by Philip Cox
‘Sure. I know where you mean.’
Domingo continued, ‘We cordoned off the site last night and went back this morning once it got light. Found where he fell: scraps of material from his shorts snagged on a couple of branches and some blood traces.’
‘Sounds reasonable. Did you establish cause of death?’
‘That might take a while.’
‘On our two it seemed at first that they died of natural causes. Cardiac arrest. But I saw the ME this morning and he tells me both their bodies were full of a drug cocktail. Roofies, LSD and coke. Massive doses.’
‘Jesus,’ said Domingo. ‘ODs?’
‘Clearly. But I can get my head round one person taking a massive OD, but two? Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘Hmm. Maybe they were at the same party. Same age range. Maybe they were drunk.’
Leroy shook his head. ‘No alcohol in their bodies.’
She sat back and scratched the back of her head.
‘Anyway, my vic might be a little different.’
‘How so?’
‘He must have rolled down the hillside. We found him on the freeway shoulder. But not before a thirty foot rig had finished with him.’
‘Oh, Christ. What was left of him?’
‘He was still intact, if that’s what you mean, but there was severe body trauma. And I mean severe. The rig must have been going at over seventy - it was around eleven on a Sunday night – and according to the driver, this figure just appeared on the road. Wandering from the shoulder. The driver wouldn’t have had time to react. Just knocked him twenty feet in the air. The body hit the top of the rig as it came down, bounced off the roof and landed back on the shoulder.’
‘It was the truck driver who called it in?’
‘Yes. He pulled over and called us.’
‘Alcohol? The driver I mean.’
She shook her head. ‘Dry as a bone. The captain wants us to follow up on his speed. By his own admission, he was over the limit.’
‘What is it on the I-5? Seventy?’
‘Fifty-five for trucks, so the driver’s in deep shit just for that.’
‘Wouldn’t have made any difference; at fifty-five, the impact would still have killed him.’
‘Probably.’
Leroy nodded. ‘Probably.’
They both sat for a few seconds in silence until Leroy said, ‘So what now? What’s your next move?’
‘While Connor’s not here I thought I’d just finish off all the paperwork. The body’s at the ME’s so I’ll wait for his report.’
‘Even with the trauma, Hobson will still be able to establish what was in his system. I’ll take book that it’s the same cocktail as mine. Clearly cardiac arrest won’t apply.’
‘No. Where were yours found?’
‘Mine was in a parking lot in Century City; Farmer’s was off Hollywood Boulevard.’
‘Are we treating them as separate cases?’ she asked. ‘Or one investigation?’
‘Had no instructions to say one investigation. I guess that’s up to our new lieutenant. I ran into Patterson on the way in: he said Perez starts tomorrow.’
‘Swell.’
‘Well, in the absence of any such instructions, we’d better get on with our individual cases. Best to keep each other up to date, though.’
‘Sure thing, Sam.’ Domingo got up and returned to her desk. Leroy turned back to his monitor. His screen had gone into lock-up, so he typed in his password again, clicked OK on the password change pop-up again, and returned to the missing persons database. Tabbed down to the last entry he looked at. A comparison of the photographs of the next three missing persons showed they were not his victim.
The next one down, however, was a different story.
The missing person report was for a Lance Riley. White male, aged thirty-one. Lived Vorhees Avenue, Redondo Beach, with partner Michelle Alexander, who filed the report. There was no mention of any children. The photograph was one of the two of them with an ocean as a background, both happy and smiling. Leroy clicked on the photograph, and enlargened it. He carefully studied the larger image and the image from the dead man. Obviously there were slight, cosmetic, differences, but it was clear it was the same man.
Leroy sighed and sat back in his chair. In spite of all the years he had worked in Homicide, and all the cases he had dealt with, he could easily remain detached when it was just a nameless body he was dealing with. But once it gained a name, an address, and family, and a life, this detachment became harder.
