by David McLeod
They separated and moved amongst the rubble, none of them searching for anything in particular, just trying to get a sense of what had happened there.
‘I hardly think this could be called suspicious; it looks like the front page of a Beirut real estate magazine,’ Taylor announced, trying to introduce some humor.
Suddenly, Erin let out a gasp and her hand rushed to her mouth. Malone and Taylor swung round to see what the matter was. She was crouching and had picked something up from the ground.
Fearing the worst, she turned the PSP over in her hand to look at the back. There, scratched into the warped, rugged, black plastic were the initials JC.
‘This is Joshua’s; he was here.’ Erin held out her hand to show Malone and Taylor the electronic game. ‘I’d forgotten, but he never goes anywhere without it. Look at the state of the protective case I bought for it!’ All of a sudden, she burst out crying; Malone and Taylor looked at each other perplexed by her extreme reaction.
‘If he doesn’t have it, it means he’s somewhere in here!’ she screamed pointing at the debris.
‘I’m sure they would have checked,’ Malone said, trying to comfort her.
‘Checked what? He could be anywhere; fuck, look at it! With the explosion, he could be everywhere!’
‘Call the detective and find out what he knows,’ Malone barked at Taylor as he hugged Erin and tried to get the thought of the arsonists bringing the kid there to kill him out of his mind.
Taylor pulled a cell phone from her pocket, tapped it a few times, and after a few moments she began to talk.
‘Is that Detective Rodríguez?’ She paused a moment and then continued, ‘Yeah, hi, it’s Taylor. Look we decided to come up to Mulholland to have a look at the house…’
Pause
‘Yes, I know what you said, but we wanted to see for ourselves…’
Pause
Malone was signaling Taylor to hand him the phone, she waved him off.
‘Look, I’m not going to argue with you. The point is, we’re here, and the place is a write off. Erin has found something that belongs to Joshua, which means that the tourists were right; he definitely was here.’ She turned her back to Malone and Erin and spoke softly into the phone ‘We need to know if the investigators found any…’
Pause
‘Oh, thank god,’ she said as she turned back to the anxious faces of the others and gave them a smile. Together they let out an audible sigh of relief.
‘He said that in cases of suspicious fires, the forensics look for any human traces — the site came back negative.’ Taylor was holding her hand over the mouthpiece as she spoke.
Once again, Malone signaled for the phone; this time she handed it over.
‘That’s good news, Detective,’ he said. ‘Where are you now?’
Pause.
‘Perfect, because I’d like to come and talk to you; I’ve got a couple of favors I’d like to ask.’
With nothing much left to see, the three of them squeezed back into the Ford and started off down the hill towards the LAPD station.
‘He said he’s got the tourist couple back at the station giving a description of the cab driver,’ Malone told them as he drove.
‘Shouldn’t they have done that last time?’ Erin huffed.
‘They gave the basics, but now they’re in with the compositor again.’
‘Maybe we can get to talk to them,’ Taylor chipped in.
‘That’s one of the favors I want to ask,’ Malone said, and then concentrated on the traffic.
The detective met them at reception, and then escorted them to his workspace. He’d added two more chairs to the —his and one guest — allocation, and they all took a seat around his desk. Malone noted how tidy the detective’s desk looked: computer, phone, and only one in/out tray. A folder was lying open in the centre of the desk, but all the pages seemed to be stacked in perfect order. Many people would say that this showed a well-organized and efficient mind; Malone thought it looked like the detective had too much time on his hands.
‘Coffee?’ the detective asked.
The three of them, keen to get on, declined.
Malone opened the dialogue.
‘Are the tourists still here?’
‘Yes, they should be finished with the artist any minute,’ Rodríguez replied checking his watch.
‘Is there any chance Erin can get to talk with them? She knows how Joshua acts generally; she could find out if he was nervous or hurt or something.’
The detective considered the request for a second before responding, ‘I don’t see any reason why not. We can all go in when they’re finished.’
‘Thanks. That brings me to my second favor: can you arrange for us to talk to Louise Hughes the owner of the house, and if possible, can we talk to the owner of the toy warehouse?’
The detective began shaking his head.
‘I can’t see what you could ask either of them that the LAFD — or we — haven’t asked before. In any case, as I said, the toy warehouse case is virtually closed; there’s been no confession, but the investigators are pretty sure they’ve got their man.’
‘But what if my theory is right, and the toy warehouse and the house fires are connected?’ Malone butted in.
‘For now it doesn’t matter. According to the file, the insurance company has paid out, which is a bit quick…’ Rodriguez pondered this for a second. ‘The owner has left town on business, and aside from the investigator, and of course us, the insurance company are the only ones that would have an interest in exploring the connection. From what I’m told, insurance companies usually can’t be bothered with finding out who actually did the crime; arsonists aren’t renowned for having vast sums of cash to pay for the damage they’ve caused. So the insurance company works on a numbers game philosophy; takes it on the nose, ups everyone else’s premium, and goes on with business. Once again, it’s the likes of you and me that end up paying,’ Rodriguez said cynically.
