by M. Z. Kelly
“You really have gone off the deep end.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m a mess.”
I blew my nose and tried to move the conversation past her crazy suggestion. “So, the GuySwatter guy really was crazy?”
“I seen a lotta lunatics in my time, but this guy was right up there with Corey Wendlotski. I think he actually believed he could see ghosts in the park.”
Wendlotski was a guy Amy had dated in college, who was arrested for exposing himself in a movie theater during their date.
I sighed. “All I know is that we’re total losers when it comes to men.”
Her head slumped forward and she nodded. “You think we should jump one another?”
“What?”
“Bump donuts.”
“Huh?”
“God, you’re slow, Mads.” She looked at me. “Become lovers.”
“Are you kidding?”
She smiled. “Yeah. I’m afraid you don’t got the equipment I need, unless you got a strap-on in your bedroom drawer.”
“Sorry, you’re out of luck.” I couldn’t help but laugh, which caused Amy to laugh along. Misery loves company. We collapsed into one another’s arms, laughing hysterically.
We finally regained some control, and I said, “So, what do we do now?”
Amy looked at me with a serious expression on her face. She picked up her phone and said, “Maybe we should take another look at the profiles on GuySwatter.”
FIFTY-THREE
Amy and I didn’t get on the road to Kingston until noon the next day because we both had major hangovers. She let me drive, as she complained about both her headache and her life.
“Maybe I should find out where Darryl and Merrill are living and join their zombie commune, since I feel like I’m half dead.”
Even though I’d taken something for my headache, I commiserated with her. “Save room for me. And do me a favor: never let me drown my sorrows over a guy again.”
“Maybe we should form a man-hater club, sell those t-shirts I mentioned last night.”
“Let’s not even go there.”
Amy drew in a couple breaths, pushed her hair out of her eyes. “So, Sam really called you this morning?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t answer.”
“You gonna eventually talk to him?”
“I don’t know. I’m so angry, there’s no telling what I’d say.” I cut my eyes to her for a moment. “Let’s talk about something else.”
After driving in silence for a couple minutes, she brought up her case. “I been thinking we’re missing something.”
“As in…?”
“We know this whole kidnapping and extortion thing goes back to Billy Mercer’s death. Both Christina and Jeremy were involved in what happened. It might be that Christina ain’t as innocent as we’ve been led to believe.”
“You think she might have been helping Jeremy harass Billy and caused his death?”
“Maybe. I don’t think we can rule anything out. There’s also the issue of Billy’s mom being murdered. She had to know the truth about what happened to Billy, and it cost her her life.”
“But why wouldn’t she tell us? What would be in it for her to keep quiet?”
Amy looked at me. “If we find the answer to your question, I think we solve the case.” She chewed on a nail and moved the discussion to Jessie Walker and the hospital deaths. “I wonder what’s going on with Mojo.”
“Have you heard from him since he said he was going undercover at the hospital?”
“Not a peep, and he hasn’t answered my texts. Maybe we should try and track him down on our way back into the city.”
“Works for me, as long as we get through at a decent hour.”
We met Edgar Lemon in a bar in Kingston, called Jethro’s, that overlooked the Hudson River. It was a pretty setting, made ugly by Amy’s assistant. Lemon was an ex-cop, pushing sixty and overweight, with just a few strands of graying black hair on his balding noggin. His bulbous nose was the product of spending most of his life with it stuck in a whiskey glass.
“I see you brought the jinx,” Lemon said, referring to me, as we took seats next to him on the deck overlooking the river.
His reference was to rumors he’d heard about other officers calling me a jinx because I ended up in Precinct Blue.
“It’s Detective Knox to you,” I said, scowling at him. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept your nickname for me to yourself.”
He shrugged. “Just saying what I hear.”
Amy intervened, probably realizing that I was ready to slug him. “Tell us what you know about this Benedict asshole and his ties to this area.”
Lemon drained half his whiskey. “Your boy has a small cabin outside of town. I went by there last night and watched the place for a while. He’s with a dark-haired woman. She could be your client.”
“I need the address.”
Lemon scratched it on a cocktail napkin, pushed it across the table. “The place is down a narrow driveway and overlooks the river.”
Amy took the napkin and put the address in her phone. “What else?”
Lemon sniffed, finished his drink. “I think there’s someone else at the cabin, a third party.”
“Any idea who?”
He shook his head. “There’s a second car in the driveway, but it’s a rental.” He pushed his empty glass away. “You want me to go with you?”
Amy looked at me, raising a brow. I gave a slight shake of my head, and she said, “No. Mads and me got this.”
Lemon looked at me. “I hear Blue is relocating next week, right across from the commish’s office, so he can keep an eye on things.” He looked at my bandaged wrist. “Too bad you’re going to miss the festivities.”
“What kind of festivities?”
He shrugged. “From what I hear, the brass is inviting the press to the opening of the new reform school. All you rejects are getting your fifteen minutes of fame.”
***
After leaving the bar, Amy and I made the twenty-minute drive to Benedict’s cabin. The area was heavily wooded, with the cabin off the main road down the narrow driveway, just as Lemon had described.
