Brooklyn Blood Page 6

  “A cult,” Amy said. “Fuwk. That’s all we need, a bunch of devil worshippers dancing around on our roof at night.”

  “I wonder what Thorndike knows about this, since he’s about the closest thing to a ghoul that we’ve got,” I said.

  “I was hearing those crazy noises again before you got home. I think he might be digging a grave.”

  “We need to check out that room.”

  “There’s no way in, unless...” Amy’s blue eyes brightened. “I just had an idea. Maybe Darryl and Merrill can get a key, since they work for Thorndike.”

  Max poured herself more wine and said, “Since we gotta work that funeral tomorrow, we can ask them.”

  I groaned. “I forgot all about that. It means we’ve got to spend our day with a dead body, a little ghoul, and a bunch of miserable family members.”

  Amy shrugged. “There are worse ways to spend your day. Like sitting in your car, freezing your ass off, staring through the pouring rain at the outside of a gym.”

  “Did you see Puig or his manager tonight?”

  “Not a sign. I’m getting pretty frustrated.”

  I took another sip of my wine, then blew out a long breath. I decided I had no choice but to mention what my aunt and uncle had proposed. “Do you remember my cousin, Mojo?”

  “Yeah, I met him once at that barbeque your aunt had. He tried to cop a feel, and I slapped him.”

  “He needs a job. My aunt and uncle thought maybe you could hire him.”

  Amy’s laughter was loud enough to wake the dead. I had an image of zombies dancing in the graveyard before it finally died down. “You gotta be kidding. Mojo oughta work for a plumber, since he’s like a turd that’s floating in a toilet bowl, waiting to be flushed.”

  “I can’t say that I disagree, but he claims he had a tumor on his brain that caused him to be a pervert.”

  That called for another round of laughter. This time, Max joined in.

  I went on. “He said he had surgery, the tumor was removed, and he’s like a new guy.”

  There was more laughter, before Amy said, “The only surgery that would help Mojo is castration, preferably with a rusty knife.”

  “It’s just that my aunt and uncle need his rent money, and Mojo says he’s got some skills.”

  “You mean like, in the words of a President, pussy grabbing?”

  I chuckled. “Probably, but he also says he knows about electronic devices and how to track people.” I waited a beat. “Maybe he could help find Puig and his manager.”

  Amy’s expression had gone from hilarity to quiet contemplation. After a long moment, she dragged her red hair back with her fingers and said, “You really think he could help us out?”

  I shrugged. “We’ve got nothing to lose by giving him a try.”

  She released a long breath and shook her head. “You’re probably right. It’s not like we got a lot of other options, and we already lost the one thing Mojo can’t take away from us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Our virginity.”

  FOURTEEN

  Sophia pulled her car to the curb and scanned the nearly deserted park. She had left Isabel with a friend. It was a relief, not having to spend her day with the baby. She had plans to put in place, and needed the time alone.

  After leaving her car, she found the man she’d come to see on a bench overlooking a grassy area. The day was cold, but clear, as they exchanged greetings, and she took a seat.

  “Not my favorite kind of weather,” Armando Guillermo said.

  Sophia’s godfather was almost sixty, with thick gray hair and heavy features. He had been like a second father to her in recent years. Her biological father had been killed by the revolutionary guerrillas who had fought the government for years in the jungles of Colombia.

  Armando went on. “What’s the latest?”

  “I hired that private investigator I mentioned. She will make sure the story is told in the way we want, when all is said and done.”

  “And Alex, does he suspect anything?”

  Sophia shook her head. “How they say? Alex not the sharpest knife in the drawer. We begin to play the financial card soon.”

  “I heard Bobo’s heavily in debt.”

  She smiled. “The bastard be even more broke when everything is over.” She sighed. “I just wish Tatiana...”

  Armando put an arm around his goddaughter when she didn’t go on. “She’s looking down on us. How does that other saying go?” His fleshy features turned up. “Revenge is sweet.”

