by Philip Cox
‘Detective Leroy?’ It was a woman’s voice.
‘This is he. Who’s this?’
‘This is Ellie Mason, Officer Mason. We met the other day, downtown.’
‘Oh yes, I remember you. You found us Chuck Wu.’
‘That’s why I’m calling, Detective. I’m just calling to inform you that Chuck Wu has been found dead. Murdered.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Back in Los Angeles, Ray Quinn had finished the remaining two walls of their bedroom. He had pushed the furniture back, and Holly had rehung the drapes. She had left the window open, much to Ray’s reservations, as the bedroom was at the front of the house.
‘I’m sure it will be okay, Ray. Nobody’s going to climb through it in plain sight on a Sunday morning when the street’s full of people.’
She probably had a point. It was a warm, sunny morning, and many of the neighbours were out front as well, washing their cars or mowing their lawns while their kids were playing on the sidewalks.
‘If it makes you feel any better why don’t you sit on the porch for a while? I’ll bring you a beer or something.’
Quinn agreed. That sounded good. He picked up that day’s copy of the Los Angeles Times to take out onto the porch. Being the Sunday edition, it would take him ages to read through the numerous sections: News, Politics, Sport. Even the cartoons. He expected Holly would have already removed the Lifestyle and Entertainment section. Then he stopped, put the newspaper back down and walked into the bedroom. He stopped in the centre of the room and sniffed, theatrically.
‘What is it?’ Holly stood outside in the hall.
He beckoned for her to join him. As she did, he put both arms around her.
‘Can you smell the paint?’ he asked. ‘You told me the smell of fresh paint always turns you on.’ She laughed and their mouths locked.
Thirty minutes later, he was out on his front porch with a bottle of San Miguel and the newspaper. Sipping his beer, he felt good. Holly seemed happy, and they had made love twice in the last twelve hours, more than the last two weeks put together. It had been a pleasant relaxing weekend. He was still not looking forward to going over to Holly’s parents tomorrow, but you couldn’t have everything.
Holly pushed open the screen and asked, ‘The paint seems dry now. Shall I close the window? Then you can come indoors.’
‘Absolutely.’ Picking up his bottle and newspaper, and taking one more look up and down the street, he joined her inside.
‘I might wash the car,’ he began, before Holly interrupted.
‘How’s your stamina?’ she asked, taking his hand. Before he could reply, she took him into the living room. She took the beer and paper out of his hands, knelt in front of him, and reached for his belt.
‘What’s gotten into you?’ he asked, not really caring.
Ray’s stamina was fine that day, and fifteen minutes later they were still on the rug in front of the fireplace. Holly had initiated things this time to begin with, but now Ray was in control.
‘Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,’ she gasped throatily as Ray paused for a second as his phone pinged. He didn’t stop.
‘The question still stands,’ Ray said later, as they both sat on the rug, leaning on their couch. ‘What’s gotten into you? Apart from me, that is.’
‘Nothing’s gotten into me. I kind of felt we had some catching up to do.’
Quinn said nothing; just leaned forward and gave Holly a long, slow kiss.
‘Don’t expect it at this rate all the time for now on,’ she said.
He kissed her again before standing up.
‘While I’m naked,’ he said, ‘I might as well take a shower.’ He looked down. ‘Probably not much point joining me this time.’
She looked up and smiled, running her hand over his buttocks while he stepped over her.
‘My cell’s here somewhere,’ he said, picking up the clothes he had discarded. ‘Somebody messaged me earlier.’
He carried his clothes out to the bathroom, while checking his messages. Holly looked up as he stopped outside the bathroom.
‘No way!’
*****
As soon as Leroy had finished the call from Officer Mason, he contacted Quinn. Not by calling: there was no need to intrude on his weekend. Instead, he sent him a text. As soon as Quinn read the text, he called Leroy.
‘Where’d you find this out?’ Quinn asked.
‘You remember those two uniforms who found Wu for us?’
‘Yes, I do. Rollins and Mason?’
