The Poisonous Ten

by Tyler Compton

  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 respond.

  “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 really 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 table 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 tequilas, 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 want 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 Dodgers 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. Everything.” 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.”

  “Then how’d you arrest him?”

  “Yeah, sometimes I hear what I want to hear. Sometimes I hear it but I still have this . . . drive that fills me. Like adrenaline pumping through you. Only way to fix it is to finish the problem. I knew where Kozlov was. I wasn’t going on leave until he was off the streets. So, unofficially, and without the backup of my partner or the law, I went to apprehend Kozlov. He came after me with a razor blade. And that’s how I got these.” Parks held up his hands and showed Jackie the cuts on his palms before pulling back his shirtsleeves and revealing the scars on his forearms. “So you see, my face isn’t all that bad. They had to shave my head to stitch up all the cuts on top. But that was three weeks ago. The hair’s growing back. The cuts are sealing up. I’m still alive, and Kozlov is in jail, awaiting trial, where he’ll never hurt another kid as long as he lives. Small price to pay, if you ask me.”

  “I seem to recall a slightly different story in the news?”

  “Yes, well, we can’t have vigilante officers of the law running around LA cleaning up the streets, now can we? The public has a very slanted view of the LAPD. Rampart. Rodney King. OJ. And Kozlov’s apprehension actually helped skew that view in the positive. But now evidence is coming to light that shows Levinson might not have followed every step in accordance with the law. So the public’s becoming concerned with Kozlov possibly being released and the rest of the department is looking down on Levinson. But since he’s not alive to be looked down upon—”

  “And since you are both alive and were his partner . . .”

  “Exactly.”

  “That explains the looks around the station today.”

  “That’s why. I was cleared of any wrongdoing, which is why I’m back on duty. So I got my team back. Well most of it. Chyna Cain was another member of our team. She asked to be transferred. Can’t say as I blame her. I just hope she finds peace with everything that’s happened. So I agreed to some time off, to attend some department therapy sessions, and they’d help take care of the rest. It also helped that I was able to talk Levinson’s widow out of hitting the city with an unlawful death lawsuit.” Parks paused, not sure if he should continue. “Of course I’ve just been informed that Kozlov’s lawyers are filing an injunction to have him released based on false and planted evidence.”

  “He could walk,” Jackie said, not believing him.

  Parks stayed quiet, not able to bring himself to answer that question.

  “And you’d do it all again. The same?”

  “With the exception of Levinson, I’d do it all the same, yes. I mean, I wish I had been there for him. To help him through whatever it was he was going through that made him feel he needed to do what he did. Maybe I’ll never know. Either way, I’m alive, no matter the scars. Physical ones aren’t nearly as traumatic as the emotional ones. I’ve got tattoos that were more painful than what Kozlov did to me. And at least he’s off the streets and won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore. That makes it worth it. I just hope he stays put away. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Someone new always comes along. As you saw proof of this morning.”

  Jackie sat back, thinking. Before she could respond, Parks added, “Which isn’t actually something you see all that often, considering your position, now is it?”

  “Yeah, like I said earlier, people rarely actually poison one another as a form of murder. We usually have one, maybe two, cases like that per year. Most of my investigating involves chemical imbalances during traumatic events.”

  Parks’s brow gave away his confusion.

 
“Like, for example, say a college student goes on a rampage and slices up his family with a priceless Japanese sword his father had in his study and in the process of being stopped is shot by the police. Yes, this really happened,” she said to Parks’s questioning look. “Anyways, my job is to test the blood of the student to see if perhaps he wasn’t on something. PCP or the like. For legal purposes, in case during the course of the trial he wishes to challenge his sanity or whatnot. Also, as uncomfortable as it may be, I have to test the officers on duty for alcohol and drugs in their blood to make sure their actions during the apprehension were sound and justified. It’s an ugly snowball that just keeps rolling. You get my drift?”

  “I get it. I had no idea—”

  “Most people don’t. It’s not personal. It’s just a job. But sometimes I’m only seen as a step away from IA. That’s why my social skills, or lack thereof, are what they are. Again, I apologize.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” Parks smiled and signaled the bartender for another round of drinks.

  “So, tattoos, huh?” Jackie said as she quickly did a once-over of him.

  “Nothing that can be seen while on the clock,” Parks said, chuckling.

  “Uh-huh,” Jackie said, smiling. “Regretting that drunken night in college when you wanted to impress a girl by getting a cartoon character tattooed, aren’t you?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Or is it a flower? A heart with mommy’s name in it? Or was the tattooist drunk as well and misspelled the declaration you wanted pronounced for the rest of your life on your body?”

  “Guess you’ll just always have to wonder.”

  Both sat quiet and took in the noise of the rushing freeway nearby.

  “You got this look in your eyes when Amy brought up the symbol carved on the body,” Jackie said, changing the subject. “You don’t think Allison Tisdale’s an isolated event. You think there will be more?”

  “We don’t know what that symbol stands for. Could be the number ten. Could be something else. Doesn’t matter either way. Fifteen years on the force has taught me to trust my gut when it tells me something. And it’s telling me something’s up with Allison Tisdale. I’m not sure what. But something’s off. I just hope I’m wrong.”