  “Yes...it’s the most we can hope for at this point.” Sophia checked the time. “I’d better be going.” She stood. “Just so you know, the PI, her name is Amy Ross. She may be in touch with you as things develop. You just need to play along.”

  Armando stood. “I will be like a soap star.”

  Sophia laughed. “That’s not necessary.” She kissed his cheek. “Just act like you’re my father. That’s all that’s necessary.”

  “Consider it done.”

  As Sophia walked to her car, she felt like everything she had worked for was falling into place. In the end, Alex would be left penniless and divorced, and she would be a very rich woman.

  “This is all for you, Tata. Te amo.” She crossed herself and looked toward the heavens. “I love you.”

  FIFTEEN

  “I called my aunt and uncle,” I told Amy the next morning. “They’re sending Mojo by this weekend, so you two can discuss his job duties.”

  Amy slurped her black coffee, set the cup down, and glared at me. “I must have something worse than shit for brains to even consider this.” Her eyes brightened slightly. “Hey, maybe I can send him into Warren’s Gym as a sparring partner. Alex Puig can beat the crap out of him, and our problem’s solved.”

  “There’s still the matter of getting the goods on Puig for Sophia’s divorce so you can get your commission.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Her forehead crinkled up as she considered her circumstances. “Maybe there’s something else he can do in the gym to get the 411 on Puig.”

  “Like what?” Max said, pouring milk into her cereal.

  “I gotta think about it,” Amy said. “Maybe he can be a water boy. Or wash Puig’s jock strap.”

  “Do you guys know what time the funeral is supposed to be over today?” I asked, changing the subject. “I’m having dinner with Sam tonight.”

  Amy came out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box, her voice full of excitement. “You what? Why didn’t you say anything about this before? We gotta go shopping, do your hair, make you look hot—sorry, I mean hotter.”

  “I think it slipped my mind with everything that’s been going on. Sam wants me to meet him at Bennington’s and talk about my mother. I’m not sure it’s really even a date.”

  “Your mother?” Max said. “Did he find out something ‘bout her?”

  “I’m not sure. He didn’t go into details.”

  “I don’t care what his motives are,” Amy said. “You’re going to a restaurant with a guy and he’s buying dinner, so that officially qualifies as a date. We gotta get you something hot to wear.”

  “The funeral starts at one,” Max said. “That doesn’t leave you much time.”

  Amy pushed me toward the bedroom. “Get dressed. They got that Flash ‘n’ Trash store over on Collins Avenue that opens early.” She glanced at Max. “I gotta find an outfit that will keep Sam’s eyes glued to Maddie’s bubbies all night.”

  ***

  Amy and I got back from Flash ‘n’ Trash as the crowd of mourners was filing into Balfour Chapel. Amy’s concern about my “bubbies” resulted in me being talked into a strappy little black dress that showed way too much cleavage—not that I had a surplus in that department. I was still regretting the choice after dropping off my purchases in our living quarters, and Amy told Max about the dress as we walked to the funeral services.

  “It’s on the tasteful side of slutty, just enough material to show off what Maddie’s
made of. It should be just enough to keep Sam’s eyes on the bubbie prize.”

  “I think she means booby prize,” I told Max. “And it’s a pretty small prize. More on the slutty side of tasteful than the tasteful side of slutty.” I looked at Amy. “I think I’m going to go with a pair of dark pants and a silk blouse.”

  “Don’t be crazy, you gotta step up your ga...”

  Amy’s words were cut off when two men, covered in blood, stepped out into the hallway in front of us.

  “What’d you do, slaughter a cow?” Max said, as we regarded Darryl and Merrill. Thorndike’s assistants were covered with what looked like slime and blood.

  “Me and my go-bro just got Alice ready for her funeral,” Darryl said, beaming a smile at us.

  “It was a lot of work,” Merrill said. “She was a large woman and took an extra quart of embalming fluid.” He opened the door to the body preparation room. “We want you to take a look at our work.”

