The Poisonous Ten (6 page)

“According to her secretary, Allison Tisdale wasn’t sch
eduled to come in to the office today until the afternoon,” Fairmont offered. “She told the office she was going straight up to the house on Mulholland to get it ready for the viewing.”

“That coincides with what the husband told us,” Parks said.

Parks’s team stared at him as he got lost in his own thoughts. He looked up and saw Hardwick staring back, and he shook out of it.

“What else do we have? Jackie? You and Amy find an
ything out about the body?”

“The tests confirm that our victim was poisoned by cy
anide,” Jackie began. “This could have affected our killer just as much as the intended victim. It not only takes a lot of patience but, well, balls to pull this off. It’s dangerous.”

“What kind of a time period are we talking about here?” Parks asked. “I mean, considering when she left home to the time when we found the body was around two hours. Maybe less? Is that possible?”

“Yes.” Jackie nodded. “Inhaling a toxic dose of cyanide—and in a gaseous form—can cause immediate unconsciousness. Convulsions even. And death can follow within fifteen minutes. Swallowing takes longer, which is probably why our killer chose the gas form.”

“And how did our killer get his hands on this cyanide
gas?”

“Not sure. But it’s a poisonous toxin, so it should be tr
aceable. I’ll check on it.”

“And what about the purple blood?”

“It’s a side effect of the poison,” Jackie explained. “It’s often called ‘chemical asphyxia.’ What cyanide does is prevent the body’s red blood cells from absorbing oxygen, which we all know is what turns blood the reddish color we generally see.”

“And what about the circle put around the body?” Har
dwick interrupted. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing as far as I’m aware of.”

“We feel it’s a sort of calling card from the killer,” Parks admitted, not all that sure. “Either that, or they just wanted to make a spectacle. Perhaps they’re theatrical.”

“Speaking of calling cards,” Amy Tanaka blurted out as she burst into the conference room. “I think our killer left one. And it’s not the bloody circle.”

“What is it?” Parks asked.

Tanaka took the photos she had in her hands and passed them around the table. They were of some part of the vi
ctim’s body with a small symbol carved into the skin.

十

“What’s this?” Parks asked.

“That was carved into the victim’s body near the vaginal area. Postmortem.”

“A cross?”

“God dammit,” Hardwick huffed. “Does that mean this a religious killing then?”

“It could be,” Tanaka replied, nodding. “But I don’t think it’s a cross. It’s too symmetrical. All four ends are equal.”

“A plus sign?” Fairmont asked. 

“But what does that mean?” Parks asked.

“
Could be. Who knows?” Tanaka shrugged.

“
But you don’t think so?” Parks asked impatiently. He wanted answers. And another damn cup of coffee. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Tanaka admitted. “I just know what I thought of when I first saw it. But I think that’s more of a cultural thing. It probably is a plus sign. Or something else.”

“What did you see?” Parks asked again.

“Jū,” Tanaka finally answered.

“Jew?” Fairmont asked. “You mean, like, this is an unfinished swastika?”

“No,” Tanaka said with a roll of her eyes, clearly getting fed up explaining everything. “Not a Jew. Jū.” The examiner pronounced the word with more emphasis, and most around the table heard the Japanese in the word.

“You mean like ten?” Parks asked.

“Oh,” Tanaka paused, the look on her face showing her surprise that Parks knew the Japanese number for ten. “Yes, exactly. Jū. The Japanese character for ten.”

“So what are you saying?” Parks asked, his eyes glassing over.

“Not saying anything,” Tanaka admitted. “Just that I think it’s the symbol for the Japanese character for ten. I don’t know what it means. That’s your job. I just bring you what I find. And it could just be a plus sign. Who knows?”

“But it means something,” Moore added. “It has to. The killer wouldn’t just put that on the body for no reason. It means something.”

“Most likely,” Parks agreed. “Okay. We have some r
esearch to do. We need to run a check to see if there have been any similar murders with matching symbols carved into the bodies or left at the crime scene. Check with VICAP. Then we still have to find out how and why Allison Tisdale was chosen. I think that’s just as important as why our killer’s doing what he’s doing. He chose her. For a reason. We need to know why. And how he came across her path. Does he know her intimately? Professionally? We need to tear Allison Tisdale’s life apart piece by piece and then put it all back together again. This could be about anyone in Allison’s life. So we’re going to have to dig deep with this.”

