Wrong Time to Die (Sam Leroy Book 2)

by Philip Cox

  They were soon as the corner of Claressa and Beacon, and that morning, Leroy was glad of the cool blast from the air conditioning as they stepped into the Mission building. Prescott’s PA, Justin, was sitting at the desk in the lobby. He was working on a small notebook. Today he wore a pink tee, endorsed Monterey Bay, with a graphic of a surfer. He seemed unsurprised to see Leroy and Quinn again.

  ‘I’m afraid Mr Prescott is out of the office right now,’ he said.

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Leroy.

  ‘He’s in a meeting with one of our sponsors.’

  ‘Here, on the island? Or on the mainland?’

  ‘On the island. At Two Harbors.’

  ‘That’s two or three hours away,’ Quinn said quietly.

  Leroy asked Justin, ‘When’s he due back?’

  ‘Oh, not until five at the latest.’

  ‘Can you contact him?’ Leroy asked. He dropped the warrant on the desk in front of Justin.

  Justin looked down at the document, swallowed. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘We’ll wait over here,’ said Leroy, leading Quinn over to two chairs in the lobby window.

  Justin nodded slightly, and took his cell phone from its pouch on his belt. He speed dialled, then turned round so his back was facing the two detectives. He spoke very quietly, so much so neither of them could make out what he was saying.

  ‘I got a hold of Mr Prescott,’ he said, clipping the phone back into its pouch. ‘He said he’s going to come straight back and talk to you about your warrant.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Leroy smiled, sitting back and folding his arms. ‘We’ll just wait here.’

  Justin opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He returned to his desk, hovered by it, them beckoned to the door to the back office. ‘I just need to get some paperwork.’

  ‘No problem,’ Leroy called out. ‘You carry on; we’ll be okay. Just pretend we’re not here.’

  Once they were left alone, Quinn turned to Leroy. ‘I’ve been to Two Harbors. That’s a three hour drive away.’

  ‘I know,’ Leroy replied. ‘So have I. But he’s not at Two Harbors. We were expected.’

  FORTY

  ‘I FIGURE WE need to do some overtime.’

  Kevin looked over at the other guy. He was sitting on the grass, eating an ice cream, seemingly without a care in the world. Why, Kevin thought, was this dude always so laid back?

  ‘Excuse me?’

  He lay back on the grass. Kevin remained sitting a few feet away. He wanted to lie down also, but definitely did not want to give anybody the wrong impression, either to him, or to the passers-by.

  Or maybe it wasn’t the wrong impression.

  Whatever; it was all academic, anyhow.

  ‘An extra one. A freebie, if you like.’

  Kevin said nothing, just looked around the park. In the distance he could make out the 73-floor US Bank Tower, and the other Downtown LA skyscrapers. Nearer to the park he could see the name sign for the historic Westlake Theatre.

  The other man looked over at Kevin, his eyes squinting in the bright sunshine. ‘Relax, bro. You’re always so uptight.’

  Kevin swung round, lay down on his front, resting the upper part of his body on his elbows. He played with a long tuft of grass.

  ‘Wasn’t there a song about this place once?’

  Kevin shook his head. ‘Maybe. Don’t recall.’

  ‘I heard it playing in a store yesterday. Never heard it before: something about leaving cakes out in the rain. Mean anything?’

  Kevin made puffing noise and shook his head.

  ‘Well, hearing what it was called made my think this was a good place to meet. Out in the open, but plenty of privacy. Nobody to overhear us.’

  ‘Mm,’ Kevin agreed. He pushed himself up and gazed around. Across the other side of the water, a couple of dozen people were spread out over the grass: picnicking, sunbathing, even necking. The same this side. A small truck had just come through the small tunnel leading from Alvarado Street. It stopped by the edge of the lake and a man in an orange jumpsuit walked off, carrying a large black plastic sack. Kevin could see that he was collecting litter. The sun was glistening off the surface of the water, which was still except for the ripples caused by the scores of swans or ducks or geese: Kevin had no idea what type of birds they were. There was one thing that was missing today, however: the large fountain which normally shot water twenty feet in the air appeared to be switched off today. ‘Good for me: only three stops on the Purple Line.’

  He laughed. ‘Only three stops? Getting better all the time.’

