No Place to Die (Sam Leroy Book 3)

by Philip Cox

  What Leroy took out of his pocket was a keyring, but also attached to the ring was what looked like a slightly bent bobby pin. Crouching in front of the gate, he carefully inserted the pin into the lock. Turning the pick slightly in the direction he would have turned the key, he jiggled it around until he found the first pin. That moved easily. The second not so, so he gently pushed up with the pick until he felt and heard a slight click. Then he went on to the next pin. After the final pin and five minutes of crouching, he could open the gate.

  Grinning at Duvall, he stepped over to the door. This took only two minutes to open. They both stepped inside.

  Chapter 31

  For some reason, probably the state of the outside of the house, Leroy had expected the interior to smell musty, to feel damp. Neither was the case; it must have been empty only a few days.

  They checked upstairs first: a bathroom, and two bedrooms. One bedroom was being used as a storeroom: a couple of filing cabinets stood up against one wall, and some large cardboard boxes lay on the floor. One empty box had a picture of a PC printer on its side. The second bedroom was more functional. It has a single bed - a cot, almost - with a pillow and sheets, and a small closet.

  Downstairs, there was a small but functional kitchen. There was a small toilet under the stairs. The main room was divided in half by a wooden partition, containing a glass door. One side had been configured as a waiting room with an old couch and a couple of chairs around a low table. Behind the partition was Kirk’s office. A couple of chairs in front of a desk the other side of which was Kirk’s own chair. Except for empty in and out wire trays and a telephone, the desk was clear. There was a small table behind Kirk’s chair: on the table sat a PC monitor and keyboard. A printer, the box for which lay upstairs, sat next to the monitor. The computer must have been twenty years old if it was a day, and apart from the telephone, there was no sign of any technology in the office.

  Leroy sat in Kirk’s chair and tried the six desk drawers. All were locked: he took a letter opener from the tube-shaped pen rack and forced open the top one. Duvall gave a sharp intake of breath.

  A letter-sized desk diary was the only item in the drawer. Leroy took it out and opened it.

  ‘Anything there?’ Duvall asked.

  ‘Well,’ Leroy said as he read the open pages, ‘he was due to see his doctor next Tuesday…’

  ‘He won’t be making that.’

  ‘No. And last week - and these are the last entries - he saw three clients. A Dennis Anderson, a Mrs Smith – not very original…’

  ‘Smith is actually the most common surname in Alabama,’ Duvall pointed out.

  ‘Both have addresses here in Birmingham,’ he continued. ‘Then we have a John Hightower. His address is in Jasper.’ He looked up. ‘Where’s that?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not far. About forty miles along the 78.’

  ‘Okay.’ Leroy pushed the chair back. Stared at the other drawers a moment. ‘I’ll take just this for now.’

  ‘What about that?’ she asked, pointing at the computer.

  Leroy turned and looked it over. ‘Not right now. If we need it we can always come back.’ He picked up the diary, took one more look around the office and left. As he sat in the car reading through the diary, Duvall put a call in to get the house secured. ‘I think we’ll work backwards,’ he said as they pulled away. ‘If these three don’t have anything for us, we’ll have to look at the week before.’

  ‘How long do you have?’ she asked.

  ‘Unless I come up with the mother lode, I fly back to LA tomorrow evening.’

  ‘What’s the first address, Sam?’

  ‘That would be Dennis Anderson. Here’s the address. Could be home, could be work. No way of telling from this.’

  It was Dennis Anderson’s home address. There was no answer, but a neighbour said he would be at work, running a hardware store ten blocks away. Dennis Anderson told them he had engaged Kirk as he suspected his wife was having an affair. Kirk had said he would take on the case, but could not start until the following week. Obviously, as Duvall said to Leroy afterwards, he was expecting to be back from Los Angeles by then.

  Mrs Smith lived in a townhouse not too dissimilar to Kirk’s, only without the flaky paintwork. Again, there was no answer at the door, and no neighbours to talk to.