“We can’t see a damn thing from here,” Amy said, after I pulled off the road. “We’re gonna have to hide the car, then backtrack up here and cut through the woods.”
The afternoon had turned colder, and rain was threatening. The last thing I wanted was to trek through the woods, but I didn’t see any other alternative.
“It looks like there’s a turnout up there,” I said, pulling back onto the roadway. “Let’s park and work our way back.”
We parked and bundled up, then we made our way back down the road and cut through the woods, keeping the narrow driveway leading to Benedict’s cabin in sight as we went. We were approaching the house when headlights suddenly swept over the trees around us.
“Get down,” Amy said.
We ducked lower, staying out of sight. I caught a glimpse of a man and woman in the car as they passed, but couldn’t identify either of them.
When the car was gone, I asked Amy, “Do you think that was Christina and Benedict?”
She stood. “Maybe. I can’t be sure. Let’s take a look at the house.”
We made our way over to the driveway and, in a couple minutes, were in the yard. There was a car next to the house, and a light on inside the residence.
“Let’s move up to the windows, see if we can see anybody,” Amy whispered.
I followed her and, in a moment, we were standing with our backs against the house, ready to look through the window. The front door suddenly swung open, and a woman stepped out. Amy and I glanced at one another, trying to make sense of what we were seeing.
The woman who came out of the house was Christina Blaze’s mother, Effie.
FIFTY-FOUR
“We need to know what’s going on,” Amy said, after we went over and confronted Blaze.
“It’s not what you think,” she
said, obviously shocked at seeing us there.
“Here’s what I think,” Amy said. “Your daughter is involved in some kind of fake blackmail scheme, and you’re part of it.”
Blaze’s voice pitched higher, just short of a scream. “You don’t understand! Benedict has my daughter. You’ve got to stop him.”
“First things first,” Amy said, taking her by the arm. “You’re gonna explain everything that’s been going on.”
We went inside the house, where we took seats at a kitchen table, and Amy began with her questions. “Let’s start by going back to Billy Mercer. Was your daughter involved in his death?”
“No. It was Jeremy Halsey, like I told you. Christina tried to stop the harassment, but Billy couldn’t take it and committed suicide.”
“Then why was Halsey trying to blackmail Christina? And what’s your involvement in everything?”
“Jeremy somehow found out about her trust fund and used Harold Washington to send the emails to Christina, demanding money. He said if she didn’t cooperate, he would blame her for Billy’s death and end her career.”
“Was Washington in on the kidnapping scheme?”
“I think so, but then he got arrested. That’s when Halsey brought Aaron Benedict into things. When Benedict turned on Halsey at the bank and shot him, he realized Christina’s money was off limits. That changed everything, and he came after me.”
“But why you? What’s your involvement?”
Effie sighed. “As you know, when my brother died, he left a trust fund to Christina. What you probably don’t know is that he left the rest of his estate to me. It’s worth several million.”
“And Benedict wants it,” Amy said. “That’s why you agreed to meet him here.”
She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I agreed to give him five million dollars. Otherwise, he said, he’s going to kill Christina.”
Amy and I glanced at one another. I said to Blaze, “I think I’m still missing something. Who is Aaron Benedict, and how did he become involved in this scheme with Halsey and the others?”
Blaze brushed her tears away and said something I never expected. “I think Benedict has been behind everything that’s been happening from the start. He’s Billy Mercer’s stepbrother.”
FIFTY-FIVE
Effie Blaze told us that she had convinced Aaron Benedict she would need a day to contact her bank and arrange for the transfer of funds. Amy and I urged her to call the FBI and let them know what was happening. She refused, telling us that she’d had some past issues with the federal government and didn’t trust them. Amy and I discussed how to handle things, as I drove us back into the city.
“I hate to say it,” Amy said, “but maybe you should call Sam. See what he suggests.”
I glared at her. “Don’t even go there. I wouldn’t call him if he was the last man on the planet.”
She exhaled. “Then I guess it’s up to you and me to take Benedict down.”
“Yeah, well, any ideas on how we do that?”
“We need to arrange for Effie to meet him and Christina again on neutral territory, then take things from there.”
“Neutral territory. That covers a lot of ground.”
“Let me think about it. In the meantime, let’s stop by Mercy Hospital. Mojo finally texted me and said he’s there.”
I was exhausted from the day’s events, but knew it was critical that we stop Jonathan Raines. I’d contacted Janet Lawson with the 49th Precinct earlier in the day and discussed Raines with her. She said she’d pass the information along to the detective assigned to the Grady Winston case, but didn’t think anything would happen until next week, at the earliest.
After arriving at the hospital and checking in with the receptionist, we learned that Mojo was a patient on the fourth floor.
“It looks like he took his undercover assignment seriously,” I told Amy, as we took the elevator up to the oncology ward.
“There’s no telling what kind of crazy shit...” Amy stopped talking as the elevator doors opened, and we saw Mojo with an attractive nurse. He was wearing a hospital gown that was open in the back, exposing his droopy butt cheeks to the world.
