Parks smiled and kissed Jackie. A few minutes later they made love for the second time that night. Afterwards, they were lying there enjoying the silence when Parks’s cell phone began to ring. He noticed that the sun had set while they were preoccupied, as the entire room was dark. He picked up his phone and saw that it said 5:43. It must have been Saturday morning.
“Parks,” he answered into his phone. “What? Yes . . . what? What? Are you sure? Right away. Be there within the hour. At the latest. Call everyone else. Now.”
He hung up and jumped out of bed and stormed into the bathroom where he turned on the shower.
“Dave?” Jackie called out.
He popped back into the room, a look of excitement on his face.
“Let’s shower and get dressed,” Parks said.
“What is it?” asked Jackie when her phone began to vibrate.
“I’m trying not to get my hopes too high, but Milo thinks he may have just figured out why our killer’s doing what he’s doing.”
28
Milo Tippin stared down at the red-colored Converse he was wearing, squeezing his sweaty hands together, trying hard to control the nerves that swam through his body while the team assembled itself before him in the squad room. The conference room that Parks had started out using had become too small for the amount of murder board space needed to accommodate all of the victims and for all of the detectives he now had working on the case.
Parks looked around, satisfied that everyone was present and ready.
“You can begin, Milo.”
“Yes, um . . . well, I’m sorry if I appear a bit on edge. I haven’t gone home since yesterday.” Tippin chuckled, but when no one else replied, he continued. “I think I may have discovered a few different things, and all of them may lead into what our killer’s doing and why. I’ll explain. I was looking around on the Internet at the different meanings behind ten, like Parks suggested, and found a few things. I also did a cross reference search into crime and punishment and—”
“Just tell us what you found, Milo,” Parks interrupted.
Tippin stopped as Amy Tanaka joined them, looking relaxed and fresh compared to everyone else.
“Sorry,” Tanaka said, grabbing a chair next to Hardwick, who looked questioningly at her. “Sorry, but I’ve been a part of this one since the beginning. I want to hear this.” Tanaka smiled at Tippin as if to say, Thanks for remembering me.
Hardwick turned back to Tippin. “Continue.”
“During the sixteenth century, the use of poison as a form of murder had become a sort of, uh . . . a profession, I guess you could say. There were actual schools teaching people how to use it. As a way to kill.”
“You mean like a college course?” Fairmont asked.
“Not exactly. More like . . . Jason Bourne style.”
“You mean assassins?” Parks asked. “Government trained?”
“Sort of. Yeah. Like that. Anyway, before this, there was a group of alchemists formed known as the Council of Ten.”
“Council of Ten?” Parks repeated.
“Yeah. Um . . . think like the Freemasons. Or Illuminati. But not. They were originally formed to help preserve the government from corruption as well as help intelligence services and military affairs. But they were also a group of assassins who carried out contracts for people who paid them enough money to do so. The way they killed was with poison.”
“Where was all this?” Hardwick asked.
“Venice. Mostly. Between the thirteen hundreds to the late seventeen hundreds. The Council was generally composed of ten members, who each served a one-year term. No member could serve for more than one successive term, and two people from the same family could not be a part of the group either. The leadership went to three members of the Council, known as Capi, who were elected from the ten members. They were only in position for one month though. During the month they served they weren’t allowed to leave their, like, um, headquarters, or whatever it was.”
“So you’re saying what, exactly? That this guy is a . . . he thinks he’s a member of this Council? Or that he’s formed a modern-day version of this Council of Ten?”
“That is a possibility.” Tippin shrugged. “Could be a good reason none of our victims have a connection. Because each one could be chosen by a different . . . assassin, we’ll say. But I don’t think he’s formed a modern-day version of the Council. I think this is one person we’re dealing with here. It’s why he’s doing what he’s doing that we’re interested in. I think he’s using a bastardized version of the Council and what they did as an excuse for what he’s doing. No, that’s not right. Not as an excuse. As an inspiration for how he’s carrying out his murders. And why?”
“And what’s that?” Wilkes chimed in.
“Punishing,” Tippin answered. “Like Parks suggested. He was right about that. We thought he was punishing the people he’s killing, and he is. He thinks he’s in the right. So then I got to thinking, who deserves to be punished?”
“According to him?” Fairmont asked.
“In general? We’re the police. The law. Who do we think needs to be punished?”
Everyone looked around the room, somewhat lost.
“The bad guys,” Parks said, smirking. “People who commit crimes.”
“Exactly. And what constitutes what is a crime or not?”
“The law,” Parks answered. “Criminal law.”
“Yes. But what laws? Who makes them? Which ones are severe or not? Think back. What are the oldest laws we know? As man.”
“Milo, I’m sure a history lesson is greatly appreciated, but right now?” Hardwick said, getting irritated.
“There has been law since before Christ walked the earth,” Parks said, going along. “Thousands of years before. There’s evidence of it. Maybe not the same as what we have today, but they had it. In one form or another.”