  Darryl was the older of the two men, in his late twenties, with green eyes and gelled brown hair. His younger companion was handsome. Even though I knew Merrill was also in his twenties, he looked like he could still be in high school. Both men had the personality of boys I’d known in junior high.

  Their “work” consisted of a woman, lying in a coffin, who was probably six feet tall and heavyset. Her hair had been styled, and she had on way too much makeup, but I’d learned that was common in the funeral industry. Darryl and Merrill had ambitions to become hairdressers to the stars, but had settled on much less famous and far less lively subjects.

  “She looks like a hooker,” Amy said, displaying her usual lack of tact. “Lean her against a lamp post and she would fit right in over on Lexington Street.”

  “Amy’s got a point,” Max agreed. “And there’s probably a bunch of johns that would pay a small fortune for a little necrophilia action.”

  Merrill’s voice kicked up a notch. “She’s our best work to date. Even Thorndike said so.”

  “Speaking of vampires, where is that little Dracula?” Amy asked.

  The two men shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in a couple hours,” Merrill said. “He’s been gone a lot lately.”

  “That’s ‘cause he’s been hanging out in some room near our apartment,” Amy said. “You guys got any idea what he’s been doing in there?”

  Merrill exchanged glances with his friend. “Not sure, but he seems pretty happy when he comes up for air.”

  “Maybe he’s getting laid by a zombie,” Darryl said, smiling.

  Amy made a gagging sound. “The thought of that little troll screwing anything, especially the dead, makes me wanna barf up a pork roll.”

  I checked my watch. “We’d better get going. The funeral’s scheduled to start in about five minutes.”

  While Darryl and Merrill wheeled Alice out of their preparation room and into the cathedral, the rest of us assumed our posts in the back of Balfour Chapel. The services had already begun when Thorndike finally tottered out from a side door and took up a station near the minister who was conducting the services.

  “Wonder what the troll has been doing,” Amy said, keeping her voice low. “Look at his coat. It’s covered with dust.”

  “Maybe he’s getting an early start on spring cleaning,” I said, even though it was freezing outside.

  Amy removed a key from her pocket and smiled. “Look what Darryl gave me. It’s the key to Thorndike’s secret room. We’re gonna get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as Alice gets her place in heaven.”

  It took the better part of the afternoon for Alice to secure her lofty realm, while we listened to a host of eulogies attesting to her saintly life.

  When the services finally, mercifully ended, Max came over and said, “Remind me never to do another good deed, so when I check out of this life they can just stick me in the ground and be done with it.”

  It had been my experience that weddings and funerals bring out the best and worst in people. That point was proven again as we were about to leave the chapel, and things took an unexpected turn. One of the family members began wheeling the closed coffin down the aisle to the front of the chapel.

  “What’s going on?” Thorndike said, going over and confronting the man.

  “We’re taking Alice home with us,” the man said. “We’re going to lay her to rest in our back yard.”

  Thorndike shook his oily little head. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. You don’t have permits to either transport the body or inter it at another location.”

  Several other family members came over and began shouting at Thorndike. A woman who, I knew from the service, was the decedent’s sister said, “Alice is our flesh and blood. It’s our right to do what we want with her.”

  “I’m afraid the laws of the state of New York beg to differ.” Thorndike cut his dark, beady eyes in our direction. “I cannot permit the body to leave these premises.”

  Another man stepped forward. His coat was brushed back when he confronted Thorndike, and I saw that he had a weapon in his waistband. “You and what army are gonna stop us?” he said.

  Thorndike looked at Max and me. “These two are officers of the law.” He met our eyes. “You need to do something.”

  I glanced at Max, who raised her dark brows and shook her head. She then looked at Thorndike. “We’re not funeral cops. The way I see it, if these people wanna take Alice home and put her in the basement, sit her at the dinner table, or plant her under a maple tree, it’s their business, not ours.”

  The family members continued to wheel Alice out of the chapel even as Thorndike followed behind, citing a host of ordinances that he said prohibited a home burial.

