Last Man's Head (14 page)

THIRTY

‘
Why didn’t you
say something?’ Domingo asked.

Leroy turned the Taurus into
Mulholland Avenue. ‘What could I say?  “Oh, I am sorry, Mr Mason. I’ve just remembered we’re not looking for a fugitive from a robbery, but a battered old sedan driven by a hooker called Alexandra.” I don’t think so.’

‘What do you think’s going on there, then? Is the house a whorehouse, you think?’

‘Could be, if Alexandra was working out of there.’

‘She must be; why else would she head back there? Surely she hadn’t arranged to see you at eleven-thirty, and someone there at eleven fifty. She’s a hooker, not a dentist. And why park the car hidden behind some pool house?’

‘Why indeed? Another thing: that looked a pretty fine house, inside and out. Not quite the sort of place you’d expect a hooker doing tricks for three hundred bucks to work out of.  Place like that, you’d expect to pay five, ten times that. And then there’s  that Mason guy…’

‘Dwight Mason,’ Domingo said slowly and carefully.

‘Yeah. I can’t quite make him out. There was something about him that didn’t quite seem right.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘No, I don’t mean that.  Who is he? He talked about his employer, so he isn’t the owner of the place.’ Leroy shook his head. Turned the car left at a junction. ‘He seemed….seemed strangely familiar to me.  His face, I mean.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, but I can’t put my finger on what. Once we get back to the Desk I’ll find out who owns that place. Might help place him.’

‘You could try Google,’ Domingo suggested.

Leroy looked over. ‘What? Google him?’

‘Why not? You never know: he could be someone famous whose face you can’t place.’

He nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do that.’

‘You never know -’ Domingo started to say, only to be interrupted by her cell phone. ‘It’s Connor,’ she said, picking up. She listened to what her partner had to say, replied, ‘Okay, we’re on our way,’ and then looked over at Leroy.

‘What did he have to say?’ Leroy asked.

‘He was relaying a message from Lieutenant Perez. We have to get our asses back to the station house. He wants to see you like yesterday.’

‘So he has started today,’ Leroy said. ‘Swell. We were going back anyway.’

*****

Once back at HQ  Leroy and Domingo walked back to the Homicide Desk. They had to pass the office of Lieutenant Perez, a smaller version of the room Captain Patterson used. Perez’s door was shut.

‘Let’s get it over with.’ Leroy paused at the door. ‘You make a start on Mason and that house. See you in a bit.’

‘Sure thing, Sam,’ Domingo nodded and went to her desk.

Leroy knocked on the door. A voice from inside called out, ‘Come in.’ Inside, Lieutenant Perez was sitting behind a desk covered with case folders. Leroy reflected that it was a similar picture to the captain’s desk. Clearly the rumours were true: Perez was Patterson’s protégé.

‘Be right with you, Sam.’ Perez fished around the desk and picked up a folder. A thin folder. ‘Take a seat.’

Leroy grunted his thanks and sat down. ‘I guess congratulations are in order – Lieutenant.’

Perez looked up and smiled. ‘I appreciate that, Sam.’ He paused, as if in thought, then said, ‘You know, strange isn’t it? Two weeks ago you were calling me Roman: now it’s Lieutenant.’

Leroy smiled insincerely. ‘Yeah. Strange.’

‘They say a week is a long time in police work, but two…’ His voice tailed off. ‘Look, I want to get one thing out in the open first.’

Leroy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, yes?’ he asked inquisitively.

Perez continued, ‘I mean it’s no secret you were up for this job. I would say  sorry you didn’t get it, but…’

Leroy shrugged. ‘May the best man win, as they say.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to say, I hope there’s no hard feelings…’

Leroy shook his head. ‘Not here, there
aren’t.’

Perez went on, ‘And we can carry on working together.’

‘I hope so too. I can’t see any reason why not.’

‘Great. That’s really great.’

Leroy said nothing.

‘So, I’ve been looking through the files on these recent John Does.’

‘Not all John Does now. We have identified two of them: Guy Robbins and Lance Riley.’

Perez slowly nodded his head. ‘Really? I didn’t know that. That’s good, but it doesn’t change the fact that you have been spending - that you and Detective Domingo have been spending – one hell of a lot of time driving the streets of LA investigating two or three cases - similar cases, I’ll grant you
- of deaths by misadventure.’

‘We’re not sure they were misadventure.’

‘What have you found then? I understand one of the victim’s laptops has been sent to the CCU: have they come back to you?’

‘No, not yet. We haven’t found a lot yet, I admit, but
it’s still early days.’

‘I think you’re wasting your time.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘And Detective Domingo’s time.’