‘Them. It was Mason who called me. ‘
‘What happened?’
‘She told me he was found at the top of Angels Flight with his throat hanging out.’
‘The little railroad downtown?’
‘That’s the place. Not a million miles from where we spoke to him.’
‘So, are you coming back? Do you want me to do anything?’
‘No to the first, no to the second. I probably wouldn’t get a flight tonight anyway. I’m on the two twenty-five out of Newark tomorrow, so I’ll be back in LA late afternoon, early evening. Because of where he was found, the investigation’s gone to Central, so Tuesday I’ll speak to Perez and he can do some liaison magic for us.’
‘You want the case to be transferred to us?’
‘Not necessarily. It might just be a coincidence, after all. But if he can grease whatever he needs to grease, then I can reach out to the lead detective Tuesday morning. I hope I didn’t intrude; I just thought you’d want to know.’
‘No, you didn’t intrude. I was just having a workout,’ Quinn said grinning at Holly, who grinned back. ‘See you Tuesday?
‘You got it, Ray.’
*****
Leroy and his mother said their goodbyes early evening and got back to Queens around eight. Leroy announced he was going for a run before he got his stuff ready for the morning. His mother said that was fine: she was tired, and would make herself a cup of tea and watch television before she went to bed.
His run took him around the local streets, past many of his childhood haunts. His plan was to once he had finished his run, take a shower, and look at the Washington file which he had brought out with him, but not looked at so far. After he had showered, he lay on the bed, and began to go through the file, but his mind kept returning to Chuck Wu, and the question of whether Wu’s murder was relevant to the Wheat case.
Eventually, he closed the Washington file. This was not going to happen tonight.
*****
Next morning, after breakfast, he embraced his mother on her doorstep.
‘I’ll call you when I get home,’ he promised her.
‘Make sure you do. And take care of yourself. Love you.’
‘Love you too, Mom. You take care too.’
Driving back to the airport, he couldn’t decide whether the traffic was lighter as it was a Holiday, or heavier. Less commuter traffic, more leisure traffic. Six of one, half-dozen of the other, he decided.
His flight was due to take off at two twenty-five. The airplane was fully boarded by two, and the pilots managed to get a slot for a two ten take-off, so they were ahead of schedule already.
He accepted the offer of a drink, and took out the Washington file. The adjacent seat was unoccupied, so he had no confidentiality concerns here. But as he read through the case notes, and the shake cards, his mind kept wandering, first to Chuck Wu, then to his mother.
Before he left, he promised he would come back and visit more often. He tried to recall his last trip there: was it Christmas? Thanksgiving? And why did it take more or less an order from Lieutenant Perez for him to go visit his family?
Feeling guilty, a thought crossed his mind. Perez had met his mother a couple of times. It wouldn’t surprise him if the two of them had remained in touch. Maybe that was behind the lieutenant’s suggestion.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Quinn had decided he would get into work an hour or so earlier, just to get everythi
ng in order before Leroy arrived. So, he was surprised to see Leroy’s car already in a space at the station parking lot.
Returning the good morning greeting he received from two uniformed officers who were on their way out, Quinn picked up his backpack from the rear seat and went inside. Leroy was already at his desk, hunched over his keyboard. He briefly looked up as Quinn approached.
‘Hey, Ray.’
‘Hey,’ replied Quinn, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his seat, and sat down. ‘You couldn’t sleep?’
Leroy pushed back from the desk a couple of feet.
‘Just thought I’d double check I had everything on the Washington case.’
‘And did you?’
‘Looks that way. Nothing had been digitized, so it’s all hard copy. I read through all the notes on the plane coming home yesterday.’
‘How was New York?’
‘It was good, better than I expected. It was good to get back there for a couple of days. What about yours? You’ve not murdered Holly’s old man yet?’
‘No. Holly went overboard managing the times we came in contact.’
‘To avoid any confrontation?’
‘Kind of, I guess. She’s been strange over the weekend.’
‘Strange? How so?’