The report had been filed around midday Saturday. He had not been seen since he left for work Friday morning. He scratched his chin. If he was last seen by his partner Friday morning, and his body was discovered late Friday evening, then whatever had happened to him occurred after he left work that day. If he went to work, that is. In any case, he had to visit Michelle Alexander first. He logged off and stood up.
‘Success?’ Domingo called out from her desk.
He nodded. ‘In a way, yes. My John Doe has a name: Lance Riley. His wife - no, girlfriend – filed the report Saturday.’
‘You off to see her now?’
Leroy nodded.
‘Want me to go with you?’
‘It’s okay. I’ll be okay.’
‘She won’t be, though. Would save you having to call on uniform.’
‘All right. Thanks, Liza.’
‘No problem,’ she replied, as she got up from her desk. ‘I’ll drive, and you can eat your sandwich on the way.’
‘Oh, yes; I’d forgotten.’ He picked up the sandwich as they left.
Once in his car, he passed her the keys and gave her the address. She typed it into the GPS. As they pulled out into Butler, he looked around.
‘Thanks for coming with me. I do appreciate it.’
‘I told you: no problem.’
‘Do you know,’ he said as they headed south, ‘after all these years, all the times of doing this, it never gets any easier.’
He looked over at her.
‘Ever.’
FOURTEEN
‘I’LL GO MAKE some tea,’ said Domingo, as Leroy sat in the living room opposite Michelle Alexander.
Michelle looked up. She spoke quietly. ‘The tea and the milk are-’
Domingo smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find them.’
Leroy leaned back in the armchair and watched her walk into the kitchen. Then turned back to Michelle. She was slumped in another armchair, wiping her nose with a Kleenex. He nodded his head towards her stomach.
‘How long do you have to go?’ he asked.
She sniffed. ‘Another two months.’
‘Why don’t you try your mother again?’ he asked.
She nodded, sniffed again, and reached over to a small table and picked up a phone.
‘Would you like us to call someone?’ asked Leroy.
She shook her head. ‘It’s okay.’ She waited a few moments with the phone to her ear, then disconnected. ‘Still no answer.’
Domingo returned from the kitchen with a cup of hot tea. She passed it to Michelle. ‘Here you are.’
Michelle looked up and took the cup. ‘Thanks,’ she mouthed.
Domingo sat back down on the sofa.
Leroy looked over to her, then back to Michelle. ‘Going back to what I was asking earlier, Michelle,’ he said slowly and softly, ‘just tell me about the last time you saw Lance.’
She briefly closed her eyes tightly and swallowed. ‘It was Friday morning. He just left for work as normal.’
‘What time?’ asked Leroy.
‘About seven fifteen.’
‘What does he do? Where does he work?’
‘He works in IT. He’s a Business Intelligence System Consultant. I don’t know exactly what that means. He has explained it to me many times but it always goes over my head.’
‘Mine too,’ said Domingo reassuringly.
Leroy nodded. ‘Same here. Where does he work? Is he based from home, or wo
rk from an office?’
‘He works out of an office. His firm is called Culver Technologies. They have a suit of offices in Century City. Century Park West.’
‘Okay. And he was working in the office on Friday?’
‘As far as I know, yes. Normally he spends two or three days a week on the road, visiting clients, but he likes to spend Fridays in the office. You know, clearing up paperwork before the weekend.’
‘How did he seem that morning?’
‘No different to any other day. Said something about thank God it’s Friday, and he would see me home here around six.’
‘Six. Is that his normal arrival home time?’
Michelle nodded. ‘Normally, yes. Sometimes on a Friday he would try to leave the office earlier, so he got home around five-thirty, but six was the normal time.’
Leroy asked, ‘Did you speak to him during the day?’
‘I did, yes. He normally phones me around lunchtime. Between twelve and one. Just to ask how my day was going and that he would see me that evening.’
‘When he called Friday, did he give any indication of where he was?’
