The Poisonous Ten (21 page)

26

“So what do we have, ladies and gentlemen?” Parks asked as he rubbed the several days’ growth that he could have sworn he had shaved off just that morning. “It’s Tuesday morning. This is it. If he’s working according to schedule, then today’s the day. Anything?”

Parks looked around the conference room and saw not
hing but blank faces staring back at him. With sunken eyes, disheveled clothes, and unkempt hair, the entire team looked as they had slept at the station over the past weekend. Tempers flared and nerves were short. Detectives Wilkes and Ramirez were in court testifying that morning, leaving only Detective Hayward to help.

“Well, Oni kept his sexuality hidden from most everyone pretty well,” Moore spoke up. “According to his manager, agent, coach, lawyers—all of whom we spent all weekend tracking down and interviewing—no one had any idea that he was gay. Not even his family. Before he came out publi
cly, that is.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Fairmont asked.

“She’s been in Florida filming a movie for the past few months,” Parks explained. “She just flew in last night. We’ve got an appointment with her this morning. See if maybe she can’t help us. What about a boyfriend?” 

“He’s some lawyer who’s been out of the country since before Oni’s coming-out announcement,” Moore said, co
ming alive. “We’ve talked with him on the phone, and he’s agreed to come in for a formal interview once he gets back into town. But he’s clueless as far as we can tell.”

“Stick with it,” Parks ordered. “Okay, look. I know we’re all tired here, but this is it. The last,” Parks looked at his watch, “fifteen hours if he’s going to do this today. Okay? You can all have tomorrow off to do as you please, if we just do our jobs today. Jackie?”

“What’s up?”

“Poisons.”

“Yes?”

“Have anything for us? Anything special about what he’s using? The order he’s using them in? Why them?”

“I have a new report on the passionflower but nothing substantial. There’s no rhyme or reason to why he’s picking what he’s picking. At least as far as I can see. You’d think we’d have enough based on this many victims but really, no idea. Nothing. These murders are so sporadic the only pattern is that there is no pattern to them at all.”

“None that we can see, but there’s always a pattern,” Parks said. “Okay, I know I’m swamping Milo with work, so see if you can use Hayward a little.”

“Will do,” Jackie said.

“Anything on the girls in the picture?”

“We’re scanning through yearbook photos,” Tippin said. “But we’ve got years to go through and we don’t really have a starting point based on that photo. That photo could be from this year or a decade or two ago. So . . . still working on it.”

“Good. Thanks. Keep on it,” Parks said. “Oh, anything on the homeless man who attacked Wyler?”

“Still no sign of him,” Fairmont admitted. “Maybe he wasn’t a homeless person. Maybe he was our killer in disguise?”

“Well, keep checking out the video footage of the attack,” Parks suggested. “See if we can’t get something from it.”

“We’re on it.”

“Okay, Rachel, let’s go. Time to visit this girlfriend of Kyle’s and see what all she knows.”

*                            *                            *

Parks pulled up to the valet area of the Chateau Marmont just off Sunset Boulevard and handed over his keys. Parks and Moore made their way to the front desk area and, after a few minutes of explaining who they were and that they were legitimately there on official police business, were finally given the room number for Caroline Maddox’s two-bedroom penthouse suite.  

Parks knocked and waited patiently, knowing his patience was more than going to be tested with this visit. He had done several interviews with celebrities, and while most were more than accommodating, there were the few who thought they walked on water. Based on the few articles and YouTube videos that Tippin had pulled for him, Parks figured he had his work cut out for him.

The door was finally answered and Caroline Maddox stood there with a smile on her face, though for just the briefest of moments Parks could have sworn he saw disdain. She was one of the few actresses who were just as beautiful in real life as they were up on the big screen with makeup and computer effects in full overload. 

“Caroline Maddox?” Parks asked.

“Yes,” Caroline answered.

