Ready to Die (Sam Leroy Book 5)

by Philip Cox

  He always prided himself on being very organised, on being a good planner. So, when plans changed, as they did quite frequently on a case, he reluctantly accepted it. When plans outside of work changed, that was a different matter.

  This Saturday was a case in point. Holly had previously told him that her parents were going to call in during the day, so they had to go to Home Depot for paint earlier than they would have normally done.

  However, this changed at the last minute. He thought he could hear the landline ring when he was in the shower, and as he turned off the water, he could hear Holly talking. Thinking nothing of it, he dried himself and dressed.

  ‘That was my mother on the phone,’ Holly said as Ray joined her in the kitchen. ‘She just called to say they’re not calling round today after all.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ray, attempting to hide his elation. ‘Why’s that? What’s happened?’ he added, pouring out the coffee.

  ‘She said Daddy has something on at the golf club. He wants her to go also.’

  ‘Oh, well. That’s too bad.’

  Holly paused for a second, trying to figure out if Ray was being sincere or sarcastic. Being unable to decide, she moved on.

  ‘As we’re up, why don’t we go now, or soon? We can miss the crowds that way.’

  ‘That sounds a plan.’ He helped himself to some cereal while Holly went into the bedroom to make up. Once on his own, he let out a sigh. Not the first time he had had to have his plans changed at the last minute on account of a whim of his father-in-law. He had no problem whatsoever with his in-laws not calling round, but they always cancelled when they got a better offer. Well, more time to chill out and enjoy the game.

  After they had breakfasted, they headed on out to the Home Depot store on Wilshire and Union. Quinn was sure this was not the nearest store, but Holly had made up her mind that this was the one she wanted to go to, and his mood was changing as it set in that he would not have to suffer his father-in-law today. In fact, he was actually looking forward to painting the bedroom walls. Holly had a list of what they needed to get: the paint, how much and what colour and finish. Also, rollers and brushes, and a dust sheet. She had asked him a few times what he thought, but wasn’t really interested in what he had to say. She had already decided, and Ray didn’t give a shit what colour and finish the bedroom walls were.

  Once they had finished at Home Depot, they headed home. Once home, Holly prepared lunch while Ray began the preparations in the bedroom. After lunch, Holly announced she needed to go to the supermarket, and was Ray going to go with her.

  ‘I would, honey; but I ought to get started on the bedroom. There’s quite a lot of wall there, and woodwork. Plus, it will take me some time to move the furniture around. Plus also, I’m sure I might need two coats, so I need to get started now. While the paint’s drying, I can do some work in the back yard, then begin on a second coat. Then tomorrow, I’ll just have things to finish off.’

  That all made sense and Holly didn’t argue. Once she had left, Ray set to work. By the time she got back, he had finished two walls.

  ‘It looks nice,’ she said, standing in the bedroom doorway.

  Ray was sitting in the corner, on the floor.

  ‘Yes, I have to say, a nice choice of colour.’

  ‘Will it need a second coat of paint?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Take a look – do you? The colour underneath was pale cream, so this goes over it nicely.’

  ‘Are you going to finish it today?’

  ‘No, I’ll leave the other two walls for tomorrow. If I do all four walls, then the smell of paint might be a bit off-putting when we’re in bed.’

  ‘And you want to watch the ball game.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No reason. I might do some stuff out back while you’re watching the game. The flower beds need some attention. You gonna mow the lawns this weekend?’

  ‘After the game. Might do them this evening, when it’s cooler.’

  The ball game was LA Dodgers at the San Francisco Giants. The Dodgers won easily that afternoon, and Quinn was in a good mood as he mowed the lawns, front and back after dinner. The two beers he had consumed during the game, plus the half bottle of red wine with dinner, probably helped his mood. It was dusk when he was finally done. He put away all the tools and went back indoors, through the living room. As he slid the door shut, Holly was sitting in the living room, watching TV. She had a glass of white wine by her side.

  ‘All finished?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ray replied as he secured the doors. ‘All done. For today, anyway.’