  ‘Rather than kick our heels here,’ Leroy had said, ‘let’s head on over to Jasper. We can try here again when we get back, or this evening.’

  So they headed up to Jasper, Alabama.

  As they entered the city limits, they passed a sign declaring Welcome To The City Of Jasper. Working People, Working Together. The population was apparently 14855, and it is the county seat of Walker County.

  Duvall soon found the street and the house. It was a two story brick residence, much larger than the other houses they had visited today. Set back some hundred feet from the street, a curved driveway took them through the neat and tidy front yard to the house and double garage.

  ‘This is his home address, of course,’ Leroy sighed.

  ‘Yes, but look.’ Duvall pointed over to the double garage, the door of which was open. A gleaming black sedan stood outside the garage, and a tall and heavy figure was polishing the roof. ‘Is that him?’

  As they pulled up, the man stopped polishing and stepped over to them. ‘Can I help you, Officer?’ he asked Duvall, giving Leroy a brief glance.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, introducing herself, and showing him her badge. ‘And this is Detective Leroy from the LAPD. We’re working on an enquiry together. Are you John Hightower?’

  ‘I am. John Hightower. How can I help y’all?’ He looked at Leroy. ‘LAPD. You’re off the beaten track, aren’t you, boy?’

  Leroy let Duvall do the talking.

  ‘Sir,’ she asked, ‘do you know a man by the name of William Kirk?’

  Hightower froze a second. He was about to reply when a woman appeared at the house door.

  ‘Who is it, J.T.?’

  Hightower turned to her and called back, ‘Nothing, Maybeline. Just giving some folks directions, that’s all.’

  The woman went back indoors. Hightower said, ‘She always gets nervous around the police.’ He pronounced the word police. Turning back to Duval, he said, ‘What was that name again?’

  This time Leroy answered. ‘William Kirk. A private investigator from Birmingham.’

  Hightower closed his eyes in thought. ‘Kirk,’ he said. ‘Kirk. No; I’m sorry, I’ve not heard the name.’

  ‘Can you explain why your name and address should be in his appointments diary?’ Leroy asked.

  Hightower shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I’m truly sorry, Officers. Is there anything else?’

  ‘One more thing,’ Leroy said. ‘Were you in Los Angeles recently?’

  Hightower shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Los Angeles?’

  ‘A few times, I guess.’

  ‘When was the last time?’

  ‘Er – two, maybe three years ago.’

  Duvall glanced over at Leroy, then back to Hightower. ‘I want to thank you for your time, sir.’

  ‘No problem, Officers. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you.’

  Leroy and Duvall thanked Hightower again and walked back to their car. As he got in, Leroy could see Hightower back polishing his sedan. Once back in the passenger seat, Leroy took out his phone and began texting. Within seconds of his sending the message, a reply came back.

  Duvall slammed her door and buckled up. ‘Back to Birmingham, then?’ she asked, firing up the ignition.

  ‘Not yet,’ Leroy said quietly as they backed off Hightower’s drive. ‘Park over there for a moment.’

  ‘Okey dokey,’ she said with a puzzled look on her face. Once off the drive, she drove forward a few yards and parked. ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘I’m just waiting for a call.’

  ‘A call?’

  ‘Yup. Might be nothing. It won’t take l
ong.’ They sat in silence. After a minute or so he asked, ‘So what’s your story then, Sally? Career policewoman? Future Chief?’

  She laughed. ‘Not thought that far. I’ve been working for the Department five years now; I haven’t really thought that far in the future.’

  ‘You always done this?’

  She nodded. ‘Right after I left High School. Always wanted to wear the uniform.’

  ‘And what about Sally off duty? Is there a Mr Sally?’

  She made a hand gesture. ‘There may be. I’m not sure right now. This job’s hard on personal relationships.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there.’

  ‘What about you, Sam? Is there a Mrs Leroy? I don’t see a wedding band.’

