by Philip Cox
‘Have you read, or seen on TV, about a number of men found at various spots in the city, cause of death unknown?’
She thought a moment. ‘Yes, I think I have. A couple of weekends ago, wasn’t it?’
‘End of last week. They all died in the same night. All filled with a drug cocktail. We were investigating that. The case is closed now, as it’s felt - in some quarters - that the deaths were accidental, and we have more urgent cases to follow. Anyway, before we were taken off the investigation, Domingo and I found that one of the victims had met with a hooker he found on an online dating site.’
‘Hence the drug cocktail?’
‘Maybe. We managed to get hold of one of the hookers and met with her. She gave us a load of bullshit, naturally, but we followed her back to a big house off Mulholland Drive.’
‘And?’
‘We were met by a creepy little guy who denied all knowledge of her. Said his employer was out of town.’
‘Who did he work for?’
‘I’ll come to that. We knew he was bullshitting us too when I saw her car hidden out back.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He doesn’t know we found it yet.’
‘More known unknowns?’
‘Kind of. Sometimes it’s best to dig around a bit before making a challenge. Now, this creepy guy: I couldn’t place where, but his face kind of seemed familiar.’
‘Go on.’
‘Back at the office, one of the last things Liza did was email me that she had found out who actually does own the house. Earlier - while we were, you know, I could make a connection between the house and what happened to them. A thin one, but nevertheless a connection. So I tried Google.’
‘Show me.’
‘Take a look.’ He passed the laptop to her, still switched on and at the appropriate page.
She started to read, then looked up at him. ‘The owner of the house?’
‘The very same.’
She carried on reading until she finished the article. Then looked up at him again.
‘Sam, what are you going to do?’
THIRTY-FIVE
THE ATMOSPHERE AT the station house the next morning was tense. Since Leroy had gone home the previous night, another shift had arrived and departed and more of Domingo and Connor’s workmates had heard the news. Where there was normally the hum of numerous conversations taking place, this morning there was silence. Officers were going about their business quietly; those that were on the phone were speaking quietly. As he walked to his desk, Leroy noticed others were red eyed; a couple of female officers were walking around clutching a Kleenex. Already, there were two large bunches of flowers lying on Domingo’s desk. He noticed Lieutenant Perez standing by a vending machine, talking on a cell phone. The lieutenant was wearing the same clothes he had on the previous day, and had a deep five o’clock shadow. He looked as if he had not made it home last night.
Leroy sat down at his desk and fired up the computer. Then stared at the Home screen, pondering what to do next. Should he return to the Grand Central Market case, or stay with the John Does? Normally at this time case files would be given out: he was sure Perez would be doing so soon, as there would have been a dozen incidents reported last night; but as he was still without a partner, he was hoping he would be able to remain under the lieutenant’s radar.
He was wrong.
‘Morning, Sam,’ came Perez’s voice from across his screen. Leroy looked up at the dishevelled lieutenant.
‘Morning, Lieutenant. Man, you look like shit.’
‘Thanks. Feel like shit. I’ve been here all night. First, Connor’s widow, and then….’
‘I can imagine. The guys from the MCD here yet?’
‘Not yet. They’ll be over later this morning.’
‘I’m glad to see they’re treating the case as urgent, then.’
‘Give me a break, Sam.’
Leroy sat back, arms folded. He nodded.
‘How did you get on at the Market yesterday?’ Perez continued.
‘The vic was taken to the LA Medical Center. He lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be okay. He was still sleeping yesterday afternoon, so I’ll go see him later. See what he has to say; see if he knew his attacker.’
‘CCTV?’
‘Yeah, there was some. Not much, though: the attack took place in the men’s john.’
‘In the john? So we have CCTV of people going in and out?’
‘That’s about it. I was checking it out when the news came through about Domingo.’
Perez nodded, a serious look on his face. ‘Any use?’
Leroy pulled a face. ‘A guy wearing a hood, and another. Want to see?’
Perez gave a I’m really too tired to, but I guess I’d better look. ‘Sure,’ he said, stepping round to stand next to Leroy. Leroy returned to the email the market manager had sent, and opened the file. He fast forwarded to the time in question. Perez leaned closer. ‘His face is completely hidden,’ he said of the hooded figure. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he said when the second man came running out.
Leroy froze the footage.
‘Can you enlarge?’ asked Perez. ‘Enhance?’
Leroy manoeuvred the mouse to crop, then enlarge, but lost a lot of definition.
‘Damn,’ Perez muttered. ‘I was hoping for better.’
‘It might help,’ said Leroy.
‘May do. However,’ Perez dropped a manila folder down on the desk, ‘as the victim’s still alive, it’s not a homicide, and moves further down the line. This one, though, is higher up the food chain.’
Leroy picked up the folder and began to leaf through it as Perez continued. ‘It’s another stabbing, although this one was fatal. Took place in your neck of the woods, Sam.’
Leroy ran his eyes down the front sheet. The location was Palisades Beach Road. ‘I see,’ he replied.
‘The victim was a young woman in her twenties,’ the lieutenant went on. ‘She and a friend - another girl - were walking along the edge of the park and saw a group of transients on the grass. A few of them were begging for money, holding up some signs with obscenities written on them.’
