by Philip Cox
Ramos leapt out of his chair at Leroy. Quinn was immediately behind him; he and Leroy restrained Ramos and sat him back down again. From outside, Perez watched carefully.
‘Lawyer?’ Leroy asked.
‘I don’t need a lawyer,’ shouted Ramos. ‘I don’t deny anything. I’m proud of what I did. I served justice on those low-lifes, those… those…’
‘Those innocent victims, you mean?’ Leroy asked.
‘Yes, I served justice on them, I’m proud of what I did, I had you fucking people running around with your heads up your asses for so long.’
‘And what was your connection with Harlan Cordell?’
‘I had no connection with Harlan Cordell.’
‘So it’s just a coincidence that you were both running around the city killing women who fitted a certain profile, and just a coincidence that you both took to carving pentagrams on their still warm bodies. What was it all about, Ramos? Was he your muse, your role model? Did he inspire you? And I’ve just realised: he had more success than you. You got careless; he didn’t. You got sloppy. Sloppy at LAX, and sloppy when you killed Troy Keffer. He was better than you. You killed three; he managed four. And they were all women.’
Ramos tried to leap from the chair again, but this time Quinn was able to stop him. With Quinn holding him down, Ramos screamed at Leroy, eyes flaring and spittle drooling from his lips.
‘You still don’t get it, do you, cop? Cordell didn’t kill the other four. I did!’
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Lieutenant Perez buried his face in his hands. ‘Oh, shit.’
Leroy’s interrogation flow was broken. This was unexpected. He looked over at Quinn, then at the camera. He knew Perez was watching.
‘Are you saying Cordell didn’t murder those four women seven years ago? You did?’
Ramos gave a slow handclap. ‘Way to go, Detective. You finally figured it out. No, wait: you didn’t – I had to tell you.’ He turned slightly to look up at Quinn. ‘It was before your time, sonny; you must have still been in school, but Mister Leroy here and that moron of a partner, who’s BOUND TO BE WATCHING US NOW, were scampering around, looking for clues where there weren’t any, coming to me for advice and help, but all the time I was the one. I’d give them some bullshit about druids or mysticism or rituals, they’d go away not understanding a fucking word of what I told them; then I’d hit the streets and paint the town red, as you might say.’ He sat back, that smug look returning to his face. ‘You two had no idea, did you? No idea.’
Leroy had now recovered his momentum. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. ‘You’re telling us that seven years ago, you killed those four women.’
Ramos nodded. ‘I am.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why did you kill them?’
‘Because they deserved it.’
‘They deserved it? Did you know them?’
‘No.’
‘Then how did they deserve it?’
‘Because of what they were.’
‘How so? They weren’t hookers.’
‘I know.’
‘So how could they have deserved it?’
‘Because they mocked me.’
‘In what way?’
‘How does any woman mock a man?’
‘Okay, I get it, I think. When did these women mock you? You pick them up, and take them back you your place?’
‘Not in the way you mean.’
‘You didn’t pick them up and take them back for sex?’
‘No.’
‘So when did they mock you?’
‘Because they were the same as the first one.’
‘The first woman you killed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who you killed because she mocked you?’
‘On account of your size?’ Quinn asked.
Ramos said nothing.
Leroy asked, ‘Where does the pentagram fit in? Why did you carve it on their backs?’
Ramos smirked. ‘You’d never understand.’
‘Try me.’
‘The first had one already. I just copied it.’
‘And why the little pentagram? The one on their thighs?’
‘My calling card, as you put it already. So you could all see I had been there.’
‘Been there? You mean you had sex with them?’
Ramos nodded. ‘Of course. They weren’t laughing then.’
‘You used a condom each time?’
‘I had no intention of catching something.’
Leroy exhaled deeply. He looked over at Quinn and the mirror. ‘And what about Harlan Cordell?’ he asked.
Ramos snorted. ‘Cordell. He was a piece of shit.’
‘Maybe so, but what was his role in this?’
‘He did the dirty work for me.’
‘As if stabbing and raping and mutilating wasn’t enough. What do you mean by the dirty work?’
‘He’d move the bodies. He’d obtain the vehicles, and prepare the bodies.’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘Because he was in love with me.’
Another glance over to Quinn and the mirror. Lieutenant Perez could not believe what he was hearing.
‘Are you saying you and Harlan Cordell were lovers?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying he was in love with me. He worshipped me. He idolised me.’
‘And how did this come about? How did you two get it together?’
‘I was aware of him at the university. We happened late one evening to strike up a conversation, when we learned each other had the same interests. We embarked on a kind of relationship - purely physical for me, he was quite repellent, really – but I came to realise he was in awe of me, the position of power and authority I have at the university. I also found he was fascinated by the media attention around what the papers had termed the Pentagram Murders. He also thought it amusing that the police didn’t have a clue. Imagine his reaction when I told him I was the famous Pentagram Killer.’
