Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set

by N. M. Brown

  He leaned against the car window and pulled the slim bar upwards; he felt it hook under the door mechanism. With a practised ease, he shifted his pressure and felt the resistance of the lock disappear. The car door opened and he slid inside.

  If Veronica, had survived, and was with him today, he wouldn’t have had to do any of this: he wouldn’t have to break into vehicles; he wouldn’t have to keep looking for other girls who looked like her; he wouldn’t have to keep killing them.

  As he used a flat screwdriver to access the car’s ignition mechanism, he considered how part of him – the part still vaguely connected to the real world – liked to pretend that it would stop eventually. In reality, it was unlikely.

  He pulled two wires out of the steel key chamber and touched them together. There was a momentary spark and the engine rumbled into life.

  ‘It’s alive,’ he said with a grim smile. He put the car into gear and drove out of the airport, onto the freeway leading into the city.

  Chapter Nine

  The darkening sky overhead was fading from soft orange at one end, into bruised purple, and finally black at the other. Leighton, who had been driving around the harbour area, slowed the car to a stop, and looked across the road to where a woman was pacing the corner, between a drive-through liquor store and a body shop, in demented circles. Leighton slid down the window of his car and leaned out.

  ‘Excuse me, miss,’ he called.

  The woman turned at the sound of his voice and hurried over to Leighton’s car. The length of her heels made the short journey difficult and her clicking heels sounded like tiny teeth biting the sidewalk.

  ‘I’m looking for a girl named Rochelle,’ he said, ‘I think she works this area too.’

  ‘Hey there handsome.’ The woman looked older close up, and when she smiled she revealed a missing incisor. ‘I can be Rochelle, Michelle – whoever you want me to be.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Leighton held up a hand and smiled, ‘it has to be this one in particular. I just need to speak to her.’

  ‘That’s what they all say, honey.’

  ‘Have you seen her?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Rochelle, all leopard-print and pretty eyes, sure, I’ve seen her.’ The girl turned away, focusing on a car that was passing slowly on the other side of the street.

  ‘Where was this?’ Leighton continued.

  ‘Huh?’ she glanced back, irritated.

  ‘Where did you see her?’

  ‘Time is money, honey,’ she said, and held out an expectant hand.

  Leighton opened his jacket and revealed the gold badge pinned to the inside.

  ‘You asshole!’ the woman spat on the ground. ‘I might have guessed.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Leighton repeated.

  ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about, never seen her before.’

  ‘C’mon,’ Leighton said softly, ‘this is off the record. She’s not in trouble, I just need to speak to her. Please. I think someone she knows got hurt.’

  Eventually the woman sighed and shook her head. ‘She’s over on Seagaze Drive, at least she was half an hour ago. Hope the bitch is worth it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Leighton said, and handed her a twenty-dollar bill before driving off.

  He had been cruising the area in wide, looping circles for almost ten minutes before he finally recognised a familiar figure, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, on the opposite side of the street to him. The woman looked more confident than she had when he’d encountered her in the car lot, but this was, of course, her territory. After pulling the car over, Leighton called across the street to her.

  ‘Hey there, Rochelle, isn’t it?’ he shouted from the car window. ‘Can we talk?’

  The young woman glanced across the street for a moment then turned around and walked deliberately in the opposite direction.

  ‘Shit.’ Leighton made a U-turn and pulled up alongside her.

  This time, he leaned out of the window as he drew level with her.

  ‘Hey you’re Rochelle, right? Remember me – Officer Jones? I just need to speak to you.’

  ‘Get lost, you’re bad for business. If I’m seen speaking to you, every Joe in the street will think I’m undercover.’ Rochelle began to walk away but Leighton drove the car slowly alongside her.

  ‘Please, just get in,’ Leighton said. ‘We can go for a coffee somewhere. Or a beer.’

  Rochelle stopped walking and glanced at him suspiciously before she sighed, ‘Jeez, okay. But just for a beer, no freebies.’