‘Like what?’ asked Leroy, still scanning the paperwork.
‘It’s all there.’
Leroy found a photograph containing the signs. They were crudely made of thick cardboard and had been hand painted. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘A couple of these guys approached the girls asking for money and they refused.’
‘So they followed them?’
‘Began to, but one of the girls - the one who died - turned round and began taking pictures of them with her cellphone.’
‘Jesus.’
‘So they attacked her. Stabbed her three or four times. As luck would have it, a patrol car was at the end of….Montana Avenue, I think it was, and noticed the disturbance. She was taken to the Nethercutt ER, but died a few hours later.’
‘And the other one?’
‘She was taken there also, but only sustained injuries to her arms.’
‘She’s still there, then?’
‘Good. I’ll go talk to her. Any witnesses?’
‘Better than that. The attackers have already been booked on suspicion of murder. The patrol car brought them in.’
Leroy looked up at the lieutenant. ‘It seems pretty cut and dried, then.’
‘I just need you to tie up any loose ends. Make sure there were only two attackers, that kind of thing. I’ll arrange for a patrol car to meet you at the scene, just in case you need any back up.’
‘Okay,’ said Leroy. ‘Listen, Lieutenant, I need to talk to you about the John Does Domingo and I were -’
‘No, Sam. Those cases are closed. Accidental death. You know that.’
‘Just listen, will you? For a start, they’re not John Does: we have names, for two of them at least.’
‘Makes no difference. For all of them, at a senior level, and that includes the DA, the verdict is death by misadventure. Case
- or cases, to be precise, closed. Terminado.’
‘Okay, okay, but just let me ask you this. One of them had been using an online dating agency -’
‘So?’
‘To get hookers, I mean.’
‘Jesus, Sam. Is that all you got?’
‘Domingo and I managed to track down two of the hookers he had seen.’
‘And what did they tell you?’
‘Not much, I admit. But we followed one of them back to a house off Mulholland Drive.’
‘Cat house?’
‘Don’t think so. No signs of that, at any rate. We were met by this really weird guy who denied all knowledge of the hooker, even though I saw her car parked out back. But this is the clincher: he said his employer was away on business.’ He pressed the mouse key a few times to get to the email Domingo had sent him. ‘Now look at this,’ he said, pointing to the screen. ‘This must change things. Now tell me the cases are closed!’
THIRTY-SIX
PEREZ LOOKED DOWN at the screen. ‘Carajo!’ he exclaimed, eyes wide open.
‘Well? Does that change anything?’ Leroy asked.
The lieutenant straightened up, scratched his stubbly chin, and looked round, in the direction of Captain Patterson’s office. ‘Don’t see how it can, Sam. At the end of the day, there’s no real evidence of it being anything other than death by misadventure, in all three cases.’
Leroy’s voice went down to almost a whisper. ‘Roman, you gotta be kidding .’
Perez put his hand up, palm towards Leroy. ‘Just accept it, Sam. And move on. That’s the decision by the DA, and people on a much bigger pay grade than you or me.’
Leroy looked back at the screen, then back up at Perez. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he persisted. ‘The house is owned by the fucking United States Secretary of Defence. How can you say -?’
‘Listen.’ Perez was beginning to get impatient. He was already dog tired. ‘This is the last time we will discuss this. Sure, Secretary Davison owns the place, but he probably owns several. Was he there at the time? No, of course he wasn’t. The fact that you and Domingo followed some two bit hooker there means squat. Who’s to say the guy you spoke to there even knew about the car? And who was this guy anyway? Dwight Mason: he’s the Secretary’s General Counsel for Christ’s sake. Are you telling me that the Secretary of Defence is somehow pumping half naked men with drugs then leaving them on Hollywood Boulevard?’
‘Has happened before.’
Perez impatiently shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. ‘I don’t care about before. The Secretary has nothing to do with it. Maybe he was banging that hooker, but that hardly connects him, does it? How many johns did she see that night, anyway? She could have been on her way to see Mason.’
‘No, not Mason. I’ve read his biography.’ Leroy pointed to the screen.
‘Whatever. Case closed. Case closed. Understand?’
Leroy said nothing.
‘Do you understand, Detective?’
Leroy nodded his head. ‘Understood.’ He slowly leaned forward and exited Domingo’s email.
‘Good. Now get the hell down to the hospital and talk to that Palisades Beach survivor.’ Angrily, the lieutenant spun on his heels and walked back to his own office.
Leroy watched him leave, right till he could see his silhouette through the hammered glass walls return to his office and close the door. Took a deep breath and read through the folder the lieutenant had given him.
*****
Santa Monica’s first hospital was founded in 1926 by two local physicians, Dr William S Mortensen and Dr August B Hromadka. In 1955 the hospital became part of UCLA Health, and today is part of the massive UCLA Medical Center. Specialising in Orthopaedic medicine, a limited amount of surgery, the Center also houses a small emergency room. The survivor of the attack was occupying one of the twenty-two beds here in the ER.
