by M. Z. Kelly
We approached the older model two-door sedan slowly, but moved quicker when we heard someone calling out from inside the car. As we got closer, we saw that two men had a girl trapped in the back seat. They had their pants down and appeared to be forcing themselves on her.
“Police,” Max said, after opening the driver’s side door. “Step out with your hands up.”
Della and Mavis opened the passenger side front door a moment later. We each had our hands on our service weapons as we heard a string of obscenities directed at us.
The girl’s voice rose above those of the two men. “I need to get out and go home.” She managed to haul herself into the front seat, where she pulled down her dress and buttoned her blouse. When she was on the sidewalk, she said to Della and Mavis, “What the fuck is this all about?”
Mavis had her by the arm. “Wait right here ‘til we get your friends out of the car, then we’ll talk.”
Max and I were preoccupied with trying to get the men into the front seat of the car, then onto the sidewalk, when we looked over and saw the girl had taken off, running down the street.
“Come back here!” Della shouted, as she and Mavis took off running after her.
The men we were trying to arrest took advantage of the distraction. One of them head-butted Max, sending her sprawling onto the sidewalk, while the other swung an arm in my direction. Seconds later, they were off, running up the street in the opposite direction from the girl.
I helped get Max back on her feet. We were about to give chase when she lowered her gaze and said, “Your arm, Mads. You been hurt, and it’s bad.”
I looked down and, even in the darkness, saw something was running down the sleeve of my jacket, dripping onto the sidewalk. It was blood!
TWELVE
“Della and Mavis got the girl,” Max said, a few hours later at Mercy Hospital. “Her name is Connie Jones, but the guy that sliced you open got away, along with his friend.”
I’d received twelve stitches to my arm after waiting in the ER most of the night. I was angry that I hadn’t reacted fast enough to ward off the attack.
“The guy who cut me must have had warrants,” I said, touching the bandage wrapping my arm. The only pain I’d felt wasn’t from the attack itself, but rather from the stitches.
“Jones said he calls himself Dexter and is a regular in the area. He’d brought his friend along for a freebie, but she wasn’t having any part of it. Della and Mavis are still out there, asking around about him.”
I forced a smile, thinking about my attacker’s name. “Maybe he’s a serial killer.”
Max and I looked up and saw Lieutenant Corker pushing the curtain back in the medical station where I’d been treated. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked unhappy about starting his day in a hospital.
“Looks like you got yourself a badge of honor,” Corker said, eyeballing me and probably mustering every ounce of compassion he possessed.
“It’s just a few stitches,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”
“How the hell did it happen?”
I chose my words carefully, suddenly wary that he might try to accuse me of violating policy. “A couple of johns were taking advantage of a working girl in the back seat of a car. Long story short, the girl ran, Max got head-butted, and a perp who goes by the name Dexter reached into his jacket, brought out a knife, and cut my arm. It all happened before we could react.”
“Mavis and Della caught the girl, so it’s just a matter of time before we get the guys,” Max added.
Corker nodded, rubbing his jaw but not saying anything, like he was trying to decide if we’d handled things wrong. He apparently came up empty, telling me, “Looks like you’ll be on the shelf for a few days. I’ll see you back in Blue when you’re medically cleared.” He looked at Max. “You’re expected back in Longwood for your duty assignment tonight.”
He abruptly turned and left.
Max looked at me, raising a brow. “Guess that’s what you call supporting the troops. You ‘bout ready to head home?”
“You go ahead. I’ll catch a ride later.”
“What’s up?”
“This is the hospital where Jessie Walker worked. Thought I’d ask around about her.”
She nodded. “You want me to help?”
I shook my head. “You’ve had a long night and need your rest, since you have to work tonight. I’ll see you at home.”
She left, and I waited around another half hour before the on-duty nurse, with a name tag that read Susan, gave me my discharge paperwork. After she finished reciting a litany of warnings about infection and follow-up treatment with my doctor, I asked her about Walker.
“I heard she was that girl who was murdered,” she said.
“I can’t go into details, but yes. Did you know her?”
“Just by name. I mostly work nights and I think she was on days. You might check with Human Resources about her duty assignment.”
I thanked her and, after asking around, learned that the hospital’s Human Resources department was in the basement. I went downstairs and spoke to the clerk, purposely not giving my name or showing my credentials to remain anonymous.
“There were two guys from your department by here a couple days ago,” the clerk said. “Jessie Walker worked on the fourth floor, C Wing, in the oncology department.” She looked at my bandaged arm. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Something like that. Thanks for the information.”
I was leaving the basement when I got a text from Amy, telling me that she’d heard about my injuries and that she was in the hospital. I met up with her in the cafeteria a few minutes later. Over coffee I told her about my night and being attacked by a john.
“Dexter, huh?” Amy said. “We find the guy, and I say we have ourselves a kill party.”
We’d both watched the TV show where the main character passed final judgment on those who didn’t deserve to live.
