Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set

by N. M. Brown

  ‘Shit!’ Leighton knocked over the remains of his drink as he desperately pressed different buttons on the remote. When that had little effect, he threw it to one side and began randomly pressing buttons on the VCR. The stop button made no difference so, finally, Leighton held down the power switch until the machine died. When he powered it back up again, he held down the eject button and watched as the tape exited smoothly from the mouth of the player. It was only when he pulled the cassette out fully, that he discovered the countless black curls of twisted tape that were connecting it to the machine.

  ‘Shit!’ In a moment of panic, Leighton pulled on one end of the cheap tape, only to have it snap in his hand like a rubber band.

  Leighton knew, even if he could somehow reconnect the tape, it would never count as evidence. Anything could have been spliced in or out of the original footage. After gathering up the mangled tape and the cassette, Leighton took it through to the kitchen and deposited it in the trash can.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He needed another one: it was not a matter of choice, it was a simple fact. He had to kill again. That fact soothed him. If his desire was a need, a compulsion, then there was no personal responsibility involved – not really. The first death would be considered a crime of passion. He could see that now; it might even be possible that a reasonable jury would see that too. A half-decent lawyer, and maybe a psychiatric assessment, was all that would be required. The circumstances were such that most people would feel the same: first love is a powerful force and enough to drive a person to kill.

  So, he could quite easily be forgiven for that.

  However, the others since then had been different – yet no less instinctive. For a while, after the first one, he had felt better: the world had seemed right. But as he lay in the darkness of his bed, with infinity stretching like a black sea in front of him, he felt the need to return to the streets.

  At first the images in his mind had simply been of her – Veronica – laughing and smiling in some distant summer. Sometimes she would fill his mind so vividly, it seemed achingly impossible that she no longer existed. At such moments he would reach beneath his pillow and remove the small box. Turning it over in his hands he would try to resist opening it, but the pull was always too strong. Eventually he would open the box and look at the treasure within. Then the urge would approach, and them consume him like a wave. pulling him into the chaos. That was when he would go out in his car to surprise another girl.

  That meant, really, he was not responsible for his actions.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oceanside Police Station was already bustling at 7.50am. In a narrow corridor, near the rear of the building, Leighton had picked up the keys to the black Explorer and was leaning on the vehicle bookings counter, signing out the car, when he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned around to meet the critical gaze of Captain Gretsch.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ Leighton said with a brief smile, ‘you taking a car out for a spin?’

  ‘No,’ Gretsch said sternly, ‘I was looking for you actually.’

  ‘Me, why?’ Leighton was genuinely surprised: the captain had only spoken to him a handful of times in five years.

  ‘I just wanted a chat,’ Gretsch said, but there was no friendliness in his voice.

  ‘Something bothering you, sir?’

  ‘Not me,’ he said, ‘I’m here to ask if everything is okay with you, Officer Jones?’

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Leighton shrugged, ‘I guess.’

  ‘You guess?’ Gretsch blew out, making a whistling noise, and shook his head. ‘You know, that sounds fairly vague to me.’

  Leighton sensed that the captain was enjoying this game a little too much.

  ‘Is there a specific point to this, sir?’

  ‘Where were you yesterday evening?’ Gretsch asked.

  ‘Here in the city,’ Leighton replied with a smile.

  ‘Be more specific,’ Gretsch frowned.

  ‘In Oceanside, California, USA.’

  ‘Don’t fuck with me, Jones!’

  ‘That’s funny, Captain, because it kinda feels to me like it’s the other way around here.’

  ‘I simply asked you a question, Officer.’

  ‘Is there something specific you want to discuss, Captain?’

  ‘Were you drinking in a bar yesterday, with a known prostitute, before getting behind the wheel of a vehicle?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve got somebody spying on your own colleagues now? That’s great. How to build an effective team.’

  ‘Answer the goddam question!’

  Leighton shifted his mindset to defensive mode. ‘Well, yes, your source is correct. I was in a bar, where I used my own time to interview a witness to a traffic incident. During that time, I consumed a bottle of non-alcoholic beer. This detail will be corroborated by Rikki Trejo, the member of staff who served me. I also know that the Red Rooster tills are itemised, therefore, if you feel the need to pursue the matter, before involving Internal Affairs, you could cross-reference the security camera footage of me arriving at the bar, with the till records, which will show the purchase of said beer.’

  ‘Okay, wise-guy. What incident were you investigating?’

  ‘Vehicle theft, in accordance with my role as an officer in Traffic Division. A stolen Ford saloon was found abandoned in a local car dealership over on Wisconsin Avenue. A witness at the scene informed me that they may have had information regarding the perpetrator.’

  ‘And where was Officer Clark whilst this “interview” was taking place? Apparently, you were seen alone with some woman.’

  ‘As I told you already, Captain, this interview took place in my own, personal time. Officer Clark had already completed his watch for the day. If you want to know how we spent our time prior to that, it involved two hours on patrol across the city, a Driver Awareness class in the afternoon, and an hour of traffic monitoring on the boulevard. But all of this is written up in our notes from yesterday – you can check over them if you want?’