Leroy parked outside the main entrance, next to an LAPD patrol car. Immediately a figure in a blue and gold uniform appeared and asked for his car keys. Leroy had not noticed that there was valet parking here. He held up his badge and the valet backed off. Just at that moment, another vehicle pulled up, and the young man ran off to park that.
Slightly puzzled as to why a patrol car should be here, Leroy walked inside and made his way to the reception desk. A uniformed guard directed him to take a left and make his way to the Southwest wing, where the ER was situated. As he turned the last corner, he saw waiting by the elevators outside the ER door, a uniformed officer. She stood up on seeing him.
‘Detective Leroy?’ she asked.
He briefly held out his ID. ‘You were expecting me?’
‘Officer Lin. Yes, we had a message from a Lieutenant Perez asking for some back-up for you.’
He looked at her. ‘And you’re my back up?’
‘That’s right, Detective.’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Leroy muttered, looking around.
‘Excuse me, Detective?’
‘Nothing, er – Lin. Kind of a misunderstanding between the lieutenant and me.’ He nodded over to the ER doors. ‘She in there still?’
‘Yes, she’s asleep now, though. Should I get one of the staff to wake her?’
‘Best not. Not yet anyway. Did you get to talk to her?’
‘A little, yes.’
‘I’ve read the initial report. What did she tell you?’
Lin put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. ‘Well, she says she and her friend -’
‘Are they from around here? Or from out of town?’
‘Very out of town. They’re both from Hamburg, Germany.’
‘Great. You speak German, then?’
‘No, Detective; she speaks English.’
‘Well, that helps. What did she tell you?’
‘They’re both booked in at the Holiday Inn Universal, and came here as part of a city tour. She said they had a half hour to spare before they had to be back at the bus, so took a walk through Palisades Park.’
‘Nice.’
‘They saw five or six transients standing around with some homemade signs saying something like fuck me for $5 no change given. She said two of them approached them and asked for five dollars. They said no, and walked off. At first the men stayed where they were, but then her friend turned and began to take pictures of them with their cells.’
‘Why on earth…?’
Lin shrugged. ‘They thought it was amusing. Part of Southern California life, maybe.’
‘Well, they got that right. Go on; what happened next?’
‘The two men began chasing them, soon caught up, and had them on the ground. There was a lot of screaming; there were other people in the park at the time, and by coincidence a black and white was passing along the beach road. When they heard the siren, the two men got up and tried to run off, but the officers from the black and white got them pretty soon. But when the girls got up, they were both covered in blood, just from cuts on the arms in this case, but the other had already lost a lot of blood from chest wounds. They brought them both here, but she died just after arrival in the ER.’
‘All right, Lin; thanks.’ He peered in the small windows of the ER door. ‘There’s no need to wake her, especially if she’s not in any danger. Take my number; give me a call on my cell when she wakes, and I’ll come back. That okay?’
‘Sure thing, Detective,’ Lin said, pocketing Leroy’s card. ‘You going to the crime scene now?’
‘I’ll have a brief look, then speak to the two suspects.’
‘I’ll come with you, shall I?’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Leroy moved his jacket slightly so she could see the butt of his service pistol. ‘You stay here with her; let me know when she wakes. I’ll see you later.’
‘Okay, Detective.’ Lin sat back down as Leroy walked back to the main entrance hall, and then to his car. As he got to the car, he looked around, thinking. There was not enough time to go home, so he pulled into 16th Street, then did a right onto Santa
Monica Avenue. A ten block ride took him to the main public library. The small street level parking lot was full; a sign did direct him to a subterranean garage, but he decided to park on the red kerbed section of street right outside the library. He ran up the steps to the glass entrance doors, then took the elevator to the second floor, and the seventy public access internet stations. He showed his identification to the white haired lady behind a semi-circular desk, and she gave him a temporary identification number and password.
Leroy found a vacant place, sat down and logged on. Checked his watch. Once he got to the welcome screen, he moved the cursor to Google, and clicked. Once the next screen appeared, he typed in the name, and sat back and waited.
There were a lot of entries for Secretary George Davison.
THIRTY-SEVEN
LEROY CLICKED ON the first entry. There were only three lines of sketchy biography. The second entry had far more. He got himself a cup of water from the cooler nearby and sat down to read.
Personal Details
Born – George Henry Davison
August 1st, 1950
Flagstaff, Arizona
Political party – Democrat
Spouse – Barbara LaHood (m. 1975)
Alma mater – Northern Arizona University
Trinity College, Oxford, England
Profession – Attorney
Religion – Roman Catholic
Siblings - One
Political Offices
Chairman of Senate Indian Affairs
Chairman of Senate Aging Committee
US Secretary of Defence
Early Life and education
Davison was born in Flagstaff, Arizona, one of four sons. His mother, Alice (née Adams), was of Catholic Irish ancestry, and his father, Henry Davison managed a restaurant.
While in high school, Davison was a basketball player and was named to the Arizona all-state high school team.
Legal, academic, and early political life
After graduating, Davison returned to Flagstaff and earned partnership in a local law firm. He became assistant county attorney for Coconino County. He was elected to Flagstaff City Council and served as Flagstaff mayor for one year.