The Poisonous Ten (28 page)

“Charles Wyler?”

“Wyler was the reporter on Julie Hammond’s story. The controversy of what happened at the university was what helped make his career; moved him from second-rate stories to the channel’s lead crime investigator. And guess who misrepresented Julie Hammond to the public in exchange for a large payout from the school? Of course, he would deny it if he were still alive, but I dug into his financial history.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. I mean, there’s no direct connection, but it appears Wyler has been receiving payoffs from various groups or people for years, probably in exchange for manipulating his reports. And he did receive a rather large payoff of close to fifty thousand around the time of Julie Hammond’s accusations. I’ve gone back and pulled his reports on the whole affair. She was slammed in the news. Unfairly so. It looks like a witch hunt. Next, Kyle Oni . . . oh, did I mention the name of the professor Julie Hammond first slept with that started all of this? Lee Oni. Guess how a simple, underpaid college professor was able to afford a big-time lawyer to get him off of any wrongful allegations?”

“His brother the baseball player?”

“Ding. Ding. Ding.”

“But this was two years ago. Kyle Oni wasn’t signed on with the Dodgers and making big bucks yet.”

“No, but he was being scouted. This meant good publicity for the university he was attending. And the university he was being scouted from?”

“The same school his brother taught at.”

“Correct. So the school, wanting to keep the profitable and future alumni Oni brother happy, paid for the other Oni’s defense and made his allegations disappear.”

“Then what about Lee Oni or the school? Why didn’t our killer go after them?”

“Six months after this all settled down, Lee Oni died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver,” Tippin explained. “Kinda hard to punish him anymore. And the university . . . who are you going to punish for that? That’s an entire establishment. This is personal. The killer wants to make it more personal. But, I do think our killer found a way to make the university pay for their part in all of this. I’ll come back to that though.”

“All right. And Caroline Maddox and Nina Mendola?”

“Nina Mendola and Julie Hammond, our victim, had been best friends since grade school,” Tippin continued, picking up the picture of the two girls. “But halfway through this entire mess, Nina up and left her best friend for a career as a personal assistant to Caroline Maddox. When she needed the support of a friend, possibly someone who could vouch for her credibility, most in her life, Julie felt abandoned. Nina left Julie for Caroline. Or at least that’s how it played out in Julie’s mind. Thus helping lead to her suicide.”

“And the Cosway brothers?”

“I have two different things to comment on about them. First, in addition to being parasites that fed off their father’s wealth, they had dabbled in various jobs and lines of education. Part of their father’s requirements to be allowed to keep living at home was to continue their education. They’d already been banned from UCLA, Santa Monica, and Pepperdine. So the next closest school to daddy?

“Pacific Southwest University.”

“Right. And they were at the school the same time as Julie Hammond. Guess who two of the people were that she had kicked out under the so-called ‘false’ accusations?”

“The Cosway brothers.”

“Yep. Make you wonder how false those accusations really were?”

“Yes, it does. I’m beginning to wonder if maybe anything she said was actually a lie.”

“Who knows? She was sick. Unbalanced. She was prey. And in a world filled with predators. But with the Cosways’ parents’ money, they fought back legally in a way that the Hammonds could never have competed with.”

“And what was the second thing?”

“Huh?”

“You said there were two things about the Cosways you needed to comment on?”

“Oh yeah. Second, the Cosways could take one or two of the places on that list of commandments broken. They broke two of them. Disrespecting their parents and killing someone. So there is a possibility that while each brother committed both sins, one could have been killed for one sin and the other brother for the other sin. Or both brothers for both sins. Either way,” Tippin said looking up at the board, “that takes us to ten commandments broken and ten victims.”

Thou shalt have no other gods before me

- Nina Mendola

Thou shalt not make for yourself an idol

– Caroline Maddox

Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain – Charles Wyler

Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy

– Kyle Oni

Honor thy father and thy mother

– Cosway Bros?

Thou shalt not kill – Cosway Bros?

Thou shalt not commit adultery

– Allison Tisdale

Thou shalt not steal – Jason Bollinger

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor – Julie Hammond?

