by Philip Cox
‘No,’ said Leroy. ‘It was okay.’ He laughed. ‘Surprisingly enough. Cheesecake afterwards.’
‘That’s the only time you’ve seen her?’
‘Couple of times since.’
‘You guys…?’ Quinn raised his eyebrows.
‘The day Domingo and Connor were killed. We had already arranged to meet up; this time go out for a meal, maybe a movie at the AMC or something. I said I would pick her up. When I did, we started chatting some more at her apartment. I don’t know, Ray – it was one of those nights when I didn’t want to be alone…’
Quinn nodded. ‘You seeing her again, I guess?’
‘Sure. Maybe later tonight. Will certainly speak to her. But definitely next weekend. We’re planning on going away somewhere for Saturday night. Catalina, maybe.’
His partner nodded again. ‘Should be good. Better than mine.’
‘Oh? How so?’
‘Holly wants us to spend the weekend at the Meriwether family residence. Her old man’s birthday.’
Leroy laughed and raised his glass. ‘I’ll take Catalina.’
FIFTY-ONE
ON HIS WAY home, Leroy made a detour to Julia’s apartment.
‘My God, Sam,’ she said. ‘You look like shit. What’s going on?’
‘Nice to see you, too.’ Leroy kissed her on the cheek and slid past her into her apartment. He passed a mirror and stopped to check his reflection. She was right. He thought that by having a really close shave a few hours earlier, the effects of many hours’ sleep deprivation would not show. He was wrong. He had the beginnings of shadow on his chin, but he looked pale, and he looked dark around the eyes. ‘Hm,’ he said. ‘See what you mean.’
‘Sorry, baby; that wasn’t a very nice greeting.’ She embraced him and they kissed again, this time on the lips. ‘Anything I can do?’ she asked, as their mouths parted.
He looked around her apartment. The floor, the table, and the sofa were covered with dozens of sheets of paper, neatly arranged in piles, each pile a different colour. He was certain if he sneezed, or if there was a sudden gust of wind, the place would be in complete disarray.
‘It looks like your hands are full already,’ he replied.
‘Test papers,’ Julia explained. ‘Each year has a different colour. As I think I told you already, a teacher’s day doesn’t finish when the kids go home.’
‘Yes, I think you mentioned that,’ said Leroy, not without irony.
‘I could use a break,’ said Julia. ‘You want a coffee?’
‘Wouldn’t say no. Want me to get it?’
‘You sit your ass down, Detective. I’ll get it.’
He found a space between a pile of buff paper and salmon paper and sat down.
‘You eaten yet?’ Julia called out from the kitchen.
‘Yes, I have, thanks.’
Julia joined him shortly, passing him his coffee. She sat down cross-legged on the floor with her cup, then opened a bag of potato chips.
‘You have to do this sort of thing every night?’ he asked, indicating to the numerous coloured piles.
She shook her head. ‘This is a one off. These are all the test papers for each year, and going back five years. So thirty sets of test papers. They were in a mess at school, you know – not filed in any order, that sort of thing, so I said I’d get them sorted out. Prefer to do it here than stay late at work.’
Leroy sipped some coffee and closed his eyes. He had to make an effort to open them again.
‘You look bushed,’ she said. ‘So what’s going on? I assume something’s up at work. You got my messages, then.’
‘Yeah, yeah I did.’ He then related to her about his vacation time, the visit to Whiteleaf, and his meeting with Quinn.
‘My God, Sam; so you were up all night?’
‘More or less, yes.’
‘So you think that the Secretary is involved?’
‘Somehow, yes.’
‘You said that your boss told you that those cases had been considered closed at the highest level, or something?’
‘Er – yeah, he said something like that. What are you getting at?’
‘Well, if you’re right and he is involved, then maybe he could have influenced that decision. You said there was enough evidence to proceed with the cases.’