‘But, if there is a connection, then surely talking to the owner could help us…’ Malone stopped for the moment and changed his focus. ‘Okay, but how about the dolly bird, Louise? No insurance has paid out anything for the house yet, have they? And as it’s still suspicious…’
Once again, the detective pondered the request.
‘I’ll get her in here to have a look at the cab driver’s identikit and another look at the passenger. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do.’
Malone knew from experience what that meant; soon they’d all be talking to Louise Hughes.
Proud of the image the artist had created from their descriptions, the tourist couple was relaxing over coffee in the boardroom. The detective opened the door and escorted Malone, Taylor, and Erin into the room.
‘All finished, I hear,’ the detective announced.
‘Yep, and if you can’t find him from that, then he must have had plastic surgery,’ the big man boomed, and then looked at the three guests.
‘Who are they?’ he quizzed.
‘I’d like to introduce Erin Costello — she’s Joshua’s mother, and these folks are Michael Malone and his partner, Taylor.’
‘Thank you very much for spotting my boy and coming forward,’ Erin said shaking their hands.
‘Glad we could help,’ the tourist replied. ‘Sorry we didn’t get here sooner, but the little wifey said I was wrong — that it was too dark to really see anything.’
His embarrassed wife shrunk her chubby frame into her chair.
‘So this is the driver,’ the detective said, moving on quickly. Turning the picture towards Erin he asked, ‘Do you recognize him?’
She carefully studied the picture before shaking her head.
‘I’ll go run it through the system and see if it comes up with anything.’
‘You obviously got a good look at my son,’ Erin began as she turned to the tourists,. ‘can you tell me what he was doing?’
‘Like I told them before; he wa
s just standing there beside the other guy outside of the house.’
‘Sure, I heard that; but I need you to think back and tell me about how he was standing. How were his arms, hands, and legs? Was he fidgeting around or pulling back, that sort of thing?’
The man’s eyes rolled back as he thought about the boy by the cab.
‘From what I remember, he looked relaxed. He was there all natural looking and playing Space Invaders.’
‘Space Invaders? Do you mean he was playing with this?’ Erin pulled the PSP from her bag.
‘Yep, that looks like it. Happily tapping away on that thing he was.’
Tears found their way to Erin’s eyes as she thought of how these people had been so close to her son; dammit, they could have brought Joshua home. Excusing herself, she left the room.
Chapter 28
Rosehill Cemetery is the largest and some would say the most beautiful cemetery in Chicago. Its vast three hundred and fifty acre grounds was the resting place of Mayors, Generals, leaders of empires; it had even been the set for a couple of movies. Mr. Paxton felt it would be a more than suitable place to bury his colleague.
Anthony Cain’s mother had taken a bit more persuading than he’d expected, but he put it down to grief and lack of funds; the latter, he’d assured her, would be taken care of by the Corporation: ‘it’s the least they can do,’ he’d told her.
The funeral’s attendance was bigger than he’d expected. It turned out that Cain was more popular than he’d been aware; but it didn’t matter, there was more than ample catering. The thing that did concern him though was the presence of the media; however, he was not as concerned as Elwood was.
‘What are they doing here?’ he whispered aggressively to Mr. Paxton who’d been the deceased’s boss.
‘Don’t worry; they’re just looking for crumbs. Must be a slow news day. Mind you, considering his position and the way he died, I can see the news angle.’ His smile changed abruptly as he turned to look solemnly at one of his department heads.
They joined the people at the graveside, and Elwood moved to the rear of the crowd as Gerard Paxton went to stand next to Anthony Cain’s mother. A fitting tribute was said by the priest, and the coffin slowly disappeared into the ground.
‘I’m so very sorry for your loss,’ Paxton said turning to speak to Mrs. Cain.
‘I’m sure you are,’ she said in a tone that bordered on cynicism.
Even though they kept a respectable distance, he could hear the click and whirr of the cameras as the press snapped away. He was about to ask her what she meant when they were interrupted by mourners offering Cain’s mother their condolences. Paxton decided to let the comment go, and went back to stand with Elwood.
‘So, where are we at?’ Paxton asked as he and Elwood started walking through the gravestones. The call Paxton had made to Elwood was to invite him to the funeral; he’d even sent the corporate jet to pick him up; he thought it would be a good idea for Elwood to see how the corporation valued their employees even in death — and even if they strayed a little at the end. More importantly though, it had been a while since they’d caught up face-to-face; phone and e-mail reports were fine for day-to-day things, but he was old school; to him nothing beat in-the-flesh meetings.
‘His last couple of weeks were action packed, especially when you think of the pain he must have been in. New York, Ohio, Texas, Albuquerque, and then California — I’m tired just thinking about it,’ reported Elwood
‘Were they all on the list?’
‘Yeah, and some. I’ve got a few more names you should keep an eye on. Plus, he didn’t make it to Mexico, so there’s some unfinished business there.’
Paxton nodded. ‘It will have to be another time; it’s not a job that can be pieced together on the road. I’ll need to be more involved so that it gets better planning.’
Elwood was annoyed at Paxton’s arrogance.
‘What happened in LA? According to your previous reports, the office shouldn’t have been there. Did your contractor screw up?’ asked Paxton.