“We’re on it,” Moore said, motioning to Fairmont.

“Oh, Amy. The victim . . . was she pregnant?” Parks asked. Tanaka made a face, so Parks offered an explanation. “We’re crossing off potential reasons behind the honey.”

“Not sure what honey has to do with pregnancy, but for the record, Allison Tisdale was not pregnant.”

“Good. Perfect. Milo, we’re also going to have to do some research on the number ten and poisons,” Parks continued. “What I think we should do is find out all we can about the number ten. What’s its significance to anything? Locally? Historically? Universally? Anything and everything. But that’s not a priority.”

“Got it,” Tippin said.

“Jackie, you’re on the cyanide. See if there’s anything significant that’s been stolen in the last six months. At least. Anything reported missing. Universities. Chemical plants. Not just cyanide. Everything poisonous. I’m not talking Tylenol and simple household items. Our guy is theatrical. He’s going for big and showy. The exotic. See if anything sticks out. I understand this is a needle in a big-ass haystack, but it’s at least a start. The problem with only one body is we’re not sure what his plan is, or what direction he’s planning on going. So until we learn something else we have a large canvas that everything’s going to fall into.”

“I’ll make some calls. See what I can find out,” Jackie o
ffered. “I know certain people in the right circles when it comes to poisons.”

“All right then,” Parks said, standing back up to end the meeting. “Everyone do what you can. Go home and get some rest and be back bright and early tomorrow. We have a full day ahead of us.”
             

Parks noticed Hardwick motion for him to follow her out of the room. He followed her to her office where she asked him to close the door behind himself.

“Is something wrong?” Parks began. “With the assignments I just—”

“No, no,” Hardwick said, brushing Parks’s comment off and motioning for him to sit in one of the chairs opposite her desk. “You know what you’re doing. You know how to lead an investigation. You don’t need me eyeing your every move.”

“Though the higher-ups would probably prefer that you did, considering recent events—”

“Believe it or not, but the higher-ups, as you so put them, actually are looking out for you.”

“As well as their own asses,” Parks said, making sure they both knew where they stood.

“True,” Hardwick said, giving him the courtesy of the truth. “But that’s not what I need to speak to you about right now. You’ve been reinstated. IA has found no evidence of any wrong doing, on your behalf, on the Peter Kozlov case, or any of your previous cases. If they had, believe me, you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be talking to your union rep and enjoying the life of a retiree or guarding a cotton candy stand in Calabasas.”

“So what’s this about?”

“Peter Kozlov.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s
shit. You know that. I know that. Most everyone who can read a paper or watch the late night news knows that.”

“He’s more than
that. He attacked children. That makes him—”

“I am aware, and I agree. But that doesn’t make his rights, as a US citizen no less, any less than yours or mine.”

“Don’t tell me. He’s got a lawyer.”

“He’s got a lawyer.” Hardwick nodded. “Adam Wolfe, no less.”

“Son of a bitch,” Parks cursed. Adam Wolfe was a well-known, and much cursed name around the LAPD when it came to high profile defense cases. “And he’s claiming what?”

“That he was framed,” Hardwick answered.

“Son of a bitch,” Parks repeated. “And?” Hardwick stared, remaining silent. “And what? You’re saying he could walk? Seriously? He fed razor blades to children. He attacked his wife. Killed my partner. And he could walk? Seriously?”

“Levinson planted evidence,” Hardwick said calmly. “It’s pretty well known by now.”

“But I didn’t.”

“No. So what we need right now is to separate your i
nvestigation into Kozlov from Levinson’s. All files. Notes. Everything. I’ve already got a team going over everything. The only way we’re going to nab Kozlov is by painting you as a saint, which luckily for me, you damn near are. And—”

“And painting Levinson as the devil,” Parks finished.

“It’s going to be ugly,” Hardwick said, confirming his thoughts. “But if we want to get him for this then there’s no other way. Otherwise—”

“He could be a free man,” Parks spat. “Seriously?”

“You need to make yourself available.”

“For?”

“Adam Wolfe for starters. Anything he needs. Files. Documents. You. If he has questions you better answer them and have the evidence to back them up. This thing is being rushed to court within the next week and Wolfe is already aiming to have the entire case thrown out.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t convinced Kozlov to be deported back to Russia,” Parks said.

“Oh, he won’t do that,” Hardwick said reaching into her side drawer and pulling out a file. “We came across this last week while you were on vacation.”

