by M. Z. Kelly
“I’ve got the address,” Alex said. “Let’s go talk to the ex.” He stood up.
Leo didn’t acknowledge him or respond, finishing his thought. “…or whoever killed Bruce Reeder had an attachment to that knife. He wanted it back, found a way to get it, and used it on Carla Hodge.”
“That’s nonsense,” Alex said. “Let’s stop spinning useless scenarios and work the case.”
Leo remained seated. He cleared his throat and kept his deep voice low. “A couple of things, first.”
Alex’s breath came out as a groan. He was still standing, but otherwise didn’t respond.
Leo went on. “Reeder’s my case. I’ve worked it for years, so we work his case like any cold case where there’s a new lead. We go back over the evidence, the crime scene, and then follow up with interviews, as necessary.”
Alex’s groan now formed words. “Maybe you haven’t heard, partner. Both Reeder and Hodge are now Section One cases. They’re ours. You’re Section One now, but just along for the ride.”
Leo leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Sorry, partner. As long as I’m drawing air and a pay check, that’s not the way things will go.” He looked at me.
I turned to Alex. “Leo’s got the background on the case, let’s do as he suggests and take things from there.”
Alex glared at me. “It’s not your decision.”
I raised my voice. “It’s not yours, either.”
We locked eyes. Alex turned red. A vein pulsed in his temple below his receding hairline. If we got lucky, he’d suffer a stroke and drop dead.
We didn’t get lucky. Alex finally looked back to Leo. “Let’s go, then. But, for the record, Hodge is ours and we actively work it, just like any other homicide. We don’t sit around pushing paper.”
Leo just grinned and waited until Alex broke eye contact with him.
When we got to the parking lot, I suggested that Selfie meet us at the original Reeder crime scene to go over the evidence with us. Alex disagreed. After a lengthy discussion, also known as an argument, he finally relented. I told him Bernie and I would ride with Leo, stop by the station and pick up our crime analyst, and then meet him at the crime scene.
As Leo drove us back to Hollywood Station, I apologized for my partner’s behavior. “He lost his former partner in a shooting a few weeks ago. He’s also…” I took a moment, trying to be diplomatic. “…a little intense.”
He glanced at me, smiling. “Not your monkey.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The monkey on your back that you’re carrying around, it’s not yours.” He rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “Guys like Alex are…” He looked at me, his dark eyes twinkling. “Life’s short. Let’s not waste our time talking about him.”
The more I was around Leo Kingsley, the more I liked him. I said, “Lieutenant Oz told us we’d be working with a legend. He said the two of you go way back.”
“Ozzie’s my white brother.” He turned to me, flashing what I decided was an almost ever present smile. “Ask him about Lulu one of these days.”
“Lulu?” He glanced at me again, still smiling, but didn’t respond. I changed the subject. “Oz told me you’re close to retiring.”
“Three to go, give or take. I’ve got a couple of grandkids that want Big Poppy around more often.”
“That’s nice.”
“And you?”
I shrugged. “Bernie and I just take it one day at a time.” My big dog was sniffing the exotic scents of the city through the rear window.
“I’ve heard about a few of your cases. You and Pearl have done some nice work.”
“You know Pearl?”
“’Course.” Another big smile. “Pearl, Oz and me are what you might call the three amigos.” He laughed. “Or maybe with Oz in the middle we’re more like the big Oreo.”
Pearl was also black and the image he’d conjured up made me laugh. “I miss Pearl. He’s one of the best detectives I ever worked with.”
We pulled into the station parking lot and I saw that Selfie was waiting for us.
“Remind me someday to tell you a story or two about Pearl,” Leo said. “Your former partner had another side to him once.”
***
After picking up Selfie, we met Alex at the condo complex in Baldwin Hills where Bruce Reeder had been murdered ten years earlier. We initially only planned to walk around the complex and go over the facts as we knew them until we realized the unit was for rent. After calling a local real estate agent, we were let inside.
The unit was a two bedroom. Based on the original crime scene photographs that Selfie brought with her, it looked like it had been refurbished over the years.
After we familiarized ourselves with the layout, Leo took over. He seemed to have sparked an instant connection with our crime analyst and asked her to go over the facts of the crime, even as Alex huffed and puffed about it all being a big waste of time.
Selfie placed several of the original crime scene photos on the kitchen counter as she told us what she knew. “The victim’s body was found at the foot of his bed in the master bedroom on May 7th, 2005. According to the reports, Reeder had missed a couple of days work and a co-worker came here to check on him. His body was found by a woman named Joyce Moss, who called the police. Reeder was wearing his pajamas, and the coroner determined that he’d been dead a little over forty-eight hours. They estimated the TOD as sometime between midnight and six in the morning.”
“How did Moss get in?” Alex asked, apparently now interested in what Selfie had to say.
“She had a key. The reports say she and Reeder were friends.”
“Maybe more than friends.” He looked at Leo. “What makes you think our vic was gay?”
