by Philip Cox
Leroy shook his head. ‘We’ve not met before, Crosby.’
Crosby gesticulated, as much as he could with two hands chained together. ‘So this isn’t a social call, then?’ He gave them a wide grin, showing a mouthful of yellow stained teeth.
‘We want some information. You might know something to help us with a case.’
Crosby sat back and laughed. ‘Hope you guys haven’t driven too far.’
‘LA,’ replied Quinn.
Crosby snorted. ‘Long way to come for nothing.’
Leroy said nothing. Leaned down and picked up the box of Marlboro from where he had left it on the floor by his chair. His eyes fixed on Crosby’s, he stripped the cellophane wrapper off the box, took out one pack of twenty, and rested it on the table. The smirk left Crosby’s face as he stared at the pack. ‘Really?’ Leroy asked.
Crosby shifted in his seat. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
Leroy slid the pack over to Crosby’s side of the table. The prisoner reached out and grabbed it. Leroy rested the box on the table. Crosby licked his lips as he stared at the box.
‘David,’ Leroy asked. ‘Do you get to hear what goes on outside here? Get to watch the news on TV?’
‘Now and again,’ Crosby mumbled.
Leroy looked over at the guard.
Once he realised that Leroy was waiting for an answer, the guard explained, ‘They get an hour’s TV a day, unless they do something to lose the privilege.’
‘Would that include the news?’ Leroy asked.
‘Most likely not,’ replied the guard. ‘Most likely Judge Judy.’
Leroy looked over at Quinn and raised his eyes. Turning back to Crosby, he said, ‘I’ll cut to the chase, David, as I know you’re a busy man. We’re here about a couple of murders down in Malibu. Ring any bells?’
‘When were they done?’ asked Crosby.
‘Earlier in the week.’
‘Wasn’t me!’ Crosby laughed, holding up his manacled hands and looking over at the guard, whose stony face showed he was not sharing the joke. ‘Even you guys can’t pin that one on me!’ His shoulders shook as he roared with laughter.
‘Very funny, David.’ Leroy took out another pack of twenty and rested it on the desk. ‘I know you didn’t do it. Did you hear or read about it?’
Now serious, Crosby shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. What happened?’
Leroy looked over to Quinn and nodded.
Quinn said, ‘Somebody - two people, we think - somehow gained themselves entry to the home of two retired people, tortured and slaughtered them. Shot them in the genitals.’
‘Ouch,’ said Crosby, in a camp fashion. ‘That must have hurt.’
Quinn continued, unfazed. ‘Nothing was stolen. Maybe drugs were involved; but we think whoever did it, did it just for the fun of it.’
Crosby sat back, hands resting in his lap. Nodding, he pulled a face, an expression one would make if one were impressed with something.
‘Thing is, David,’ Leroy said, moving the pack of Marlboro around the table with his index finger, ‘we know you didn’t do it; but we wondered if you recognised the MO. Maybe you could point us in the right direction.’
‘I know which direction to point you,’ Crosby said.
Leroy stopped moving his finger. ‘Oh? Where?’
Crosby leaned forward and spoke clearly and precisely. ‘Up my ass.’
‘Crosby!’ the guard snapped.
Leroy picked up the cigarettes and put them back in the box. ‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘it was worth a try.’
‘Wait! Wait!’ Crosby said. ‘Just fucking with you.’
Impatiently, Leroy said, ‘We’ve come a long way, Crosby. I’m not in the mood to be jerked around.’ He looked Crosby in the eye. ‘Now - give me an answer.’
Crosby stared into the corner of the room. ‘Shot in the nuts, was he?’
‘Not just in the nuts,’ Quinn replied. ‘His wife was killed, too. Same way.’
‘So,’ Leroy asked. ‘Once more - do you recognise the MO?’
Crosby pursed his lips and Leroy put the second pack of cigarettes back on the table. ‘You say there were drugs?’
‘Drugs were found at the scene,’ said Leroy. ‘But we’re not sure if they were used.’
‘Why would they be there, then?’
‘We’re still looking into that. They may not be the right kind of drug for what went on.’
‘Ah,’ said Crosby. ‘You mean the drugs were una cortina de humo?’