Parks made a face, challenging her word choice.

“What’s that?” Parks asked, accepting the file.

“Let’s just say you caught on and identified Kozlov a hell of a lot faster than they did over in Russia,” Hardwick said.

Parks picked up the file, flipped it open and immediately shut it. Inside were dozens of pictures, each person obviously the target of Kozlov’s wrath.

“How many?”

“Thirteen dead. Nine adults. Four children,” Hardwick said, her expression stone cold. “At least another fifteen harmed. Three of those children.”

“This fucker goes after children,” Parks said, running his
hands over his face. There was nothing more that needed to be said. He picked back up the file and flipped through it again.

“I’m aware of that,” Hardwick said. “It appears he started after adults but then realized it was easier to … trick chil
dren.”

“I’m surprised someone from the Russian mob didn’t cut his dick off and feed it to him.”

“They never identified Kozlov as the attacker over there. The attacks simply stopped. And he never touched a child.”

“No, he never molested a child, he just fed them razor blades and watched them suffer.”

“Now you get how serious this is? This man killed thirteen people and attacked another two-dozen, including children. This man cannot be let free.”

“Whatever you need.” Parks nodded.

“The case files are being gone over by a team,” Hardwick said. “That you don’t need to worry about. Probably better if you don’t touch it until they’re done, but once they are, it would be recommended that you go over every detail so you know it like the back of your hand. And any meetings you do have with Wolfe you better make sure you have our legal representation there as well. I don’t need any bullshit accusations being flung about. Not any more than already are being slung.”

“Consider it done.”

“And Parks,” Hardwick said, breathing deeply. “There better not be any fuckups by you or your team. Adam Wolfe is just looking for that one step out of line that will set his client free.”   

“Great,” Parks smiled. “All I needed on my first case back.”

“What’s that?”

“More pressure.”   

7

“Detective Parks? Detective Parks.”

Parks turned around at the sound of his name to see Jac
kie Isley following him out the front doors of the station.

“Doctor,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“For starters, it’s Jackie. Remember?”

“Jackie.” Parks smiled. “And when I’m off the clock, it’s Dave. What can I do for you?”

“Well, Dave, I was wondering what your plans were.”

“I just broke down what everyone needs to focus on. I b
elieve—”

“No. No,” Jackie cut him off, smiling. “Not about the case. I mean right now. Would you like to get a drink? I was just . . . well, I’d like to talk. Pick your brain. If you have the time, that is? I promise to be more sociable.”

Parks noticed several officers passing by, no one paying them any attention. The sun was still up over the horizon but looked ready to disappear within the next half hour, hopefully relieving them of the heat that had bore down on the city all day. Despite that he had lived his whole life in Southern California, he never thought he’d get used to the heat. And each passing year it seemed to get worse.

“I’d like to apologize,” Jackie said when Parks didn’t r
espond.

“What for?”

“My behavior earlier today. I realize I might not be the warmest person when it comes to first impressions. I guess that just comes from my line of work. Most people assume that because I deal with toxic chemicals and contaminants all day long, I myself might also be infectious. I notice the looks I get. It’s the general behavior I get from other men and women in the department, and I guess that over time I’ve put up a shield against it. Stay professional. Get in, do my job, and get out. The truth of it is that I do work with toxic contaminants all day long and it is a serious business. Lives are at stake and can continue to be so if I do my job incorrectly. But you and your team seem different. I just—”

“Sure.” Parks smiled, stopping her babble. He wasn’t r
eally in the mood to socialize, thanks to the news Hardwick had just given him. But then again, he could use a drink.   “A drink sounds good.”

*
                            *                            *

Thirty minutes later Dave Parks and Jackie Isley sat at a t
able in the corner of the front patio of a dimly lit Mexican cantina on Sunset near Van Ness. The music was louder than Parks would have preferred for conversation, so he chose the gated patio area, allowing for a little bit of privacy.

Behind the bar rested a wall covered with various tequ
ilas, each one used to make a different flavored margarita. Two wide-screen televisions were plastered up in the corners above the bar, currently showcasing the Dodgers, who were ahead by five points, continuing their winning streak.

“So how’d you find this place?” Jackie asked as she took her seat.

“Passed by it one night on the way home. Every now and again I’ll take the team here,” Parks said. “Cheap drinks. Good food. And on Tuesdays the tacos are a buck each. On our salary, every penny helps.”