‘As I said in the report, the activist there was the biggest threat on the list, and the Texas doctor let slip that he knew he’d managed to get copies of the San Diego paper that ran Rife’s story years ago — plus actual manuscripts of the all-important ‘Admission’ correspondence between Rife and the AMA.’
‘Ah yes, Raymond Rife, a name from the past, someone who was not good for our organization,’ Paxton interrupted.
‘They were in the process of getting thousands of copies made to distribute. A meeting with Cain and what we think is on that flash drive would have been hazardous,’ Elwood continued.
‘Yes, I get all that; but what I don’t get is why the office was still standing when you got to LA, why Cain was dead in there, and why your contractors stole the damn flash drive.’ Paxton’s voice was slightly raised.
‘They’ve never let me down before, and rest assured, they’ll never let me down again.’ Elwood was unimpressed by Paxton’s verbal attack.
‘Anyway, it was just as well I found Cain before the office burned; it would have been harder to explain him dying in a fire!’
Paxton conceded, ‘It would have been impossible to explain how Anthony Cain was able to burst into flames in a private hospital. The practicalities of trying to get his charred body mysteriously lost, or God knows what, would have been a nightmare. So, yes, I’m pleased you stumbled upon him.’ Paxton thought about the scandal surrounding Royal Raymond Rife, a man who’d spelled the demise of one of his predecessors.
‘I thought we’d got rid of all copies of that paper.’
‘Apparently not — but I now have the name of the guy with the last copy; I’m in the process of getting his location details,’ Elwood said, and then changed the subject.
‘Do you know exactly what’s on the flash drive yet? Do I need to go back out there and get it?’
‘We’re still not exactly sure what’s on it, but I’m sure it can’t be good. The problem is Cain had almost the same access as I do, so it could be virtually anything. We haven’t heard from your friends Vince and Scott, so I’m sure they don’t know what they’ve got — and from what I read in your report, you would have confused the crap out of them: a dead body just ups and leaves — priceless!’ He paused and smiled. ‘But, whatever’s on the flash drive is ours, so I want it back. Take a day to get rested, and then, yes, you’re going to have to go get it,’ Paxton replied.
‘So Cain was seriously keen on bringing down the Corporation before he died!’ Elwood said.
‘Looks that way. That’s the trouble with sick and dying people; they’ll try anything to appease their souls. Unfortunately, Cain was delusional. Years of listening to idiots selling potions, witchcraft, and old wives’ tales messed with his brain. Science really has proved to be the best form of success. If only Cain had stayed on the recommended treatment, things could have turned out differently.’
‘Still, cancer’s a nasty way to go,’ Elwood sighed with a touch of compassion.
Chapter 29
Shannon and Daniel had agreed to meet each other again after her shift finished at six. Although she’d had a better day at the tables, Shannon was still distracted and found herself looking at her watch far too often as she waited for her shift to end. Right on the button of six, Daniel came through the doors of the casino, which immediately brought a smile to her face.
Again, Shannon smoked as they walked the strip, and again, they found a diner in which to take up residence for a while. This time it was an old favorite — Denny’s.
Shannon asked Daniel how his day had been, and while he spoke, her mind drifted back in time a couple of decades.
After murdering Ginger, she’d returned to her bedsit wired and full of adrenaline. She’d found a rest stop on the drive back and changed out of her blood-covered clothes that now lay beside the crowbar in a bag at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
She couldn’t believe how easy it had been
to pull the whole thing off — and how great it had felt to kill him. She was free! Free and alive with cash in her pocket — Ginger’s cash. She wanted this feeling to last forever, this high, this total release. She checked herself out in the mirror above her sink, her eyes were bright, and her skin was glowing. Only once had she ever remembered feeling better than this, and as she stared at the wad of Ginger’s money, she decided it was time to feel that good again.
Finding a supply that night wasn’t difficult; scoring hard drugs in a city such as San Francisco was almost as easy as hailing a cab — which by some strange and ironic coincidence was how, in fact, she managed to get her fix. She’d hailed a cab with the intention of going to the Tenderloin area, then got talking with the driver who said he knew of a place — and hey, presto, mission accomplished.
The mixture of adrenaline and drugs reintroduced her to what her life had lacked since the untimely departure of DC. It had been one hell of a day, and as the drugs washed over her, she immersed herself in her own sense of achievement, taking huge gulps of joy from her imaginary cup of success.
She awoke the next morning back in her bedsit having no idea when or how she got there. A groan from beside her made her jump, and she lifted the comforter to see where the noise was coming from — and more importantly, from whom. Both riddles were solved as the crumpled face of the cab driver looked up at her. She dropped the comforter back down and slowly got up. With her head pounding, she carefully made her way down the hall to the bathroom.
Having got rid of the cabbie with promises of a rerun sometime, she showered, dressed, and ventured outside in search of coffee and something to eat. She would have thought breakfast, but really had no idea what the time was. The local coffee shop was alive with people. Raised conversation and crashing crockery did nothing to ease the aching in her skull, but at least her dark glasses shielded her from some of the bright light torture she knew existed beyond them. She made her way to the counter and slumped down on a stool.