‘So he agreed to help you? Why?’
‘He liked to watch. He found it stimulating.’
‘You told him. What was to stop him going to the police?’
‘I told him if he did, he would get the same treatment. Only with him, I would carve the pentagrams before I killed him, not afterwards.’
‘I see. He had all of your equipment, the tape, the condoms and so on, at his house. And pictures of the victims.’
‘He agreed to do all the donkey work for me, act as my personal assistant, if you like; that was in exchange for letting him watch me. We also processed the last two women at his house: I thought it more secure than at mine. That was probably a mistake.’
‘Because it was one of his neighbours who tipped us off.’
‘Yes. I never discovered which neighbour it was. Otherwise I might have paid them a visit too.’
‘But when Cordell was killed, the killings stopped. Why?’
Ramos smirked again. ‘Because I could stop,’ he said. ‘I was in control. I could begin when I chose, I could stop when I chose.’ A smug smile passed across his lips. ‘And I could start again when I chose.’
‘And by stopping when Cordell was shot, that got everybody believing he was the killer. So why start again now? Why wait seven years?’
‘I told you. I make the decisions. I decided to wait. I decided the time was right to begin again.’ He leaned forward to look Leroy in the eye. ‘And all this time, Detective, you thought you had shot the Pentagram Killer; but all the time you had shot and killed an innocent man. How does that make you feel, Detective Leroy?’
CHAPTER FIFTY
It was the following night, and Leroy was sitting on the beach.
Alone and barefoot.
He was sitting in the middle of the expanse of sand, equidistant from the waves and the small parking lot at the front of the beachfront houses. It was a quiet night: in the distance, towards Santa Monica, there we
re some kids enjoying a barbeque on the beach, and now and again a vehicle would come and go over at the lot. He was five minutes’ walk from home, and had gotten here on foot.
He felt like having a drink, but didn’t want to.
In the old days, he would have gone over to his ex-partner’s apartment, or she would have gone over to his, and they would have talked, eaten, and drunk, talked and had sex. And talked some more. But that was no longer an option, and he was comfortable with that. He didn’t want any company tonight.
He took in the sound of the waves, crashing against the sand. The beach was dry, so the tide was coming in. He looked out into the pitch blackness, unable to see anything, save the moonlight shimmering on the waters, and the lights from a vessel miles out. To his left, the lights from two airplanes flickered in the night sky, one climbing, the other passing across; to his right, he could make out the lights from Santa Monica Pier: the rollercoaster and the Ferris Wheel. The ocean breeze was just about carrying the sound of the reveller on the pier.
As he looked out onto the ocean, he wondered where, if he entered the waves and began to swim, where he would end up. He seemed to recall having this conversation with a neighbour a while back, and they ascertained that eventually he would fetch up on the island of Tonga, wherever the hell that was.
Yes, now he was glad he and Joanna had broken up. She would have wanted to celebrate the successful ending of a case, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t even want to talk about it.
He had taken a call from Ray Quinn a couple of hours earlier, asking if he wanted to go out for a celebratory drink; he declined. At any rate, Quinn and his wife needed to spend time together, away from anybody else with a badge.
Professor Maurice Ramos had finally been charged. Now he was in custody. There had been speculation that he had been lying when he confessed to the four murders seven years ago; that Leroy’s remark that Cordell had been more successful than Ramos, having killed four to Ramos’s three might have sparked off some bizarre fantasy. Lieutenant Perez came up with the analogy of a terrorist bomb going off somewhere in the world, and a host of organisations claiming responsibility, each seeking validation. It would certainly fit in with his psyche, with his profile, arrogant and narcissistic.
Once Ramos had been booked and taken to a holding facility, Leroy spent the next few hours writing reports. There was still the second Jane Doe to be identified and her and Troy Keffer’s next of kin to be informed. Probably while he and Ray were working their next case.
On top of that, Leroy was beginning to have this morbid thought that, in seven years’ time, another fruitcake would come out of the woodwork, and claim he was responsible for all seven killings. And it would start over again.
Then there was the fact that Harlan Cordell was no longer around because Leroy had shot and killed him. If Ramos was telling the truth, did it mean that an innocent man had been shot?
Leroy put his shoes back on, pushed himself off the sand, and began the walk back to his apartment. As he turned the corner into 23rd Avenue, he saw a car he recognised. And its driver.
‘I was wondering where you had gotten to,’ said Lieutenant Perez.
‘What brings you out here, Roman?’ Leroy asked, walking past the lieutenant and up to his building entrance.
‘I thought I’d just come over for a while, see how you are.’ Perez followed Leroy inside.
‘Drink?’ Leroy asked, once they were inside his apartment.
‘I’m good, thanks. Don’t let me stop you. Where’d you go?’