“Oh, I get you there,” Jackie said, taking his thought and running with it. “Imagine being a single mother on what we make. Gotta love those high-paying city jobs.”     

Jackie took a sip of her margarita and brushed a strand of her reddish-brown hair out of her face. Parks noticed for the first time that day she had untangled her hair from up above her head, allowing the twists and turns of her naturally curly hair to fall down around her face. He also caught the vibrant colors that helped complement her natural beauty, especially after a day of working and not applying a fresh layer of makeup. 

“So you have a kid?” Parks asked
, not noticing a ring on her finger. He wasn’t sure why he was conflicted to hear the news but felt he should pursue the subject since she had brought it up.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t really call him a kid anymore.” Jackie shrugged. “He’s
twenty. Just starting his second year at PSU this fall.”

“
Twenty?” Parks asked.

“Yeah,” she replied and blushed, fiddling with her napkin. “I had him when I was young. I was kind of a lost teenager—well, not really. I mean, I was focused. But I guess when I rebelled I did it in the strongest way possible and, well . . . live and learn.” She took another swallow of her peach-flavored drink and continued to play with the rim of the glass as she spoke. “Not that I regret having Ricky—that’s my son. Not that I regret having him for one second. He’s the light of my life. I can’t imagine him not being a part of my life.”

“And the father?”

“Who knows? Not around, that’s all I know. He didn’t w
ant anything to do with Ricky. Wanted me to get rid of him before I had him. Fine with me. He wasn’t the fatherly type. Just the type you get rebellious against the parents with. Anyway, he didn’t want to be around, and I didn’t want him. And I’ve rarely ever seen or heard from him since. But that’s okay. I had my mother to help me out, and everything’s worked out so far. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Honestly, every now and again, I wonder if I didn’t screw up my son by raising him on my own. Not that I feel I did a bad job. Just that I wish I had had a father figure around for him growing up.”

“And how’s school going for Ricky?”

“We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want,” Jackie said, blushing again.

Parks took a sip of his drink. “No, please. It’s fine.”    

“School’s good for him, I think,” Jackie continued. “Sorry. Not used to being on a date and having a guy actually interested in my child. Oh, I’m sorry. Not that this is . . . Sorry. Not that this is a date. I didn’t mean that. Just that I’m not used to other people asking about my kid.” Parks smiled and nodded, understanding what she meant. “But school’s good for him. As best as I know anyway. He tries to pretend to not want me to butt in all the time, but he still loves me and tells me what he can. He’s majoring in physical therapy. Or maybe it’s called sports medicine. I’m not sure. He’s always been one of those health-nut types. Always played sports in school. But then in high school, well, he had a rough time. Personal stuff. But when he played football, he dislocated his knee and tore several ligaments. And that was the end of his playing days. I told him it would be best to try and move on, but he loves the game and decided that studying something to do with sports would be the way to still be around it.”

“So he’s strong willed and independent. Wonder where he gets that
from?” Parks smirked and took a swallow of his drink. “That sucks about the injury. I can relate.”

“Can you now?”

“Yeah. Injured myself my senior year. Playing baseball. It was just as well for me. It’s not like I was ever going to go pro with it.”

“What position?”

“Shortstop. Sometimes outfield. I had the arm for it. It was high school. They moved us around.”

“Shortstop. Like Kyle Oni,” Jackie said referring to the Dodgers’ current superstar. Anyone who followed the Dod
gers knew who Kyle Oni was. Hell, his picture was plastered all over town. Front pages of newspapers, magazine covers and on billboards for the team. Everyone in town worshipped the superstar. 

“Oh, I was nothing like Oni.”

“No unassisted triple plays in your short-lived career?”

“Hardly.” Parks chuckled. “So, you follow the game?”

“Ricky’s the true fan. Spring through fall there’s always a game on the TV or radio somewhere in the house. We usually try to catch a game or two just the two of us if we can fit it in. You know, that may be what I love most about my son. No matter what’s been thrown at him in life—no father, injuries, whatever—he still fights on and doesn’t let it get him down. He’s a fighter, my son. I’ll give him that.”

“I’m sure the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“So anyway, what about you? Any children?”

“Uh, no,” Parks said.

“A perpetual bachelor for life?” Jackie smiled at him, and he stared at her, soaking in the light that beamed off her personality.   

“Actually, I was married once,” Parks admitted, taking another swallow of his drink at the mention of his ex-wife.