  Kevin knew he was making fun of him, but just smiled.

  He sat up and looked over at Kevin. ‘The thing is, the cops appear to be getting closer.’

  Kevin went white, and felt nauseous. ‘Closer? What do you mean? How much closer?’

  ‘Relax, bro. I don’t mean that closer. I mean their enquiries seem to be headed in the right direction. I knew they would; I knew they’d have to, eventually.’ He paused a beat, squinting at Kevin. ‘But I just want to throw something else into the melting pot.’

  Kevin stared at him, open mouthed.

  ‘I don’t think the drug thing really worked. I mean, unless they’re totally stupid, they would have discounted that right away. Well, maybe not right away, but pretty early on.’ He paused again, took a deep breath. He seemed really pleased with himself. ‘I’ve come up with a really cool way to shift the focus of the investigation.’

  Kevin said, ‘What do you have in mind?’

  He looked around, said nothing while two people cycled past, and then leaned closer to Kevin. ‘This is really going to blow your mind.’

  It did. Kevin exclaimed, ‘Are you being serious?’

  ‘Deadly. It has to be done, bro.’ He stared at Kevin, his hitherto laid back expression now much darker. ‘You still into this, Kevin?’

  Kevin nodded furiously. ‘Yeah, man. Of course I am.’

  He looked uncertainly at Kevin. ‘You sure? You’re not going to pussy out on me, are you?’

  ‘Of course I’m not, dude. Like you said, it has to be done.’

  He sighed, rubbed his hand over his tanned neck. ‘It’s just a matter of who and when.’

  ‘It would have to be soon, from what you said,’ Kevin said.

  ‘U-huh.’

  ‘Who’s it going to be?’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t really matter, to a degree, anyway.’ He sat up, looking around. They were interrupted by the sound of female giggling. Fifty yards away, a young couple were sitting by one of the trees. They were kissing; the boy was trying to reach inside her blouse and she was half-heartedly trying to stop him. A young woman, either a mother or a nanny passed by, pushing a stroller.

  Next, a late twentysomething or early thirtysomething strode past, talking loudly into his phone. His gaze drifted over to where Kevin sat as he passed them; Kevin’s glanced briefly dropped to the grass as their eyes met.

  As he watched the blue and white striped shirt and grey suit walk down to the lake, Kevin felt a nudge on his arm.

  ‘What do you think, bro? What about him?’

  FORTY-ONE

  LEROY LEANED BACK, resting the back of his head against the window. In the fifteen minutes he and Quinn had been waiting, Justin had gone in and out of the back office five or six times.

  This time, he looked over to them. ‘I’ve just spoken to Mr Prescott,’ he said. ‘He says he’ll be back in an hour or so. Can I get you anything while you’re waiting?’

  ‘No thanks,’ replied Leroy, still resting his head on the window. ‘We’re good.’

  ‘Surely.’ Justin returned to his desk, and sat down, beginning to work on his laptop.

  Still in the same position, Leroy spoke quietly to Quinn. ‘Can you walk back down to that coffee shop by the harbour, extra sugar in mine?’ As Quinn moved to get up, Leroy added, ‘And have a discrete look around this place, from the outside. See what’s around here. If you see Prescott hiding in
the parking lot, tell him I said “hi.”’

  Quinn grinned and nodded as he stood up. Saying nothing, he slowly opened the door and stepped outside. Out of the corner of his eye, Leroy saw him stroll past the window. Now he looked over at Justin, who was still working at the desk. Before long, Justin noticed he was being watched. He carried on typing, but it was clear he was getting uncomfortable. He looked over at Leroy. ‘I’m sure he won’t be long,’ he said.

  ‘No problem,’ Leroy said breezily. ‘You know, it would be quicker if you could put your hands on the information we need yourself, rather than wait for your boss to get back.’

  ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to locate it all; in any case, Mr Prescott insisted that we wait for him.’

  Leroy nodded. He and Quinn could, of course, have just served the warrant on Justin and helped themselves to what they wanted, but Leroy wanted Prescott to be present when they went through the records, just to watch his reactions. ‘Would what we are asking for exist? I mean, we are going back some years.’

  Justin shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir. I couldn’t tell you.’

  Leroy sat forward and texted Quinn: anything going on out back?