Thou shalt not covet your neighbor’s house, wife, etc. – Ian Harris

“All right,” Parks said. “This is seriously messed up.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So then tell me, who was Julie Hammond survived by? Mother? Father? A father could be doing this.”

“Could be. If any of them were still alive to avenge her death.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Mother battled breast cancer all throughout the events at the school. After her daughter’s suicide, she simply gave up and succumbed to it. Here. I found some old Facebook pi
ctures from Julie’s old page. It hasn’t been updated, obviously, but look.”

Tippin
moved some pages around on his laptop and showed Parks the girl’s social media page. He motioned through several pages of photos until he stopped on one of Julie and her mother and enlarged it. There was a picture of the two women having just received tattoos at a local parlor. Signs of tears were prominent, but pride overcoming the mother daughter bonding experience. On top of the mother’s right foot, matching the tattoo in the center of her daughter’s left shoulder was the Japanese symbol for ten.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“According to the date they probably got them about the time the mother found out about her cancer and six months before the daughter started getting into trouble at school.”

“That’s connection . . . whatever it is. Bajillion It doesn’t matter. It’s a link. Did they ever express why they got them or what they mean?”

“Not here on the page they didn’t. It might be somewhere else on here. I can search. But there was nothing immediate.”

“They’re not alone
,” Parks said, nodding toward the photo. Tippin knew what he was referring to. While Julie and her mother were the main focus of the picture, there was another person, from the looks of it a man, on the other side of Julie, though only his arm wrapped around Julie’s shoulder was visible as the rest of him had been cut off by the frame.

“We’ll come back to that,” Tippin said.

“Who is that?”

“We’ll come back to that. Let’s keep going.”

“You’re pissing me off. You better make it quick. What about the father? Is it the father in that picture with them? That would fit.”

“It isn’t the father. He couldn’t handle what had happened to his family, so he took his own life as well. Double barrel
in the mouth. Top of the head was completely gone. Terrible. I saw the crime scene photos. Took his teeth and fingerprints to ID him. And according to the coroner’s report he did not have the symbol tattoo anywhere on him. I checked.”

“And?”

“No siblings. No cousins. Both parents only children. No other relatives left alive.”

“So who’s that leave us with, Milo?” Parks demanded. He knew the kid had a theory and wondered why he wasn’t d
ivulging it. Tippin avoided Parks’s eyes. “Milo, what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Now, none of this is for sure. I mean, this could all j
ust be a coincidence. Douglas Tisdale could be the real Palisades Poisoner.”

“Bullshit,” Parks shot back. “You know that’s bullshit. Doug Tisdale was a patsy. And if this whole Julie Hammond connection is simply a coincidence, then that’s the biggest fucking coincidence of the century. And you and I both know it. What is it? Spill.”

“There’s only one other person I can think of who’s associated with this entire thing,” Tippin said, finally breaking.

“Who is it?”

“Julie’s boyfriend.”

“She had a boyfriend? I can buy a boyfriend doing this.”

“There’s more,” Tippin said, hoping to build the suspense even more before the revelation.

“Go on.”

“Apparently, they had been high-school sweethearts. Together for like six years or something. He’s two years younger than her though, so he didn’t show up for most of the events at the college. But he was adamant about the lies being presented against Julie Hammond during everything that was going on. Argued with Wyler on TV and everything. Took offense at the way the school handled the whole event. Like they brushed it under the rug and forgot about it. Plus, now he’s old enough to go to college and is currently enrolled in the same school where Julie went. I think that’s where he’s getting some of the poisons to carry out what he’s doing. Sort of his way of getting back at the school. I did some checking earlier . . . several of them are kept at the school. If someone knew what they were doing, they could have easily manipulated the numbers of what was in stock to cover what was missing. If word gets out that the Palisades Poisoner got his poisons from the university, it would be some seriously bad publicity for them. And that’s going back to how I think the Poisoner plans to hurt the university.”

