(2011) The Gift of Death (15 page)

She walked down a gravel path back towards the front of the clinic, from where she could see Cassie, still sitting in the same position under the jacaranda tree.

But there was somebody sitting next to her. A woman with blonde hair.

‘
Excuse me? What you are doing?’ asked Kate, as she approached.

‘
Oh, hi, Kate,’ said Cassie, looking up. ‘It’s okay. We were just having a nice chat –‘

‘
Can you tell me who you are?’

‘
I’m Cynthia Ross from the
Times
,’ said the blonde, smartly-dressed woman, standing up.

‘
What?’ said Cassie, looking confused, distressed. ‘You didn’t say –‘

‘
Yeah, I bet she didn’t,’ said Kate.

‘
And you must be Dr Cramer, am I right?’ said the reporter, extending her hand.

‘
Come on Cassie, we’re leaving,’ she said, turning her back.

‘
Listen, hold on a second. I know you must be upset, and I’m sorry to disturb you, but do you have any idea who might be behind all of this?’

‘
No comment,’ snapped Kate, leading Cassie by the hand towards the car.

‘
The baby in the water? The fingertips? And now the human tongue?’

‘
I said no comment.’

‘
If Gleason is dead, who do you think could be doing it? If you give me your stories, we can work together, help track them down. We’ve got resources, connections, sometimes more than the police. And you might need all the help you can get now that you’re preg-‘

The reporter never got the chance to finish her sentence.

‘
What did you say?’ asked Kate, staring into a pair of cold blue eyes.

‘
Your friend here was just telling me that she was waiting for you to come out of the clinic. And that you were expecting.’

Kate couldn’t be angry with Cassie.

‘
You solicited that information without identifying yourself as a journalist.’

‘
So?’

‘
You took advantage of a blind woman and gained her confidence – for what? Some juicy titbit about my private life? Have you ever thought you’re working for the wrong newspaper, Ms Ross?’

‘
I’m just doing my job, give me a break here.’

At that moment, Kate wanted to punch her in the face. But she resisted. Only just.

Perhaps there was another way forwards.

‘
What’s your number?’ she said.

‘
Excuse me?’

‘
I said, give me your cell phone number.’

‘
Okay,’ she said, looking puzzled. ‘Does that mean you’re going to talk to me?’

‘
Look, Ms Ross. Frankly, I don’t like you. But I’m prepared to put that to one side. If – and at this moment it is still a big if – I agree to ‘talk’ as you put it, I will do so not to help you out, but to try and find the fucker playing these sick games. But let’s get this straight. If I see any mention of my pregnancy in the paper then the deal – the “story” – is off. No argument. Do you understand?’

‘
Okay,’ she said. ‘Great.’

‘
I’ll call you,’ said Kate, helping Cassie into the car. ‘And remember? I don’t want to see you hanging around either Cassie or me until I’ve decided. I’ll give you my answer in 24 hours.’

16

Harper slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator and overtook a truck on the 110. He’d just been sent the first address of the men on his hit list and wanted to question Charles Garrison in person. He asked Jennifer Curtis to accompany him to see if she could pick up any signs of psychopathology beyond what one would normally expect from a brutal wife beater.

‘
It’s the next exit,’ said Jennifer. ‘Here.’

He quickly swerved into the right lane and took the exit that led into South Central; nobody he knew called it by its new name of South LA. He drove down East Slauson Avenue and then took a left onto South Main Street, past a row of fast food outlets, a pawn shop, and a run-down liquor store. The area was famous for the violence of its rival Latino and black gangs, but although they were brutal at least their objective was clear – race hatred and territorial protection. What he was looking for was much more unnerving – a murderer with a motive yet unknown, someone whose crimes linked him to a dead serial killer.

‘
Nice neighbourhood,’ he said. ‘Quite a come down for Garrison. He was living in Inglewood before his arrest. Worked as a high end information technologist at Ernst and Cable. Earnt in the high two hundreds. Must be hard for him.’

‘
Yeah, like we should feel sorry for him,’ said Jennifer sharply.

‘
Do you think it could be him, from what you’ve read about his case?’

‘
Difficult to say,’ said Jennifer, sighing. ‘I suppose the motivation is there. Feels angry and bitter at the justice system for the way he has been treated, the way he has slipped down the social scale. Possibly still believes himself to be innocent and that he was just giving his wife what he thought she deserved. Maybe Gleason promised him certain things – money, drugs, information, contacts, who knows – when he was in prison and now he’s fulfilling his side of the bargain.’

‘
But he hasn’t committed any other crimes since he came out of San Quentin.’

‘
No. He’s kept to the injunction not to go near his wife and son and it seems like he’s been trying to get his life back together. He’s done a bit of work at a local cyber cafe, but that was just a one-off freelance job. Obviously it’s been harder than he thought.’

Harper turned into a street of single storey buildings, most of which were pre-fabricated. Faded newspaper blew down the walkway; a discarded TV set lay abandoned by the roadside and a soiled mattress had been propped up by a low-lying wall. He slowed down and checked the numbers of the houses.

‘
Here it is,’ said Jennifer. ‘Just on the left.’

‘
Okay. Let’s pay Garrison a friendly call.’

