by Philip Cox
‘You’ve heard the name Chuck Wu?’
‘Yes, he was the guy who killed Marty’s friend years ago.’
‘Yes. Wu was murdered a couple of nights back.’
‘Really? I didn’t know.’ Her tone suggested she didn’t care, either.
‘The ME noticed a wound on his leg. An animal bite. The bite matched the teeth of one of your dogs.’
‘So he was the one who killed Marty?’
‘We haven’t established that yet. Who benefits from your late husband’s will?’
‘I do. I get everything. I’ve seen the will. Howard’s shown me.’
‘Going back to your relationship with Duvall.’
‘He’s my lawyer.’
‘Not just your lawyer.’
She paused, and gave out a loud, theatrical sigh.
‘We’ve been sleeping together for eighteen months now, if it’s any business of yours.’
‘Did your husband know?’
‘No way. Howard’s divorced, by the way.’
‘Going back to Chuck Wu. He’s a suspect for your husband’s murder. He was, until he was murdered. But we have a witness who saw him talking to Mr Duvall a few days before your husband was killed. Do you know anything about that?’
This was clearly news to her, but she kept her composure.
‘You’ll have to ask Howard that,’ she replied, calmly.
At that point, Quinn’s phone bleeped. It was a message from Leroy.
‘Excuse me for a moment,’ Quinn said, getting up.
Mrs Wheat shook her head in disbelief, saying nothing.
*****
Outside in the corridor, Leroy was on his phone.
‘What’s up?’ Quinn asked.
Leroy mouthed, ‘Hobson.’ To Hobson, he said, ‘Russ, Ray’s here now. I’m gonna put you on speaker’. As he did so, he and Quinn walked down the corridor, out of earshot of the two interview rooms.
‘Guys,’ Hobson said, ‘in view of the apparent urgency here, I fast-tracked the DNA test on that dried blood.’
Leroy gave Quinn a silent thumbs up.
Hobson continued, ‘But I’m afraid it doesn’t match Chuck Wu.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Leroy slumped onto one of the benches which lined the corridor wall. ‘Fuck,’ he sighed. ‘I was convinced we were there.’
As he spoke he looked up at Quinn, who turned and kicked out at another of the benches.
‘Sorry, buddy,’ said Hobson. ‘I know that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.’
‘No, but if it wasn’t a match, it wasn’t a match. You’re sure? There’s no doubt.’
‘No doubt the blood isn’t Wu’s. But I do have a match for you. I ran a couple of searches, and bear in mind this is going to cost you big time, Samuel.’
‘I don’t care about that; do you have anything?’
‘The DNA is a match to one Tony Rios. He has a record.’
‘Never heard of him. What’s the record for?’
‘I didn’t check that. You want me to do all of your job for you? Tony Rios.’
At this stage, Lieutenant Perez arrived and stood listening to the conversation.
‘Copy that, Russ,’ said Leroy. ‘Tony Rios. I owe you one.’
‘You sure do.’
Leroy hung up and looked over at Quinn.
‘This is going to cost me more than one keg this time,’ he said.
‘What’s happening?’ Perez asked. ‘Are they still here?’ Leroy turned and updated the lieutenant.
‘But the teeth were a match,’ said Quinn.
‘That was very ball-park,’ Leroy said. ‘The science says there’s no match.’
‘You’re going to have to let them both go, Sam,’ said Perez.
Leroy nodded.
‘I know.’ He stood up and said to Quinn, ‘You deal with her; I’ll go talk to Duvall and his lawyer.’
While Quinn went to release Mrs Wheat, Leroy went back into the room where Duvall and Truman were waiting. He hated moments like this.
‘Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Duvall. You are free to leave.’
Looking somewhat relieved, Truman closed his legal pad and slipped his pen back into his coat pocket. Duvall looked at his lawyer then stood up.
‘Is that it, then?’ he barked.
‘Yes, that’s it, sir,’ Leroy said as he held the door open for them. ‘Thank you for your assistance. Mrs Wheat will be waiting out front.’
In fact, Mrs Wheat was waiting in the corridor. Duvall took her arm, and led them along the corridor to the exit, Truman shuffling behind them. Before the double doors, they stopped. Duvall looked round and said to Leroy, ‘I shall be speaking with the Chief Of Police.’