Leroy looked over at Quinn. Quinn replied, ‘Red herring.’
Leroy turned back to Crosby. ‘Possibly, but that doesn’t answer my question. Do you recognize the MO?’
Crosby looked down at the second pack of Marlboro. Leroy slid it over. Crosby reached for it, but as he put his hands on the pack, Leroy reached over and held onto it. Crosby looked up at him, angrily.
‘Well?’ Leroy asked.
Crosby exhaled loudly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’ He looked at Leroy as if to say, ‘May I?’ and slid the cigarettes over to his side of the table. He paused a moment, then said, ‘I can give you my thoughts on the profile of the killer, though. That’s what you call it, isn’t it? The profile? It’ll cost you more, though.’
Leroy sighed dramatically and looked over at Quinn. He took out a third pack. ‘Well?’
‘Whoever this guy was,’ Crosby said, ‘enjoys it. Otherwise, he would have done them in, opened the safe, and gotten outta there.’
‘Why would they shoot the vics in the genitals?’ Quinn asked. ‘Why there?’
Crosby shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe it seemed the thing to do at the time.’
‘And you can’t give me any names?’
Crosby laughed. ‘Sorry, Detective. It’s not Christmas yet.’
‘Yet?’
‘I don’t know anyone with that MO.’
‘So,’ Leroy said, ‘all you can tell me is that whoever it was, just did it for the sheer hell of it?’
‘Depends if they were high or not.’
Leroy looked over to Quinn, then to the guard. ‘I think we’re done here.’ He slid the third pack over to Crosby, who greedily grabbed it.
The guard stood up. ‘Come on, Crosby; time to go.’
‘Thanks for coming, Detectives,’ Crosby said as he stood up and shuffled to the door, clutching his cigarettes. ‘If you need any more help with your profiling, don’t hesitate to call.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ growled the guard. He looked over to Leroy and Quinn. ‘Thinks he’s Hannibal fucking Lector.’
As they got to the door, Crosby turned round. ‘Hey - what do I get to light these with?’
Theatrically, Leroy looked over to Quinn. ‘Why, Detective Quinn – did you bring a lighter with you?’
‘Sorry, no.’
Smiling, Leroy looked over to Crosby. ‘Sorry, David. It’s not Christmas yet.’
THIRTY-THREE
‘MY GOD, DOESN’T rush hour ever end here?’ Quinn asked, as he and Leroy, Leroy in the passenger seat, headed back to Los Angeles. It was now almost eight thirty, had been dark some two hours, and the traffic was still as heavy as it had been when they left Soledad. Both lanes of the southbound 101 were filled. There had been no hold-up, and the traffic was flowing, but Quinn had not yet been able to get above fifty since they left the prison.
‘Seems not,’ Leroy replied, leaning back in his seat, his right knee resting on the dashboard. He checked his watch. ‘It’s 8:35 now; hopefully by the time we get back on the I-5, traffic’ll be much lighter, and you can put your foot down. We should be back in LA by one.’ He paused. ‘I appreciate you coming up here with me, Ray.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Quinn answered. ‘Holly understands. Once we get back on the 5, I’m going to pull in at the first stop.’
‘That’s cool. I’ll stand you dinner.’
‘More like supper.’
*****
Now they were heading east on the Paso Robles Highway, the traffic havin
g lessened slightly. Overtaking an Exxon tanker, Quinn asked, ‘It was a waste of time really, wasn’t it? I mean, he didn’t give us anything we didn’t already know, did he?’
Leroy sighed. ‘I guess so, but it was a journey we had to make. We knew we could be going home empty handed.’
‘He had nothing to say apart from the fact that Hutchinsons’ killers enjoyed themselves.’
‘Yes, and we kind of guessed that ourselves.’
‘Do you think he was telling us the truth?’
‘You mean about not knowing who might have done it? Yeah, I believe him. I was more hoping that he could add something to the profile we already have, but apart from being a couple of sick bastards…’
‘Which we knew anyway.’
‘Which we knew anyway, that was it. He didn’t really help with how they were killed.’ Leroy sighed again, and yawned, this time rubbing his forehead and chin, making a scraping sound on his eighteen hours’ growth.