“Okay. But who is it, Milo?”
Parks asked. His mind raced. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Also, he’s been around toxic chemicals most of his life, so he’s familiar with them. He knows all about them and how to handle them. That’s why I think he chose poisons as the way to kill people. Plus, he loved Julie Hammond. And poisoning is seen as a more intimate way of killing someone. He’s showing his love for her by doing this the way he is.”

“Who is it, Milo? Who was Julie Hammond’s boyfriend?”

Tippin looked to the ground then finally up at his boss again, the hurt etched in his eyes. He hated to say it but knew the time had come. There was nothing left to say. Tippin clicked the arrow button on the computer and the next photo in the series popped up on the screen. In it was a picture of Julie with her boyfriend. He too had gotten a Japanese sy
mbol for ten tattooed upon his body. Square in the center of his right shoulder. He had his sleeve pulled back and he was flexing alongside Julie, tatted shoulder to tatted shoulder, making the evidence irrefutable. 

“Rick Isley,” Tippin said, his voice barely a whisper. “J
ulie Hammond’s boyfriend was Jackie’s son.”

35

Fifty minutes later, after making it out of the downtown area to Venice Beach, Parks managed to navigate his way through the canals to Jackie’s front door. The sun had set, but the neighborhood was brightly lit with street lamps and porch lights reflecting off the water in the canals.

He rang and knocked and waited to be let in. He hadn’t called in advance, hadn’t told her he would be by. He wasn’t sure if Ricky would be there either, or what he would say if he was. He felt the anticipation build in his body as adren
aline pumped throughout his system, and he tried to shake the nerves out while he waited for a reply.

He reached for the doorbell again and noticed his hands shaking. He stuck them in his pockets, hoping that he would calm down before Jackie answered the door. He felt like a teenager waiting for his first date. Or worse, a traitor. He wasn’t sure what to say—what he would say to the woman he felt himself falling for.

Just as he was about to wonder if maybe no one was home the door swung open. Jackie stood there in a pair of form-fitting jeans and a green Fighting Irish t-shirt that brought out the reddish highlights of her hair. She smiled at him without saying a word, her face lighting up and taking off a decade of tiredness at the sight of him. They had seen less of each other since the fire at the hospital, as she had been called to other investigations throughout the Southern California area, though none were of the murderous tone set by the Palisades Poisoner.

“I hear you caught him tonight,” Jackie said, breaking the silence with a wide smile. “Here to celebrate?”

“Actually,” Parks said, looking down at the doormat before looking back up at her, “here to talk, if we can?”

Jackie studied his face then took a step back. “I’m in the middle of making dinner. You can help. Come on in.”

  Parks stepped into the house and Jackie gave him a kiss, holding him tight, both of them taking in each other’s scents, their warmth, before she let him go. She turned away and headed toward the kitchen in the back of the house.

“Leave your coat and gun on the rack and come help me,” Jackie called back to him. “I need some garlic pressed and tomatoes chopped.”

Parks stood there, looking around at the Norman Rockwell-esque home with sounds of the ocean in the background while food cooked in the kitchen. Pictures of Jackie and her son were scattered about the home, hanging on the hallway walls and spread out on various tables, showing a life they had built for each other, with soccer games, Cub Scout camping trips, academic trophies—all in the absence of any true male figure in either of their lives. They had done the best with what they had, which was better than most. Love held them together and sustained them through what most others might have seen as a bad situation. Both were stronger than might have been given credit. Jackie had nothing to feel guilty about. She had done good.

Then again, how could he say that knowing what he knew about her son. This would destroy her. Her every worst fear come true. She would blame herself until her last breath. All the deaths brought about by her own flesh and blood. She would never forgive herself. She would never forgive him.

Parks removed his jacket and gun and hung them up on the rack.

“You know, I think we should talk,” Parks said, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“So then talk,” Jackie said, laughing as she stirred something on the stove.

“It’s not about us,” Parks said as he walked into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Ricky sitting at the bar divider between the dining area and the kitchen. The teena
ger watched his mother cook and glared at Parks upon his entrance. He had a look of finally accepting Parks’s place in his mother’s life on his face.