As we approached, we heard him telling the nurse, “I’ve got some kind of rash on my pubic region. Perhaps you could take a look and see what’s going on.”
We came around in front of him, Amy telling the nurse, “The only problem he’s got is a shitload of testosterone.” She took Mojo by the arm, adding, “We’ll see that he gets back to bed.”
When we got Mojo to his room, Amy said, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Mojo flopped down in bed. “It’s called method acting. I’ve got everyone here convinced I don’t have long to live.”
Amy made a fist. “They could be right about that.” She put her hands on her hips. “Tell us what you’ve found out.”
Mojo lowered his voice. “I saw Raines. He was here last night, trying to get drugs from the medicine cabinet at the nurse’s station.”
“Do the nurses know what’s going on?”
“I think so, but they’re afraid to say anything, since his father’s the administrator. I’ve set a trap the next time he comes back here.”
“What kind of trap?” I said.
“I set up a pinhole camera in the nurse’s station. If he tries to get into the drug cabinet, I’ll capture everything on video.”
I looked at Amy. “That might be enough to get him arrested.”
“Yeah, but we need to get the goods on him and put him in prison for the rest of his rotten life.” She looked back at Mojo. “I got another plan: I want to find a way to get Raines to take you to his house. There’s got to be evidence there of what he’s been doing.”
Mojo rolled his eyes. “And how do you propose I do that?”
“Use those acting skills you just bragged about.” She folded her arms, thinking through the situation. “I’ve got it. Tell Raines you got a supply of Fentanyl that you’ll sell him on the cheap.”
“You’re forgetting that I’m a patient here.”
“Tell the doctors you’ve had a miraculous cure and get yourself checked out, just as soon as you set up the drug deal with Raines. When you’re headed to his house, give me a call.”
Mojo rubbed his chin, considering the proposal. “I’ll do it, but it’s going to cost you. I’m going to need a major increase in my fees.”
A nurse was coming through the door, so Amy lowered her voice. “Madison and me will make it worth your while. Just don’t fuwk this up.”
Amy and I saw the nurse was carrying a plastic tray and some towels. “It’s time for your sponge bath,” she told Mojo.
Mojo’s grin reminded me of a scene from Little Red Riding Hood, and he was the Big Bad Wolf. He told the nurse, “I want you to take your time. Personal hygiene is extremely important to me.”
As Amy and I left the room, I said to her, “What do you think?”
“I think the nurse should get hazardous duty pay. Or maybe just slit her wrists.”
FIFTY-SIX
Max got home that evening just after Amy and I did. We all gathered in our living room, where Max showed off a pair of earrings Sonny had bought her.
“It’s our six-week anniversary,” Max explained. “Sonny calls it our Ruby Jubilee.”
“Who the hell has a six-week anniversary?” Amy said. “Makes me jealous as hell.”
“Amy’s date with the GuySwatter movie producer didn’t go well,” I explained to Max. I motioned to our bank of freezers. “After he chased her around Medford Park, she came home and locked herself in one of the body drawers.”
Max looked at the freezer, her wide forehead creasing. “I’ve had me some bad dates, but I’ve never thought about locking myself up with a bunch of corpses.”
“Madison’s date with Sam didn’t go so well either,” Amy said, raising a brow, and looking at me.
I filled Max in on Sam still being married. “He said it’s a m
atter of not filing the paperwork, but I think he still has feelings for his ex.”
Amy had gone over to the fridge, and brought back wine. Max took the glass she’d poured her and tipped it up, then said, “It sounds like your weekends were major shit storms.”
“Then there’s Christina Blaze’s situation,” Amy said. “Not to mention Mojo being in the hospital and having his nuts washed.”
Max raised both brows, began to lift her glass again, but held off. “I’m not sure I’m ready for any of this, but I’d better hear it all.”
Amy and I took turns filling her in on Christina Blaze being extorted out of her inheritance by Billy Mercer’s brother, and Mojo going undercover at the hospital. Amy finished up by telling her about her plans to have Mojo try to sell Jonathan Raines drugs to get inside his residence.
When we finished, Max said, “So this Benedict guy who kidnapped Christina is Mercer’s brother. That puts a whole new spin on things.”
“Mads and me think maybe he was in on killing his brother with Jeremy Halsey, and they stayed in touch over the years.”
“But why would Benedict kill his own brother?”
“He was Billy’s stepbrother, so it’s hard to say. Maybe it was sibling rivalry. I’ve had cases where everyone in the family hates each other.”
Max sighed. “This is bad. So bad that I think it calls for that bottle of Baby Girl I been saving.”
“What’s that?” I asked, as Max went over and began digging through the back of the fridge.
She came over with a bottle that, indeed, was labelled Baby Girl. “Bought this when I was on vacation in Negril a couple years ago. The saleslady said it’s guaranteed to drown all your sorrows.”
Amy finished her wine and held up the empty glass. “Fill it, don’t spill it.”
Max obliged, did the same for me, then asked me, “What you gonna do about Sam?”
I shook my head. “I’m so angry, I don’t want to think about it.”