  ‘Nothing else, I promise,’ Leighton said disarmingly.

  Rochelle looked in disgust at the back seat where some papers were scattered.

  ‘So, do I get to sit up front?’

  ‘Why not,’ Leighton shrugged, ‘I guess I’ve already broken enough rules today.’

  ‘Where’s your partner?’ Rochelle asked as she climbed into the car. ‘I thought you guys always travelled in pairs.’

  ‘I guess I’m not that popular,’ Leighton smiled. ‘And anyway, I’m off duty.’

  The Red Rooster was a dive bar favoured by cops – active and retired. Inside, it was a plain affair with a tired wooden interior, and a scuffed pool table to one side of the seating area. Leighton and Rochelle selected a table in a dimly-lit back corner and sat down. Rochelle gazed at the multi-coloured football flags that were stuck above the bar. A jukebox was playing some Springsteen songs, just loud enough to keep the toes of the regulars tapping along.

  ‘So, is this where you cops come to watch the big game then?’

  ‘Only when we are off duty.’ Leighton said with a smile.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Rochelle nodded her head but appeared unconvinced.

  ‘Give me a second,’ Leighton said, as he got up from the table.

  ‘You hungry?’ he asked, as he returned from the bar and placed two cold bottles of beer on the table.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m watching my figure. Doesn’t help to carry any weight in my line of work.’

  ‘Yeah, not in mine either – slows you down. Cheers.’ Leighton clinked the neck of his bottle against Rochelle’s and took a sip of beer. As she sipped her own, Rochelle frowned at him. ‘Hey, should a traffic cop really be cruising around DUI?’

  Leighton smiled and carefully turned around his bottle to expose the label.

  ‘Coors – low alcohol,’ he said with a smile, ‘all the taste and none of the fatalities.’

  Rochelle eyes widened as she quickly checked her own label, and was visibly relieved to see it was a regular beer.

  ‘Thank God! I didn’t want you feeding me some fake beer,’ she said, and took another gulp as if to test it. ‘So, what is it you want to know?’ she asked, as she absently used a long fingernail to tear at the gold foil on the neck of her bottle.

  ‘The night you met the girl – the one who took your jacket – which evening was it?’

  Rochelle shrugged. ‘Thursday, or Friday maybe.’

  ‘Which one?’ Leighton said softly, ‘I need you to be sure.’

  ‘Friday, yeah, definitely Friday.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘Well, the Texan guy I’d been with that afternoon was in town for the football game on Saturday. He kept saying that he wished he could see me the next day, but with the game and all …’

  ‘You reckoned the girl you spoke to was outside a bar?’

  ‘Not a bar, a café – that place with all the surfboards on the walls, down at the harbour. You know it?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ Leighton said.

  ‘Did you find the bitch?’

  ‘Yes. Well, maybe.’ Leighton held Rochelle’s gaze. ‘It’s possible the girl didn’t rob you. I just want to check it out.’

  ‘But what makes you think she didn’t?’ Rochelle frowned, clearly reluctant to let go of her resentment.

  ‘A body turned up this morning. It’s early days, but they said she had a tattoo on the side of her neck. I just reckon it mig
ht match your description of the girl.’

  ‘Shit,’ Rochelle shook her head and turned away from Leighton. ‘When you say dead, what you mean is …?’

  ‘As in, no longer alive.’

  ‘I know that, wise ass. Dead is dead. Do you mean she was hit by a car, or had an OD?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what are you saying? That she was killed?’

  ‘We don’t know. Possibly.’

  Rochelle said nothing. Instead, she took a large gulp of beer from the bottle, and deliberately looked around, trying unsuccessfully to appear unaffected. Eventually, after a few minutes, she brought her gaze back to Leighton.

  ‘How come you’re interested in this shit?’ she asked. ‘Shouldn’t it be your buddies in the murder division, or whatever it’s called, chasing it up? I thought you guys in Traffic were more into catching speeding assholes?’