“As part of the routine follow-up, family and friends were interviewed. Reeder was in the closet, but there was no doubt about his sexual orientation. The list of everyone that was interviewed is in the murder book.”
Alex sniffed but didn’t respond.
Selfie continued, “The autopsy showed Reeder suffered a half-dozen stab wounds to the chest, including a couple of fatal blows that pierced his heart. The knife, as you can see from the photographs, was found next to the body. No prints, trace, or other evidence was found.”
I looked at Leo as Bernie settled on the floor next to me. “You said he was having issues with his ex-wife. I’m assuming she was interviewed.”
“Several times.” Leo had removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were muscular but without tattoos. “His ex wasn’t happy with him, I think both because she realized he was gay after five years of marriage and because Reeder spent every cent they made. They filed for bankruptcy at the same time they divorced.”
I looked at Selfie. “Anything else?”
“You already know the details about the knife, but there’s…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Leo came over to her. “Tell us what’s on your mind. Everything’s important.”
She drew in a breath and nodded. “I was just thinking this crime…it was personal. Nothing that we know of was taken from the condo during the assault. The victim was wearing his pajamas, the crime occurred in the early morning hours. It could be that Reeder and his killer were lovers or shared some other close connection.” Selfie fingered the piercing above her left eyebrow. “I think there must have been a tipping point…something that we’re missing that caused the killer to act.”
Leo nodded slowly, beaming one of his smiles. “Very good. Your thought about our victim having a close connection to his killer has been on my mind all these years.”
“But there was no DNA or other evidence,” Selfie said. “It could be they’d gone somewhere together, came home, and got into an argument before the murder.”
“What about Reeder’s relationships, boyfriends?” I said to Leo as he mulled over what Selfie had said. “Did anyone look good as a potential suspect?”
He shook his head. “The origina
l investigators looked at everyone who was close to him. No one had a motive.”
“So, where does this leave us?” Selfie asked.
“With a cold case that’s going back into the refrigerator,” Alex said. “This is a complete waste of time.”
Leo smiled, his dark eyes holding on Alex for a moment. He looked back at Selfie. “Tell you what, why don’t you take another pass at anyone the original investigators interviewed. Maybe a fresh set of eyes will come up with something.” He looked at me. “Let’s also put it on our list to go back to the ex-wife. Maybe time has mellowed out some of her negative feelings. It could be that she’s remembered something.”
Leo turned and began walking to the door.
“Where are you going?” Alex asked.
He stopped and turned back to my tubby partner for a moment. “Crime scene number two. MacArthur Park.”
SEVEN
MacArthur Park consisted of a small lake, soccer fields, a children’s playground, and a recreation center. I remembered reading somewhere that when the lake was drained in the 1970s, hundreds of handguns were found, no doubt deposited there by their owners who had used them in a variety of crimes. The park became known for prostitution, drug dealing, and shootouts in the 1980s. There had also been dozens of murders there over the years, including the one now assigned to Section One.
I took Bernie for a short walk before meeting up with Leo, Alex, and Selfie at the perimeter of the park near a stand of trees where the murder of Carla Hodge had occurred less than forty-eight hours earlier. Alex went over the facts for Leo as they’d been told to us earlier that morning, while Selfie laid out the crime scene photographs on a picnic bench.
“It looks like she’d gone jogging after work and came across our suspect,” I said to Leo after Alex finished telling him what he knew about the murder.
“Was there a wallet or anything else found on the girl?” Leo asked.
Selfie showed him one of the photos. “She had a fanny pack with her wallet, cell phone, and keys inside. There was thirty-eight dollars inside the wallet, so the motive wasn’t robbery. Her car was parked in the lot across the way.” She pointed to the nearby adjacent parking lot.
“What about the cell phone? Was there anything of concern in the texts, calls?”
Selfie shook her head. “There wasn’t much of anything, just some calls to her mother, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I think whoever did this was trying to make Hodge go with him,” Alex said. “It was an attempted kidnap and sexual assault. When she refused to go along, she was murdered.”
What Alex had postulated was possible, but it was conjecture, not based on the facts as we currently knew them.
I said, “I’m trying to understand why you think it was an attempted rape?”
He shrugged. “Once you rule out robbery, what else did the girl have to give up but her body? No other motive makes any sense.”
“Maybe our suspect knew the girl,” Leo said. “He might have followed her here.”
“You mean, as in stalking her?” I asked.
“I’m just speculating, but it could have gone that way.”
What Molly had said earlier about Carla Hodge possibly being gay came to mind. It could have been that whoever killed her had taken an interest in her and had been rebuffed.
Alex interrupted my thoughts. “I don’t think this was a crime of passion, more like a crime of lust.” He took a moment, glancing through the photographs Selfie had brought. He finally looked up from the photos, brushed a hand through his thinning hair, and said, “This case is already a giant cluster fuck. We’ve got a knife with the guts of a murder victim from ten years ago on its blade that somehow got out of an evidence locker and ends up here. How in the hell do we do anything with that?”
