

  A short, slightly chubby man with thinning brown hair entered through the back doors five minutes later, holding a thick folder in his hand. He nodded at the woman at the front reception desk as he approached Annabel. “Annabel Lopez?”

  Annabel stood and nodded.

  The man held out his hand. “I’m Detective Monroe.” Annabel shook his hand. “Please, my car’s just in the lot. I thought we’d get the identification out of the way first.” He gestured toward the entrance and stood aside. Annabel put her handbag over her shoulder and walked toward the door, the detective close behind her.

  ***

  Annabel held her hand beneath her mouth as she walked through the long winding corridor leading to the morgue. At the thought of seeing her friend’s body, she felt a heave waiting in her throat. The detective pushed a thin wooden door open and walked into a dimly lit room.

  Annabel held her breath upon entering, scared of what the place would smell like. A gaunt man in a white coat approached them. “Detective Monroe, here again so soon?”

  “Hi, Mike. We’re here to perform identification on our victim.”

  The man in the white coat glanced at Annabel, a hint of pity creeping onto his face. “Sure, this way.” He led them through a side door into a room where three gurneys were covered with white cloths.

  Annabel resumed breathing normally. The room didn’t smell as foul as she’d imagined. Instead, a sharp rusty odor filled her nose, as if antiseptic had been sprayed.

  The man walked to the middle gurney and placed his hands over the cloth. Annabel squealed and covered her mouth with her hand. Both men looked at her, and Monroe nodded at Mike. The morgue assistant held his hands on the edge of the cloth as Monroe led Annabel toward the gurney. When Mike pulled back the cloth, Annabel thrust her head toward the floor and vomited. Monroe kept his hand on her back and looked at Mike.

  “I’ll get some water,” Mike said and left the room.

  Monroe eased Annabel to a corner of the room. “It’s okay if you need more time,” he said.

  “No. I’ve got to do this now. It’ll drive me mad otherwise.”

  Mike returned with a glass of ice water. Annabel took a swig and spit it into a nearby sink before gulping down the rest. After taking a deep breath, she nodded at Monroe, who led her toward the body again.

  She took small steps until she was standing directly over the corpse. It was severely mutilated, with numerous cuts and tears across the flesh. The mouth was crooked and the nose broken in multiple places. She winced and turned away.

  Monroe put his arm around her. “I know this is difficult. I doubt her own mother would be able to identify her in this state, but anything you can do will greatly assist us.”

  Annabel glanced at the body once more and quickly looked away. “What do you mean?”

  “Has she got any marks on her body you might recognize? Anything you know of?”

  Holding her breath, Annabel turned back to the corpse. Monroe nodded at Mike, who retracted the cloth further, revealing the dead woman’s genitals. Annabel grimaced and stepped back.

  “What is it?” Monroe asked. “What did you see?”

  “Her right breast. That tattoo.”

  Monroe examined the body closely. “It’s a heart, Cupid’s heart. Have you seen it before?”

  Annabel nodded. “Penny got it when she got back from Mexico.” She lifted her sleeve to the top of her left shoulder, revealing an identical tattoo. “We got them at the same time.” She looked at the body and sobbed quietly. “It’s definitely her.”

  Monroe put his arms round her. “Okay, okay. That’s all we need right now.” He nodded at Mike, who covered the body. He led Annabel out of the morgue and back to his car.

  ***

  Back at the police station, Annabel studied the room she sat in and wiped the last streaks of tears from her face. Two cameras hung on the wall behind her, another two on the opposite wall. The room was small and claustrophobic. A wall-mounted monitor was opposite her on the right side of the room, a live feed of her displayed on it. Her watch said 2 p.m.�
�she hated waiting for people, especially at such delicate times.

  The door swung open a few minutes later and Detective Monroe stepped in. He spoke through the open door to a thin woman in a suit. Annabel struggled to hear what he said. The policeman shut the door and took a seat opposite her.

  She leaned forward in her chair. “Why am I here? I thought you just wanted me to identify Penny’s body.”