“I’m Detective Dave Parks and this is Detective Rachel Moore of the LAPD,” Parks announced, both of them flashing their badges. “We have a few questions for you regarding Kyle Oni.”

“My people said you were coming. Come in.” Caroline smiled and stepped back to allow room for the two dete
ctives to enter. “Uh, in there.” She pointed down the hallway to the living room and closed the door, only to have someone knock on it not a second later. “Are there more of you?”

“No,” Parks replied, instinctively going for his gun.

“I, um  . . .” Caroline opened the door and beamed. “Oh, I’m so stupid. I forgot I ordered this. That was like two hours ago.” Caroline stood back and a man pushing a cart with her lunch on it stepped into the hallway and made his way down into the dining room. “Oh, not in there. In the living room, please. Thanks. I have some stuff to go over with my guests. Thank you. Oh, um  . . .” She looked up at the two detectives then around the room, trying to figure out what to do with her lunch.

“You go ahead,” Parks said. “We don’t mind. We just have a few questions for you anyway. We shouldn’t be long.”

“Thanks,” Caroline replied as she turned to the doorman. “Just over there.”

She pointed to a coffee table and then tipped the man b
efore he left the room. She closed the door behind him, locked it, and walked back into the living room and sat down at the table.

“Would you like some?” Caroline asked as she took the lid off the plate to reveal a radish and butter lettuce salad with Chianti vinegar dressing on the side. “There’s plenty.”

“Thanks,” Parks said. “But we’re fine. Do you mind?”

“No, no. Go ahead. I know my lawyer said he wanted to be here for this, and he’s on his way, I believe, but I don’t see why we can’t begin? I mean this is just routine questions about Kyle, right?” Caroline focused on the salad and began preparing it, removing a few unwanted items and tossing in the dressing.

“Right. More or less. You’re not a suspect or anything like that.”

“God, I hope not,” Caroline said with laughter. “What do you want to know?”

“Particularly if you knew or know anything about Kyle Oni’s . . . other life,” Parks said, hoping he wouldn’t offend the woman.

“You mean about his gay lovers?” Caroline shot back.

Parks cleared his throat and tried not to blush. “Yeah.”

“No. Sorry,” Caroline said, taking a bite of the salad. “I honestly had no idea the guy was a fag. Though I guess it does explain a few things about him now.”

“Okay,” Parks said. “That’s fine. You know of any friends he has that might be associated with that part of his life? Anyone you weren’t particularly close to?”

“Particularly close to? Please,” Caroline retorted, finis
hing off a bite and preparing another. Parks was almost willing to offer to come back and let the woman eat in peace as she devoured the salad at a rather rapid pace. “I didn’t know diddly-squat about Kyle’s life. I mean, yeah, sure we were boyfriend and girlfriend. So what? It was all publicity anyway. He mostly hung out with the guys. Go figure, right?”

“You mean the other players?”

“Yeah, them,” Caroline said with a look on her face as if to ask, Who else would I be talking about? “He mostly hung out with them and practiced all the time. Hell, they’re probably all fags. He never drank or . . . did anything else. He was such a goodie-goodie. We’d only been going out a few months and he was in the middle of the season, so no, we really didn’t do a whole lot together. Other than pose for pictures occasionally.”

“So,” Parks huffed, trying hard to keep from rolling his eyes at the woman, “how exactly did you two meet?”

“What’s that noise?” Moore asked, practically jumping up and looking down the hallway.

“What? Oh . . . oh, that’s nothing,” Caroline said, waving the question off. “We met at some after party event. We had mutual friends who introduced us.”

“Miss Maddox, what is that noise?” Parks asked, also looking down the hallway. 

“It’s just my assistant,” Caroline said, somewhat o
ffended. “She’s sick. So she’s back in my room sleeping it off. I think she has a hangover. Whatever. Bitch can’t handle her liquor and I warned her.”

Parks’s cell phone began to ring.