“Yes,” Tippin agreed. “But think back only as far as the Council of Ten. Think back to that time. Or, yeah, even before to when Christ walked the earth. What laws did they follow then? That might pertain to what we’re doing here. Think ten . . .”
“The Ten Commandments,” Moore blurted out.
“Yes,” Tippin said. “Parks actually came up with that idea, but I’ve no idea where.”
Several people turned to Parks.
“I was doing a crossword puzzle that asked about a gun-toting Moses. Or something along those lines. Mr. Heston. Then I got to thinking about the number ten . . .”
“You’re saying this guy kills based on the Ten Commandments?” Hardwick asked, turning back to Tippin.
“He is.” Tippin beamed for a moment, taking in his glory. “He’s picking and punishing people based on what commandment they have broken,” Tippin said, flipping the white board over to reveal the Ten Commandments written on the backside in black erasable marker.
Thou shalt have no other gods before me
Thou shalt not make for yourself an idol
Thou shalt not take the name of
the LORD thy God in vain
Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy
Honor thy father and thy mother
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not commit adultery
Thou shalt not steal
Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy neighbor
Thou shalt not covet your
neighbor’s house, wife, etc.
“Now these are just in my words, and there are several different versions of what the Ten Commandments are, according to which religion you refer to. But I think these are as close to what our guy is going by.”
“This is nuts,” Wilkes muttered.
“Hold on a sec,” Moore said, waving Wilkes quiet. “He just might be onto something.”
“Let’s take this one at a time,” Tippin continued. “So, starting with not coveting your neighbor’s wife or anything else that belongs to him, we’ve got Ian Harris. He spied on Mrs. Bollinger
. We know that. Found the roll of film with her picture. He coveted her. Or he coveted the husband’s life by wanting to be with his wife? It’s basically the same difference, either way you look at it.”
Parks nodded in agreement, as did everyone else.
“Two. Thou shalt not steal. Jason Bollinger was accused of stealing from his clients and was under federal investigation.”
“Continue,” Hardwick said, looking up from her notepad.
“Do not take the name of the Lord in vain. I rewatched Charles Wyler’s last broadcast from the night before he died. He used the name of God a lot to say how what the killer was doing was wrong and that he would be punished. He spoke for God. I looked back at his broadcasts over the past few years and found he did this quite a bit. Condemning the guilty on behalf of God. So I think Charles Wyler broke this commandment.”
“And Kyle Oni?” Hayward asked.
“Kyle Oni played baseball. Lots of games on Sundays.” Tippin grabbed the marker and wrote Oni’s name next to one of the commandments. “Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.”
“It’s fu—reaking baseball for crying out loud,” Wilkes bitched, catching Hardwick’s stony glare.
“Doesn’t matter. These aren’t my rules. They’re his. They’re why he’s doing what he’s doing. And this fits.”
“I thought he was killed because he was gay?” Wilkes asked.
“No,” Tippin replied. “It’s like Jackie said: the poison he was killed with was chosen because he was gay, but he wasn’t killed because he was gay. He was killed because he didn’t honor the Sabbath.”
Everyone around the table took in what Tippin had just said.
“Keep going,” Parks urged.
“Caroline Maddox. You shall not make for yourself an idol. I’m not sure if this was taken in the same spirit it was originally written, but I think it fits. She was worshiped. By millions. People idolized her every day. Everywhere she went paparazzi followed her around, invading her life. Everyone loved her. Including her assistant, Nina Mendola . . . you shall have no other gods before me. You’ve talked to a few of Caroline Maddox’s previous assistants and her managers and agents, and they all confirm. None of them were as dedicated to Caroline as Nina was. She worshiped Caroline Maddox. Unconditionally. And it cost her her life. Now we know the chocolates were addressed to Caroline, but I think we can safely assume that our guy had something planned for both women. I mean, they were both killed, and I don’t think there’s any doubt that if he wanted both of them dead that either one would still be alive.”
“What about Allison Tisdale?” Moore asked.
“She’s the only one I can’t one hundred percent place.”
“See,” Wilkes said. “This is bullshit.”
“I didn’t say she doesn’t belong,” Tippin said cutting him off. “Just that I couldn’t concretely connect her to a particular sin. All we have to go off of so far is . . . Parks’s feelings of an affair. But we’ve no real evidence.”
“We didn’t find proof of an affair, but we did find a connection between Allison Tisdale and another person on the list,” Fairmont offered.
“Who?” Parks asked.
“We looked through Allison’s portfolio of houses she’s sold in the past. She doesn’t use him anymore, but when she first started, guess who took the pictures of the houses she used to put up online when selling them?”
“Ian Harris,” Parks said, nodding as if he should have known all along.
“Si, señor,” Fairmont said, pleased with himself.
“That’s not all,” Tippin said as the group began to get riled up.
“What else?” asked Parks.
“I think I know who his next victim is. Or rather victims.”
“How? Who?” Hardwick said, all but jumping out of her chair.
