The Poisonous Ten (17 page)

“Okay, then,” Parks said. “Let’s do this.”

Parks took the dark-gray keycard with gold lettering on the front that the desk clerk had given him and slid it through the slot until the red light turned green and the door unlocked. He pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open. Parks paused as the smell of alcohol hit him, as if the room had been soaking in wine for the past few days.

“Kyle Oni. LAPD. Identify yourself if you can hear me.” Parks stepped into the room, checking every direction in the hallway while Moore covered his back. They inched their way down the hallway to the first door on the left, which led to the bathroom. Moore moved into the bathroom while Fairmont moved up to cover Parks’s back. Tippin stayed behind Fairmont, his gun pointed to the ground. Inside the bathroom were six bottles of wine, each one emptied, with the bathroom sink clogged and filled with another two bo
ttles.

“Moore?” Parks asked.

“Kenwood. Beringer. Francis Coppola. Pinots. Cabernets. Sauvignons. We have everything from Two-Buck Chuck to hundred-dollar bottles in here.”

“Okay. Let’s keep going. Kyle Oni?” Parks called out again, working his way down the hallway. In the next room, on mute on a TV played a movie with Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan. On the dresser next to the TV were another do
zen bottles of wines. Most stood upright while several lay on their sides, having drained out as wine was spilled all over the white carpet. Parks worked his way further into the almost blindingly white room with black furniture, quickly swinging his gun around and aiming it at a body that lay in a bed. He was able to tell immediately that it was too late to save him.

The Palisades Poisoner had claimed his fifth victim.

Kyle Oni lay on the unmade king-size bed with several dozen of the passionflowers laid across his nude body. Also on the bed, in between the various flowers, were several bunches of grapes, most still on the vine, and another six emptied bottles of wine.

“Oh my God,” Fairmont said, taking a step back from the bedroom.

“We’re clear,” Moore said, putting her gun away. “Damn. Looks like Dionysus had a party in here.”

“Isley,” Parks called out. “Isley, get in here. Jackie! And Fairmont. I need pictures. Now.”

The sound of Jackie’s pumps could be heard across the floor as she made her way into the room and gasped at the sight of Kyle Oni’s body.

“Is that the passionflower?” Parks asked Jackie.

“Yes.” Jackie nodded. “Those are them.”

“Dave,” Moore whispered as she composed herself and moved in closer. “Look.”

“What?” Parks whispered back.

“The flowers,” Moore said. “The petals on each one.”

“What about them?”

“There are ten of them on each flower.”

Parks didn’t comment but took it in and pondered what this meant, if anything, to the killer and what his ultimate aim might be.

“Excuse me,” Fairmont said, beginning to take pictures of the body.

Parks turned to Moore. “I want this entire floor sealed off. Get anyone staying in any other room on this floor relocated. And I want everyone on this floor interviewed too.”

“I’m on it,” Moore said.

“Hey, boss,” Fairmont said from behind Parks, trying to get his attention.

“What is it?” Parks asked, turning around.

“What’s that?” Fairmont said, nodding toward the body. “In his hands. What is it?”

Parks leaned in and saw in each of Oni’s hands, partially hidden by flowers, were two halves of a small four-by-six photograph that had been ripped down the middle.

“You get pictures?” Parks asked.

“You’re good to go.”

Parks used tweezers to pluck the halves from Oni’s hands and held the two pieces together. In the photo were two teen-aged girls, one Caucasian, the other of Spanish descent, staring at the camera, with large smiles on their faces. Both of the girls were attractive, full of life, and Parks felt a chill run up his spine.

Who were these two girls?

And what did they have to do with the trail of corpses that were being left by a sadistic madman? 

22

After Fairmont finished taking pictures of the crime scene and Moore scanned the room for prints and fibers, they co
llected a total of twenty flowers, ten white and ten purple, a number that Parks took to have significant meaning for the killer. The entire room was dusted, gone over with every piece of machinery the LAPD had to offer in the form of forensic science. Exactly 234 bottles of wine were photographed, dusted, bagged, and tagged before being shipped back to the station.

Was all the wine from one order? But if so, from where? And who placed the order? And how did it get into the room without anyone seeing anything?

Parks already had Tippin trying to research it.

Two hours later, Kyle Oni’s body was zipped up in a body bag and escorted downstairs to the vehicle that would take him to Amy Tanaka’s lab to be autopsied. 

Parks had hoped they had gotten there in time. They had never been this close to a murder, with the exception of Charles Wyler’s, which hadn’t even been directly committed by their killer. This time Parks hoped they would be able to find something that would help them.

Seven hours later, Parks felt like kicking the wall or punching something hard. He knew this wasn’t the example
he was supposed to set for his team, but he was sick and tired of this. The stress was getting to him, and he knew it. He needed to control himself. Have another cup of coffee or something. Anything. He saw the Rubik’s Cube on the corner of his desk and picked it up and began to fiddle with it, letting his mind wandered. This was all it seemed they did any more. There were no clues. No evidence. At least none that helped further their investigation. Nothing turned up. There were no connections between any of the victims.