  ‘No, there’s no Mrs Leroy. Apart from my mother. There is somebody back home - I think - but I’m not sure how much longer we have. We seem to be looking for different things; I don’t know. Even when things were at their best, I was seeing more of my partner than of her.’ He looked over at her. ‘We seem to be in a similar place.’

  She was about to reply when Leroy’s phone bleeped. He snatched it off the dashboard. ‘I knew it!’ he exclaimed, tossing the phone back.

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘I sent Ray - my partner – a message asking him to call back the hotel where the John Doe - where Kirk - had stayed. He just texted me back to say that they confirmed that a John Thomas Hightower from Jasper, Alabama stayed there three weeks back.’

  ‘So why did he lie?’

  ‘You tell me. Two men, and there may be more, from this locale stay at an LA hotel. One is murdered, and has the other listed as a client, more or less. Or some relationship.’

  Sally chuckled.

  ‘What is it?’

  She grinned. ‘J.T. Hightower. John Thomas Hightower. While I was at High School, I had a boyfriend. He was English - his father was working over here or something.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he told me once that the name John Thomas is used in England as a euphemism for… you know.’ She nodded her head down to Leroy’s lap.

  He looked at her blankly, then it sank in. ‘You mean, like Johnson?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Leroy turned in his seat and looked back at Hightower’s house. ‘Dick by name, dick by nature, then.’ He paused a beat. ‘Come on; we need to get some answers.’

  Duvall reversed to Hightower’s house, and, allowing the tyres to protest against the road, turned back into his driveway.

  Chapter 32

  Hightower was still polishing his car when Leroy and Duvall walked up to the house. He did not seem surprised at seeing them return. As they approached, he looked nervously to the house and walked towards them.

  ‘Mr Hightower,’ Leroy said.

  ‘Could we talk in here?’ Hightower asked, opening one of the sedan doors, moistening his lips as he did so.

  ‘Surely,’ Leroy nodded.

  They all climbed into Hightower’s car, Leroy in the front passenger seat; Hightower and Duvall in the back. The car smelt new, even though it was not. Inside, the seats, the upholstery, the dashboard were all highly polished. The aroma of leather was everywhere. The chrome parts of the interior were gleaming. Leroy wondered if the vehicle ever moved anywhere, if Hightower ever drove it anywhere. Maybe he kept it here as a kind of status symbol, remaining stationary on the drive for the neighbours to see him polish it.

  Leroy turned around to face Hightower. ‘This hotel in Los Angeles you’ve never been to,’ he said, ‘has told us you stayed there two weeks ago.’

  Hightower buried his face in his hands. ‘All right, all right; I admit it. I was in Los Angeles.’ He oddly pronounced Angeles with a hard g. ‘And yes, I was in that hotel.’ He looked around, through the car windows. ‘My wife…’

  ‘Tell us what happened in Los Angeles,’ Duvall said quietly.

  Hightower looked over to her. ‘I was there on a business trip. And I sinned there.’

  Leroy frowned. ‘What do you mean, you sinned there?’

  ‘What I did there, it was so sinful. I asked the Lord to forgive me; I know he has, but Maybeline, my children, my family, my church… Will they ever?’

  ‘Just slowly,’ Leroy said quietly, ‘and in your own time, tell us what happened. Why were you in LA? You said it was a business trip. What kind of business?’

  ‘I deal in rare books. You know, first editions, manuscripts. I was at a convention at the… the...’

  ‘The LACC. I know it. Is that why you were staying at the Stocker? Its proximity to the Center?’

  Hightower nodded.

  ‘Who made the booking; or rather, who chose the hotel?’

  ‘I did it myself. The Convention Center has a list of nearby hotels, and I picked that one.’

  ‘Online, or person to person?’

  ‘Online.’

  ‘Fine. So tell me what happened.’