“Then what’s it about?” Jackie asked, still moving about the kitchen like a master. Stirring one pot, moving another from one burner to the next, chopping food. “Dave?”

Jackie looked up to Parks and noticed him staring at her son.

“All right, you two.” Jackie stopped and flipped on the faucet to clean off her hands. “We need to get this out of the
way once and for all. I’m not dealing with this any longer. Ricky . . . Ricky? You hear me. If you have something you need to say, then I want you two to deal with it. Here. Now. With me around to witness it all. No tough guy, bullshit. You hear me?”

Parks and Ricky continued to stare intently at each other, each one wondering what the other was thinking.

“Does she know?” Parks finally asked. 

“Who?” Jackie asked, grabbing some wine glasses and a bottle of merlot off the counter. “Me? What? What do I know?”

“Does she?”

A brief look of confusion flashed across Ricky’s face.

“We figured it all out,” Parks said. “Everything. All of the pieces of the puzzle. We put them all together.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackie asked as she looked from Parks to Ricky. “Ricky? What’s he talking about?”

Parks paused for a moment. Was he wrong? He could have been. This could have been one last mistake in a long line of them. Only he wouldn’t have minded this one.

“Julie Hammond,” Parks said, drawing the attention of both mother and son.

Ricky glanced at his mother, a look of having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar across his face.

“Julie? What does she have to do with anything?” Jackie placed the wine glass down. “She hasn’t been . . . she hasn’t been a part of our lives for two years now. What are you
talking about, Dave? What does she have to do with anything right now?”

“Why don’t you ask your son?” Parks said. “He should be able to tell you about her.”

“Look,” Jackie said, getting frustrated. “I know all about Julie Hammond. And if you don’t mind, this isn’t something I care to talk about right now. The past is the past. Look, Dave, I was there through it all. It was a bad time for all of us. But especially Ricky. It’s all in the past. We’ve moved on. That’s not a part of our life anymore. Why are you bringing her up?”

“Because of her connection to the Palisades Poisoner,” Parks replied.

“What?” Jackie asked, confused.

Ricky looked to Parks with shock on his face.

“Didn’t think we’d put it all together, did you?” Parks asked. “But we know. The poisons the Palisades Poisoner has been using came from the university where Julie went to school. The same university Ricky currently attends. I know you know all about them, how to use them. Handle them safely.” Parks turned from mother to son. “I know all about the victims who have been poisoned.”

“What about them?” Jackie asked, her eyes wide in disb
elief at what she was hearing.

“I know about their connection to Julie Hammond. And why they were chosen.”

“What?” Jackie asked, startled. “What are you talking about?”

“It was all about revenge. Wasn’t it, Ricky?”

“What?” Jackie stood up in Parks’s face. Her entire body shook with the rush of adrenaline. “You think my son is the Palisades Poisoner? You think that? How dare you! How dare you!”

“It all fits.” Parks grabbed Jackie by the shoulders. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we know all about it. Ev
eryone’s connection. Your son’s connection to Julie Hammond. He’s the only one left to do it.”

“To do what?” Jackie spat.

“To seek revenge,” Parks replied calmly.

“That’s bullshit,” Ricky said, his face full of rage as he tried to compute what Parks was accusing him of, shock ta
king over his body and petrifying him in a state of immobility.

The front doorbell rang, none of them registering it.

“I know this hurts, but it’s the truth,” Parks said.

“Fuck you!” Ricky shouted.

“Ricky, stop!” Jackie ordered, standing between Parks and her son, the mother lioness moving in to protect her young. “That’s not helping.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Parks said turning to Ricky who tried holding back the tears of a past pain. “Everyone at the station knows about this. I’m asking you, for your mother’s sake, both of you, come in calmly. Let me take you in. We can work this out. It doesn’t have to end in any more deaths. He has the symbol. On him.”

“What? What symbol?”

“The Japanese symbol. The one that’s been carved into the bodies of the victims. Ricky, Julie and her mother each got the symbol tattooed on themselves a few months before Julie’s death. I’ve seen the photos. Online.”