“Excuse me,” Parks said, standing up and taking a step away from the two women. “Detective Parks.”

“Dave,” Fairmont said. “I know you’re in the middle of an interview—”

“Yes, I am actually.”

“I know. Sorry. But I have Deborah Bollinger on the line and she swears it’s an emergency and she says she’ll only talk to you. Says the killer took something else from her apartment.”

Parks looked to the two women, who were both waiting patiently, when there was another groan from the back room.

“Rach,” Parks said as he got her attention and nodded t
oward the back room.

“Dave,” Fairmont said through the phone.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here. Yeah, okay. Go ahead. Put her on.”

“Okay, wait a minute,” Fairmont said. “Patching her through.”

Parks waited while Moore started down the hallway. Caroline rose to follow her when Parks stopped her. “If you don’t mind, could you just wait here? On the couch. Please. Thank you.”

Caroline sat back down then rubbed her throat before grabbing her glass of water and proceeding to drink all of it. Parks stared at her, the paranoia of Charles Wyler’s tainted water digging into his mind, when Moore called out his name and drew him back to reality.

“Stay here,” Parks ordered.

Parks left her and made his way down the hallway to the bedroom on the right, opposite the kitchen, where he found Moore checking the pulse of a young woman lying in an oversized bed. She was young, in her early twenties, and of Spanish descent though with her pale complexion it was hard to tell.

“Detective Parks?” Mrs. Bollinger’s voice suddenly came through from the other end of the phone, taking him off guard, and almost startling him.

“Yes, Mrs. Bollinger,” Parks replied. “What’s up?”

“You told me to call you if anything else was missing.”

“And? What’s missing?”

“I only thought of it because of the missing baseball.”

“We know about the baseball, Mrs. Bollinger.” Parks
covered the mouthpiece of the phone and addressed Moore. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Not sure,” Moore answered. “Fever. Heart’s beating r
apidly. Some kind of a skin rash. Vomit. Urine everywhere. Loss of bodily functions.”

“Possible poisoning?” Parks asked. “Yes, I’m here, Mrs. Bollinger.”

“. . . only reason I remembered the baseball player was because of his girlfriend.”

“Caroline Maddox. What about her?” Parks looked back down the hallway, realizing he couldn’t see the other woman and hoping she hadn’t heard him call out her name.

“The reason I remembered them both was because they were together when Jason got the baseball signed,” Mrs. Bollinger explained. “And since he got the baseball player’s signature and I liked her so much, I got her signature. Just on a napkin.”

“So what?” Parks asked.

“So after I thought about the baseball, I remembered the napkin she signed and went to check. Detective Parks, he took that paper too. It’s not where I left it.”

“You’re sure you didn’t misplace it somewhere?”

“No,” Mrs. Bollinger said, dragging the word out. “I know exactly where it was, just like Jason knew where his baseball was. We never touched each other’s stuff. Whoever killed my husband took that napkin. Though I’ll never know how he knew where it was. I had all but forgotten about it.”

“Dave,” Moore said, stepping back from Nina’s body and bumping into her boss. “Something’s wrong with—Dave, I think that’s one of the girls from the photo.”

Parks took another look at the sick girl and immediately recognized her from the photo as well. The girl let out a loud retching sound and coughed up some blood. “Call an ambulance. Now!” he shouted and ran out of the bedroom.

Parks reached the front room and saw Caroline Maddox lying half in her chair and half on the floor. The actress was sweating profusely, her hair plastered to the side of her face, while the front of her was covered in vomit. She moaned in pain, though her face showed no signs of suffering. Parks moved in front of her and could tell she was trying to focus on him, though to no avail.

“Call an ambulance!” Parks shouted again when Caroline’s body began to convulse.

Parks hung up his phone and dialed Jackie’s number when the woman beneath him stopped moving. Parks n
oticed three-fourths of the salad had been eaten and that her glass of water was empty. It could have been anything. Could have been something else from before they arrived.