  ‘I guess I’m just interested. I know it’s not my case, so, you’re right, Homicide will probably follow it up.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Rochelle yawned. ‘Hey, do you think she was killed because someone mistook her for a hooker? I mean, she was wearing my jacket, standing on the street, you know?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Leighton shrugged. ‘It’s not even my case, like you say, I just thought that after meeting you, maybe there was something I could help figure out.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m sure that hookers get killed every goddamned week in California, so good luck figuring it out.’

  ‘Look, do you mind taking a drive down there with me?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the café at the harbour.’

  ‘Sure, if I get something to eat there, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Leighton said with a wry smile. ‘I thought you weren’t hungry?’

  ‘Not for shitty bar food. I could do with some of that healthy beachside cuisine – an omelette maybe.’

  ‘Okay,’ Leighton laughed, ‘we’ll take a drive down, but finish your beer, there’s no rush.’

  As they left the Rooster, Leighton returned the empty bottles to the bar, where an elderly barman with a small beard was wiping down the beer taps with a cloth. He nodded to Leighton and smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Jonesy, you trying to steal my job?’

  ‘Just trying to save your old legs,’ Leighton said with a wink. ‘See you Friday, Rikki.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ the older man replied.

  Another man, who was hunched at the opposite end of the bar, turned on his stool and watched Leighton and Rochelle leave. He frowned, and stared at the door long after they had left.

  ‘Something bothering you, son?’ the barman asked.

  ‘What?’ the man said absently. ‘Oh, no, I just thought I recognised that guy.’

  Chapter Ten

  Some foods fill you up, others leave you wanting more. When he was a child,that was how it had been with candy. He could vaguely recall getting a box of Hershey bars, from some faceless relative, as a Christmas gift. Despite a stern warning not to eat them all at once, he’d found the temptation too great. He had gorged himself, and yet the urge to have more continued inside him.

  Now, in the darkness of the present day, it was like that with his late-night drives, and all those girls, looking just like her, selling their bodies on the streets. There was such a plentiful supply right in front of him. It was almost as if the world wanted him to get rid of them.

  He parked the stolen car in a shadowy side road, just off Seagate Way, and savoured the moment. This was always his favourite part: no past memories and no fear of getting caught. Instead there was the all-consuming thrill. He was dressed in dark clothes and was almost invisible. From this position, he could easily observe the girl he had chosen – a lone figure, working on a nearby corner. She would appear beneath the streetlight then vanish in a truck or a car, only to reappear a short time later. Although she would perk up when a passing car slowed down, most of the time she leaned back against the streetlight looking tired. That was good. It meant she would be less likely to put up a struggle.

  Sometimes the girl would be gone for a little longer, and he would worry that, in his hubris, he had waited too long and she had decided to head home for the night. But she always came back – returning to the streetlight like a moth to a flame.

  As the hours ticked by, he felt no need to rush. He would simply enjoy watching her, and wondering about the inside of her mouth.

  Chapter Eleven

  Having parked his car on the street outside the Beach House Café, Leighton unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face Rochelle.

  ‘Now this place looks a bit nicer than the Rooster, so don’t go looking for business around the tables,’ Leighton said with a smile.

  ‘Screw you!’ Rochelle said, appearing to be genuinely angry.

  ‘Hey,’ Leighton held up his hands to placate her. ‘Relax, I was only joking.’

  ‘So was I,’ Rochelle said with a wink. ‘And anyway, I’ve still got to make a living.’ She reached into her pocket and produced a lipstick, which she promptly applied before she and Leighton got out of the car.

  The café was a typical hacienda-style building with cream coloured walls, and rust coloured tiles on the roof. However, as they stepped into the warm night and approached the café, Leighton and Rochelle discovered that the place was closed for the evening.

  ‘What the hell?’ Rochelle peered through the glass much as she had several nights earlier, only this time the inside was dark and deserted.