  ‘You want a drink?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m good, I think. Might fix myself something later.’

  Holly nodded.

  ‘So you’ll be able to finish the bedroom tomorrow?’

  ‘Easily. It’ll be a matter of moving the furniture away from the wall, painting, and moving everything back. Also, one of the walls has the window, so even less to cover.’

  ‘It looks good.’

  Quinn slid lower in the chair.

  ‘Everything looks better with a fresh coat of paint.’

  America’s Got Talent was finishing. Holly muted the set. ‘I’m going to have a bath, then go to bed. I’m tired. You want the TV?’

  ‘I’ll surf for a bit then I might. I want to make an early start on the painting tomorrow.’

  Holly stood up, took her empty glass into the kitchen, appeared with the by now replenished glass, and went into the bathroom.

  ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ she called out.

  ‘I won’t,’ he called back. He switched to the chair Holly had been occupying, facing the TV, and began switching channels. ‘Crap, crap, crap…’ he muttered as he went from channel to channel. Eventually he switched off the TV, and took out his phone. He quickly checked his emails - there were none of any note - and messages. He checked his social media and the LA Times news App, but there was nothing to take his interest. He briefly considered reaching out to Leroy, but decided there was no reason to do that, apart from because he had nothing else to do. He was bushed; maybe Holly had the right idea.

  *****

  A couple of hours later, and the moonlight was shining through a small gap in the Quinn bedroom drapes, projecting an eerie blue shaft of light across the bed.

  Ray was lying on his back. He was ready. Naked, Holly silently manoeuvred herself over him, then effortlessly and slowly eased herself down. Ray let out a long breath as she did so. Holly remained upright without moving for a few moments, savouring the feeling. Ray twitched inside her, causing Holly to let out a low gasp. Then she began a rocking motion, first leaning forward to rest her hands on his chest, then arching her back, leaning backwards, resting on his raised legs. The rocking became more intense and faster, as did Holly’s moans. Finally, Ray sat up, put his arms around her, and still joined, they turned over, Holly’s legs locked around Ray’s back as they both climaxed together. Eventually, he lay on his back next to her.

  Holly reached out for the wine glass by the side of the bed and finished it. Then flopped back down on the pillow.

  Breathlessly, she said, ‘The smell of paint always makes me horny.’

  ‘Maybe I should have done the other two walls,’ he replied.

  Both laughing, they embraced.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  On a Sunday morning, it took thirty minutes to get to his sister’s home in Tuckahoe. Just a short hop up the Cross Country Parkway, his mother told him breezily, as if she made the trip every day. Leroy was sure that later, once the shops had opened, it would not be such a short hop.

  As they pulled up on the driveway of the large family house, Leroy noticed the drapes twitch and a few seconds later, his niece and nephew came running out.

  ‘Granny! Uncle Sam!’ his nephew, Dean, called out. The two children hugged Leroy and his mother, who asked Maggie Junior to carry in the potato salad. Leroy’s sister, Justine, was standing in the doorway.
<
br />   ‘Mommy! Uncle Sam’s come visit!’ Dean called out.

  ‘No, just Sam,’ Leroy said, weakly. For years he had been saying to just call him Sam: the phrase Uncle Sam conjured up images of an old man dressed as Abraham Lincoln; however, he was sure that their persistence on calling him Uncle was on their parents’ instruction and for their parents’ amusement.

  ‘Hey, Sam,’ Justine said, embracing her brother. ‘How are you? Good to see you.’

  ‘Good to see you too, sis.’

  ‘Uncle Sam wants to see my bedroom!’ exclaimed Dean, jumping up and down on the stairs.

  ‘Let me say hi to your dad first then I’ll come up. Where is Rich?’ he asked Justine.

  ‘He’s out back with the barbeque,’ said Justine, before disappearing into the kitchen with both Maggies.

  Leroy walked out to the back and saw his brother-in-law standing by a gas barbeque, from which white smoke was billowing. He was wearing a tee-shirt and shorts over which was a long apron, white with blue stripes. On his head was a black baseball cap with NYC in yellow above the peak.