*****
Soon they were back on the I-5, it was almost 11PM, and the lighter traffic enabled Quinn to hit the gas. After forty miles or so, they saw a gas station ahead. There was a diner adjoining. Leroy filled up, and walked over to the diner while Quinn parked the car.
‘Let’s not be too long,’ Leroy said. ‘We still have a long way to go.’
They both ordered a hamburger and French fries, and mineral water, and sat at the counter to eat. Leroy was the first out of the restroom and waited for Quinn by the car. As he waited, he picked up the copy of the Bakersfield Clarion, which lay on the back seat. He scanned the first few pages, noticed Quinn returning, and got in the front passenger seat. Quinn buckled up and they joined the southbound traffic.
‘I meant to say earlier,’ Quinn said. ‘That was pretty mean of you back at the prison.’
‘You mean no light for his cigarettes?’
‘U-huh.’
‘Don’t worry. He’ll be able to get a light from somewhere; or use the cigarettes as currency, if he doesn’t smoke himself.’
‘He does smoke.’
Leroy looked over at Quinn. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Did you notice his fingers?’
‘What - nicotine stains? I didn’t notice.’
‘All yellowish-brown.’ Quinn rubbed his fingers together as if to make the point.
Leroy sat back and picked up the Clarion. ‘Well, whatever,’ he said, tried to read the newspaper, then realised there was not enough light and tossed it onto the back seat.
*****
The next few miles were spent in silence, until Leroy yawned.
‘You’re still getting over the other night,’ said Quinn. ‘Why don’t I just drop you at yours and drive home in this? I can pick you up in the morning. My car’ll be okay at HQ.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Before you finally go to sleep, Sam – what’s the plan for the morning?’
‘Well, we’ve covered the three possibles you uncovered: Pine, Weekes and Crosby. All seem to have alibis. I don’t think drugs figure in this: I think whoever it was put them there deliberately.’
‘You mean to throw us off the scent?’
‘Remember what Agent Calloway said? That most psychos get fixated on law enforcement procedures? I think that’s the case here; I think the bastards are playing with us to a certain extent. I think they’re clever; I think they purposely left that pill there just to play with us, to try to control the investigation.’
‘So that angle’s not worth following up?’
‘I don’t think so. I think it relates to Hutchinson himself. There haven’t been any other crimes with this MO in the city. Okay, so there always has to be a first, but there hasn’t been a second.’
‘Yet.’
‘Yet.’ Leroy paused. ‘So, I think we need to dig more around Hutchinson himself, and the Avalon Mission.’
‘And why he left the Army?’
‘Yes, and that. I’ll need to talk to Perez, see if he can do something lieutenantly. Earn his 60K or whatever he’s collecting.’
‘What about Agent Calloway?’
Leroy scratched the back of his head. ‘Yeah, I was thinking about him.’
‘I know how you feel about him, Sam, but he might help break the case.’
‘Yeah.’ Leroy paused, took a mouthful of mineral water. ‘Let’s give us one more day, then I’ll contact him the morning after.’
‘So,’ Quinn asked, ‘tomorrow we’re back to Catalina?’
‘Maybe. Let’s sleep on it. Oh, shit - I forgot, it’s another late night tomorrow.’
‘Back out with the GND?’
‘No, out with Russell Hobson and his girlfriend. It’s his birthday.’ He laughed. ‘Julia can drive.’
Quinn noticed the green road sign as they passed. ‘Only 150 miles to go.’
Leroy put his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Ray. Let’s get home.’
THIRTY-FOUR
THEY ARRIVED AT Police Headquarters at 7:30 the following morning. Quinn turned off Butler Avenue at the entry to the parking lot, and slowly drove round the lot to Leroy’s allocated space, next to which Quinn’s own car was parked.
‘Oh, shit,’ Leroy mumbled as they slowly moved through the parked vehicles.
‘What’s up?’ Quinn asked.
‘Perez’s car – it’s already parked here. I wasn’t expecting him this early. I wanted to get something done before he busts my chops about this case.’
‘We can’t avoid him for ever, Sam,’ replied Quinn, looking over his shoulder as he reversed into the space.