  Leighton was a small distance away, peering at an illuminated menu that was mounted in a gold frame next to the locked front door. ‘Says here that the place closes at 6.30pm midweek, and 10pm Friday and Saturday.’

  ‘So much for an omelette.’ Rochelle said, and took a packet of cigarettes out of her bag. As she lit one, she glanced around for potential customers then remembered she was standing next to a cop. ‘Are we done here?’ she asked, clearly restless. ‘I have to earn some rent money, you know.’

  Leighton walked over to her from the door of the café.

  ‘Yeah, almost done,’ he said quietly, and looked at Rochelle. ‘Is this definitely the place?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rochelle sighed, ‘it is definitely the place.’

  ‘Okay, can you point to the last place you saw the girl? Where exactly was she standing?’

  ‘Well, we were both standing smoking exactly here. Then we swapped jackets and—’

  Leighton looked at her quizzically. ‘Why would she want your jacket if she had one of her own?’

  ‘She didn’t make like she wanted to keep the jacket. I needed to use the bathroom, so she gave me hers – so I wouldn’t be recognised as the scum of the earth by the saintly customers.’

  ‘Ah, I get it,’ Leighton nodded. ‘So, she was still standing out here when you went inside?’

  Rochelle nodded. ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I did my thing in the bathroom and came back out here. That’s when I found she’d vanished, along with my stuff.’ Rochelle shrugged. ‘She got into her car, or whatever.’

  ‘You said that you saw the car. Where was it, out here on the freeway?’

  ‘No,’ Rochelle sighed impatiently, ‘come on, I’ll show you. But then I’m done with this bullshit.’ She strode ahead to the corner of the sand coloured building, leaving Leighton to hurry after her. She led him round the back of the café to the parking lot, and showed him where she had stood the previous Friday night.

  ‘I’d only just got to about here,’ she pointed at the ground, ‘when the car almost knocked me down as it raced out of here. I guess she was inside it.’

  ‘Because you found the jacket?’ Leighton asked.

  Rochelle nodded. ‘Yeah, but I found my lighter too – the one I had given her. It was lying over there,’ she said, and pointed to the empty parking bay where the silver saloon had sat.

  Leighton wandered over to the place Rochelle had pointed out. Crouching down for a momen
t he peered around and bit his bottom lip. Then he stood up, smiled, and looked back toward the young woman.

  ‘Rochelle, you’ve been very helpful, thanks for doing this.’ Leighton walked back over to her. ‘Can I drop you back home?’

  ‘Hell, no, I’m good right here.’

  ‘Do you really think you’re safe down here – especially given recent events?’

  Rochelle turned around and looked at him as if he had suggested that she went skipping home to her pink princess castle.

  ‘I’m a hooker, Officer,’ she said, and shrugged her shoulders. ‘There is nowhere safe for us.’

  With her unarguable point made, Rochelle turned and walked off into the night, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. Leighton was left with a strange sense of concern for a woman who was probably emotionally stronger than he was. He dismissed his self-indulgence and walked across the parking lot to stand where Rochelle said she had seen the car. Crouching down again, he scanned the ground, unsure of what he was looking for. He glanced momentarily upwards and spotted the gas station across the freeway. The shop area was at the wrong angle for anyone inside to have seen this parking area. However, even at this distance, Leighton could see that the station did have a number of CCTV cameras mounted around the forecourt.

  Crossing the highway was a risky business during the day, and it was even more dangerous at night. Leighton waited for a large enough gap to open before he ran across all four lanes. A large truck acknowledged his stupidity with a throaty blast of its horns.

  On the other side, Leighton crossed the coldly lit forecourt of the gas station, and entered the brightly lit shop. The place was filled with automobile spares, magazines, and cut-price cartons of beer. At the far end of the shop, a young man was serving the only other customer. Leighton allowed the elderly man in the yellow shirt to finish his transaction, approached the counter, and held up his badge.