  Quinn replied: nothing. spaces for 3 cars, all empty.

  Leroy typed: go get the coffees then and ask the server if they know prescott or this guy here.

  Quinn texted back: ok

  Leroy stood up, stretched, and wandered around the lobby. ‘Quiet here, isn’t it? What do you find to do all day?’

  Justin sat up. ‘I just work mornings, but yes, it can be quiet.’

  ‘You live on the island?’ Leroy asked.

  ‘No, I’m based in LA.’

  ‘How did you come to work here?’

  Justin looked uncomfortable, but carried on talking. ‘I had run away from home. Bad stuff with my family. I got over the border, and Mr Prescott found me in Tijuana, brought me back to the States, and gave me a job here.’

  ‘Yes, I remember now; he did tell me that already. What do you do in the afternoons?’

  ‘Oh, a number of things. I wait at table in one place, study in another.’

  Leroy nodded as if he was taking it all in, then went back to sit by the window. As he sat down, he peered down the street to see if Quinn was returning. Checked his phone for messages. Sent Julia a short text wishing her a good day from Catalina.

  Quinn pushed the door open, carrying two paper cups. Leroy took his. Leroy took a sip and walked over to Justin. ‘We haven’t got all day,’ he said, ‘so can you call Mr Prescott and tell him we’ll give him another ten minutes, then we’ll serve the warrant without him.’

  Justin picked up his phone and hesitated. ‘I’ll message him; he might get distracted if he’s driving.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ said Leroy, sitting down at Justin’s desk.

  Justin sent the message, looked over at Leroy as if expecting a pat on the back. Leroy checked his watch. ‘Five minutes.’

  Two minutes of silence later, he looked up at Quinn. ‘Come on.’ He turned to Justin. ‘We’re going to start looking now.’ All Justin could do was sit open-mouthed as Leroy and Quinn marched into Prescott’s office.

  FORTY-TWO

  THEY LOOKED AROUND Prescott’s office. Quinn walked over to a bank of three four-drawer grey metal filing cabinets and tried the top drawer of the first. It opened. He tried the other three drawers and they opened also. Leroy joined him and pulled the handles of the other drawers. The drawers of the centre cabinet opened; all the drawers of the third were locked.

  Leroy turned round: as he expected, Justin was standing in the doorway. ‘Do you have the keys for this cabinet?’ he asked.

  Justin shook his head. ‘Sorry, Detective; only Mr Prescott has.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope he’s not too long,’ retorted Leroy. ‘Otherwise we’ll have to force them open.’

  ‘He said he wouldn’t be long now,’ said Justin, looking one moment at the two detectives, the next at the front door.

  ‘We are much obliged,’ Leroy said to Justin, as he lifted the contents of one of the top drawers and laid it on the table nearby. Quinn reached in to do the same. Just as Leroy sat down at the table, Prescott burst into the room.

  ‘Can I see your warrant please, Detective Leroy,’ he asked, not without a touch of stress in his voice.

  Leroy looked up. ‘Of course, sir. Justin: you have it?’

  Justin said, ‘Oh, I left it on the desk outside.’

  Prescott jerked his head in the direction of the lobby and Justin stepped out, returning a second or two later. Prescott snatched the warrant from him and read it closely.

  ‘You’re quite at liberty to call Deputy Ferrer to verify it, but he will confirm it’s in order,’ Leroy said.

  Prescott slowly folded the document and dropped it on his desk. ‘That will not be necessary,’ he sniffed.

  Leroy turned round to face Prescott. ‘Now that you’re here, sir, maybe you could show us where the records show who - and I am talking about the children under his care - Murray Hutchinson had contact with.’

  Prescott thought for a moment. ‘The records won’t have that information. Nowadays, of course, everything is stored on computer; but in those days before Murray became an executive, the records were not so precise.’

  ‘But when we came here before, you knew the dates - the range of dates I mean, not necessarily month, day, year - Hutchinson would have been out collecting children, counselling, with the hostels, and liaising with welfare departments; that was what you said he did, am I right?’

  Prescott scratched the back of his head. ‘I can’t answer your question, Detective. As you know, Murray joined us many years ago, worked here for many years. I was in a junior capacity myself, and I’m afraid I haven’t memorized all of Avalon Mission’s records.’