‘Tell him I said hi,’ Leroy retorted. Duvall glared and led Mrs Wheat outside to where Truman had parked.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Perez said.
‘I’m not,’ replied Leroy. ‘It was a legitimate interview.’
‘I don’t mean that. Okay, so you had all your hopes pinned on them and Wu being behind Wheat’s murder. The evidence didn’t point that way. Now you have another break.’
‘Yeah, we do. Come on, Ray; let’s check out Tony Rios.’
Each armed with a plastic cup of coffee, Leroy and Quinn sat in front of Leroy’s screen. Leroy logged into the database and keyed in the name Tony Rios. Immediately a page appeared on the screen.
‘Jackpot,’ Quinn said.
Leroy read out aloud what was on the screen. ‘Tony Rios. He has a record: two counts of auto theft; three of shoplifting; one of holding up a liquor store. Address: North Las Palmas Avenue, 90028. That’s Hollywood, isn’t it?’
‘Just off the Boulevard,’ Quinn confirmed.
‘Let’s go get him, then.’ Leroy jacketed up and they left.
The address on Las Palmas was two short blocks from Hollywood Boulevard. It was a three storey building, and looked as if in its prime had been a hotel; now it had lost any lustre it might have once had, and was a seedy, down at heel, apartment block. The frontage was covered in rusty metal fire escapes. A woman was sitting on the two steps leading to the entrance. She was smoking and playing with her cell phone. She was dressed in a long, flowery smock and had a shaven head. Her nose and left ear were pierced. She reminded Leroy of a young Sinead O’Connor.
‘Tony Rios?’ Quinn asked.
She looked up at them, her eyes squinting in the sunlight. ‘Twenty-two, man, second floor.’
‘Is he in?’ Leroy asked.
‘I guess so,’ she replied, before taking another long drag and returning to her phone.
Leroy and Quinn went inside. It was dark and gloomy indoors, and they both removed their shades. As they reached the foot of the narrow stairs, they heard Sinead call out, ‘Tony! Cops on their way up!’
‘Bitch,’ said Leroy. ‘You go back out there.’
Quinn went back outside, and Leroy quietly climbed the stairs, two at a time. He knocked loudly on door twenty-two.
‘Tony Rios? LAPD,’ he called once, before trying the door. It was unlocked. Weapon at the ready, he stepped inside. It was a one room apartment, a small bathroom to one side, with a small stove and sink in a corner. The room betrayed the building’s hotel origins. To say the place had seen better days was an understatement. Leroy ran over to the open window which led to the fire escape.
Outside, at street level, Quinn was waiting while Rios climbed down the fire escape.
‘LAPD,’ he said. ‘Freeze. Stay there.’
Rios looked down at Quinn and the weapon pointing at him. He leaned back on the ladder.
‘Fuck, man,’ Rios protested. Looking up, Quinn saw Leroy’s head appear at Rios’s window. After making sure Quinn had Rios secure, Leroy turned and left the room and went back downstairs. At the entrance, he paused and looked down at the girl.
‘You’re lucky I don’t arrest you as well.’ She looked up at him with a blank expression on his face. He turned and walked away. She was so spaced out it would ha
ve been a waste of energy booking her. He joined Quinn and Rios at the foot of the fire escape. ‘Tony Rios?’ he asked.
Rios shuffled about.
‘What you want, man?’ He protested as Leroy grabbed his left arm and held it up. There was a bite mark on the forearm. It had reddened about the points of entry: infection had set in.
‘How did this happen, Tony?’ Leroy asked. ‘You get into an argument with a dog, or something? Looks nasty; you need to get that seen to.’
‘It was an accident, dude. I didn’t do nothing. I was just doin’ the drivin’.’
‘Just doing the driving, were you? Come on.’
As Quinn turned Rios round to cuff him, Rios wailed, ‘Where you taking me?’
‘We’re taking you to West LA station,’ Leroy explained. ‘We need to talk to you. Then when we’re done, courtesy of the City, someone’s gonna have a look at that arm.’
They manoeuvred Rios into the back of the car. Rios stared out of the window as they pulled away, muttering, ‘Just the drivin’. I was just doin’ the drivin’.’