Leroy shrugged and leaned on the kitchen doorway. ‘Just down to the beach.’
Perez tried to inject some positivity into the conversation. ‘That was a really good result yesterday. Three murders solved, a serial killer off the streets. Everybody’s happy, the captain upwards.’
‘And what about -?’
Perez held up his hand to silence Leroy. ‘I know what you’re about to say, Sam. But just think about it: Ramos could be lying about the other four. There’s no evidence to support what he said. You know how some killers like to claim credit for what they didn’t do; gives them some kind of kudos, makes them look good when they’re behind bars, maybe gets them respect from the other cons. And if he is telling the truth, Cordell was hardly an innocent party, was he? He was at least an accessory. The Cordell case isn’t going to be reopened, if that’s what you’re concerned about. The DA told the captain that he considered it pointless, a waste of resources and money. It would make no difference: Ramos is never going to see the light of day again. And if he ever does, he’ll be shipped back to Manila or wherever he comes from quicker than you can say Imelda Marcos.’
Leroy nodded.
‘It was a righteous kill, Sam. Never forget that. Never any question about that; not then, not now.’ He looked around the room. ‘I thought you might have Quinn around here somewhere; he’ll cheer you up.’
‘He did offer, but I told him to go home. He needs to spend some time with Holly.’
‘Sure. He needs to nip that in the bud. Make sure his wife knows the score right from the start.’
‘Like you did?’ Leroy asked, taking a bottle of water from the fridge.
‘That’s different. Look, you have a ton of leave owing. Why don’t you take off for a week or two? Take a trip back to New York. Your family still out there?’
‘Yeah, they’re still there.’
‘When was the last time you saw them, Sam?’
‘I don’t know. Last Christmas, maybe.’
‘There you go, then. Go see them.’
‘Maybe I will.’
‘That’s settled then. See you in a couple of weeks.’ Perez rubbed his hands together. ‘I need to go now.’
‘Okay.’
On the way out, Perez turned around. ‘Remember, Sam. It was a righteous kill. Nothing more, nothing less. Always was, always will be.’
Leroy gave a brief nod and watched the lieutenant leave. He walked over to the window and looked out. After a couple of minutes, he saw Lieutenant Perez’s car pull away. He watched the tail lights as Perez paused at the end of the street, then turn left into Pacific Avenue. He waited until the car was out of view before he spoke. Quietly, to himself.
‘But I still killed the wrong man.’
INTRODUCING SAM LEROY…
SOMETHING TO DIE FOR
Los Angeles, late September, and the hot Santa Ana winds are blowing, covering the city with a thin layer of dust from the Mojave and Sonoran deserts.
That night, there are three mysterious, unexplained deaths.
The official view is that they are all unrelated. The deceaseds had no connection, and all died in different parts of the city.
However, Police Detective Sam Leroy has other ideas, and begins to widen the investigation.
But he meets resistance from the most unexpected quarter, and when his life and that of his loved ones are threatened, he faces a choice: back off, or do what he knows he must do…
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SAM LEROY RETURNS IN…
WRONG TIME TO DIE
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.’
Los Angeles, California
When LAPD Detective Sam Leroy is called to a murder scene, even he is taken aback by the ferocity and savagery of the crime.
Furthermore, there seems to be no motive, which means no obvious suspects.
Believing the two victims themselves hold the key to their own murder, Leroy begins his investigations there, and before long the trail leads him to the island of Catalina, where a terrible secret has remained undiscovered for almost thirty years…
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SAM LEROY IS BACK IN
NO PLACE TO DIE
Los Angeles, California
A severed head is found beneath the Hollywood Sign.
Fresh from w
rapping his previous case, LAPD Detective Sam Leroy is called to the scene. Now he is tasked with identifying the victim, and finding the rest of him.
Not necessarily in that order.
Following up on the few leads they have, Leroy and his partner, Detective Ray Quinn, find themselves unravelling a complex puzzle, one which began two thousand miles from home, and which involves sex, extortion, and ultimately murder.
While Leroy follows the trail, he is feeling himself coming to the end of a relationship, and may possibly be making decisions he might later regret.
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ALSO BY PHILIP COX
AFTER THE RAIN
Young, wealthy, handsome - Adam Williams is sitting in a bar in a small town in Florida.
Nobody has seen him since.
With the local police unable to trace Adam, his brother Craig and a workmate, Ben Rook, fly out to find him.
However, nothing could have prepared them for the bizarre cat-and-mouse game into which they are drawn as they seek to pick up Adam’s trail and discover what happened to him that night.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005FZ0RAI
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005FZ0RAI
DARK EYES OF LONDON
When Tom Raymond receives a call from his ex-wife asking to meet him, he is both surprised and intrigued – maybe she wants a reconciliation?
However, his world is turned upside down when she falls under a tube train on her way to meet him.