They stopped outside a building that looked more like a shack than a house. Flesh coloured paint peeled off the front wall, revealing blotches of dark red beneath. The roof – nothing more than lengths of corrugated metal fixed together by old nails – leached a rust-coloured discharge down the outside walls. The two windows that faced the front lot looked as if they had been covered over from the inside with squares of black plastic.

Harper and Curtis walked up the weed-lined front path to the front door, automatically feeling for the guns that were concealed beneath their jackets. Harper knocked twice on the flimsy wooden door. There was no answer.

‘
Did we get a cell phone number for him?’ asked Josh.

‘
There’s nothing registered in his name. Too broke, I guess.’

Harper knocked again, but the force of his hand caused one of the thin wood panels to splinter. Curtis give him a look of warning, but he just shook his head. As he pushed with his shoulder a piece of wood that seemed to hold the door together fissured and, after another blow, the lock – a single bar of metal – broke.

‘
We really should have a warrant,’ Jennifer whispered.

‘
To hell with that,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got time to be polite, I’m afraid. And anyway, it looks as though the lock’s been tampered with.’

‘
I can’t imagine there’d be anything to steal.’

He reached around the door to feel for the light switch. He found it on the wall and flipped it. Nothing happened. He kicked open the door, letting some light into the darkened space.

‘
Garrison?’ he called out. ‘LAPD!’

There was no sound from within the house except the creaking of the roof and the buzz of an ancient icebox in the kitchen at the back. The lounge consisted of an old, stained sofa, part of its insides spilling out onto the floor, and a TV on a low table. The walls were mottled with patches of damp and the air smelt old and foul.

They could sense no one was in the house, but they had to be sure. Harper and Curtis moved through the building quickly but carefully, guarding each other with their weapons as they checked each room. Then they walked around the house, stepping over pieces of garbage that had accumulated over the years, and back inside.

Harper tried the lights again but there was no spark.

‘
Looks like Garrison’s supply has been cut,’ he said.

‘
I guess he can’t’ afford to the pay the bills.’

‘
Guess so.’

Curtis walked into the small, dank kitchen. The stench from the drains – a putrid mix of decaying vegetable matter and decomposing sewage - turned her stomach. For a moment, standing in the dark, smelly kitchen, she felt sorry for the way Garrison’s life had downspiralled. But then she recalled the pictures in the police file of his wife after that last beating. Her face had looked like a gigantic, mutated mushroom, swollen out of all proportion and covered with abrasions, bruises and open wounds.

‘
The bastard,’ she said under her breath, as anger burnt away

‘
Over here – look,’ said Harper, calling from the lounge.

Josh squatted down by the TV set. He was looking at something on the floor, his black eyes intent, concentrated.

‘
What is it?’ asked Curtis.

‘
A map. Of New Mexico.’

She came behind him, bending down and moving her head closer towards his shoulder. Josh felt her breath on his neck.

‘
It’s open on the page that -’

‘
Is that where -?’

‘
Yep – where Garrison’s former wife lives, with their son.’

Josh took out his cell and called Helen Holt, back at the investigation room in downtown LA. He asked her to get him a number for the chief detective at the New Mexico Police Department and the current address for Garrison’s former wife. Three minutes later Helen called back with the information.

‘
You need to speak to Francisco Ruben on 877 865 454,’ she said. ‘And Garrison’s former wife, Karen, has changed her name. She’s now Yvonne Kimber.’

‘
Okay. Anything else?’

‘
Yep. I don’t know whether this is important but tomorrow is Garrison’s son’s 13
^th
birthday.’

‘
Oh, shit.’

‘
What’s wrong?’

‘
Garrison has disappeared. And we found a map open on the page for New Mexico.’

The line went quiet.

‘
Helen?’

He could tell that she was angry with him for not sharing the information earlier.

‘
We’re still waiting on the rest of those addresses to come through.’ Her voice was formal, icily polite. ‘But it should be any time now.’

‘
Great.’

‘
And Lansing has arrived at the prison. He’s going to call in at the end of the day.’

‘
Fine. Let’s talk later.’ He paused. ‘And thanks Helen. I know how much you would like to be out there, but you know what you are doing is invaluable. I just want you to know you’re doing a great job. That piece of information about Garrison’s son could be really important.’

‘
Thanks, sir.’

He cut the line and immediately dialled Ruben’s number in New Mexico. Harper went through the protocol to securely identify himself before outlining the situation.

‘
Garrison could not only be a danger to his former wife and son,’ said Harper, ‘but he’s also a potential suspect in an ongoing case here in LA.’

‘
What kind of thing?’ said Ruben.

‘
Threatening parcels. The murder of a small child. And ripping the tongue out of a homeless man. Oh, and the amputation of some fingertips that have yet to be identified.’

‘
Nice.’

‘
So if you could put out a call for him to be arrested then –‘

‘
I’m afraid that won’t be -.’ Interference on the line reduced his voice to a series of crackles.

‘
I’m sorry?’ Harper walked away from Curtis and moved further down the street in an effort to improve the reception.

‘
I said,’ Ruben’s voice came through clearer now. ‘I said, that won’t be necessary.’