  ‘I already did,’ Gretsch said as he walked away, ‘I just wanted to make sure they were accurate. Luckily for you, they matched up … this time.’

  Having asserted himself, Gretsch was no longer interested in Leighton, who was shaking his head in disbelief. Danny was entering the booking room just as Gretsch was leaving, and he stepped aside to let the captain pass by.

  ‘Morning, Sir,’ he said to the departing captain – who ignored him.

  Danny turned to Leighton and shrugged. ‘What did Captain Happy want?’

  ‘Just to feel like a powerful man,’ Leighton said with a wink.

  ‘Don’t mess with him, Jonesy. You know he’s hoping to take over from Chief Winston when he retires in October?’

  ‘Yeah, I heard that too, but I wanted to be Superman for most of my childhood, doesn’t mean I can leap off a building.’

  ‘If Gretsch ever makes chief, maybe you will.’

  ‘I’ll worry about it when it happens. Let’s get to work.’

  Leighton and Danny were crossing the Oceanside Police staff parking lot when a car horn blared at them. Leighton held up his hand in the baking heat to shield his eyes from the bright sun. A man was waving from behind the windshield of a small red Toyota. Leighton recognised the person trying to get his attention as Ed West – a field evidence technician – and waved back.

  The smaller man clambered out of the car and approached the two traffic officers. He nodded to Danny but directed his attention to the older of the two.

  ‘Hey, Jonesy, did you request the pick up of a stolen car from the Rollins Stock Cars dealership over on Wisconsin Ave?’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ Leighton said with a smile.

  ‘Well, you got lucky; we got a hit on it last night when we ran the plates. It had been reported stolen, but only recently.’

  ‘How recent?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘Apparently, the owner, a Mr Guezardo, only made the report in the early hours of the mo
rning.’

  ‘But we brought it in on Monday, so why the delay with the report?’

  ‘Guezardo was on a skiing trip with his family, only flew back in from Vermont last night.’

  ‘Nice work, Ed. Was the car stolen from the home address?’

  ‘Nope, a car park at the airport. Nice discovery to come home to. Worst I’ve ever had was finding a flat tyre after flying back up from Florida. Spent longer waiting for the repair truck than I did on the actual flight.’

  ‘I don’t suppose anything came up on the system for this Mr Guezardo?’

  Ed shook his head. ‘No warrants or priors, cleaner than most. Teaches physical education over at Whitney High School.’

  ‘You still got the car in the cage?’

  ‘Yeah, the guy’s meant to be collecting it on Friday morning. You want me to drop a copy of the report in your tray?’

  ‘Sure, thanks, Ed.’ Leighton nodded, ‘I’d appreciate the update.’

  ‘No worries,’ he said with a smile, ‘you two have a safe one.’

  ‘What was that about?’ Danny asked as they got into the Explorer.

  ‘A stolen car,’ Leighton said as he adjusted the rear-view mirror. ‘It’s possibly linked to a homicide.’

  ‘Hit and run?’

  ‘Homicide.’ Leighton said, starting the engine and putting on his sunglasses.

  ‘Murder? Wow,’ Danny said with a chuckle. ‘I leave you alone for a couple of shifts and this is what happens.’

  Leighton laughed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘What can I say? The devil makes work for idle hands.’

  ‘Which team has got the case?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Slater and Goza.’

  Danny looked Leighton and his expression revealed genuine concern for his partner. Oceanside PD was a small community and that meant it was easy to tread on someone else’s toes.

  ‘Well, you better be careful not to end up pissing on Detective Slater’s backyard, you know how territorial these guys in Homicide can be.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Leighton said, ‘I’ll pass anything I find on to our detective colleagues, and they can go figure what happened. I got a video tape that I thought might have helped, but it got messed up in my VCR last night.’

  ‘The video player probably didn’t recognise something that wasn’t a Clint Eastwood movie.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of the old Wild West,’ Leighton said wistfully. ‘Keeping the peace was a simpler job back then.’

  ‘Yeah, but I think “keeping the peace” simply involved shooting any lawbreakers,’ Danny said.

  ‘True,’ Leighton conceded, ‘but it also meant less paperwork, my friend.’

  ‘Okay, I’m sold.’ Danny smiled, and then looked at Leighton in a more anxious way. ‘You promise to pass anything you get on to the big boys?’

  ‘I promise; anything I find goes straight to the mighty Detective Slater.’

  ‘Good plan,’ Danny said, feeling only partly relieved. It wouldn’t be the first time Leighton had veered into investigative territory that had led him across departmental and judicial boundaries.

  ‘Right then, let’s get you across to the medical centre.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  He liked the drive around the city most of all, when he had yet to choose the next one. That’s what made it so special: tied to fate and the magic of the universe. He knew he would kill, but the victim was as unknown to him as he was to her.

  Cruising beneath the tall palms and bright streetlights, he felt at the mercy of deeper and darker forces than the faceless people around him.

  As he turned the steering wheel, and directed the vehicle through the streets of Oceanside, he held his grip loosely, as if he were dowsing for water in some sterile desert. It was a natural process: all he had to do was sit behind the windshield and relax; the car would find its way through the backstreets, truck stops and parking lots, to wherever the next Veronica would be waiting.