The girl sitting on the steps watched as Leroy did a one-eighty and drove down to Hollywood Boulevard. She stopped waving once the car was out of sight.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Agitated, and swaying from side to side on the chair, Tony Rios sat across the table from Leroy and Quinn. This was the same interview room that had seen Howard Duvall earlier.
‘You okay, Tony?’ Leroy asked.
‘Man, I’m just a bit…’
‘You want some coffee?’ asked Quinn.
Rios looked at him, a blank expression on his face.
‘I’ll get you coffee.’ Quinn stood up and left.
‘Tell me, Tony,’ Leroy asked while Quinn was out of the room. ‘Do you know anybody called Chuck Wu?’
Now Rios was rocking backwards and forwards slightly. He was scratching his arm, where the bite was.
‘Yeah, I know Chuck. He and I are like that.’ He crossed his fingers. ‘We are compadres.’
Leroy asked, ‘When did you last see your compadre?’
Rios shrugged.
‘Can’t really say. A week ago, maybe.’
Quinn returned and passed the coffee to Rios, who took it and immediately took a mouthful.
‘Take care, it’s hot,’ Quinn warned.
‘Man, that’s hot,’ Rios said.
Leroy said to Quinn, ‘Tony was telling me about Chuck Wu. He says they were best friends.’ Rios didn’t pick up on the were.
‘You know where he lives?’ Quinn asked.
‘Downtown somewhere. He always used to get the MTA up to Hollywood when we met up.’
‘Chuck’s dead, Tony. I’m sorry,’ said Leroy.
Rios looked Leroy in the face.
‘No way man. I saw him last week.’
‘He was found the other night by Angels Flight. Someone had cut his throat.’
Rios turned white.
‘No way. You’re lying. No way is he dead. No fucking way.’
‘I’m sorry, Tony,’ Leroy said again.
‘You and Chuck,’ Quinn asked. ‘You used to work together?’
Rios shrugged.
Leroy said, ‘Earlier, you said you were just the driver.’
‘When?’
‘The other night. When you got that.’ He inclined his head to Rios’s arm.
Rios leaned back, lifted his head up and closed his eyes.
‘Fuck,’ he mouthed.
‘Just the driver?’ Leroy asked. ‘What was Chuck?’
‘Look, man. I didn’t know Chuck was going to off the guy, did I?’
Leroy said, ‘Tell us what happened.’
Rios held out his arm.
‘You said you’d get me a doctor.’
‘Presently. Tell us what happened.’
‘Chuck had a contact, some guy he used to do jobs for.’
‘Jobs?’
‘Chuck said the guy would get him to do shit that was too dirty for him to do himself. Follow people, watch people’s houses, take pictures, or videos. Like people’s wives messing around, that sort of shit, you know?’
Despite himself, Leroy felt his face flush. He hoped Quinn didn’t notice.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go on.’
Rios said, ‘This time, Chuck said the guy wanted a package delivered to another dude. Said we had to meet him on Mulholland Drive at midnight. Said the guy always took his dogs for a walk up there every night.’
‘Why didn’t he go alone?’
‘He wanted me to go with him. He’s scared of dogs. Said he nearly gave the dude the kiss off when he told him he had two dogs. Two vicious motherfuckers. But Chuck said he needed the three grand the guy was gonna pay him. Said he’d go fifty-fifty with me.’
‘So that’s why you went with him?’ Quinn asked.
Rios nodded, taking more coffee.
‘We got there saw the guy’s car already parked. Chuck got me to check the car, on account of the dogs. It was empty, so we just sat and waited. Well, then the guy appeared with these two fucking dogs. We got out of our car and walked over, and Chuck took out his piece and shot the guy in the head. Just once.’
‘What happened then?’ Leroy asked.
‘Then everything went fucking crazy. These fucking dogs went wild. One jumped at Chuck and knocked him to the ground, and the other dove for my arm. If I hadn’t have been near the guy’s car, I would’ve hit the deck as well. I guess Chuck managed to get a hold of the gun, as he shot the dog. It collapsed right on him. The other one, the one that was on my arm, must’ve gotten spooked, let go my arm and ran off, back into the canyon. Then Chuck and I ran back to our car and drove off.’
Leroy said, ‘So you’re telling us that you had no idea Wu was going to kill the person you met?’