  ‘I don’t recall much. After the convention, I went back to the hotel. It was still fairly early - too early to eat - so I decided to go up to the pool for a swim. And then… I recall being in my hotel room with a headache the next morning. I realised I needed to check out, so I started packing my bags. Then this fella knocked on my door. I answered, on account that I’d ordered breakfast. But this guy hadn’t - he showed me a pile of pictures. Of me.’

  ‘What kind of pictures?’ asked Duvall.

  Hightower spoke in a hushed voice. ‘Dirty pictures. Of me in sexual congress with two young girls.’

  ‘Do you still have them?’ Leroy asked.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Can I see them, please?’

  ‘Sure.’ Hightower scrambled out of the car, looked around and went over to a tool cabinet at the other end of the garage. Glancing about once more, he pulled open a drawer and took out a brown envelope. Then hurried back to the car.

  Leroy took the envelope and leafed through the contents. They were more or less the same as the pictures of William Kirk, although where Kirk was slightly younger and was slimmer meaning his pictures were aesthetically easier on the eye, Hightower was bigger and paunchy and not so easy on the eye when naked.

  ‘B-but,’ Hightower stammered, ‘I don’t recall any of that. I don’t remember being with those girls. But I must have been; I’m there, fornicating for all the world to see. Oh, God.’ He buried his face in his hands again.

  Leroy put the pictures back in the envelope. ‘Do you remember meeting the girls?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  Hightower screwed up his face and rubbed his forehead. ‘I do have a vague recollection of rubbing some cream - sun lotion - onto some gal’s back…’

  ‘One of the girls in the pictures?’

  Hightower shook his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t recall a face.’

  ‘Do you remember drinking anything at the pool?’

  ‘No. If I did, it would be water, may have been root beer. I don’t touch the booze.’

  ‘Tell us about the man with the photographs. Describe him.’

  Hightower closed his eyes as he recalled. ‘Younger, maybe thirty. Asian, he was Asian. Chinese, maybe. Shorter than me, about five six. Black hair. Very smartly dressed, suit and tie.’

  ‘Did he give you his name?’

  ‘Yes, Lee. Mr Lee, he said. He knew my name.’

  ‘What did he say to you?’

  ‘He said he was sure Maybeline wouldn’t want to see these pictures, so he could arrange it that she never did. Called it insurance. That’s it: he said he was selling insurance.’

  ‘And how much were the premiums?’

  ‘He asked for two thousand dollars before I flew home, and another two every month.’

  Duvall asked, ‘How did he want you to pay him?’

  ‘Cash at the hotel, then he gave me an address to send the other payments.’

  ‘An LA address?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s a box number. I have it somewhere.’


  ‘So, what next?’

  ‘He said I could keep those, as he had many other copies. He told me to meet him in the lobby that afternoon with the cash. I went directly to the bank, and paid him. Then flew home here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you destroy the pictures?’ Duvall asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I thought about it, but never got round to it. I just didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘I’ll keep these,’ Leroy said. ‘Is that all right with you?’

  ‘I’d be glad if you did.’

  ‘Do you recall anything else?’

  Hightower shook his head.

  ‘And have you told anybody else? Not your wife, I’m guessing?’

  ‘I can never tell Maybeline. She’d never forgive me.’

  ‘So nobody?’

  ‘Only Pastor Martyn.’

  ‘Pastor Martyn?’

  ‘He’s the pastor at our church. I had to confess my sins to someone, don’t you see?’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I just confessed about my fornicating with those two gals. With two of them! It’s so… so… wicked.’

  ‘And what did the pastor say?’

  ‘He just said that if I was truly repentant - which I am - then I would have the Lord’s forgiveness.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘He kind of asked where I stayed in Los Angeles. Said he would see if he could do anything to help. Said if the Lord was willing to forgive a sin of the flesh, then I should not be paying for it for ever.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Then we prayed. Prayed to the Lord to wash my soul free from any sin.’

  Leroy and Duvall exchanged glances. ‘And where is Pastor Martyn?’

  ‘At our church. The Church of the Holy Gospel. It’s on Sycamore.’