Last Man's Head (18 page)

THIRTY-EIGHT

Red light flashing
and siren wailing, Leroy hit the 10 Freeway at sixty-five. It was just over twenty-five miles to the Forensic Science Center, so he should be with Hobson within thirty minutes.

The ME had offered to send photographs of the puncture marks to Leroy’s phone, but he wanted to see them in person. After he had hung up on Hobson, he considered whether to speak to Perez, hopefully get him to say,
‘Okay, Sam; you get yourself up to the ME’s and take a look for yourself. Don’t worry about the suspects and witnesses you have to interview,’ but hell would freeze over before the lieutenant departed from the official line. Leroy wondered what he would have done had he gotten the lieutenant post: he was sure he would have reopened the cases. No, he would never have closed them. Maybe that was why Perez was the lieutenant now.

As soon as Hobson told him about the needle marks, he knew he had been on to something all along. Thing was, he still was not sure exactly what he was on to.

Thirty minutes to get to the ME, thirty minutes there, and another thirty minutes back to Santa Monica; the two suspects in the cells and the victim’s companion could wait another hour and a half.

The e
astbound traffic was heavy, but moving steadily, and vehicles moved over without any hesitation to let him pass.  As he finally left the freeway, he had to drop his speed: negotiating the sharp bend as the road approached Eastern Avenue, he had to drop to forty-five, even though the sign specified a maximum ten miles per hour lower. Even with the windows closed and the AC on, he could smell the rubber of his tyres burning as he negotiated the bend.

Once on
Eastern Avenue, he easily negotiated the traffic leading up to the University Campus, and was soon at the Forensic Science Center. Moments later, a breathless Detective Leroy burst in to Hobson’s laboratory. The ME was sitting at a desk, typing on a keyboard. He looked up and laughed.

‘You took your time, didn’t you?’ he joked.

Leroy laughed and sat down on a chair opposite, still out of breath from running from the car and up four flights of stairs.

‘Surely you didn’t run all the way,’ Hobson laughed as he hit his return key and pushed the keyboard back.

‘No, just up the stairs.’ Leroy took a deep breath and sat back. ‘That’s better.’

‘I guess you want to see these guys’ feet,’ said Hobson, standing up. ‘Let’s go take a look.’

Hobson led Leroy out of his lab and down the corridor into another room. On the way, they stood to one side as a white-coated man pushed a gurney on which there was a green plastic sheet, covering whoever was on it. Hobson nodded to the man.

At the end of the corridor they went through a set of double doors to a room where on all three other sides of the room were banks of drawers, four high. Hobson led Leroy over to the far end and pulled open a drawer.

‘I was just preparing the bodies for release back to the families,’ Hobson said, ‘and thought I would give them one more look over. Then I found the marks. Here’s the first one,’ he said, pulling out the drawer. ‘This is the one they found in the parking garage in Century City.’

‘Lance Riley,’ said Leroy.

Hobson picked up the single sheet form which was resting on Lance Riley’s shrouded legs. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ He lifted up the lower part of the green sheet covering the body and lifted up one foot. ‘Look, Sam; here. Between the big toe and the next.’

Leroy bent down and checked between the toes. Hobson said, ‘You will need to move the toes apart slightly.’ He did so, and just as Hobson had said, between the two toes, was a tiny puncture mark. Still bent over, he looked up at the ME. ‘And the others were like this also?’

‘Yes. You want to see them?’

‘Go on, then.’

Hobson replaced the proforma and pushed the drawer closed, then took Leroy over to another drawer. Opened it, and checked the paperwork. ‘Guy Robbins,’ he read.

‘Found behind
Hollywood Boulevard.’

‘That’s him. Check the foot.’

Leroy did so, and found a puncture mark in exactly the same spot. Hobson closed the drawer, and asked, ‘Now, you want to see Ted Parker?’

‘Ted Parker?’ asked Leroy. Then he realised. ‘Was this the one from
Griffith Park?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, I forgot that wasn’t yours. It was…’

‘Domingo’s. That’s right.’

‘Shit, Sam. That was awful, wasn’t it? Any news yet?’

Leroy shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. It’s all been handed over to Major Crimes.’

‘Mm,’ said Hobson, reflecting. ‘From what I heard, they were both in their patrol car.’

‘They were. Up in North Hollywood. Both with one shot to the head.’

Hobson slowly shook his head, as if in disbelief. ‘Look, here’s the last one.’ He pulled open this drawer, and Leroy checked the toes. Same as before.

‘Now, as you know,’ explained Hobson, holding the foot up, ‘this spot here is a common place for drug users to inject themselves.’

‘If they don’t want to show any marks,’ added Leroy. ‘Not like in the arm, or wrist.’

‘Correct. Now, there are two points of interest here. First: if I’d had one body in here with marks like that, I’d think nothing of it. Business as usual, you know: outwardly respectable guy a secret user. Two - maybe the same. But
three
- and all brought in on the same night. No way.’