Leo stared hard at my partner. “We work both murders like we work any other killings. We dig through what evidence there is, follow-up with the witnesses, and try to piece something together.”
“Don’t patronize me. I know how to do basic police work.”
Leo smiled. “Sorry. The way you were talking, I thought maybe you’d forgotten.” He went over and studied the photos, taking a couple of them over to where the body of the girl had been found.
When he thought Leo was out of earshot, Alex said, “I think there’s a reason why Leo the lion has been working cold cases.”
I looked at him, then back at Leo who had kneeled down on the ground with the photos, but I didn’t respond.
“He’s dead wood.”
“What?”
“He’s way past his prime, on cruise control, heading toward retirement.”
“I doubt that Leo Kingsley has ever been on cruise control, and he’s certainly not dead wood.”
I walked away, ignoring my partner who went on a rant, saying something to Selfie about dinosaurs. When I got to Leo’s side, I saw that he was now on all fours and was wearing reading glasses. He had a couple of photos of Hodge spread out on the grass in front of him.
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
Leo removed his glasses, braced himself on one knee, and then stood up. “Let me take my engine off cruise control before I answer your question.” He smiled, putting his glasses in his pocket. “I might need glasses, but my hearing’s still pretty good.”
I glanced over at Alex who still had Selfie cornered, lecturing her about something. “I know he’s not my monkey, but, just in case you had any doubt, he’s as dumb as an ape.”
Leo laughed loud enough to cause Alex to turn in our direction. The big detective then turned back to the crime scene photographs lying on the ground. “We can check with the coroner, see what he says, but I think our suspect was left handed.”
“What makes you think that?”
He motioned to the photos of the body, the blood spray on the grass next to it. “I think our victim was turning away, trying to ward off a blow that was coming at her right side. She turned when she was struck and the blood spray went in that same direction.” He pointed at the photographs. “A right-hander would have caused her to have the opposite reaction.”
I took a moment, examining the photos and the blood spray. “I think you could be on to something.” I glanced back at him, smiling. “Not bad for a piece of dead wood.”
“Let’s go see what the coroner thinks, and then let’s talk to the victim’s mother. Maybe Mom can give us something more to go on.”
We were walking back toward Selfie and Alex when Leo said, “By the way, thanks for sticking up for me.”
I whispered to him as we got closer to our colleagues. “You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.”
***
Carla Hodge’s mother lived in an apartment complex in Long Beach. Alex told us the detectives that had done the original interviews with her had done a good enough job. He said it wasn’t worth his time to talk to her and he was heading back to the station to try and put something together on the case, whatever that meant.
Anna Hodge was in her late forties with mousy brown hair and deeply set blue eyes. She was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt that had food stains on the front. Her apartment was dark and cluttered. She looked like a woman that had spent the last couple of days in mourning and hadn’t bothered to take care of herself or her apartment.
After introductions, I asked our victim’s mother about her daughter. “It looks like Carla had gone jogging the night she was killed. Do you know if that’s something she did on a regular basis?”
She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. “All the time. She was always worried about gaining weight. It was part of her disease.”
“Are you talking about anorexia?”
Hodge stood up. “Let me show you something.” She returned a couple of minutes later with a couple of photographs in picture frames. She handed one of the photos to me as Leo and Selfie also came over to take a look. “This was Carla the year after she graduated from high school.”
The smiling girl in th
e photograph was attractive. She had that vital look that young people with most of their life ahead of them have.
“She was so pretty,” Selfie said.
Hodge nodded and handed over the second photo to me. “This is Carla a year later.”
Selfie gasped and then said, “Sorry.”
In this photo Anna Hodge’s daughter looked like she was well under a hundred pounds. Her face was sunken and the bones in her arms and legs were almost visible. She looked like she was wasting away.
“It took her years, but Carla was doing better,” Hodge said. “But she still exercised constantly and weighed herself at least ten times a day. It was a compulsion.”
I handed the photographs back, at the same time thinking about what Molly had said earlier that morning about Carla possibly being gay, something that I’d mentioned to Leo on the way over.
“Was Carla involved with anyone recently?” I asked.
Hodge shook her head. “She wasn’t…she was very shy. When she wasn’t working, Carla spent most of her time at home.”
“What about someone from her past…when…before she developed the disease?”
“There was a boy…” Her eyes shifted. “Jimmy…Pulido, I think. Yes, they were together after high school for a few months.”
After asking about an address or phone number for Pulido I got nothing back. I then said, “How did the relationship end?”
She shrugged. “I think they just drifted apart. They both decided to go their separate ways.”
“There was no animosity?”
She shook her head.
“What about girls? Was Carla attracted to other women?”
Hodge’s features became pinched. She looked away. Her face softened as she exhaled. “Maybe…I don’t really know. We never talked about it.”
“But you think she might have been?”
She shrugged. “It could be. Like I said, we never discussed it.” She took a breath. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think there was anyone she was involved with in recent years. She was sort of a recluse, maybe because of the disease.” She teared up and found a tissue.