‘I’ll tell you later, when we’re not here. Chuck Wu – did you speak to the lieutenant yet?’
‘He’s not in yet. His office is empty. I’ve been here since seven.’
‘Who’s working on his case over at Central?’
Leroy leafed through his notes.
‘Detectives Shue and Ozawu. Not names I recognise.’
‘Me neither. You going to call them?’
‘I’ll speak to Perez first. This case is like pulling teeth at the moment: I don’t want any shit with another Division screwing things up. We’ll have to follow the protocol. The lieutenant can take care of any liaising – that’s what he’s paid the big bucks for.’
‘You want a coffee?’ Leroy nodded. ‘Of course,’ said Quinn, on his way to the vending machine, ‘it might just be coincidence. Living the way he was living, he’s going to be in a dangerous place.’
‘I know. Thanks.’ He took the coffee and sipped. ‘I don’t want them to pass the case over to us, I just want to read the case notes, just to see whether there is any connection or similarity with what we have here. Speak of the devil.’
Lieutenant Perez approached. He clearly had just arrived, still holding his briefcase.
‘Guys,’ he said.
‘Lieutenant,’ they both replied.
‘Good weekend, everyone?’ Without waiting for an answer, he added, ‘You got a minute, Sam?’
‘Sure.’ Leroy got up and followed Perez back to his office.
Inside the office, Perez laid his case on the desk.
‘Any breaks on the case? The Wheat case?’
‘No breaks at this time. There are still leads we have to follow up. Ray spoke to the residents of the houses around the site.’
‘I thought it was off Mulholland?’
‘It was. None of these residential streets are off Mulholland. The properties kind of back onto parts of the canyon and the foothills. He asked if they saw or heard anything that night. Nobody said they had, so we’re going to focus now on the two Mrs Wheats – the present and former.’
‘I suggested that to Ray while you were away.’
‘There has been a development, though. I found out about it Sunday.’
‘Oh?’
‘Before he met the first wife, Wheat was in a gay relationship, lived with a lifeguard type in the house on Hollywood Boulevard. The boyfriend was murdered, and a house breaker named Chuck Wu was charged. However the case was dismissed.’
‘Dismissed? Why?’
‘The DA said lack of evidence; I think it was sloppy policework, but that’s another story. We spoke to Wu last week - he’s living downtown in Tent City - just to try to establish if there was any connection with Wheat’s murder.’
‘You think there is?’
Leroy shook his head.
‘Too early to say. However, I heard Sunday night that Wu had been murdered. Found on Angel’s Flight with his throat cut.’
Perez sat down.
‘I see. You telling me you want the case?’
‘No, I am not. I would, however, like to read through the case notes, just to see if there is any connection, and commonalities with ours.’
‘If he was living down there, it could be a coincidence. You know, wrong place, wrong time.’
‘I know, or maybe it’s not.’
‘Okay, you got it. I’ll reach out to the lieutenant over at Central. I’ll let you know. Not that it matters, but which Mrs Wheat are you going to contact first?’
‘The ex, I think. The current Mrs Wheat - the widow - seems pretty much straightforward. Porn actress got seduced in every sense of the word by her boss, and marries him. She doesn’t seem to be the brightest bulb in the room, whereas the ex seems to be more complex. That’s my vibe, anyway.’
Perez nodded, and snapped open his case.
‘Keep me posted, Sam. I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to the lieutenant over at Central. Her name’s Holbrook, I think. I’ll reach out to her. By the way, you have a good weekend?’
Leroy paused on his way out.
‘Yes, it was. It was nice to see the family again.’
‘You should go back to see them more often,’ said Perez, reading through the papers he had taken out of his case.
‘You know,’ said Leroy, ‘that’s exactly what my mother said. Word for word. You met my mother, didn’t you?’
‘Two or three times, Sam.’ Perez was still reading. ‘Great lady.’
‘Yes, I remember now. You guys got on very well.’
Perez looked up.
On his way out, Leroy said, ‘I’ll wait to hear from you about Central.’