“Oh?”             

“But it didn’t last.”

“What happened?” Jackie immediately blushed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. No problem. Who knows? Life. Nothing. Ever
ything.” Parks shrugged as his right leg began to shake, his body filling with nervous energy as he recalled his previous life. “We were high-school sweethearts. Then we got married and that only lasted five months.”

“The marriage killed your relationship?”

Parks shrugged. “Life killed our relationship. We both helped though. Anyway, about five years later she remarried. To a cop, no less. And a few years after that they moved to Santa Barbara.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackie blurted.

“Don’t be,” Parks said. “I’m just not used to having personal conversations with another person, let alone a . . . It’s just . . . Well, it’s like with your son. These aren’t topics that get brought up often. I don’t do this a lot—if ever. I spend most of my time alone. At home or wherever. On the rare chance I’m out it’s usually with other people from the department.”

“You seem dedicated to the job.”

“You could say that. It’s what I have right now. No family to speak of. My mother’s—no idea where she is. She hasn’t been around most of my life. Since I was a kid. My father . . . took his life when I was four. I was mostly raised by my aunt and uncle. They live in Newport Beach, so I only see them once or twice a year around the holidays. No siblings. No wife anymore. But I still have my job. I like it. I’m a bit of a loner. But I like it. Being on my own. In my head. Thinking a problem through. I’d be scared for anyone else who tries to settle down in there. In my head, I mean. Who knows, maybe I am a perpetual bachelor for life. There are worse things.”

“Did the job interfere with any of those things? Like your marriage?”

“I was a good husband.” Parks took a sip of his drink and rethought his last reply. “She had . . . has emotional, um, problems. Well . . . let’s just say she just wasn’t up to married life. At least not with me. Truth is I didn’t start on the force until after the divorce. I sort of became lost when we separated. That’s when I stumbled upon the LAPD. It’s possible I wouldn’t be here right now if she hadn’t left me. So who knows?”

“We kind of just dove right into the personal stuff, didn’t we? I really did mean to talk about the case. Why didn’t we just stick to favorite bands or places to eat?” Jackie laughed, breaking the tension.

“Bet your favorite band is Poison.”

Both immediately burst out laughing.

“Sorry about that. Oh, I don’t know,” Parks admitted. “You asked and it just felt right to answer. Who knows why we do half the things we do.”

“So, how long have you been a detective?”

“I’ve been a cop in one way or another for about . . . what, oh, fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen years?”

“Yep,” Parks said, recalling the exact dates of things. “Became a patrol cop at twenty. Did that for four years. Followed by three years with the GND.”

“GND?”

“Gangs and Narcotics Division. Then took my detectives exam and transferred over to Robbery-Homicide. Been working with them for about eight years now with the last three strictly through IAS. That’s the Investigative Analysis Section. That’s why I have the team I have. Usually detectives work in two or three-man teams. CSI comes in and does their analysis of the crime scene then hand over their findings to the detectives, who put it all together and try to solve it. Since I work in accordance with the IAS, I keep closer contact with the other analysts that I wouldn’t usually work with after their initial investigation into the crime. Keeps us closer. But keeps us busier, as we’re usually given more cases to solve.” Parks stopped talking and took a sip of his drink as he collected his thoughts. “But who knows. There’ve been rumors running through the chain of command about changing things around in the department. Possibly get rid of the IAS teams. Just keeping the CSIs in their own group and the detectives in another. In a year or two I might not even be working out of this division any more. Or with these people. It changes all the time. I try to make the best out of what I’ve got. Try and do what I can with what I have while I have it. The rest doesn’t matter.”    

Jackie mulled over Parks’s comments. “So what’s with the Frankenstein look?”

“The wha—oh.” Parks smiled and reached up to his face, rubbing several of the stitches. “It’s not as bad as it looks. The last case we worked. We tracked down Peter Kozlov—he was that teacher—”

“Oh God, I heard about that,” Jackie gasped. “You guys worked on that?”

“That was us. Anyway, after we figured out who it was, Levinson and I—uh, Aaron Levinson. He used to be part of the team. Well, we went to arrest Kozlov and he put up a bit of a fight. Went after his wife. Accused her of turning him into us. Levinson tried to save her and was run over. Crushed him. He died quickly, all things considering. Due to Levinson’s death, him being my partner, and whatnot, I was placed on immediate mandatory leave.”