‘There
has
to be a connection,’ Leroy agreed.

‘The second point is this,’ continued
Hobson. ‘If you’re injecting yourself there, you’d be sitting down, and the point of entry would be straight on - I mean level with the base of the foot, or at a slight angle upwards, up to twenty, maybe thirty degrees. But if you look here,’ - he put one index finger on the mark - ‘you’ll see it’s at an angle, but in the opposite direction to what you’d expect. It would be very difficult to inject yourself at that angle. It’s not impossible, but for three out of three people to have the same puncture wounds on the same night - well, go figure.’

Leroy stood silently for a moment, staring at the foot.

‘What are you going to do now, Sam?’ asked Hobson.

‘I’m going back to the station house. I’m going to talk to Perez. This is all too much of a coincidence. There has to be another party involved. And Domingo and I came up with some other angles.’

‘You did? What?’

‘Tell you another time. I must get back. They
have
to re-open the cases now.’

THIRTY-NINE

Leroy stared at
Lieutenant Perez in disbelief. He knew he should not have been surprised; after all, he had known the lieutenant for years, and the conversation they had earlier would have dispelled any doubts.

After his meeting with Russell Hobson, Leroy left the
Forensic Science Center and headed back to the freeway to return to Police HQ. He had only been driving ten minutes, when Perez rang.

‘Sam, where are you? I thought you were going to see the two suspects.’

‘I’ve been to see Russell Hobson.’

‘The ME? You’ve been up to the
Science Center? What the hell for?’

‘It’s about those John Does, Lieutenant -’

‘I’d better be hearing things, Detective. Didn’t we talk about this before?’

‘He’s uncovered some new evidence
.’

‘What new evidence?’

‘Some puncture wounds. Injection marks.’

‘What? Injection marks? They were all full of drugs, and you’re telling me they had needle marks?’

‘It’s more that that. Look, I’ll stop off at HQ and fill you in. On my way back to Santa Monica, that is.’

There was a moment’s pause, and then, ‘All right. I’ll give you ten minutes. Take it out of your lunch hour. And it’d better be good.’ Then Perez hung up.

Now, the lieutenant was sitting behind his desk, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t fucking believe this, I really don’t,’ he said. ‘This is nothing. It’s bullshit.’

‘Just think about it, Roman,’ Leroy replied, getting as heated as the
lieutenant. ‘In all three -’

‘I could hear raised voices,’ said Captain Patterson, leaning round the half opened door. ‘Any problem?’

Perez sat back in his chair and answered the captain. ‘Detective Leroy here has uncovered new evidence in the cases of those three John Does.’

Patterson briefly closed his eyes as if in thought. ‘Ah yes, I recall: the three accidental
deaths due to drug overdoses.’ He looked down at Perez. ‘Those cases are closed, aren’t they, Lieutenant?’

Leroy answered. ‘Sir: yes, they have been closed, but  new evidence has come to light.’

‘New evidence?’ asked Patterson, surprised. ‘What new evidence could there be?’

‘Medical Examiner Hobson has found needle marks on one foot of each man,’ Leroy replied. ‘Between two of the toes.’

Patterson frowned. ‘I don’t understand. First of all, the bodies came in last Friday, did they not? Why is he only reporting them now?’

Leroy started to answer. ‘He said -’

‘Secondly,’ the captain cut in, ‘I think I’m right in saying that hidden between two toes is a common place to inject. So what’s the beef?’

‘I am aware about why people inject between the toes,’ said Leroy calmly and slowly. ‘But Russ… Hobson’s point was the angle of the mark. They were all at such an angle that would have rendered it unlikely they were all self-inflicted.’

‘But not impossible.’ The captain smiled and puffed up his chest.

‘No, not impossible,’ said Leroy. ‘Just unlikely.
’

Captain Patterson directed his next sentence to Perez. ‘Lieutenant, did you explain to Detective Leroy that the decision to close the cases was taken at the highest level?’

‘I did, sir,’ said Perez. Leroy looked down at the lieutenant, and noticed the odd look on his face, as if his mind was elsewhere.

‘
Where the amount of work Detective Leroy had put into the cases has not gone unnoticed?’

Leroy and Perez just looked at each other.

The captain continued, ‘So, let’s move on. The cases are closed. There are a lot of homicides going on out there, and we mustn’t be distracted by Medical Examiner Hobson playing at Sherlock Holmes again. I must have a word with Sheriff Welch.’ He looked over at Leroy and Perez, said, ‘Well, good day gentlemen,’ turned and returned to his own office.

Perez looked up at Leroy. ‘See? My hands are tied. Cases closed. Move on. There’s plenty of other work to do out there, and doesn’t
Quinn get back tomorrow?’

‘I think so,’ mumbled Leroy. ‘But despite what
the captain says, there are still uninvestigated threads here.’