  On spotting Leroy, he put down one set of tongs, wiped his hand on the apron and held out his hand.

  ‘Hey, Sam. How you doing?’

  ‘I’m doing good, thanks. You?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Richard replied, turning over some chicken wings. ‘Been sent out here.’

  ‘Where would you rather be? In the kitchen?’

  ‘No way. Hey, you got a beer? Want a beer? There’s some in the little fridge down there.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Leroy stepped over to the fridge, reached down and took out a bottle of Bud Light. A bottle opener rested on the top of the fridge, and he took his first mouthful.

  ‘You’re okay with that?’ Richard asked. ‘With the driving, I mean.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ Leroy wandered over to the barbeque. ‘So how are -’

  ‘Uncle Sam!’

  They looked up and Dean was calling out of his bedroom window.

  ‘Looks like he wants you,’ Richard said, almost addressing the hot dog he was putting on the grill.

  ‘Looks like he does. He wants to show me his bedroom.’

  ‘Good luck with that. Catch you later.’

  ‘Yeah, later.’

  Leroy wandered indoors and up the stairs to his nephew’s room. Dean was lying face down on his bed, playing with a handheld device.

  ‘What’s that?’ Leroy asked.

  Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘A Nintendo Switch. Don’t you know?’

  ‘Of course. How stupid of me.’ Leroy looked around the room: on each wall there was a large poster, with Japanese-style cartoons. ‘I liked cartoons when I was your age.’

  ‘Cartoons? They’re not cartoons. They’re Anime.’ Dean pointed at one of the posters. ‘That’s Levi, that’s Ichigo Kurosaki, that one’s Itachi.’

  ‘I see. No Godzilla?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He scanned the posters again: they were cartoons, just not the type he was raised on. If he were Dean, there would be posters of Yosemite Sam, or the Road Runner, or Wile E. Coyote. He was definitely out of touch. ‘So…’ He stopped as Dean wasn’t listening. ‘I’ll see you later.’ No answer. ‘Deano?’ Dean looked up. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Dean, returning to his game.

  Leroy wandered downstairs and into the kitchen.

  Justine handed him a coffee.

  ‘You saw his room?’

  ‘I did. What is all that stuff on his walls?’

  ‘Sam,’ she mock-chided him, ‘that’s Anime. All the kids are into it.’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘Do you remember those things you had on the wall when you were a boy?’ his mother asked. ‘Bugs Bunny and that thing that ran around going beep beep?’

  ‘I remember nothing of this,’ Justine said. ‘Honey,’ she asked Maggie Junior, ‘help me take this stuff out to Daddy.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. He was called the Road Runner. You used to run up and down the street pretending you were him.’

  ‘Yes, thanks very much, Mom. I don’t think we all need to know that.’

  Justine came back in and called out at the bottom of the stairs, ‘Dean! Food’s ready!’

  Leroy’s nephew came downstairs, and they all filed out back where the food was waiting: hot dogs, chicken wings, burgers. Leroy’s mother had provided the salad, potato salad and slaw.

  As they ate, Richard asked Leroy: ‘So how’s work, Sam? Busy?’

  ‘We’re always busy.’

  ‘From what I see on the news and read in the papers, there’s always a crime wave over there.’

  ‘It’s not always like that. I’d say it’s comparable to what goes on over here. Maybe not here, but certainly in the city.’

  ‘What are you working on right now? Or can’t you say?’

  ‘I can say.’ Leroy’s eyes shot over to the children, to make sure they weren’t listening. ‘Our primary case is a guy - a porn producer - who got himself shot off Mulholland Drive.’

  ‘And how’s that going?’

  ‘Slowly. But it’s a new case. We have to chip away.’

  ‘Any suspects?’

  ‘None right now. But we’re working on it. What about with you? How’s life at -’

  Dean came trotting over with a burger. He probably had been listening.

  ‘Uncle Sam, are you still a cop?’

  ‘I am, yes. And you can drop the Uncle.’

  ‘Is it cool being a cop?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say cool.’