‘Oh?’ Leroy sat up. ‘How so?’

‘You’re wasting time on non suspicious deaths. There were no signs of foul play, were there?’

‘No, but -’

‘You know what I think? They were all of a similar socio-economic status, weren’t they? I think they all got involved in some sex and drugs orgy thing, which went too far. Not pleasant, I agree, especially for them.’

‘But the drugs came from somewhere, Lieutenant.’

‘I agree, but you want to know how many homicides took place in this jurisdiction in the last twenty-four hours? Eleven, eight of which were drug related. So, you tell me: which should get our priority? Eleven shootings, a gang rape, five muggings, or three possible suspicious deaths.’

Leroy stood up. ‘It’s all a question of money, isn’t it?’

‘Of course it is. We both know that. But we have to prioritise. And your John Does
, which I and the captain are certain were not suspicious are way, way down the food chain. Do you get me?’

Leroy nodded.

‘I agree it’s not been easy, running without a lieutenant, but now I’ve taken up my post, you and your fellow detectives can get the guidance and support you all need. Yes?’

Leroy said nothing.

‘So,’ Perez continued, ‘just clear up the paperwork on the John Does by,’ - he checked his watch - ‘two, then both you and Domingo have deaths worthy of investigation to look into. She has Detective Connor to look after; when’s Quinn back from vacation?’

‘Day after tomorrow,’ replied Leroy.

‘Well, do what you can on your own. But any situations when you feel you need backup, call me straightaway. Okay?’

‘Okay, Lieutenant.’

‘Well, don’t let me keep you. Update me at the end of the shift.’ Perez closed the thin file and picked up another, much fatter one. He leaned back in his chair, reading the file.

Meeting over
, Leroy thought.

He left Perez to his file, and slowly walked back to his desk. Sure enough, there was a small pile of brown folders waiting for him. He looked over at Domingo’s workstation: she was standing talking to Connor. They were both about to go out. She looked over to Leroy, said something to Connor, who left the room, and stepped over to Leroy.

‘What did he tell you, Sam? She asked. ‘Drop the John Does?’

He nodded. ‘That’s right. Gave me until two o’clock to finish the paperwork. Says he and the captain believe they are a waste of resources.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

Leroy shrugged. ‘What I’m told I guess. Where are you two headed off to?’

‘The Rape Crisis Centre.’

‘Okay. Well, thanks for all you did, Liza.’

‘You’re welcome. See you around. Good luck with that lot.’ She indicated to the pile of files on his desk. ‘But check your emails first.’

With that she left him alone at his desk. He sat down and logged on his computer. Went to his
emails. Trawled down to one Domingo sent ten minutes earlier. Clicked to open it. There was one short line of text:
nothing on google re mason
, and an attachment, which he opened right away.

It opened to details of the house they visited earlier that day. It looked as if Domingo had highlighted the name of the owner.

‘Oh. My. God,’ Leroy whispered.

THIRTY-ONE

Leroy reached across
the desk for his cell phone. He was just about to dial when Perez appeared at his desk, clutching a sheet of paper. He put the phone down and looked up at the lieutenant.

‘Sorry, Sam,’ said Perez. ‘I know
I said write up the John Does by two but something has come up, and everybody else is out. It appears quite straightforward; don’t think you’ll need backup for now.’

‘For now?’ asked Leroy.

‘This is the deal,’ explained Perez. ‘A report’s come in of a stabbing over at Grand Central Market. It was reported about forty minutes ago. Uniform are there and have sealed off the area and one of the CSIs is there.’

Leroy
raised his eyebrows. ‘Already?’

‘Apparently. Anyway, the sooner they can get started on the scene the sooner they can hand it over to you. Just get down there and co-ordinate the non-science stuff. The two patrolmen have already started talking to witnesses: I need you to wrap things up there. If it turns out you do need any backup, then call in. I’ll partner you myself if need be.’ Perez handed Leroy the call-in sheet, and returned to his office. Leroy read through it: it was just as the lieutenant had said. He picked up his phone, put on his coat and left, in a hurry. The call to Domingo could wait.

*****

In the minds of many Angelenos, what you eat is as important as what you drive, in terms of sophistication, and concern over what other people think.  The Grand Central Market on South Broadway is a refreshing taste of simpler times and cuisine. First and foremost, it is a collection of outlets for LA’s many varied ethnic groups, but is also popular for celebrity chefs and the artists of all kinds. Always busy, when Leroy arrived, it was deserted. A small crowd of passers-by and would-be shoppers was gathered in the main entrance. Yellow tape prevented entry, and a uniformed officer was chatting to some of them.