‘What do you mean we? He never speaks to you.’
‘Okay then: you can’t avoid him for ever.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Leroy muttered as they walked into the HQ building.
Once inside, they made their way straight to the Homicide Desk. As soon as they turned the corner in the corridor, they heard Lieutenant Perez call out.
‘You go and continue those enquiries about Hutchinson. Focus on the Avalon Mission and his time there, you know,’ Leroy said. ‘Also, call Harlan Weekes’s employers and verify that he was at work that night. I’ll see you in a while.’
‘I don’t want to hold you up, Detective,’ said Perez from behind a pile of folders. ‘I know you’re a busy man,’ he added, not without a hint of sarcasm.
‘Morning, Lieutenant,’ Leroy said breezily. ‘What can I do for you?’ The fact that Perez had addressed him as Detective told Leroy that the Lieutenant was not in a good mood that morning.
‘Give me a break,’ said Perez, sitting back in his leather chair. ‘The Hutchinson case - what’s going on?’
Leroy crossed his legs. ‘Well,’ he said, brushing some imaginary dust off his knee, ‘following Agent Calloway’s advice, we created a profile of the most likely suspect.’
‘Good, good.’ Perez leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. He nodded vigorously. ‘And?’
‘We came up with three possibles.’
‘Three? Only three? In all of Los Angeles?’
‘Three that fitted the profile one hundred percent.’
‘Who put the profile together?’
‘Quinn did, based on the MO at the Hutchinsons, and the advice Calloway gave us.’
‘All right - so what have you done about these possibles?’
‘We spoke to all of them yesterday. One was doing time in Salinas Valley -’
‘And you went up there?’
‘U-huh. Got back at one this morning.’
Perez leaned back in his chair again. ‘What was the point going all the way up there? Think of how much overtime you accrued, to say nothing of the travel costs.’
‘I needed to talk to him, and I needed to do it face to face. Personally. Obviously, he didn’t do it, but I wanted to see if he could shed any insight on the type of people we’re dealing with; maybe suggest some names.’
‘And did he?’
Leroy looked down at his leg and brushed off some more i
maginary dust. ‘He didn’t suggest any names, but provided some insight into who we’re looking for. Not much, I admit, but he did confirm what we already suspected.’
‘Which was?’
‘That the Hutchinsons’ killers enjoyed themselves. They’re cleverer than us, or think they are anyway. Based on what Detective West from the GND has told me about the drugs we found at the scene, it’s unlikely that it was some kind of drug-fuelled orgy.’
‘How so?’
‘The dose was too weak to provide the euphoria necessary. So, it’s our view, consistent with what Calloway said, that they planted the drug at the scene to try to somehow, er -’
‘Put you off the scent?’
‘I was going to say control the investigation.’
‘Okay, that’s the first. What about the other two? Don’t tell me: one was in San Quentin, the other in Gitmo?’
‘No, they were both here. One in LA, the other in Anaheim. Both have alibis for the night in question. Both at work. The first worked at a bar a couple of blocks away, so we checked that out straight away. The Anaheim guy works at one of the parks, so Quinn’s checking that out now.’
‘I see. So what are you going to do now?’
‘Well, there’ve still been no similar murders.’
‘So far.’
‘Okay, so far; so I don’t at this time believe we’re dealing with a serial killer, or killers. So - and I’ve told Quinn we’ll give this line of enquiry one more day – we’re going to focus on Hutchinson himself. Hutchinson and his wife. Maybe it was personal; maybe they were deliberately targeted.’
‘You planning on going back to Catalina?’
‘Haven’t decided yet. It depends on whether if we find anything, then whether or not it’s connected with his time at the Avalon Mission. I have to say: the guy we saw there - Prescott, the CEO - was pretty quick off the mark to call Deputy Ferrer. We had hardly gotten to the end of the street.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into that, Sam. You know what it’s like: everybody in each other’s pockets, not much to do, and treating their patch like some sort of personal fiefdom. Is that the right word – fiefdom?’
‘I think so; I get the picture, anyway. Look, Lieutenant – if we do need to go back to the island, I’ll be sure to call Deputy Ferrer first.’