“What?” Jackie almost gasped as she turned to her son, the news that he had a tattoo—no less the same symbol matching the victims of the Palisades Poisoner—obviously shocking her. “No. But I’ve seen it before. It’s not . . . it can’t be. I would have . . . it is—how did I not know?”

“You’re his mother,” Parks consoled. “You couldn’t have seen it as associated with this. Your subconscious wouldn’t allow you to ever condemn your own child. I understand that. But it’s true.” 

The doorbell rang again and Jackie jerked her head toward the hallway.

“Is that them? The police? Are they here to arrest my son?” she asked with tears coming down her face as she moved right up to Parks. “I’m telling you, Dave. If you ever trusted me. If you feel anything for me at all, I’m telling you my son did not do what you are accusing him of.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie.” Parks placed his hands on her shoulders once more. “I wish it could be another way. I wish it wasn’t so. But it is. Convince him to come peacefully with me, and I promise you, I’ll look out for him the best I can.” The doorbell rang again and Parks turned toward the front door then back to Jackie. “Talk to him. If he runs, it won’t end well for him. I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

Parks left Jackie’s side, tears streaming down her face, her mascara leaving black streaks as she smeared her eyes with her hands. She turned to her son, who stood silent, stunned by the accusation. Parks walked to the front door as the doorbell sounded one more time.

His hand froze on the doorknob. He knew they were waiting, just on the other side of the door. They would come in, arrest her son, and tear apart her house, her world. She would be finished as well. They would no doubt blame her. She would never be allowed to practice her profession again.

Could he do it? Could he ruin two lives? But what about the lives of the victims? The dead? Did he really have a choice? He could tell them that he was alone there. He hadn’t found anyone at home. How would they ever know? Sure it was wrong, but it happened all the time, right? Look at his partner. Aaron Levinson did stuff like that all the time. His partner had thought he could take the law into his own hands and look where it got him. But he wasn’t Aaron L
evinson. He knew what he must do. No matter how he felt. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought. Let them judge. He was stronger than that. He was his own person. He had to make his own decisions in life and not be affected by the actions of those around him. He knew what he must do. Even if he didn’t like the options.

The doorbell rang once more.

*                            *                            *

“Tippin,” called out Hardwick when she entered the conf
erence room. “What are you still doing here? Everyone else has already left for the day.”

“I . . . uh . . .” Tippin stammered. “I was just looking up some old files on one of the cases related to the Poisoner. To help Detective Parks, on some back research stuff.”

“What back research stuff?” Hardwick asked, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“A new theory.”

“What theory?”

“We
stumbled upon something. I mean, I did. A different . . . avenue. A different theory about who the Poisoner really is.”

“What theory? Where’s Parks right now?”

“Out chasing down a lead.”

“Son of a . . .” Hardwick retrieved her cell phone and d
ialed Parks’s number. “I don’t know where he is or what you two are up to, but I’m getting him back here right now. I have a press release to work on, and if he hasn’t wrapped—dammit, fucking hell.”

Hardwick slammed her phone closed then opened it up and dialed the number again.

“What the hell are you looking at anyway?” Hardwick gestured to the files all over Tippin’s desk and began picking up a few of the papers and looking them over. 

“Julie Hammond.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“She’s the girl we think is at the center of this whole co
nspiracy. She’s why this all began in the first place.” Tippin reached for the papers Hardwick had picked up and began to reassemble them in a sort of mishmash order that only made sense to him.

“How’s that?” Hardwick asked, demanding an answer to all of her problems. “Who is she?”

“All of these poisonings are an act of revenge for a lost loved one,” Tippin explained rather dully. “Julie Hammond. It’s her boy—” Tippin stopped shuffling the papers and stared at one particular piece.

“Yes? Earth to Milo. Who is she?”

“That . . . doesn’t . . . that doesn’t add up,” Tippin whispered.

“What doesn’t add up?”

“Julie Hammond’s parents.”

“What about them?”