The Poisonous Ten

by Tyler Compton

  “What about gardeners?” Parks asked. “That yard was maintained. You can’t tell me Allison Tisdale was out there every week mowing the lawn in her pearls and high heels.”

  “No,” Fairmont interjected. “There’s a yard service that takes care of most of the houses within the gated community. We’re going to go interview the workers and the company tomorrow. We don’t think it will turn up much—they only get to that yard every Friday—but they’re always in the area so maybe they saw someone or something suspicious.”

  “Good,” Parks commented. “Stay on it. What did you guys learn about her job?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Fairmont said, digging through his notes. “Works for herself. Used to work for Coldwell Banker but broke off and started her own real estate group about three years ago. She has two other agents who work under her. They do fairly well considering the current real estate climate. Mostly up-scale homes and mansions. Beverly Hills, Bel Air, and Hollywood Hills areas. Everyone gets paid. And on time. No outstanding debts or creditors or anything of the like. Had to take out a small business loan to get started, but it’s been paid back in full.”

  Fairmont looked to Tippin, who continued with what he had been able to dig up online.

  “There are no outstanding personal debts that the Tisdales owe, either her or him,” Tippin explained. “They have the house, pay the mortgage on time. Both have good credit. The most expensive thing they have is her car, but that’s a lease and she has another thirty months on it. That seems a little pricey for the rest of their lifestyle, but it might make a difference to the clientele she’s trying to bring in so that’s probably the reason for the car.”

  “Did we find the car?”

  “We contacted BMW and had them activate the GPS tracker, and so far, nothing. They’re assuming it was disabled,” Fairmont said. “We have a BOLO for the vehicle and Highway Patrol’s been notified.”

  “All right. Anything else?”

  “Other than that, no children, no pets, no outstanding debts, nothing. No major financial changes or withdrawals within the last six months.”

  “Interesting,” Parks said. “So nothing in their financials sticks out?”

  “We only made it back as far as six months,” Moore answered. “But we’ll stay with it tomorrow if you want us to keep digging.”

  “Yeah, do that. Go back a year, maybe two.”

  “What about the husband?” Hardwick interjected from the back of the room.

  “The husband’s got no solid alibi. Then again, we haven’t been able to find a motive for him either.”

  “He’s a man and he’s married to a woman. I’ve learned sometimes that’s enough.”

  “That and he lied,” Parks said.

  “Oh?” Hardwick said as she looked to Moore, who shrugged, not knowing what Parks was talking about. “What about?”

  “He got short when I brought up their sex life.”

  “So. Most people do. That’s private.”

  “True. But I think he was holding something back. He got flustered when I mentioned an affair.”

  “So he was stepping out on his wife,” Hardwick said, nodding.

  “I don’t think so,” Parks disagreed.

  “You think she was?” Fairmont asked.

  “I believe so. It was the way he handled the questions. He said he loves his wife. He never cheated. But . . . something happened. I don’t think it was him, though. His reactions—”

  “Well, then maybe it was him that killed her,” Hardwick suggested. “She was sleeping around and he lost it.”

  “No,” Parks disagreed. “This so-called, alleged affair, if there was one, happened a while ago. It was as if they had reconciled and he had forgiven her. Almost forgot about it until I brought it up. It wasn’t how he wanted to remember his dead wife.”

  “But if she did it once,” Hardwick said not dropping the subject. “Old habits and all that.”

  “True. Whatever the case, right now he’s our prime suspect. Our best shot. But his grief struck me as genuine when we broke the news of his wife. I’m not saying we’re writing him off—like I said, he’s our best bet—but I don’t think it’s him. Pull his history, financials, co-workers, family, the works. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe it is him. Rachel and myself will handle the Mr. Tisdale angle. The rest of you go at this murder as if it isn’t him. If it’s not him then there has to be a reason our killer picked Allison Tisdale as his victim. Some reason he knew her. A client maybe? The man who sells her her coffee. Her car lease agent. Someone. Somehow, he knew her. He was able to abduct her from her regular daily life and kill her without anyone knowing she was gone for two hours. How was that possible? He had to know her schedule.”

  “According to her secretary, Allison Tisdale wasn’t scheduled 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 anything out about the body?”

  “The tests confirm that our victim was poisoned by cyanide,” 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 traceable. 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?” Hardwick 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 victim’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 research 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 offered. “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 investigation 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 children.”

  “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 Jackie 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 believe—”

  “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.”