  The man pulled a pad out of his folder and wrote something on it. “That’s just part of it, Miss Lopez.” He stared at her intently. “A woman’s been brutally murdered, your friend.” He jotted something down on the pad again, his face expressionless. “And I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” He laid the pen down and smiled. “Relax, I just want to ask you some questions about yesterday.”

  “Questions? Am I a suspect?”

  Monroe shook his head and stood up. “Take it easy, this is just routine. We’re just trying to find out what happened to your friend.”

  I know what fucking happened. He killed her. She scowled at the wall, her breathing getting heavier and heavier.

  “Everything all right, Miss Lopez?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. What do you want to know?”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Yesterday. We went out for drinks.”

  “Did anything seem wrong? Has she been having problems at home? At work? Anything at all you can give me?”

  Annabel wiped away a tear. “Penny was fine. There was nothing wrong with her. You’re wasting your time talking to me anyway. You should be talking to her boyfriend.”

  “And why is that?”

  Annabel looked at the floor.

  Monroe relaxed in his chair and folded his arms. “Miss Lopez, if you have something to say, please say it.”

  She reached into her handbag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. “Is there anywhere I can go for a smoke?”

  Monroe slammed both hands on the table. Annabel glared at him. He walked toward her. “We have a dead body lying in the morgue, Miss Lopez. A friend of yours, I might add. You’re going to tell me what I want to know or you won’t be leaving.” He paused upon noticing her grinning. He took his seat and lowered his voice. “So now you think this is funny?”

  “I’m not saying another word until you tell me exactly what I’m doing here.” She looked him straight in the eye.

  Monroe was silent for a moment, as if trying to explore other ways to persuade her to talk. “Look, this conversation is merely because you were one of the last people who saw her. The truth is this: I need your help. Anything you give me will be better than what we have right now.”

  Annabel frowned. “And who told you I was one of the last people with her? Antonio?”

  Monroe flipped through some papers. “Mr. Cabrera informed us of her disappearance. He also told us you were one of the last people to see her alive, yes. It was a stroke of luck those tourists found her body when they did.”

  “I’m sure he had so much information for you,” she said under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Again, is this official?”

  “I’m just trying to find out what happened. We can, of course, make it official if you want, but that will just slow the whole process down. Don’t you want us to catch the bastard who did this? I just need you to meet me halfway. Tell me anything you know.”

  “Don’t you find it convenient that he reported her missing after just a few hours?”

  “He was just being a concerned boyfriend. She didn’t come back, and he felt compelled to report it.”

  She leaned forward. “What the fu—do you even know who the hell Antonio is?” She folded her arms.

  “I think every police officer in New York knows who he is. That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of every murder in our city.”

  “But you know how sadistic that pig is. All the coke he shoves up his nose—can’t you arrest him for that?” She stood and pointed at Monroe. “He should be the one in here being questioned, not me.” She slammed her hand against the table, anger filling her face. “I know he knows something.” Her voice had become unsteady. “He—”

  The detective waited until he saw she had calmed down before speaking. “I understand your frustration. Your friend dates a man you absolutely despise and she winds up dead. Naturally, you believe he might have killed her.”

  She turned away and frowned at the wall.

  “Help me, Miss Lopez. Believe it or not, I’m here to help. I want to find your friend’s killer just as much as you do. Did she meet anyone last night?”

  Annabel stared at him.

  Monroe held both his hands out. “You have to be honest with me. Any information will be invaluable in finding your friend’s killer.”

  “There was this one guy she met. He was nice. We met him at the Roof Garden, but there’s no way he was the one who killed her.”

  “That’s for us to decide. Do you have a name?”

  Annabel pulled a cigarette from the pack. “Can I please have a smoke now? I’ll answer your questions afterward.”

  “Just answer the question, Miss Lopez, and you can have your cigarette afterward.”

  “Tobias. His name was Tobias.”

  The detective wrote in his pad. “Does he have a last name?”

  Annabel gave him a sarcastic look. “I’m sure he does, Detective, but I don’t know it.”