How was that even possible? There had to be some re
ason each victim was chosen.

“Boss? Boss?” Moore tried to get Parks’s attention and failed. “Dave?”

“Wha . . . huh? What?” Parks said, turning from the Rubik’s Cube which he had the entire red side completed.

“What’s going on?” Moore walked up to Parks to keep their conversation from the rest of the room as she handed him a Hershey’s bar. “You look like you’re spacing.”

“I’m, uh, um, sorry,” Parks apologized, setting down the Rubik’s Cube (green side completed) and taking the candy bar. “Something has to change.”

“What do you mean?”

“This case. It’s not working for us. We’re not getting anywhere. We’re making no progress. We simply stand by and wait for the next victim to show up.” Parks stared at his group, along with Wilkes and his two men, not sure what to say.

“It isn’t like that. You know it’s not.”

“So what do we have on Kyle Oni?” Parks said, ignoring the comment as he ripped open the chocolate bar and looked to Fairmont.

“According to the gossip mags—”

Parks cut him off. “I want facts, not gossip.”

“Boss, no disrespect, but Oni was a celebrity. Gossip may be as close to the facts as we get with this guy. And in this town, that may be a lot. I mean, who pays more attention to the rich and famous than the paparazzi? Who knows who was watching him and when and where? Maybe something was even caught on tape.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Check it all out. See if anyone was particularly focused on Oni. See if they have anything. Take Tippin with you to check it all out. Maybe we’ll get lucky. But what were you going to say?”

“Rumor has it he was with Caroline Maddox for the past six months.”

“The actress?” Parks asked.

Everyone knew who Caroline Maddox was. One of the hottest women on the planet, Caroline Maddox had been on the cover of Maxim twice in the last two years and was a Vanity Fair and Rolling Stone favorite. She sold copies. B
esides that, the three movies she had made in the last two years, though sordid thrillers that were more commonly referred to as “trash,” had raked in big money, especially considering the cheap price tag it took to make them. She currently had a film in theaters, a European noir where she played a femme fatale, a role that was gaining her Oscar talk, her first in five years since playing the abused witness of a violent gangster in a Scorsese drama. 

“Yup,” Fairmont said.

“They’re together?”

“According to the online blogs.”

“But what about the whole . . .” Wilkes looked around the room, not sure who he might offend, making sure to carefully choose his words. “Gay thing.”

“Like Oni was the first closeted gay celebrity with a ‘girlfriend,’” Parks said sarcastically, finishing his candy bar and picking back up the Rubik’s Cube. “But if she was his ‘girlfriend,’ then find her and bring her in. We need to que
stion her. Also, if he was seeing some guy . . . bring him in as well. We need everyone involved here. Agents. Managers. Coaches. Those two aren’t going to be a piece of cake after this, I can tell you. Oh, and teammates as well.”

“We already got a list going,” Fairmont said, writing something down in his notepad before digging into his poc
ket for another piece of Nicorette.

“So what about these passionflowers that were found all over Oni? What do we know about that?” Parks turned to Jackie and sat down, hoping she’d take over that part of the discussion.

“Based on the 911 call, we’re assuming Kyle Oni was murdered today, right?” Jackie asked from her position at the table.

“Right,” Parks confirmed.

“And when did he come out? I thought I heard someone say he came out publicly, is that correct?”

“It broke sometime late Sunday night early Monday morning,” Parks said.

“All right,” Jackie said, disappointed. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, you probably already know to figure out his timeline, but it doesn’t matter for what I was thinking.”

“What’s that?” Parks asked.

“I hate to say this, but I kinda wished he’d been killed on Sunday. Or Saturday. That would have helped us a lot.”

“How so?”

“In narrowing down the list of suspects,” Jackie explained. “See, the flower has meaning. The killer chose it on purpose. But if Oni hadn’t outed himself to the entire world, then the list of suspects could possibly have been limited to those who knew he was gay.”

“You’re saying those flowers we found all over his body have some sort of gay connection?” Wilkes asked.

“Let me explain,” Jackie said. “I’m getting ahead of myself. The passionflower is an interesting flower. Yes, it has what you call a ‘gay connection,’ but it also has a strong religious connection. Particularly where the passionflower got its name from. The Passion of Christ. If you look at the flower . . .” Jackie turned in her seat to point to the five different enlarged photos of the flower that were up on the murder board. “The stigma here, in the center of the bloom. Many believe these to symbolize the three nails used in the crucifixion. Next we have the stamens. I’ll try to spare you all the technical details of the flower, so just go with what I’m saying. The stamens are located behind the stigma and in front of the petals. They’re usually representative of Christ’s five wounds. The most recognizable feature of the passionflower, though, is the corona.”

“It comes with its own beer?” Fairmont joked.

“No,” Jackie replied, not letting the joke get to her. “The corona is this part.” She pointed on the diagram to the area she was talking about. “Anyone want to guess what this symbolizes?”