“I’d settle for the guy ending up behind bars,” I said. I changed the subject, mentioning Jessie Walker. “All I really know is she worked here on the fourth floor in Oncology.”
“Why don’t I go up there with you and poke around? It’s not like I got anything else to do, considering I’m a total loser.”
“You’re not a loser, and you need to get a grip. Things will get better for you.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her red hair. “If you say so. I’m not feeling very hopeful.”
I was about to offer her some encouragement when I heard the unmistakable sound of my Aunt Lucy’s high-pitched voice behind me. “There they are, Marvin.”
I turned, seeing that my aunt was with Uncle Marvin and his depraved son, Mojo.
“We heard from Benny Johns that you was nearly killed last night,” Aunt Lucy said, in a voice that reminded me of Edith Bunker from the old sit-com, All in the Family. My aunt, who raised me after my mother dumped me on her doorstep, was in her late fifties, with blue eyes and short bottle-brown hair.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just needed a few stitches.”
“I told you we shoulda checked things out before coming all this way,” Uncle Marvin told my aunt. My uncle was in his sixties, bald, with a big belly and skinny legs. “It cost us twenty bucks in cab fare to get here.”
I was about to respond when I realized that Amy and Mojo were arguing.
“Please,” Mojo said. “I just need something part-time to help with the rent.”
Mojo was Uncle Marvin’s love child from an affair he’d had with a porn star. I’d only recently learned the truth about Mojo’s pedigree when the facts came out after an ugly scene between my aunt and uncle. It had confirmed my suspicions that something was off with Mojo. My cousin was a pervert who practically tried to rape me on a couple occasions.
“You really expect me to hire you after you fuwked up my last case?” Amy told Mojo.
“The boy could use the work,” Uncle Marvin said. “Times are tough for all of us.”
�
��I heard you’re looking into the disappearance of that TV reporter,” Mojo said, with a grin that was reminiscent of every sex offender I’d ever arrested.
Marvin’s son was in his twenties, with bad teeth and a mottled complexion. An old horror movie about a young man who lived in a swamp and kidnapped women came to mind whenever I saw him.
Mojo went on. “I could go undercover, find out who was stalking her. I’d even be willing to stay with her a few days after I find her to offer protection.”
“Of course you would,” Amy said, scowling at him. “How do you know about my case?”
Mojo looked at me. “Madison mentioned it when she called.”
I confirmed that I’d told Aunt Lucy about the case, before she said to Amy, “Please, just give it some thought.” My aunt’s blue eyes swung in my direction. “Marvin and me are behind on the rent.”
Amy reluctantly agreed to call Mojo later about trying to find him some work, before he left with my aunt and uncle.
As we made our way to the elevators to head for the Oncology floor, Amy said, “You ever thought maybe Mojo’s got some kind of disorder?”
“Yes. It’s called pervertitis.” I remembered that he’d previously claimed he’d had a tumor on the frontal lobe of his brain that he said had been removed, claiming it caused excessive horniness, and mentioned it to Amy.
“All I know is if he did have a tumor, they didn’t get all of it, and it’s growing in his head like a giant penis.” We got on the elevator, and I punched the button for the fourth floor, as she added, “What am I gonna do with the idiot?”
“I think Max was able to get an address for Billy Mercer’s parents today. Maybe you could have him check into Billy’s background after we talk to his parents. It might be there was more going on between him and your client than anyone knows.”
“Maybe...”
Amy’s words and thoughts drifted away as the elevator doors opened, and a handsome man stood there. He was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. He smiled and said hello before taking the elevator down after we stepped out.
Amy’s eyes widened as the elevator doors closed. “I think I’m in love.”
I chucked. “Or, at least, lust.”
She turned, punching the down button on the elevator panel.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She got into a nearby elevator. Just before the doors closed, she said, “You handle Oncology. I’m having some chest pains and need to see a doctor.”
THIRTEEN
I got home to our cozy underground quarters around noon. I was exhausted after my long night and ordeal at the hospital, and went straight to bed. I woke up as Max was getting ready to head back to Hunts Point for her evening shift.
I pulled up a chair as she finished dinner and said, “Be careful out there. I have a feeling what happened last night isn’t that uncommon.”
She finished her coffee and nodded. “I’m gonna have a chat with Della and Mavis, talk about taking things real slow. You ask me, Corker sent us all to the Point for a reason, and it wasn’t for our health.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Amy joined us, looking a little down. I’d left her at the hospital after not making much progress on finding out anything about Jessie Walker.
“I take it things didn’t go well with the doctor,” I said.
She sighed. “It was pretty uneventful, except for the medical tests he ran on me.”
I looked at Max and said, “Amy fell in lust with a doctor at Mercy.” I looked back at my friend, suddenly worried about her medical condition. “What kind of tests did he do?”
“Just a breast exam. I’m hoping things get a little more gynecological tomorrow.”
My brows came together. “Are you kidding me?”
“’Course she’s kidding,” Max said. She looked at Amy. “I’m beginning to worry ‘bout you.”
