Leighton Jones Mysteries Box Set

by N. M. Brown

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Danny. And I’ll fix the work thing, maybe speak to the chief. Either way, you’ll be okay.’

  On his way home from the hospital, Leighton swung his car down to the Boulevard, which ran like a spine through the city. The sun had slipped behind the horizon and the canopy of sky over Oceanside was fading from orange through to violet. Leighton tapped his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel for a moment, before taking out his cell phone and dialling Annie’s number. It rang for a moment then connected.

  ‘Hey, Annie, it’s dad, I—’

  An automated voice interrupted him, telling him he had reached his daughter’s voicemail and to leave a message after the tone. Leighton waited patiently before speaking again.

  ‘Hi, Annie, it’s dad, I was hoping that—’ Then without warning the call ended. Leighton shook his head and dialled the number again. This time, the automated voice told him that the phone he was calling was switched off. After staring out through the windshield for a moment, Leighton scrolled through his contacts until he found Lena Dupree’s number.

  ‘Hi, Lena, this is Annie’s dad. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Jones. Annie’s with me.’

  ‘Ah great, can I speak to her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘She says she doesn’t want to speak to you right now.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She tried phoning you about twenty times today just to meet for lunch.’

  ‘Tell her I’m really sorry, I was caught up with some police business.’

  There was a mumble in the background as Lena relayed his message.

  ‘Look, it’s always the same with you: you’re never around, and when you are you just criticise her.’

  ‘That’s crazy. I only tell her she needs to get a job.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Please just let me speak to her.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mr Jones.’ Lena said, and hung up.

  Leighton dragged a hand over his face and groaned in frustration. He felt torn between two equally vulnerable people, except Rochelle had fewer options than Annie.

  At various points throughout the day, Leighton’s thoughts had returned to Rochelle. It seemed that her instincts had been correct all along. More alarming was the fact that the victims had all looked alike. Leighton realised there were a limited number of girls working the streets of Oceanside, and Rochelle was one who matched the killers type. Regardless of his own course of action, he now needed to ensure that she was safe. He checked the time, it was 9.15pm. He figured it could be early enough for Rochelle to be at work.

  Eventually he spotted Rochelle beneath the hard glare of a streetlight. She was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, watching the passing cars with a jaded interest.

  He honked his horn and Rochelle looked up, frowned, and then grinned. Leighton was surprised that she looked genuinely pleased to see him as she hurried over to where he had parked up.

  ‘Hop in,’ he called from the window.

  ‘Hey,’ she said as she climbed into the car. ‘Did you come by earlier?’ Her voice was clearly concerned.

  ‘Did I come by here?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘No, to my apartment.’

  ‘Not me, I was up in Lakehead until three-ish, and when I got here I stopped off at the hospital. Why?’

  ‘Probably nothing, I crashed out for a while after I called you. But a couple of times I thought I heard somebody rattling the door.’

  ‘Was it locked?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘It’s always locked.’

  ‘Good. That makes you smarter than most folks. I was wondering if you wanted to grab some food?’

  ‘You know I’m meant to be working, right?’ Rochelle raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Well, not on an empty stomach.’

  ‘You don’t have to feed me up you know,’ Rochelle said defensively. ‘I’m doing okay, you know.’

  Leighton looked at her for a moment – stick thin, alone in the world, but still fighting to defend her place in it.

  ‘I know that,’ Leighton said, nodding his head sincerely. ‘I was heading to the drive thru anyway. I figured that, whilst I was there, I could get us both a burrito or something?’

  ‘Well, in that case …’ Rochelle nodded, and pulled on her seatbelt.

  Having picked up some food from Taco Bell on the Boulevard, Leighton drove toward the harbour.

  ‘So, what’s the story with Danielle?’ he asked, as the car slid beneath the palm trees and the neon signs.

  ‘Just like I said.’ Rochelle shrugged. ‘She’s off the radar.’

  ‘For how long, a couple of days?’