Leroy rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn. ‘I guess that’s possible; I hadn’t really considered that. What I don’t get about Davison, though, is: he comes from Arizona - Flagstaff - and began his political career there. Then moved to DC when higher office beckoned.’
Julia nodded, sipping her coffee.
‘So I’ve been trying to figure out the LA connection. Why would a guy who’s spent all his life in Arizona or Washington either own or lease a house over here? It’s not like it’s by the beach or anything.’
Julia frowned in thought. ‘I think there’s a family connection.’
‘No, it’s not that. His parents are both probably dead by now, and he was an only child.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ said Julia. ‘Couple of years back, the kids in the 8th grade I think it was had to research and prepare a paper on major government figures. You know, the guys who run our country, that sort of thing.’ She looked around the apartment. ‘I don’t think I have a copy here. But I’m sure that they said that he had relatives here.’
‘What sort of relatives?’
She shook her head. ‘Can’t remember. Sorry. In any case, why do you think he was an only child?’
He laughed. ‘The other morning, I went to the library and googled him.’
Julia nodded her head, smiling. ‘Sam, when I was at college, one of our professors said that information technology and the internet are wonderful tools, but beware of the temptation to confuse proper research with google. Just because something’s on the internet, it doesn’t mean it’s true.’
‘Yes, I know that. So there might be a connection after all. I’ll check it out in the morning.’ He yawned and rubbed his eyes again.
‘Is your car out front?’ she asked.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Then leave it there. There’s no way you can drive in the state you’re in.’
‘I’ll be okay. It’s only -’
‘A short drive, but if that was me sitting there half asleep, would you let me drive home?’
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘No.’
‘Then go in there are get some sleep. I won’t disturb you.’
He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll go quietly.’ He laboriously got up off the sofa and stepped over the stacks of paper and headed for the bedroom. As he passed Julia, he brushed the top of her head with one hand. Once in her bedroom, he sat on bed, took off his shoes, and lay down.
Through half-closed eyes, he saw Julia peep into the room, then close the door, leaving him to sleep.
Which he did.
*****
He awoke later. It was dark. He was still sleepy but the four or five beers he had had with Quinn a few hours earlier had worked their way to his bladder. He sat up, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It took him a few seconds to figure out where he was. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Julia’s form under the sheet, sleeping soundly. He stood up and shakily made his way to her bathroom. When he returned, he saw that she had changed position and now had her back to him. Standing over her, he checked the time. It was 2:55. He briefly contemplated quietly leaving and going home, but thought again. Then undressed and joined her under the sheet. He lay down close to her, the position of his body the same as hers. He put his arm round her. She moved around a little, her body pressing against his. He settled down to go back to sleep. He snuggled closer to Julia. This felt good.
This is what kids call spooning, he thought, before falling asleep again.
*****
‘Eggs?’
Sam Leroy opened one eye, and tried to focus on the woman standing over him. It was daylight, and the sunlight was strong.
‘Say wh
at?’
‘Do you want eggs? And if you do, are they scrambled, fried, poached…?’
He rubbed his face and sat up. ‘Er – scrambled would be good.’
‘Or French Toast?’
‘Yes, yes. French Toast.’
‘Coming up. Coffee’s there.’
‘Oh, thanks. What time is it?’
‘Seven,’ Julia replied, on her way out of the bedroom. ‘Get your ass in gear, Detective; I need to leave in thirty minutes.’
*****
‘As you obviously won’t be ready to leave at seven thirty,’ Julia said, as Leroy munched on a strip of bacon, ‘I’ll leave you to take a shower and go when you’re ready.’
‘Thanks. I’ll clean up here before I go.’
‘You don’t need to, Sam.’
‘I will.’
‘You going straight home when you’re done here?’
‘Thought I would. Get some clean clothes on.’
‘Then what?’ Julia asked, as she looked in the mirror to apply some lipstick.
‘Just have a couple of people to see. Then catch up with Quinn.’
‘Your partner?’
‘U-huh.’
‘Will I get to meet him one day?’