Leroy stepped over the tape, waved his identification to the officer, and stepped inside. As he walked through the market, it was eerily quiet. He had been here many times, through work and as a shopper, and never failed to be amazed at the variety of produce that could be found here. As he walked down the first aisle, past a tortilleria, past a stall selling apples of varying sizes and shades of red, yellow and green. The next stall sold peppers, types of which he had never heard of.  Another uniformed officer was standing at an aisle intersection, below a green neon sign reading
La
Casa Verde
.

The officer recognized him. ‘Ah, Detective Leroy. I thought it was you. Good to see you again, sir.’

‘Officer Blake; good to see you again, too.’ Leroy looked around. ‘Where is everybody? Where’s the crime scene?’

Officer Blake pointed over to his right. ‘Downstairs in the restrooms, Detective. A guy from the
CSI office is there already.’

‘Downstairs? Then why’s the whole market closed?’

‘No idea, Detective. Sorry.’

‘Who’s the senior officer here?’

‘That’ll be Sergeant Jackson. He’s down there at the crime scene.’

‘All right. Thanks.’ Leroy went past a few more stalls then down the stairs to the restrooms. The door to the men’s room was wedged open, and five uniformed officers were milling around. A figure with white epaulettes whom Leroy recognised as
Jackson looked up, finished the conversation he was having with another officer, and met Leroy at the foot of the steps.

‘Hey there, Sam,’ said
Jackson.

‘How you doing, Jacko?’

‘Same old, same old. You know the story.’

‘Sure. Where’s the body? Men’s room, I guess.’

‘No. He’s in the ER over at the Medical Center.’

Leroy sounded surprised. ‘He’s not dead, then?’

‘Wasn’t when he left here. Lost a lot of blood, though. Took a knife just here…’ Jackson indicated to just above his left thigh.

‘Where did it happen? In there?’ Leroy and Jackson stepped over to the men’s room.

‘That’s right,’ replied Jackson. ‘Take a look.’

Leroy stepped inside. He was met by a large red viscous pool. The other side of the pool stood a figure wearing a light blue tyvek jumpsuit, rubber gloves, and matching shoe and head covers. He was busy taking photographs of the scene. When
he saw Leroy enter, he stopped and gave a small wave.

‘Detective Leroy,’ he said across the pool.

‘Hey there,’ Leroy replied, recognising the CSI but not being able to recall the name. He thought the guy was new. ‘Any idea what happened?’

‘Pretty cut and dried, for lack of a better expression. The guy was standing at the urinal over there, was finishing off, and another guy stabbed him. On his left side.’

‘Who put the call in?’

‘Not sure. Have a word with
Jackson.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ He wandered outside to where
Jackson was standing. ‘So what happened exactly, Jacko? And do we really need have the whole market closed? Surely we only need this floor isolated.’

Jackson
nodded. ‘That was a first precaution. I’ve just ordered them to open up again, just keep down here secure. As far as what happened: it seems he was in there taking a piss when another guy stabbed him.’

‘Guy?’

‘We’re assuming that for now, yes. He must have been lying on the floor there for a while going by the amount of blood on the floor. Someone else came in, saw him, and called 911.’

‘Where is he? Whoever made the call.’

Jackson shrugged. ‘No idea. Left the scene. Disappeared after he called it in.’

‘
I see. So he could be the suspect also. Why else would he leave the scene?’

‘Lots of reasons, Sam. Especially in this part of town. We need to keep an open mind here.’

‘I hear you. And now the vic’s over at the MC.’

‘That’s right.’

‘No other witnesses, I guess.’

‘None that we can establish at this time. There’s no CCTV in there of course, but there is a camera up there.’ He pointed to a camera, red light flashing up in the corner.

‘Anyone looked at the footage yet?’

‘Not yet. Thought we’d leave it to you guys. Where’s your partner, by the way?’

‘On honeymoon. Back in a couple of days. Where does the market manager hang out?’

‘Office on second floor, I think.’

‘Okay, I’ll need to get over to the MC before…’

‘Before the guy dies, you mean?’

‘Something like that. See what he can tell me. Jacko, can you get one of your guys to get a hold of whatever the camera picked up? Once I’m done at the hospital, I’ll come back and pick up the disc, or whatever it’s stored on.’

‘Sure thing, Sam.  See you.’

As he climbed up the stairs and walked back through the market to his car, Leroy tried Domingo’s number. She answered after two rings.

‘Hey Sam, how you doing?’

‘Good, I guess. Am just down at the Grand Central Market. A stabbing.’

‘Swell.’

‘Well, this one’s not dead. I’m off to see him at the hospital now. You still at the rape centre?’