  Monroe continued taking notes. “And you met him at this nightclub, Roof Garden?”

  Annabel nodded. She told him the entire story up to the point when she’d bade Penélope farewell. “I can honestly tell you that she definitely left Tobias’ friend’s place. She texted me when she got in the cab.” She pulled her cell phone from her bag. “Look, I have the text here to prove it.”

  “We already know that, ma’am.”

  Annabel held her palms up. “What?! So if you know she left, you know she went back home then?”

  The detective nodded, writing on his pad simultaneously.

  “Then you know that pig killed her, right?”

  Monroe put his pen down. “Actually, we don’t know that. Let me tell you what we do know. Your friend did return home. Statements from eyewitnesses state that she returned to her apartment just after 3 a.m. Some even mentioned hearing a ruckus and loud shouting.”

  Annabel stood up. “What did I tell you? He killed her.”’

  “Please let me finish.”

  Annabel sat back down.

  “They heard noises coming from the apartment, but those same neighbors say that she left about two hours later on her own.”

  Annabel put both hands on her head. “But that can’t be.”

  “You have to accept it. Antonio didn’t kill her. Trust me, I would love to put this one on his head, but I have to follow the evidence.” He put all the sheets of paper back in the folder. “It appears that they argued and she left him. Eyewitnesses say she had a suitcase with her. My guess is that she maybe went back to see this guy Tobias. Whether he killed her or not, I don’t know. It’s highly likely, though, that he was the last person to see her alive. We just need to speak to him, that’s all.”

  Annabel frowned and stood up. “Can I have my cigarette now, please?”

  Monroe rose and opened the door. “I just have one more question and then you can leave.”

  She glared at him. “What?”

  “Do you know where Tobias lives? Or where he stayed yesterday even?”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t lie to me, young lady.”

  “I don’t know. I swear.”

  “Fine.”

  Annabel strode toward the door until Monroe stopped her with another question.

  “Do you know if she gave him anything?”

  She frowned.

  “Anything at all. Did she mention giving him anything?”

  A shudder went through her body. Could he be talking about... No way, there’s no way he could know about it, unless...She suppress
ed the thought. “I don’t know about her giving him anything.”

  Monroe nodded and signaled for her to leave. When she had one foot out the door, the detective added, “Make sure you don’t leave town. Not yet anyway.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked out.

  4. Rumors

  Tobias grimaced as he poured straight vodka down his throat. He dialed Penélope’s number for the fifth time that afternoon, but again it went straight to voice mail. He bit at his fingernails and wiped sweat from his face. Where was she and why hadn’t she contacted him?

  Chris lay on the cabana chair beside him, his sunglasses covering his eyes. They had been chatting for forty-five minutes in the outside section of the Roof Garden, Tobias worrying about Penélope’s well-being all the while.

  “What’s wrong, bro?” Chris asked, sitting up. “You’ve had that worried face all afternoon.”

  Tobias dropped his cell onto the chair and frowned. “I’m going out of my mind here.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Remember that girl from yesterday? The hot one in the white?”

  Chris smiled. “Come on, like I could forget her.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. She went home with me last night, and I tell you, it was, like, the best night of my life. I mean, she was like this angel who made every single nerve in my body tingle. She was amazing.”

  “So what’s the fucking problem, man?” Chris lay back down.

  Tobias stood and glanced toward the inner section, where two waitresses wiped tables. He knelt in front of Chris, who sat up to meet his gaze. “I don’t know,” Tobias said. “One minute we’re lying in bed and talking, and the next she gets this weird phone call.”

  “So?”

  “No, you don’t get it. She was scared shitless, like someone was going to hurt her.”

  “What happened after that?” Chris said.

  “It rang a few more times and then she asked me to call her a taxi, but I haven’t been able to get through to her cell ever since.”

  Chris sighed and stood up. “It’s probably nothing, you know. She probably has a boyfriend or something.”

  “I thought that, but she didn’t look guilty about cheating—she looked terrified. I’m really worried, man.”