  ‘Yeah, at least.’ Rochelle said.

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘That night when she spoke to you.’

  He considered telling Rochelle that he believed both her friends might be lying on a shelf in the medical examiner’s office, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do. Instead, he shared a small part of the truth.

  ‘Somebody attacked me that same night,’ Leighton said.

  ‘Shit. Do you think it was him?’

  ‘I don’t know, maybe.’ Leighton suddenly looked self-conscious. ‘Look, will you do something for me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Will you stay off the streets for a couple of days, just till I’ve had time to check out an address that’s come up?’

  ‘Damn, Leighton. This is how I pay for my weekly shopping.’

  ‘I’ll buy your shopping for those days you’re off the streets.’ Leighton said.

  ‘After tonight, you mean?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean including tonight.’

  ‘Jeez.’ Rochelle looked scared. ‘Then you think he got Danielle, don’t you? Be fucking straight with me!’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but yes, I think it’s possible. Look, I was thinking, if you really did hear somebody at your door, maybe you could stay at my place for a couple of days, or maybe just for tonight?’

  Leighton had thought Rochelle would put up an argument, so he was shocked when she simply agreed.

  As they arrived at Leighton’s house, both he and Rochelle could hear the telephone ringing inside. However, by the time Leighton had unlocked his front door and let them in, the caller had rung off.

  ‘Welcome to Jonestown,’ Leighton said as he closed the door behind them.

  ‘Not too shabby,’ Rochelle said.

  ‘Look around if you want. I’ll grab us some plates and something to wash down the food.’

  ‘Don’t worry about a plate for me,’ Rochelle said, ‘I just use the wrapper.’

  ‘Just a beer then?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Leighton vanished into the kitchen and was rummaging in his fridge when he heard a delighted squeal.

  ‘You have a bathtub!’ Rochelle sounded impressed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve got a tub. I asked the leasing agent if I could have one fitted, but they said it would waste too much water. I couldn’t have afforded it anyway.’

  ‘Well, feel free to try it out.’ Leighton said as he brought the food through, along with two bottles of beer. ‘I only ever use the shower.’ He didn’t tell her the reason why he hated the white enamel tub.

  They sat, side by side, on Leighton’s sofa and ate their burritos, using the flattened wrappers for plates.

  ‘Is this a typical Friday night for you?’ Rochelle asked.

  ‘I guess.’ Leighton shrugged. ‘Sometimes I stop in at the Rooster.’

  ‘You’re better off here,’ Rochelle said, ‘but you’ve got to stop eating junk food.’

  ‘You eat it too,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t have a choice,’ Rochelle said, ‘but if I had a proper job and a nice place with a kitchen, I’d learn to cook nice food.’

  ‘What would that “nice food” be?’ Leighton raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I don’t
know, pasta maybe, with fresh herbs and stuff like that.’ Rochelle smiled. ‘Oh, and ground black pepper too.’

  ‘Sounds pretty good. Okay.’ Leighton shrugged. ‘I promise I’ll get round to cooking properly one day.’

  ‘You better,’ she said insistently.

  Rochelle sipped her beer and looked at Leighton.

  ‘Thanks for this,’ she said quietly.

  In that moment, Leighton glimpsed just how vulnerable and frightened Rochelle was.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘I just didn't know how else to keep you safe.’

  ‘You don’t have to look out for me. I’ve been surviving out there in the world for a long time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Leighton sighed, ‘well maybe you deserve better than just survival.’

  ‘Maybe I do,’ Rochelle agreed, ‘but that doesn’t mean anything in the real world. How many people get what they deserve in life – good or bad?’

  ‘Not very many,’ Leighton conceded. ‘Why don’t you just quit; do something else?’

  ‘Yeah, like it’s that fucking easy. The only employers looking for women with a history of substance abuse and prostitution are pimps. I have limited employability.’

  ‘Well, maybe one step at a time then.’