Leroy closed the lieutenant’s door and as he began to walk back to his desk, he met Quinn in the corridor.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Sam,’ said Quinn breathlessly, ‘I think we might have a break.’
‘What is it?’ asked Leroy, as they walked back to their desks. ‘God knows, we could use one.’
‘The houses I called on last week,’ said Quinn. ‘One of them just called me. Their teenage son and some friends were down in the canyon over the weekend.’
‘As you do.’
‘Yeah; well, while they were making their way back to Mulholland, they found the remains of a dog.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
‘The dog we’re looking for?’ Leroy asked, crashing down onto his chair.
‘Has to be. According to the boy’s father, it was a big mother.’
‘Wheat’s dogs were Dobermans, weren’t they? They’re big.’
‘The guy said his son’s at home; I said we’ll be over to talk to him.’
‘Roger that. Let’s go.’ They grabbed their coats and headed out.
The boy’s name was Lane Farrow, and his family home was in a short dead-end street off Encino Hills Drive, which itself came off Mulholland Drive. They took the fastest route, using the 405 freeway, and were pulling up outside the house within forty-five minutes. To get to the front door, they had to squeeze past the four cars which were crammed onto the driveway. A man in his sixties opened the door. He was wearing a white Chargers cap, white short sleeved shirt, and beige shorts. Quinn made the introductions as it was he whom Mr Farrow had called earlier.
‘Come in, come in,’ Mr Farrow said, ushering the two detectives inside. ‘I’ll get Lane for you.’
Leroy and Quinn waited in the living room while Mr Farrow called Lane downstairs.
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ he asked. ‘Water? Iced tea?’
‘We’re good, thanks,’ Leroy replied.
As they waited, Leroy looked out of the large picture window. A woman – presumably Mrs Farrow – was pottering around w
ith some plants, but behind her was a hedge. Over the hedge was a stunning backdrop, the city in the distance. The early morning haze was starting to lift.
‘Nice view,’ Leroy commented.
‘Is that a jetliner view?’ Quinn teased.
Mr Farrow returned.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting,’ he said. ‘I had to wake Lane up. He’s getting dressed.’
‘No problem,’ Leroy said. ‘We thought he might be at school.’
‘Not this week. He’s on recess, yesterday being Memorial Day.’
‘Of course,’ nodded Leroy, as Lane appeared in the doorway. His hair was dishevelled, and he had thrown on a vest and shorts.
‘Here he is,’ said Mr Farrow, unnecessarily.
‘Lane,’ Leroy said. ‘Sorry to have gotten you out of bed.’
‘I’m cool,’ Lane said.
‘Your father called me earlier,’ Quinn said, ‘and told me you were down in the canyon yesterday, and saw the body of a dog.’
‘What was left of it, yeah.’
‘Can you tell us where you found the dog’s remains?’ Leroy asked.
‘It was kind of down there,’ Lane replied, pointing out of the window.
‘If we took you there,’ Quinn asked, ‘could you show us?’
‘Sure, I guess so. But can I drive myself?’
‘We’ll bring you back,’ Leroy said.
‘It’s not that,’ Lane said, quietly. ‘It’s just that my old man won’t want the neighbours to see me being taken away in a police car.’
‘Even if the same car beings you back an hour later?’ asked Leroy. ‘Don’t worry; we don’t want to embarrass your folks. Where did you park yesterday?’
‘There’s a kind of overlook, just a mile or so along the highway.’
‘I know the one. Meet you there in fifteen?’
Hesitatingly, Lane looked down at his shorts and bare feet.
‘Make it twenty,’ said Leroy, as he and Quinn made to leave. As they reached the door, Lane’s father appeared.
‘All done, officers?’
‘Your son is just going to meet us down there, to show us where he found the dog.’
‘Oh, excellent.’
‘Thank you for your help, sir. I appreciate you reaching out to us.’ They returned to the Taurus, made a one-eighty in front of the Farrow house, and left the street. They were soon back on Mulholland. When they arrived, another car was parked on the overlook.