‘Just winding up here. Now, Sam: did you get to read my email?’

‘I did, yes.’

‘And the attachment?’

‘I saw that too.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think….   I’m not sure what to think yet.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll have to think about it. Perez
and
the captain have both told me to close down the John Doe cases.’

‘What about Bill Farmer?’

‘Not spoken to him yet. What about your Griffith Park vic?

‘Connor and I have been told the same thing too.’

‘I wonder if Farmer has too.’

‘He has. According to the lieutenant anyway.’

Leroy reached his car. Got in and turned the ignition.

‘Sam, you still there?’

‘Still here. Am in the car now.’

‘What do you think we should do?’

‘
We
should do?’

‘
Yes, we. As soon as I saw who owned the house, I knew we can’t just let it drop.’

‘I agree. Yes.’

‘So what do you want to do?’

‘When does your shift finish, Liza?’

‘Six. Why?’

‘Let’s get together over a drink, or over a coffee. Agree on what to do.’

‘Sounds a plan. Look, Sam, I have to go. We got a call coming in. Have a good day, what’s left of it. See you at six. Right?’

‘See you.’

Leroy took the short drive down to the California Hospital Medical Center. The stabbing victim was still in the ER undergoing emergency surgery. Leroy chatted briefly with one of the doctors.

‘How is he, doc?’

‘He lost a lot of blood, but the surgery went as expected.’

‘Can I talk to him?’

‘Sorry, Detective, not right now. He’s sleeping now.’

‘Will he be in a position to talk later?’

‘Oh, I would think so. Will it keep till the morning?’

‘Will have to, I guess.’ He shook hands with the doctor. ‘Well, thanks, doc. Here’s my number. If anything changes….  You know, call me, yes?’

‘Sure thing, detective. You have a good day, now.’

His unproductive trip to the hospital over, Leroy made his way back to the market. Now it had re-opened, it was full of shoppers, making up for lost time. He fought his way through the crowds back to the basement floor. 
Jackson was at the foot of the stairs again. Through the open men’s room door, Leroy could see somebody inside, cleaning up.

‘The camera footage is on its way to you, Sam,’
Jackson said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s stored digitally, apparently. Not on DVD or tape. The manager said he will email a file with the footage for so far today to you.’

‘So I can view it back at the station house?’

‘That’s right,’ Jackson replied.

‘Wow, isn’t technology wonderful,’ said Leroy.

‘How would you know?’ laughed Jackson.

Leroy laughed. ‘Did anybody get a chance to view it already?’

‘None of my guys. The manager might have done.’

‘No problem. I’ll check it out at the office. Take it easy, Jacko.’

‘You too, Sam.’

*****

Back at the HQ, Leroy managed to avoid getting waylaid by his lieutenant and his captain, and logged on. Checked his email inbox. He briefly re-read the one from Domingo, then went on to the only other unread one: from the Grand Central Market manager. Then clicked on the attachment, which was a video file of eight hours footage of market customers going in and out of the restrooms. He fast forwarded to  the approximate time of the stabbing. He saw a man walk in, only to run out a few seconds later, clutching a phone. Running, he soon left the camera’s POV.

Leroy reversed the video slowly. The man ran in backwards, walked out backwards. There was a short gap, then another figure stepped in backwards. Leroy clicked to a frame by frame view and peered closely at the screen to study the image. The figure was of slight build, a dark complexion, but most of his features were hidden by the hood he was wearing. Leroy checked his watch: it was almost five. He kept thinking about what he and Domingo should agree to do, then brought his thoughts back to the present, and whether this person was the stabber.

He kept the video in reverse frame by frame, and saw the hooded figure back into the men’s room, again a short interval, before he reversed out. Three other men did the same: one of these, Leroy reflected, must have been the victim. But who carried out the stabbing? Was it the figure wearing the hood? Or was it the guy running out?

He had a craving for caffeine. He visited the restroom and returned to his desk via a vending machine. Carrying a strong black coffee he wandered back to his desk, but was distracted by the sound coming from the end of the corridor, where the lockers were positioned. Or rather, the lack of sound. Frowning, he wandered down to see what was going: it was never this quiet. Around the bank of lockers stood half a dozen of his colleagues, four in uniform. They were talking quietly, and stopped to look up when Leroy arrived. One of the uniformed officers, a woman in her early twenties, looked pale and her eyes were red.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Leroy.

‘You obviously haven’t heard,’ one of the uniformed men replied.

‘Heard what?’

‘The call’s just come through,’ the officer said. ‘It’s Detectives Domingo and Connor.’

‘What about them?’

He swallowed. ‘They’ve both been shot. Both killed.’