‘I guess so. His wife - Holly – will certainly want to meet you.’
‘Look forward to that.’ She leaned over to kiss him. ‘Have to go now, baby. Have a good day. Speak to you later.’
‘Sure,’ he said, watching her walk to the door.
‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, stopping and turning round. ‘I was right about Davison. He does have a sister. I found that paper the 8th graders did while you were asleep. I left it there on the sofa. Have a look.’
‘Okay, I will. Thanks.’
After she closed the door, he stepped over to the sofa and picked up a small file. It comprised half a dozen sheets of letter-size paper, neatly bound together. He sat back down at the table, and opened it. Julia had left a post-it note on the page containing Secretary Davison’s details. In the personal details section it mentioned a sister. Nothing out of the ordinary, he thought - like she said last night, just because something is on the internet is no guarantee it is correct – until he saw the sister’s name: Emma.
Emma. Emma.
He scratched his temple, racking his brains. He didn’t know anyone called Emma, but he was sure he had heard the name recently.
But where the hell had he heard it?
FIFTY-TWO
LEROY DECIDED HE would shower at his own apartment. There was no Julia there to shower with him, and in any case, he preferred his own: the water was faster and the temperature easier to control. He made himself more coffee, dressed in the previous day’s clothes, and walked back to his own place, taking with him the file Julia had left out for him.
Once home, he showered and shaved, dressed, fixed himself some more eggs and more coffee, and sat down with the file. While he was in the shower, he remembered where he had heard the name Emma recently: when he and Domingo visited Lance Riley’s workplace in Century City, they were met with the office manager. Her name was Emma. Emma Kennedy. Could she be Davison’s sister? He recalled that there were no bands on her left hand, so she appeared unmarried. So, why Kennedy, not Davison? Also, unless she looked remarkable well for her age, she seemed too young to be the Secretary’s sister. But there had always been something about her that didn’t quite ring true.
He swung round and switched on his laptop. While he waited for it to boot up, he rang Quinn. Much to his surprise, his partner answered immediately.
‘Hey there, big boy,’ came Quinn’s cheerful voice. ‘How you doin’? Where you calling from today?’
Leroy laughed. ‘Still at home. Was just about to leave to see those other guys on that list. Was just wondering if you knew much about Davison.’
‘About him personally, you mean?’
‘U-huh. In particular about his family.’
A moment’s pause. ‘As far as I know, he’s a pretty normal family life. Married a dozen years or so, a couple of sons.’
‘No,’ said Leroy. ‘I was thinking siblings.’
‘Siblings? Don’t know, off hand. I’m sure there’s something on the internet; you want me to -?’
‘No, it’s okay; I’m online here now. I’ll search.’
‘Sure. What you getting at, Sam?’
‘It’s something that came up last night. I was trying to figure out what connection Davison has with out here.’
‘Yeah, go on.’
‘It turns out that he had family out here. A sister. She’s called Emma.’
‘And?’
‘One of the John Does worked in an office in Century City. Domingo and I went to visit the place early on in the investigation, and the person in charge there, the office manager, was a woman called Emma Kennedy.’
‘And?’ repeated Quinn.
‘It’s just a theory, I know, but when we visited the offices, she seemed…seemed obstructive.’
‘Obstructive? How so? Don’t tell me, Sam: somehow she managed to piss you off, and so she’s your number one suspect. Been here before, haven’t we?’
‘Maybe so. Yes, she did piss me off somehow; I think it was her superior attitude. But there was one tangible thing. We were asking about sites the vic might have been visiting.’
‘You mean like that dating place? Dates 4 you or something?’
‘Yeah. He’d wiped the search history on his device. I asked her if there was any way we could retrieve what he had deleted. I’m no computer geek, Ray, as you know, but I’m sure I had read that a computer retains everything, even though it’s been deleted.’
‘That’s right; it does.’
‘Well, we asked her that, and she said it was possible. Offered to check the device for us.’
‘Go on.’