‘No, man. I swear. I swear on my mother’s grave. I was just supposed to drive Chuck, and he was supposed to deliver a package.’
Quinn said, ‘He certainly did that. Who was the person who was paying you guys the three thousand?’
‘Me, I don’t know who the dude was. Chuck said he was one of his contacts.’
‘How did he make contact with Wu? How did you get paid?’
He and Chuck met to get where the other guy would be; same again for when he paid Chuck.’
‘Did Wu ever pay you your cut?’
‘Sure. He came round to mine, we had some beers and smoked a few…’ He tailed off.
‘I’m not interested in that,’ said Leroy. ‘Where did they meet?’
‘On Larry Hagman. That’s where they always met.’
‘Larry Hagman Street?’ Leroy looked over at Quinn. ‘Where’s that?’
‘It’s not a street, dude. The star.’
‘What?’ said Leroy.
‘You mean the star on Hollywood Boulevard?’ asked Quinn.
‘You got it,’ said Rios. ‘The Larry Hagman star. Only it’s not exactly on the Boulevard; more on Vine, between Selma and Sunset.’
‘So Chuck met this guy there, by the Larry Hagman star?’ asked Leroy.
‘Yup.’
‘You didn’t go? Where were you?’
‘Chuck said to stay at my apartment.’
‘Not far from there,’ Quinn muttered.
‘But I followed him.’
‘You followed Wu to Vine Street. Why?’
Rios shrugged.
‘Seemed the thing to do. Plus, I was curious about who was gonna pay us three Gs just to deliver a package.’
‘And?’ Leroy asked.
‘I saw the guy. Chuck was waiting at the star, just outside the parking garage. I was standing across the street, by the restaurant. The guy appeared from the garage – I figured he’d parked there.’
Leroy said, ‘Would you recognise this man again, if you saw him?’
‘Sure, man. Tall dude, white hair.’
Leroy’s and Quinn’s eyes met. Leroy took out his phone. He retrieved the thumbnail of Howard Duvall.
&nb
sp; ‘This him?’
Rios jabbed at Leroy’s screen with his finger.
‘That’s him, man. That’s the guy.’
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Adrienne Wheat took another mouthful of bourbon and hit one of the speed dial buttons. Howard Duvall answered almost immediately.
‘Where are you, Howard?’ she asked.
‘I’m in the car, darling, heading home.’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘We only said goodbye a few hours ago.’
‘I know that. I’ve been thinking. We need to talk.’
‘Sure thing. What’s on your mind?’
‘I don’t mean like this. I mean in person, face to face.’
‘Why? I’m driving home.’
‘I’m scared.’
‘I told you before - before Truman took you home – there’s nothing to be scared about.’
‘Howard, I need you to just make a diversion. Please.’
Duvall sighed. He sounded irritated.
‘All right. I’ll see you in a half hour. No, make that in forty-five. The traffic’s busy.’
It was slightly over an hour when she finally opened the door to Duvall. Opening the door, she staggered back a couple of steps, ash from her cigarette dropping onto the floor.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked, slightly slurring her words.
‘I told you: traffic’s heavy,’ he said, marching into her living room. ‘It’s rush hour.’ He poured himself a drink. ‘I see you’ve had one or two already.’ He took a mouthful. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘I told you,’ she said, leaning on a chair for support. ‘I’m scared.’
‘You said that. What are you scared about?’
‘The police. They know.’
‘They know what?’
‘Everything. About us, about Martin, about your Wu friend.’
‘What about Wu?’
‘Everything. What you paid him to do and what you did to him.’
Duvall frowned. He put his glass on the mantelshelf.
‘You know what? I doubt very much they have any suspicions whatever. It’s all in your mind. And in your glass. How many have you had? Look at yourself: you can’t even walk in a straight line. You need to get a grip, Adrienne. Just think about it – if they had any suspicions about my - our - part in what happened to Wu, don’t you think they’d be hammering on the door right now? Do you think they would have let us go earlier? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times, it was dark up there – pitch black. I know there aren’t any cameras on that part of Bunker Hill. I know the locale like the back of my hand. That’s why I made sure he was there when he was. And there are no bullets, no ballistics, no GSR, no sound. Just…’ He made a throat slitting gesture with a finger.