‘No. He always used his cell phone, and would say if he was out anywhere. So I guess he was at the office. Why, have they said anything different?’
‘Not spoken to them yet. We came here as soon as we identified him.’
‘How did you know it was him?’
‘I compared the photo we had with the one you provided when you filed the missing person report. He had no ID on him. I’m guessing he always carried ID with him.’
‘Of course. In his wallet. His drivers licence and his money. Why? Were they taken?’
Leroy glanced over at Domingo and shifted in his chair. ‘When he was found, he wasn’t wearing anything. Well, just a pair of red shorts. I take it that was his normal underwear?’
Michelle shook her head, slightly puzzled. ‘Well… yes, it was. Why was he only wearing those? What had happened to his clothes?’
‘We don’t know at this time,’ Domingo said.
‘Where exactly was he found?’ Michelle asked.
‘He was discovered in a Century City parking garage. An underground garage,’ said Leroy.
‘His work garage?’
‘Still to be confirmed. We’ll be calling on his office later, and will ascertain if that was the garage under his firm’s building.’
Michelle nodded and blew her nose.
‘Another thing we need to ask you, Michelle,’ said Leroy. ‘Did either of you - well, maybe I should say just Lance - use recreational drugs?’
‘Drugs? No, of course not. Well, not recently.’
‘Not recently?’
She rested her hand on her stomach. ‘I’ve not touched anything like that since we started trying,’ she said. ‘And Lance – well, he’s the same.’
‘But you used to?’
‘Years ago, when we first met. We used to smoke a little dope now and then, and…’ She paused a moment, trying to find the right word. ‘I forget what they’re called. Those little bottles.’
‘Poppers?’ ventured Domingo.
‘Yes, that’s it. Poppers.’
‘Poppers,’ repeated Leroy. ‘Amyl nitrite. Used during sex.’
‘That’s when we had them. But neither of us have touched anything like that for years now. Especially not…’ She rubbed the palm of her hand over her belly. ‘Why, is that what…?’
‘No. Not poppers,’ said Leroy. ‘But his body did contain a high dose of recreational drugs.’
Michelle put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, my God. No.’
There was a moment’s silence, then Leroy said, ‘Look Michelle – this is all the information we need at this time. It’s quite likely we will have other questions as the investigation progresses, but we’ll contact you at the time. One thing which does remain to be done, however, is for Lance’s body to be formally identified. Maybe your mother can bring you when she comes over?’
Michelle nodded.
Leroy and Domingo stood up to leave.
‘One more thing,’ Leroy said. ‘I’m guessing Lance used a laptop for work?’
Michelle nodded again.
‘I’m also guessing he took it with him to work.’
‘Yes, he always did.’
He looked around. ‘Do you have a home computer?’
‘Yes we do; it’s in one of the bedrooms.’
‘Did Lance use it? Or did he stick to his laptop?’
‘He never used that. I was the only one. He would always use his own laptop or his tablet, or his phone.’
‘Okay,’ Leroy said, nodding.
‘Do you work, Michelle?’ asked Domingo. ‘Or have you begun your family leave already?’
‘No, I’m still at work. I work as an administrator at a car dealer ten minutes from here. I had a day off today, as I’m due to work tomorrow and Sunday.’
‘Would you like us to call them for you?’ asked Domingo.
‘No, it’s all right, thanks. My mother will come over; she’ll call them.’
‘If you’re sure,’ Domingo replied.
‘You have my card with my contact number,’ Leroy said. ‘If there’s anything you need, or if anything else comes to mind, just call me.’
‘I will, yes. Thank you.’
‘And you’ll get your mother to bring you to identify Lance?’
‘I will, yes.’
‘Okay. We’ll leave you now. And one again: we’re both so sorry for your loss.’
Domingo nodded in agreement. ‘You stay here, Michelle. We’ll show ourselves out.’