  Leroy said nothing.

  Slightly flustered, Prescott continued. ‘I don’t mean to sound discourteous or unhelpful, Detective. I just cannot recall what is in all of those record files.’

  Leroy gave Prescott a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, sir. I quite understand. If you could unlock this cabinet for us, then you can leave us here. We’ll just trawl through all your paperwork. Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine. Would you - or Justin - be able to xerox stuff for us if necessary? It would save us having to take the originals back to the mainland.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem, gentlemen. Justin will do any copying for you.’ Prescott walked over to the filing cabinets, pulled a small bunch of keys from his vest pocket, and unlocked the cabinet. As if to make a point, he checked each of the four drawers in turn to demonstrate that each was unlocked. As he turned to leave, he said, ‘Please forgive me if I seem abrupt; it’s been a very tiring day.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ said Leroy as Prescott and Justin left them. He said quietly to Quinn, ‘Been a tiring day? He ain’t seen nothing yet.’

  ‘It must have been that drive here,’ Quinn agreed. ‘From Two Harbors to here in an hour? That’s doing some.’

  Leroy dismissed that notion. ‘He wasn’t in Two Harbors. More like swapping spit with Deputy Ferrer. He was probably in Ferrer’s car when we docked.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, let’s get on. I don’t want to be here any more than we have to. Remember: we know already what dates Hutchinson was working on the front line, as it were; we need the names and last known addresses of the children who were found at the transit stations, and who got counselling.’

  ‘The chances of any addresses we find here being current are pretty slim, Sam.’

  ‘I know that, Ray; but it’s all we have from here.’ He slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  *****

  For the next two and a half hours, Leroy and Quinn waded through all of the paperwork.

  And found absolutely nothing.

  Quinn leaned back and rubbed his eyes. ‘This is hopeless. There’s nothing here.’

  Leroy stretched. ‘I
n all the records you’ve looked through, have you seen any signs of redactions?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any inconsistencies with dates?’

  Quinn shook his head. ‘Here,’ - he held up six letter sized sheets of paper – ‘are lists of children rescued from various locations in Southern California. There are others here, from other places further afield: further up the coast, right up to San Fran, over to…Vegas. God, what a huge area.’

  ‘Great; only a few names, then. Anything for Tijuana?’

  Quinn scanned the papers on his desk. ‘Er – no. No Tijuana. Why?’

  Leroy turned round to make sure they were alone. ‘It’s just that Prescott said he found Justin down there in a bus shelter. I wonder why he doesn’t appear on the list.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s ask him.’

  As they spoke, Justin came in and crouched down by a wooden cabinet behind Prescott’s desk. Leroy saw he was taking out a pile of glossy brochures, similar to the ones Prescott had given them.

  ‘Is your boss out there?’ he asked. Before Justin could answer, Leroy stepped out into the lobby. Prescott was talking to a middle aged couple. He turned to face Leroy. ‘I’ll be with you in two minutes,’ he said. Three minutes later, he joined them in his office. ‘Have you completed your enquiries, gentlemen?’

  ‘Not quite, sir. There’s something I need clarified, if you can. Detective Quinn here has a number of lists of which children were rescued from each particular location. Quite a long list, of course. But there’s no list here for Tijuana.’

  Prescott said nothing; just stared blankly.

  ‘I ask the question,’ Leroy continued, ‘as you told me the other day that Justin out there was rescued from a bus depot in Tijuana. Is that the case?’

  Prescott nodded. ‘It is.’

  ‘So, are there other lists we haven’t come across yet? If not, is there any reason why children who are rescued in Tijuana are not listed? I’m trying to solve a murder, sir; I’m not interested in looking for illegal immigrants, if that’s the problem.’

  Prescott shook his head. ‘No, that’s not a worry for me. In the case of Justin, he was carrying his US Passport, so getting him back over the border was no problem. We do have a liaison with the Citizenship and Immigration Services, and of course we can only bring back US children we find down there. But that doesn’t explain why there is no list for Tijuana; Justin is by no means the only young American we have rescued there. I have to admit, our record keeping was not what it should have been, before we got computerized.’ When he had finished, Prescott buttoned up his jacket as if to say end of discussion.