Perez leaned on his desk, resting his forehead in one hand. He sighed, and pressed some keys on the keyboard on his desk.  Still looking at the screen, he spoke. ‘It says here you have a week’s vacation owed.’

‘What?’

‘I said you have five days’ vacation to use. Don’t worry; when
Quinn gets back, we’ll find him something to do.’

‘Vacation? What are you talking about,
Lieutenant? I can’t take a vacation in the middle of all this.’

‘Take some R and R. Do whatever you want to do. Go wherever you want to go, within reason. Of course, while you are on vacation, you are just a private citizen. Do you understand what I’m saying, Sam?’

Leroy nodded. ‘Yes, Lieutenant. I think I do.’

‘Good. Now, clear up your desk. I’ll send someone else over to
Santa Monica; it might be your partner tomorrow.’

‘Right, I will.’ Leroy backed away from the desk.

‘And Detective?’ Perez called out as Leroy reached the door.

‘Yes, Lieutenant?’

‘Enjoy your vacation.’

FORTY

Leroy had gotten
the lieutenant’s message, although couldn’t quite understand the motivation. Sure, he had a week’s vacation time owing - more in fact - but was taken aback when Perez told him to take it, and take it immediately. The Area was busy, so there was the question of whether they could afford to be a man down. Then again, there was never a good time to take vacation. So what was Perez up to? Did he, deep down, and despite outward appearances, believe what Leroy was saying? Was that his way of continuing the investigation even though a decision had been made
at the
highest level
to close the cases? And what exactly was
the highest level
? And by warning Leroy that he was a private citizen for the next seven days, was there a hidden message there too?

On the other hand, Perez could be so pissed off with Leroy banging on about the cases, that he just wanted him out of his hair for a few days. No more than that.

Leroy leaned back in the booth in Martha’s. He had finished a turkey and ham sandwich, washed down by two cups of black coffee, then gratefully accepted the offer of a refill. Whatever Perez’s reasoning, he decided, this was his chance to make some progress, to prove that these were no deaths by misadventure. Surely, others - apart from him and Hobson - could see this was no coincidence. Still, Quinn was back tomorrow, and having his partner on the inside as it were would help, provided he would not get into trouble.

Leroy leaned back in the booth and closed his eyes. He went through the facts of these cases.  On one night, three men, all of a similar socio-economic profile, are found dead in disparate parts of the city, all with the same COD, all with that tiny entry wound hidden between two toes; entry wounds which Russell Hobson says are unlikely to have been self-inflicted. Two of the men had laptops which the CCU are analyzing - or were, now the cases
were closed - where the search history had been wiped, but they did find that one of the victims used a dating site to get hookers. They speak to one of the hookers, who then flees to a house owned by a major politician, where one of his staff denies all knowledge of her, even though her car is hidden out back.  And the clincher: Domingo and her partner are murdered, their slayings may or may not be related to all this.

So where, in his capacity as a private citizen, could Leroy start?  It seemed the last person to see one of the victims alive was the hooker Alexandra. He needed to get hold of her first. He could park outside the house and wait, but there may be a quicker way.

He stood up and walked over to the bar. Kenny was chatting to another customer at the end of the bar, saw Leroy and sauntered over.

‘What can I get you, Sam?’ Kenny asked. ‘More coffee?’

‘I’m okay for now, Kenny, but I need a favour. I take it you have internet access here?’

‘Sure, we have free Wi-Fi.’ He pointed to a sign on the wall.

‘Fine, but I don’t have a computer with me.’

‘We have one in the office out back. You want to use it?’

‘If you don’t mind. Could I?’

‘Sure, Sam; come this way.’

Kenny led Leroy behind the bar and into a small office. A really old monitor was perched on a desk, amongst the clutter of glasses, cups and magazines.

‘Don’t worry about all that,’ Leroy said as Kenny began to clear the desk. He looked up as he could hear the sound of people coming into the bar. The end of a shift, he guessed. ‘I’ll be okay, thanks, Kenny,’ he said, sitting down. ‘Do me a favour though: if they are from the station house, don’t let them know I’m here. Okay?’

‘Sure, Sam. Why, what’s up?’

‘Long story. Tell you another time.’

‘All righty.’ Kenny left Leroy alone in the tiny office. He typed in www.arran
geadate.com into the search bar, and waited. After a couple of seconds the site Home page appeared. In the area box, he clicked on Los Angeles, then had to choose which district. He had a choice of Westside-Southbay, San Fernando Valley, San Gabriel Valley, Long Beach, Antelope Valley, and Central LA. He chose the latter, then had to select he was a man looking for a woman. Once he clicked, then the familiar thumbnails appeared on the screen. He trawled though eleven pages until he found a picture which caught his eye. He paused, clicked on the thumbnail to enlarge, and stared at the image. It was a different picture than the one he and Domingo had seen the other day, but it was definitely her.

But the name was not Alexandra.

It was Marisol.