Leroy and Domingo left Michelle alone with her thoughts. They walked down the pathway across the lawn which surrounded the modest two-storey house. Got back into the car.
Domingo looked back at the house. ‘There’s going to be a lot of tears in that house,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ Leroy said quietly.
‘She shouldn’t be on her own, Sam.’
‘I know, but her mother’s going to come over.’
‘Sure. Still, all the same…’
‘Let’s head over to Century City,’ Leroy said as he fired up the engine. ‘Have a look around before they all go home.’
As they pulled away, Leroy spoke again, ‘Before you ask, I didn’t think it the right time to mention that he had had sex not long before he died.’
‘Didn’t know he had. It could have been with her that morning.’
‘Could have been. Or could have been someone else. And unless you have midwifery as part of your resumé, I think it’s something best left to another time.’
‘Fair comment,’ said Domingo. ‘Jesus, seven months pregnant and to get that news. The poor kid’ll never know its father.’
‘No. But we need to be asking what was a man with a heavily pregnant girlfriend at home doing to get filled with LSD, roofies and coke.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Domingo said, as they headed in the direction of Century City.
‘And another thing,’ Leroy said. ‘Hobson said both victims had had sex not long before death. So tell me: what loving father-to-be goes on a wild drugs and sex binge on a Friday night?’
FIFTEEN
LEROY DID A time check as they turned off Santa Monica Boulevard into Century Park West. It was almost five.
‘Dammit,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to get here earlier. What time do you think they all leave?’
‘Five or six, I guess. Should’ve used the siren.’
‘It’s not an emergency call.’
‘No, but is it the same building?’
‘Is what the same building?’
‘Over there: there’s an underground parking garage. Now, is it the same one as where his body was found?’
‘I get you.’ Leroy parked at the front of the building. Immediately an elderly uniformed commissionaire appeared. He was just about to remonstrate with them, but stopped when they showed their badges.
‘This is 2100,’ said Domingo, poi
nting up at the four large bronze digits high on the wall.
Leroy paused, looking around. ‘2100? Yeah, I think it is. It all looks so different in the daylight.’
He looked over at the ramp leading underground. A sedan was coming up the ramp. He watched as it paused at the main road, then pulled into the traffic.
‘Let’s go speak to his workmates,’ he said, leading the way up a dozen concrete steps.
Once inside, they could see that Culver Technologies was based on the sixth floor. After showing their badges to another uniformed attendant, they called an elevator and headed up to the sixth.
As the doors slid open at the sixth, they were met by half a dozen office workers who were clearly on their way home. The crowd was about to bustle past the two cops, but Leroy held up his badge and called out, ‘LAPD. Could I speak to you all for a moment?’
There was a rumble of disapproval from the crowd until Domingo called out, ‘We need literally thirty seconds of your time. Thank you.’ With that, the group fell silent.
Leroy asked, ‘These are the offices of Culver Technologies, yes?’
All in the group nodded or murmured agreement.
‘Does Lance Riley work here?’ Domingo asked.
The group all nodded; one voice at the back muttered, ‘Jesus, what’s Riley done now?’
Leroy ignored this comment, and went on to ask, ‘Can you tell me if Lance is at work today?’ Domingo reached out and stopped the elevator doors closing.
Some of them looked at each other and shrugged. One woman said she hadn’t seen him; the outspoken one at the back called out, ‘Give us a break; it’s Monday after all. Nobody sees Riley till Tuesdays at the earliest.’
‘Was he at work Friday?’ asked Leroy.
Again, the same murmuring and looking at each other for confirmation. This time the consensus was yes.
‘One more question,’ said Leroy. ‘Who’s in charge here?’
A small woman at the front of the group spoke up. ‘That will be Ms Kennedy. In the office at the far end.’
Leroy looked over and saw a figure sitting at a desk in a glass-walled office. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Thank you all for your time and co-operation.’ He and Domingo stood aside to let the group get into the elevator.