  ‘But, I am going to stop – one day.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’m going to head to the Midwest, get a little place. I’ve been saving my money for more than a year.’ As she spoke, Rochelle’s eyes lit up and she seemed happier than he had ever seen her before.

  ‘The Midwest, huh?’ Leighton smiled.

  ‘Seriously.’ Rochelle nodded vigorously. ‘I've got a neat little place picked out in Oregon.’

  ‘Why there? Is it that Little House on the Prairie thing again?’

  Rochelle shrugged and blushed a little. ‘Yeah, maybe. I don’t know, it just seems far enough away to start again. I could be somebody other than just another hooker on the Boulevard.’

  ‘I thought you spent your earnings on drugs. You said you were still using.’

  Rochelle shot Leighton a look to check his expression for judgement. Having found none, she explained her situation.

  ‘When Billy dropped off the grid, he left me with no money, a black eye, and a half kilo bag of dust. At first I used that to get off the crack.’

  ‘The lesser of two evils, huh?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘I guess. Now I just take a little hit before I go out every night. That way I control my habit and I can keep my nightly earnings to add to my fund.’

  ‘The Oregon fund?’

  ‘Damn right.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Leighton said.

  ‘Hey hang on, I got an idea.’ Rochelle reached across the floor to where her purse was lying. She pulled it onto her lap and rummaged around in it for a moment. She then pulled out two, small yellow cubes.

  ‘Look,’ she said as she held them out in her palm.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘A couple of dice, dices, whatever. I got them out of a Christmas cracker one year, but I held on to them, just to, you know, remind me.’

  ‘Of what?’ Leighton asked.

  ‘That it can all change, it can get better with another roll of the dice. It kind of keeps me on the path – even when things are shitty. Here, you should take one of them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I only need one, and maybe it’ll keep you on the path too.’

  The hand held out to Leighton was so generous and sincere that he could not refuse.

  ‘Thank you, I’ll keep it safe,’ he said with a warm smile.

  ‘You’d better do. I’ll be checking up.’

  They ate and drank in silence, but after a while Rochelle saw Leighton looking increasingly distant. It was clear that his thoughts had moved to locating the threat.

  ‘When are you going to this address?’ Rochelle asked.

  ‘Tomorrow – in the afternoon.’ Leighton said, and took a gulp of beer.

  ‘What’s the story with it, do you know something more than you’re saying?’

  ‘I think I might have found him, right here in the city.’

  ‘The prick who’s doing this shit?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Leighton shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So, are you going to his place with like, a SWAT team or something?’

  ‘No, it’ll only be me.’

  ‘What? Why aren’t you bringing in all your cop buddies?’

  ‘They won’t help me: I’m suspended.’ Leighton said apologetically.

  ‘Drunk on duty, I knew those beers at the Rooster were real.’ Rochelle winked.

  ‘Nothing like that. They’ve been desperate to get to me for years.’

  ‘Isn’t there anyone else? Couldn’t you call the papers or something?’

  ‘I’m not sure that anybody cares about what’s happening.’

  ‘Except you, like a badass lone wolf,’ Rochelle said with a self-conscious smile.

  ‘I’m just trying to help,’ Leighton said quietly.

  ‘Have you got a gun?’

  ‘Yeah, I had to hand in my service revolver, but I always keep my own pistol and baton handy, so there’s no need to worry.’ Leighton said, unconvincingly.

  ‘Well I’ll head back to my place tomorrow.’ Rochelle shrugged. ‘I swear, if I don’t hear from you checking in with me, I’m calling anybody who’ll listen.’

  ‘You might find that you’ll be phoning around for a while,’ Leighton said with a wry smile, and took another sip of beer.

  When Leighton was busy tidying up the kitchen after dinner, Rochelle appeared, sheepishly, in the doorway.

  ‘Would it really be okay if I jumped in that tub?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure.’ Leighton smiled. ‘There are clean towels on the shelf in the corner. You can have the bedroom, I’ll have a shave and a shower after you. I’ll crash out in Annie’s room, so the double is yours. There’s no TV in there but the small radio on the shelf works fine if you want some music.’