She smiled. “At least it was a nice fantasy.” She looked at me. “He had a wedding ring on.” Another sigh. “I got loser karma.”
“You do not. Geeze, you need to get a grip.”
“You’re probably right.”
Max stood. “I gotta grab my gopher and hit the road,” she said to Amy. “Rosie got an address for Billy Mercer’s parents. It’s on the desk by the door, if you two wanna try tracking them down tonight.”
After she left, Amy made some calls and arranged to meet with Gloria Mercer the following afternoon. Since I was on medical leave, I agreed to go with her. We had opened a bottle of wine, expecting a quiet evening, when Thorndike’s niece, Katerina, knocked on our door.
After Amy let her inside and offered her a glass of wine, which she declined, Katerina said, “I be needing some advice, if you are willing to help me.”
Katerina, or Kat, as she recently told us she preferred, was in her twenties, with beautiful dark skin and large brown eyes. According to her uncle, she had some immigration issues and was living with him while he tried to resolve them.
“What’s going on, baby cakes?” Amy asked Kat, after she settled in on the sofa across from us. “My life is a shit storm, but I’m great at handing out advice.”
“It is Merrill,” Kat said. “We are having some trouble.”
Amy looked at me and rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you, it’s more man-karma.”
I ignored her and said to Kat, “What’s going on?”
“Merrill, he be wanting me to do some things I’m not sure I comfortable with.”
Amy’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “What exactly does he have in mind?”
“He be wanting me to dress the bodies for him.”
Amy looked at me. “I always suspected Merrill was kinky as hell.” She looked back at Kat. “What else does he want you to do with them? Don’t hold anything back, no matter how crazy it is.” When she didn’t respond, Amy said, “Don’t tell me he wants you to have sex with the dead?”
“I not sure, but I think something strange is going on with him.”
Amy looked at me, her eyes now as wide as two blue bowling balls. “Necrophilia,” she said with disgust. “Merrill’s fuwking dead people.”
I took a breath and looked at Kat. “Do you think that’s possible?”
She sighed. “I don’t know what to be thinking, but he be having some problems.”
“What kind of problems?” Amy asked.
“He having...how you say...trouble getting it up.”
“He can’t get a boner, cuz you’re breathing,” Amy said, raising her voice. She looked at me. “Do you think he’s homicidal? Like maybe he’ll kill Kat so he can have sex with her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I said to Kat, “Let me have a talk with him, so I can find out what’s going on.”
“I wanna be there when you do,” Amy said. “I gotta hear all the kinky details.” She looked at Kat. “Does he like male corpses, too?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She stood and headed for the door, but stopped and turned back to us. “By the way, I thought you should know my aunt will be visiting soon.”
“You mean Thorndike...I mean, Lola’s wife?”
“Yes. And I should probably be warning you: Dominika is...how you say…a little difficult.”
“How’s that?” Amy asked, going over to the door with her.
“She be...” Kat moved toward the door again but stopped before opening it. “You have a phrase in this country that describe her.”
“What’s that?”
“Dominika is what you be calling a royal pain in the ass.”
FOURTEEN
Christina Blaze sat on her bed, her basement prison illuminated by a single bare bulb. Despite the warnings given by her kidnapper, she’d tried breaking down the door at the top of the stairs. It was useless. The door was made of steel, and she thought it might be locked with a deadbolt. There were no windows here, except for a small opening at the top of the bathroom wall that had been sealed shut.
&
nbsp; She’d called out for help several times, but soon realized that was also useless. She had the sense that the house where she was being held was deserted and located somewhere in the woods. She’d panicked a couple times, thinking the man would never come back for her, and she’d starve to death locked in the room.
Her only solace in passing the time was a small TV. The reception wasn’t good, but she managed to find a couple channels, including the station where she worked. She’d watched the news several times, thinking there would be something about her abduction. There was nothing, and she wondered if anyone even knew she’d been kidnapped. Maybe her boss and the other staff in the newsroom thought she’d abandoned her job and were already looking for a replacement. A hopeless desperation engulfed her as she lay on the bed for hours, crying.
During those moments when she regained some composure, Christina thought about the man who had taken her. She’d only seen his dark eyes beneath the hood he wore, but something about him seemed familiar. Had she seen him at one time and somehow offended him? Maybe he’d even asked her out on a date and she’d turned him down. Was this all about revenge?
At first, she’d thought her abduction had something to do with Billy Mercer’s death. The emails she’d been getting, and the demands for money, made her think her abductor might be the man who’d been threatening her. But when she’d mentioned Billy, he seemed to be unaware of what she was talking about. She decided what was happening had nothing to do with the young man who’d died in college. This was something entirely different.
She then had another thought. Maybe the man was going to rape her. After he cleaned out her bank accounts, was he going to rape her? She’d read similar stories over the years, women who had been held captive and raped, with no possibility of escape. Feelings of hopelessness enveloped her again and she lay back on the bed, breaking down.