“He’s getting splashier. More daring. Making a bigger show of this. First Charles Wyler on live TV, then Kyle Oni, a national figure in the sports world. This was followed by Oni’s girlfriend, a multi-million-dollar actress. So far we’ve managed to keep a lid on most of these murders. Or at least the link between them. Where technology usually spoils things and alerts people to what’s going on in the world, this time it’s actually working to our benefit, and too much information leaked. No one knows what’s what. As far as most people are concerned, each of these events are just random events. They aren’t making the connection. Each person is such a superstar, people think they’re each their own . . . event. Which is good for us. But maybe bad for our killer. Maybe he’s feeling neglected. Like he’s not getting the publicity he desires. In which case, how does he go about changing that?”
“How?” Parks asked.
Tippin pointed to “Honor your father and mother” on the board.
“How’s that lead us to the next victim?” Parks asked.
“We’re looking for someone who’s dishonored their father and mother,” Tippin replied.
“So what?” Wilkes said. “That’s just about every damn teenager in this flippin’ state.”
“Think closer to home,” Tippin said.
“Is this someone off some reality show?” Parks asked.
“No,” Tippin said with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, guys. No one can think of this? None of you?” Tippin looked to Wilkes’s team when he made this last accusation. “Nothing?”
“What?” Confused, Wilkes turned to Ramirez and Hayward.
“What have you guys been working on for the past few weeks when you’re not working on this case?”
The realization of what Tippin was talking about came to Wilkes.
“Cosway,” Ramirez muttered.
“Those two little shits who offed their parents?” Wilkes spat.
“You know of anyone locally more famous right now who’s known for not honoring their mother or father?” Tippin asked.
“Where are they?” Hardwick asked, picking up a phone and dialing a number.
“Parker Center,” Wilkes answered.
“Here?”
“At the Metropolitan Detention Center. It’s where they’re locked up in-between days in court.”
“Wait,” Hayward said. “How do we know they’re next? Couldn’t one of the other crimes be before the honoring parents one?”
“Don’t think so,” Tippin said. “Monday is final summations from both sides. After that the jury goes away to make their decision. No idea how long that could take. But if it’s a short deliberation—which, who doesn’t think they’re guilty—then there’s no time left. This guy wants this to be public.”
“Call whoever you need to, but get those two boys up here today,” Parks said, turning to Hardwick. “We need to put them under twenty-four-hour guard. We’ll do it ourselves if we have to. No deliveries of any kind without everything being checked. Isley, I need you to be there too. You’ll know what to search for. We need everyone on this.”
“So if this guy kills both of the Cosway brothers, does that count as one or two murders?” Fairmont asked. “I mean there are two of them. Plus, not only did they disrespect their parents, but they also killed them. Shall not kill, isn’t that one?”
“Honestly, who knows? Could go any number of ways,” Tippin said. “Remember. He’s killing based on the Ten Commandments. I don’t think he cares how many people who committed the sin are murdered so much as at least one person is held accountable. Think of the Cosway brothers as a sort of two-for-one type of a deal.”
“Great,” Fairmont said with a roll of his eyes.
“We have a problem,” Hardwick said, slamming down the phone.
“What’s up?” Parks asked.
“They’re not here.”
“Where are they?”
“USC’s downtown medical center.”
“What happened? We’re supposed to have a whole other day before his next attack.”
“Looks like this one started early. They complained about aches and blood in their urine. They’re being checked out. Apparently there ha
ve been sores and rashes spotted all over their bodies and severe peeling on the hands and feet.”
“Why there? I mean at that particular medical center?”
“They specialize in urology. I think peeing blood falls under that.”
“Right.” Parks turned to Jackie, who frantically typed away on her laptop. “Jackie?”
“I’m already working on it,” Jackie said. “How long until we can be there?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes, depending on traffic,” Parks said, getting everyone’s attention. “All right, ladies and gentlemen. This is it. We may finally have the upper hand in this game. Everyone be alert. And be careful. We have no idea what’s next.”
29
Parks drove down Hope Street, through downtown Los Angeles, passing by the University of Southern California, until he came to the Doctors of USC-Downtown building and parked in front, his lights still flashing while he left the car on the side of the street. Jackie hopped out of the front passenger seat with Detectives Moore and Fairmont getting out of the back. Parking haphazardly next to Parks was Detectives Wilkes, Ramirez, and Hayward in a second vehicle. Hardwick had kept Tippin behind to continue researching other possible future victims.
Parks burst through the sliding-glass doors with his badge in hand, looking for the closest person he could talk to. A rather robust woman sitting behind a front reception desk rose at the sight of the approaching detectives. She was dressed in a maroon and yellow uniform with a nametag that revealed her name to be Rita.
“The Cosway brothers,” Parks said. “Where are they?”
“Upstairs, on the sixth floor, being checked by Doctor Lynch,” replied Rita.
“How do we get there?” Parks asked.
The receptionist pointed down the hallway while leaning halfway over the counter.
“Take the elevators on the right and go up to the sixth floor.”
“Any staircases that lead up there?”
“Two. One next to the elevators and one over there.” She pointed in the opposite direction of the elevators to the other side of the main lobby. “They already have police up there with them though,” she continued as the team walked away.
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