  An hour later, Rochelle was sitting, wrapped in a towel, on the bottom of Leighton’s bed, drying her hair, when the absurdity of the situation struck her. She switched off the droning device.

  ‘Hey, Leighton,’ she shouted, ‘what would your buddies at the station say if they knew you were spending the night with a prostitute?’

  ‘Huh?’ he replied from the bathroom.

  Standing up, Rochelle, who was still in the towel, walked to the doorway of the bedroom. That was when she found herself confronted by two shocked-looking teenage girls. Annie Jones was standing next to her friend Lena – who appeared to be enjoying the family drama.

  ‘Hey there.’ Rochelle smiled and adjusted her robe. ‘Your dad invited me.’

  ‘Dad!’ Annie screamed.

  Leighton came out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist and a smear of shaving cream on one cheek.

  ‘You’re with a fucking prostitute?’ Annie shouted, her voice cracking with emotion.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Leighton said as he held up a placating hand. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s clearly all in my mind. There’s a hooker in your bedroom and you’re almost naked. Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?’ Annie looked hurt and angry.

  ‘Hey, watch your mouth.’ Leighton said.

  ‘What?’ Annie’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Are you seriously trying to lecture me about good morals?’

  ‘Annie, I’m working on a case – a serious one – and Rochelle is helping me.’

  ‘I’ll bet she is,’ Lena muttered with a barely concealed snigger.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Leighton said, tilting his head to make eye contact with Lena. ‘Since when was this any of your business?’

  ‘Maybe since your daughter started spending more time in my house than yours.’

  ‘How could you?’ Annie said. ‘You’re such a liar. All those times you told me it was important to do the right thing in life.’

  ‘Yo
u need to hear me out.’ Leighton said, but he knew already that he was wasting his time.

  ‘Come on Lena,’ Annie said, ‘let’s get out of here. My dad’s clearly got plans for tonight.’

  ‘Hey,’ Rochelle said, ‘your dad’s telling the truth. He’s a good man.’

  ‘What the hell do you know?’ Annie snapped.

  ‘More than you, Little Miss Smartass.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ Annie said, and, grabbed her friend’s arm as they stormed out of the house.

  As the door slammed, Leighton sat down and dragged his hands over his face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rochelle said, ‘this is my fault.’

  ‘No.’ Leighton shrugged. ‘She was already pissed at me before you came along.’

  ‘She doesn’t know she’s living.’

  ‘None of us do,’ Leighton said. ‘C’mon, I’ll help you make up the bed.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  Doug Wilder sighed as he stepped out of his bright orange van. It was a hot afternoon and he had spent the first half of it repairing a bust drainage pipe at the back of a local shopping mall. He had been working for the San Diego Environmental Services, in the commercial drainage section, for just over twelve years and he still enjoyed the work. Some of his buddies from the bowling team liked to poke fun at his job – up to his knees in shit – but Doug didn’t view it like that. He had his own reliable transport, visited different places every day, and generally fixed any problem he encountered. He figured that his job was better than being cooped up in some damned office. This afternoon he had driven out of the city in response to a number of complaints about the stink of sewage coming from the side of Barney’s Bar ’n’ Grill, in the town of Lakehead.

  There were various possibilities that might explain the situation. Over the previous decade, Doug had encountered kitchen staff in many establishments who threw food waste out with their general waste. As a consequence, an area could very quickly become a regular feeding ground for rats, cockroaches and all the rest of it. Most locals didn’t mind the critters half as much as the smell. Doug was a firm believer that there were few things more offensive than the aroma of spoiled meat that’s been fermenting for a few days in the Californian sun. However, in recent years, more food waste was heading to human and animal shelters rather than being left to rot. That made things a little better. Doug reckoned if the trend continued, alongside recycling, refuse collection would end up being a pretty clean and easy occupation. Then the boys on the bowling team wouldn’t be laughing so loudly.