  While he was preoccupied, Amy held up the key Darryl had given her. “Let’s go see what the little vamp has been up to.”

  Max and I followed her, along with Darryl and Merrill, and we all left the chapel. We wound our way through the labyrinth of passageways before stopping at the door where Thorndike had been preoccupied for the past several days.

  Amy put the key in the lock, turned to us, and said, “Ready?”

  We all nodded as she unlocked the door, and it creaked open. The room was dark, but as our eyes adjusted, we saw there was a vault against one of the walls, not unlike the series of refrigerated chambers, holding bodies awaiting burial, in our own living quarters. It looked like the room was being expanded, with additional burial vaults being added against another wall.

  “It’s some kind of crazy death chamber,” Amy said, her blue eyes like two full moons. “You ask me, that little creepazoid’s a serial killer, and this is where he’s keeping the bodies.”

  I looked around for a light switch, but realized there was a figure moving toward us from the shadows of the room. Seconds later, a beautiful dark-haired woman was standing in front of us. She was dressed in black and seemed genuinely surprised by us all being there.

  “Who the hell are you?” Amy demanded.

  The woman’s dark eyes shifted, her gaze taking us all in as she said, “My name is Katerina. I am Lola’s niece.”

  Amy’s brow came together. “Lola? Who the hell is Lola?”

  We heard a familiar voice behind us, coming from the doorway. We turned to see Thorndike entering the room. “I’m Lola.”

  SIXTEEN

  “Lola is a very common name for men in the old country,” Thorndike said. “And you have no business entering my private domain.”

  “What’s with all them burial vaults?” Max said, pointing to the wall. “You got enough crypts for dozens of bodies.”

  “You ask me, Lola’s killing people and entombing them here,” Amy said. Her eyes met the little mortician’s. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “It is for me,” Katerina said, answering for Thorndike. “Lola brought me over from the old country, give me job.”

  Amy looked at Thorndike. “What kind of job?”

  “These are going to be additional holding crypts,” Thorndike explained. “
With the freezing weather, I’ve had bodies stacking up, and the freezer in your living quarters is full.”

  I looked at Katerina. “You’re really Thorn...I mean, you’re Lola’s niece?”

  “Yes, but don’t say anything to anyone, please. I afraid Mr. Funk might not understand, send me back.”

  “Why wouldn’t he understand?” Amy asked, looking at Thorndike.

  “My niece has an immigration issue. I’m afraid she’s not here legally.”

  Max said to Katerina. “Just so you know, that’s a federal issue, not something us locals deal with or care about. You’re safe staying here.”

  “Thank you, so much,” Katerina said, smiling for the first time. I was again struck by her beauty and wondered how she could be even remotely related to Thorndike.

  “You must all leave now,” Thorndike said. “My niece and I have work to do.”

  “Okay, Lola,” Amy said. “But keep the noise down. Some of us aren’t vampires and need our sleep.”

  When we were back in our living quarters, I said to my roommates, “Do you believe Katerina’s really his niece?”

  Amy answered. “All I know for sure is that if she is related to the little troll, she got the family’s whip cream DNA, and Thorn...I mean Lola, he crawled out from the bottom of the test tube.” She checked the time on her phone and said to me, “You need to have a seat. I gotta work on your hair before you slip into your LBD.”

  “My what?”

  “Little black dress.”

  “I’m still not sure...”

  “Stop.” Amy’s cheeks flushed, as her eyes drilled into me. “For once in your life, listen to me, Maddie. You need to dress for success, and, if Sam’s like most guys, that means showing some skin.”

  Max chimed in. “I think she might be right, Mads. None of us got a lot going for us in the men department. You need to take every advantage you can.”

  I sighed and sat down, resigned to my fate. I endured an uncomfortable hour as Amy combed, brushed, teased, and layered my blonde hair, which she said could use a bleach job if we had more time. As she worked, Max brought us some wine. It reminded me of a couple times in high school when Amy and I got ready for our proms. I relaxed, and we chatted and laughed as she worked.