“The crown of thorns worn by Christ,” Parks answered, barely audible.

“Correct. Next are the petals. It may appear that the flower has ten petals, but actually there are only five. The remaining five are sepals. But together, the ten of them are said to represent the ten faithful apostles.”

“Ten,” Parks muttered, but everyone heard him.

“So what? You’re telling me that this nut is killing people because he thinks he’s Christ and he has in mind ten dead victims as his apostles?” Wilkes asked gruffly.

“It’s a possibility,” Parks said. “Look. We don’t have to agree with why this guy is killing, but it will help us stop him if we can figure out why he’s doing what he’s doing. No matter how crazy it is. But that definitely sounds like a po
ssibility.”

“Christ wouldn’t want his apostles dead, would he?” asked Moore. “I mean, they’re his apostles.”

“So then maybe this guy is working for the other side?” Wilkes suggested. “Getting revenge for what’s-his-name?”

“Wait? Weren’t there twelve Apostles?” Fairmont asked.

“Traditionally, they are Peter, Andrew, James the Greater, James the Lesser, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, Thaddeus, Simon and Judas Iscariot,” Parks answered to the best of his recollection. “Judas is generally considered one of the Twelve but when he betrayed Jesus, he killed himself. Then I think Judas was replaced by someone else. But if you look in some of the other books, like Mark or John, they give different names of the apostles. So I have no idea. Someone look it up to be sure.”

Jackie and Moore both stared at Parks with awe.

“What? I went to Sunday school,” Parks smirked, looking back down at the Rubik’s Cube and finishing off another side. “Anyway, that’s something we should look into fur—”

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” Tippin said, cutting Parks off, as he looked up from his tablet. “Apparently, the ten petals represent the ten apostles, minus Peter, who denied Jesus, and Judas, who betrayed him.”

“So then maybe this guy thinks he’s Peter or Judas getting revenge by poisoning these ten people?” Wilkes suggested.

“But why these ten people?” Moore asked. “They’re not
apostles. They’re just average, everyday people. Why them?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Parks said. “But at least it’s an angle.  Which is more than we had a few m
inutes ago. Maybe it’s a stretch. But it’s something to work with.”

“What about the gay angle?” Wilkes asked.

“What?”

“Doc here said the flower had both religious and gay connections. What’s the gay connection?”

Parks turned to Jackie.

“Most of the Passion references originated through the Catholic religion. But over in Japan there isn’t a whole lot of Catholic symbolism. The passionflowers there are generally referred to as Clock Face flowers, but in some of the larger, more urban areas, the flower is a symbol of homosexual youths. There are several reasons for this, and I won’t bore you all with the details now, but I’ll make a report and attach it to the murder book.”

“So chances are that our killer killed Kyle Oni because he was gay?” Parks asked. “That would make this a hate crime.”

“It would,” Jackie began, “if that was why he was killed. I believe he was chosen because he was gay, I don’t think he was killed because he was gay.”

“Excuse me?” Wilkes said.

“Our killer is complicated. He’s thought this out. In great
detail. He’s not randomly choosing blonde or obese women or dirty hookers off the street who remind him of his mother or the schoolyard bully. He’s killed both male and female. Young and old. Of various races. None of that matters. He’s doing this for a reason. There’s a purpose to all of this as far as he’s concerned. He’s sending a message of some sort. Might not make sense to us, but he is. I think in accordance with whatever message he’s trying to spread, he’s sought out the people who best help spread that message. I think somewhere in there was the need for a gay man. But though he’s part of the message, I don’t think it was a personal attack because Kyle Oni was gay. If that makes sense.”

“Yeah, tell that to the LGBT and whoever else handles this sort of thing,” Wilkes snapped.

“Don’t worry about them,” Hardwick said, storming into the room. “I’ve got Media Relations handling them. Just make sure you get me everything there is to know about his death so they can properly do that.”

“So you’re saying he wasn’t attacked because he was gay?” Wilkes said. “He just came out a few days ago. And very publicly. Every gay rights group will be all over this.”

“And I said I’ll handle them. You all stay focused on the case. What’s next?”

“They’re going to play it off as an unrelated suicide, aren’t they?” Parks muttered.

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Hardwick said. “This case is your only priority. Not what the public believes.”

“I don’t mean to be racist or anything, but what’s the po
ssibility we’re looking for a Japanese killer?” Fairmont interjected.

“How so?” Parks asked.

“Well, if the gay themes came from Japan—”

“Actually,” Jackie interrupted, “though the gay references regarding the flower are more pronounced in Japanese cu
lture, it is thought that the connection may have started in America and simply worked its way over to Japan. Difference is, over there they’re slightly less conservative in regards to these matters, so it’s simply more vocalized than what we’re used to over here.”      

“And this is in regards to all gays?” Parks asked.

“If you’re asking about men versus women, the flower is more associated with young gay men as opposed to women,” Jackie said. “Wakashu, they’re called.”

“It’s an angle,” Hardwick said, getting everyone’s atte
ntion focused once more.