  The greatest thrill of all – the climax of the drive – was when he spotted her. Most of the time she would be standing alone, in a bell jar of streetlight, and he would drive around the block, watching her, making sure, and all the while she would know nothing of her fate. The ordinary looking car, in which she would die only minutes later, could pass within feet of her three or four times, and she wouldn’t even notice.

  Tonight, he had acquired a navy saloon – from the airport as always. There had been a couple of left-hand drives parked fairly close to each other. This time he had got lucky with the one he’d chosen. When he opened the car, he discovered a spare key hidden behind an elastic band in the sun visor. That single development had saved him a few precious minutes, which meant he had more time to invest in finding, and playing with, his victim.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After dropping Danny at the hospital, Leighton drove out of the vast parking lot and cruised onto the highway. The traffic was already beginning to build up toward the relentless surge that would probably dominate the scorching roads until late afternoon. Having stopped momentarily to recover some abandoned road cones from the edge of the highway, and then to assist an angry businessman who was struggling to change a flat tyre, Leighton eventually drove out to Carpenter Road: a wide grey road just off the San Luis Rey Mission Expressway. It cut through a number of used car parts dealers, but was mostly flanked by parched, scrubby land. Ultimately, the road led nowhere, and was therefore quiet during the day; it was mostly deserted at night. Leighton was fairly confident that whoever had come to dump a body here, they would have been able to do so without any real risk of being seen.

  Leighton slowed his vehicle as he noticed the snapped remains of some crime scene ribbons fluttering in the light breeze at the side of the road. The moving scraps of plastic tape vaguely reminded him of the flags above the Rollins Stock Cars lot.

  Pulling up on the opposite side of the road, Leighton climbed out of the Explorer. The car had powerful air conditioning, and stepping away from it meant he was suddenly exposed to the intense heat of the bright morning. He put on a pair of sunglasses, moved to the back of the car, and opened the trunk. Everything in the rear of the vehicle was neatly arranged in different coloured, sturdy plastic crates. Each of the crates had a small label, taped on the side, naming the contents.

  Leighton reached into the car, removed a plastic crate and carried it across the road toward the area of dry needle grass where the body had been found.

  As he moved, Leighton felt the baking heat rising from the asphalt like a warm wave. He crossed the wide road and stepped carefully to the edge of the crime scene. After placing the crate down, he walked around, peering at the ground. Eventually he located a discernible patch where the colourless grass had been crushed by the weight of a body.

  Returning to the crate, he removed a shallow plastic bowl, a bottle of water, and plastic bag of white powder, which resembled the kind of stuff the Vice team brought into the station every other week. After pouring a mound of the white powder into the bowl, he unscrewed the lid of the water bottled and added a generous amount to the powder; he used a small trowel to stir the mixture until it began to thicken. He then poured some of the thick white paste on three different areas of the dusty ground, and spread each blob flat, as if smearing frosting on a birthday cake.

  Once he had completed this process, Leighton returned the items to the crate and carried it back to the trunk of his car. He sat in the car and waited for ten minutes – with the door open to reduce the heat. Even with the fan running, it still felt too hot, but at least the plaster would set quickly. He reached across to his dashboard where a cassette tape was protruding. He pushed the tape in and closed his eyes as the sweet sound of blues music filled the air.

  When he returned to the crime scene, he crouched down and tapped one of the plaster circles with his fingernail. It made a satisfying, dry clicking sound. He then reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small penknife, carefully unfolded the blade, and used it to pris
e up the first of the three white discs. Turning it over in his hands, Leighton peered at the impression of the tyre. It was misshapen in places, where the ground had been too dry to allow a clear impression to form, but there were still a number of visible tread marks.

  Once he had gathered up all three impressions, Leighton carried them, like misshaped dinner plates, to the trunk of his car where the soothing blues music was still playing. He placed each of the plaster casts alongside each other in the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat. Once the doors were closed, Leighton pressed a button on the dash to start the much-needed air conditioning. Leaning back in the seat, he reached into the side pocket of the car door, took out his cell phone and dialled his daughter’s number.

  ‘Hi, Annie, it’s Dad.’

  ‘Hi Dad,’ she said in a husky voice, ‘what’s up?’

  ‘Just checking in with you. You still at Lina’s?’

  ‘Yep,’ she said with a long yawn, ‘just about to have breakfast.’

  ‘Sounds like you had a late night. You having something healthy?’

  ‘Pop-Tarts.’

  ‘Better than nothing,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Where are you, at the station?’

  ‘Nope. I’m out making tyre impressions from plaster in a dead-end street. I thought maybe I could hang a few around the house as a kind of modern art thing.’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ she giggled, but something in the tone of her voice suggested she wasn’t entirely sure.

  ‘Yeah. Listen, Annie, I was thinking I could maybe take you to lunch?’

  ‘That would be nice, Dad, but Lina wants to take a drive into town. I said I’d keep her company.’

  ‘Lina, did she pass her test already?’

  ‘Yeah, two weeks ago.’

  ‘Well, after two weeks she’s still just learning. Make sure she takes it easy.’