‘She’s the manager of an office in an IT firm, for Christ’s sake. Surely she’d know everything would be retained? It’s on the hard drive, or something, wouldn’t it?’
‘It would. So, where are you going with this, Sam?’
‘Not quite certain, yet. Look, a few days back I passed the guy’s laptop over to the CCU to get it checked out. Has anything come back from them?’
‘CCU. Hold on.’ There was a short pause. ‘Sam, there is something. I guess so, anyway. It’s a laptop, sealed up. Hold on.’
While he waited, Leroy typed into his search bar: George Davison family. There were 1.7 million results. He started tabbing down.
‘Sam, you still there?’ Quinn asked.
‘Yeah, still here.’
‘Well, the CCU retrieved the last three months’ searches.’
‘Great. Anything of any interest?’
‘Well, out of the last fifty or so, there were at least one, two, three, four….ten visits to arrangeadate.com.’
‘That’s the place,’ Leroy exclaimed.
‘Okay; well, he was a regular visitor.’
‘I guessed as much. So - he was a visitor to the site, met up with someone -’
‘And ended up dead,’ said Quinn.
‘Yeah. Full of drugs.’
‘So,’ Quinn went on, ‘he used that site, deleted it from the search history to cover his tracks, as it were.’
‘And Emma Kennedy didn’t want us to retrieve that information from the hard drive. ‘
‘You said she offered to check it out for you?’
‘She did. And you can bet your ass she’d come back and say, “Sorry, Detective, we can’t find anything.”’
‘So - next steps? Anything you want me to do?’
‘Not sure if there’s anything you can at this time, but I’ll call you if there is. Keep you in the loop.’
‘Sure. You going to see Kennedy, then?’
‘Thought I’d start with her, yes. See what I can stir up.’
‘Okay, but take care, Sam.’
‘I will. Call you later.’
‘Yeah, speak to…hang on, Sam; there’s someth
ing that might be of interest.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I came across a report last night. It was a guy who was picked up the other night at the Blue Line stop at Florence and Graham. He was caught carrying out a scam with vehicles in the parking lot. When he was questioned, he gave the officers some story about a van pulling up, a guy falling out and puking up in the lot.’
‘Right…’
‘I’m wondering, it seemed from the kid’s story that the guy was thrown from the van. What if he was pumped full of drugs like the others, but survived somehow. A smaller dose, maybe. He would have thrown up, wouldn’t he?’
‘It’s possible, I guess.’
‘You want to speak to the kid? He’s been released, but we have his address.’
‘Did he get the van’s licence number?’
‘No. Just heard the other guy puke up.’
‘Has the other guy’s body been found?’
‘No, not as far as we can tell.’
‘So he might still be alive. It’s worth a shot. I don’t think it’s worth speaking to the kid, but a sample of that vomit might be useful, if it’s still there. It’s not rained for a while, so there might still be traces there. Maybe we could get a match to the stuff we found in the others. If you can, take a look at any CCTV for that area; see if you can see where he went. You might also get a shot of the vehicle he arrived in; maybe get a plate number. Anyway, you’ve got your day job, Ray; once I’ve spoke to Ms Kennedy, I’ll call the hospitals nearest to that part of town and see if they treated the guy.’
‘Sounds a plan. Will be in touch.’
‘By the way: Major Crimes are going to be investigating Domingo’s shooting. Any word on how it’s going?’
‘Not really. Only that a couple of detectives are around. Have they contacted you yet?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘That’s odd. I would have thought you’d be one of the first they would want to speak to.’
‘Yeah, so would I. Anyway, I’ll speak to you later. What cases you dealing with by the way?’
‘It’s a stabbing at Grand Central Market. In fact, Sam, I think -’
‘I did. Good luck with that.’
As Leroy hung up, he clicked on an entry entitled Secretary of Defence George Davison spends Christmas in California. The article itself was from a DC newspaper. At the start of the text was a photograph of the Secretary and his own family.