  ‘How many people have you killed?’

  Leroy opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. He looked over at Dean’s father.

  Richard said, ‘Dean weren’t you going to play online with one of your friends?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Dean. ‘Catch you later, Uncle Sam.’

  ‘Sorry about that, Sam,’ said Richard quietly as Dean ran off. Leroy’s mother, sister and niece were a few yards away, chatting.

  ‘That’s cool. I wasn’t sure what to say.’

  ‘By coincidence,’ said Richard, ‘Justine and I were talking about that the other day. Just between ourselves; the kids were asleep in bed.’

  ‘You were talking about how many people I’ve killed?’

  ‘No, we were talking about the gun culture out there.’

  ‘Rich, LA’s no different to most cities. It’s just that because it’s LA, people think it’s all Hollywood, and Fast and Furious, and like that. Where you are here, it’s nice and rural, and peaceful, but only a few miles away, there’s a metropolis with all the shit that an urban environment gives you.’

  Richard nodded.

  ‘I know, I know.’

  After a pause, Leroy said, ‘And it’s seven, by the way.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The number of people I’ve shot and killed. Seven. But it’s not a number I dwell on. I just quietly live with it.’

  ‘I’m sure they all deserved it,’ said Richard. There was a touch of levity in his voice.

  ‘No, none of them deserved it. Not to be shot and killed on the streets. They all deserved to be arrested, charged, put on trial. Sentenced if they get found guilty. We’re not executioners, Rich.’

  ‘But supposing you have a real low-life, a serial killer. He’s say, raped, mutilated, dozens of women; or tortured and molested children, then killed them. If one of those gets shot resisting arrest, then don’t you think justice has been met?’

  ‘For a start, we don’t shoot to kill. We shoot to disable, so they can stand trial. Even if we have to shoot in self-defence. I’ve shot more than seven; seven have died. If they do die as a result of being shot - well, that’s the way the dice roll.

  ‘And in answer to what you said about justice: justice and the law aren’t necessarily the same thing. My job is to uphold the law; it’s the courts who administer justice.’

  They b
oth sat in silence, neither knowing what to say next. After a few moments, Justine walked over.

  ‘Sam, you want to help me in the kitchen? Mom’s gotten tied up.’ They looked over to see their mother braiding her granddaughter’s hair.

  ‘Sure thing,’ Leroy said, and followed his sister indoors.

  ‘You two were engrossed in conversation,’ Justine said as they got indoors. ‘I’ll get the ice cream for the pie.’

  ‘Nothing really. I was explaining to Rich the difference between justice and the law.’

  ‘Oh, that. He used to have that conversation with Dad.’

  ‘He said you guys were talking about how many people I’ve killed.’

  ‘Not exactly. We were having a conversation about the violence over there.’

  ‘I told him it’s the same in any major city.’

  ‘I know that. It’s just that we’re all here, and you’re way over there. On your own. You ever think about moving back?’

  ‘That’s my home now, sis. I enjoy the life out there.’

  ‘You know Mom worries about you, as we all do.’

  ‘And I worry about her. Alone in that house, you guys miles away.’

  ‘Sam, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve suggested she move in with us. We’ve plenty of room here.’

  ‘But she always says no?’

  ‘I don’t bother anymore.’

  ‘She’s so independent.’

  ‘Getting back to you: she’s always saying you’re out there on your own. Nobody around right now? Weren’t you seeing a teacher?’

  ‘That ended a long time ago. My job’s not good for relationships. Ray, my partner, is having problems for that reason. I guess the higher up you get, it might get easier. Less worry about being out on the street, more regular hours. Plus the material benefits of being married to a Commissioner or Chief of Police. Particularly if you have political ambitions.’

  ‘You are careful out there, aren’t you, Sam?’ she asked, handing him two bowls of apple pie and ice cream.

  ‘Of course I am,’ he replied, taking the bowls outside. ‘There’s never any guarantees, but I’m very experienced.’

  As he walked across the grass to give a bowl of pie to his mother and niece, his phone rang. He passed out the desserts and answered.