Ready to Die (Sam Leroy Book 5)

by Philip Cox

  ‘Sounds promising, Sam. What do you need from me?’

  ‘I think he, Duvall, is tied up in this with the widow. I don’t know why yet, and I don’t know the relationship he has with her. When we called round there the other day, they were obviously going out somewhere that evening. Strange behaviour for somebody’s lawyer, even though he was one of her husband’s personal friends. And so soon after her husband was murdered.’

  ‘You think they’re having some kind of relationship?’

  ‘I think he’s fucking her, yes. I think he’s been fucking her for a while. I think they wanted to get Wheat out of the way.’

  ‘Why not just leave him? A high-flying lawyer based in Beverly Hills has to be earning more than a porn producer, surely.’

  ‘That’s just my theory. A witness claims to have seen him talking to Chuck Wu a few days before Martin Wheat was murdered. The wounds on Wu’s leg match one of Wheat’s dog’s teeth. I’m waiting on Hobson with regard to the DNA.’

  ‘DNA?’

  ‘There was dried blood on the teeth. I’m hoping there’ll be a match to Wu’s DNA.’

  ‘Okay.’ Perez nodded. ‘You going to pick them up?’

  ‘Yeah, but I want to pick them up simultaneously. If we pick her up first, there’s no prizes for guessing who she’s going to call.’

  ‘You don’t have to allow her to make the call the second she’s brought in. Regulations just say within a reasonable time; you could wait until he’s arrived here.’

  ‘I know, I want to cover all bases. I don’t want, further down the line, Duvall himself or some other hot shot lawyer saying she was deprived of her rights, and like that.’

  Perez agreed.

  ‘Okay. Look, why don’t you and Ray go separately, take back up with you. I think it’ll have to be a black and white; all the other detectives are out. When do you want to do this?’

  ‘His offices are in Beverly Hills, on Robertson and Horner, and she’s on West Hollywood Boulevard.’ Leroy checked his watch. ‘Two pm sounds a good time. She should be at home, and there’s no danger of us showing up at his offices while he’s out to lunch. I’m not sure who he’s going to want to call. His own lawyer or Mrs Wheat? That will be an interesting call.’

  *****

  At just after one, Leroy and Quinn left the station, in separate city cars, each with a uniformed officer for support. Officer Rob Dillon accompanied Leroy, and Officer Lucy Contreras went with Quinn. Leroy had agreed with Perez that two cars each might be over the top, especially if they were looking for the element of surprise. Quinn was headed for the Wheat house, Leroy to Duvall’s offices in Beverly Hills. Leroy felt that the call on Duvall had the potential to be more problematic, and he was better placed for it. They had agreed they would keep in touch and synchronise for two pm, to avoid one of them calling and warning the other.

  At one forty-five, Leroy pulled up on Horner, a few discrete yards down from Duvall’s offices. They were in a no parking zone, but that was never a problem, unless it drew attention.

  He had just switched off the engine when Quinn called.

  ‘We’re in place, Ray. You okay?’

  ‘Sam, I think he’s here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remember when we came here the other day? There was a black RAV4 outside the house? We thought it unlikely to be hers, and Wheat’s was at the pound. It’s here again.’

  ‘Are you in front of the house?’

  ‘No, we’re parked around the bend, out of sight. I did a drive past first.’

  ‘Ray, get the plate number and run a DMV check.’

  ‘Roger that. Let me get onto the MDC.’

  ‘Call me back.’ Leroy looked over at Dillon. ‘You heard that?’

  ‘I did,’ Dillon replied. ‘So we might be heading up to Hollywood?’

  Leroy said, ‘West Hollywood. It looks that way.’

  Quinn called back. ‘Sam, it’s confirmed. It’s Duvall’s car.’

  ‘Somehow I’m not surprised. We’re coming over. Stay there discrete, unless one of them tries to leave.’

  ‘Copy that. See you in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Piece of cake.’

  Quinn ended the call, grinning. He turned to Contreras.

  ‘Now we just have to wait.’

  Meanwhile, Leroy had hit the gas pedal. Dillon switched on the bar and they red-lighted it up Robertson, along Olympic for a couple of blocks, then up La Cienega all the way into Hollywood. Once they had hit Laurel Canyon, Leroy made a left onto West Hollywood Boulevard, which was no longer as straight as a die, but curvy. Now he dropped the siren, and took the curves to the Wheat house, the red lights flashing silently. He pulled up in front of where Quinn had parked. They all got out and congregated by the side of Leroy’s car.

  ‘I appreciate you guys coming,’ Leroy said to Dillon and Contreras.

  ‘No problem, Detective,’ replied Contreras.

  ‘Come on, let’s go.’ Leroy led the other three to the front door of the Wheat house, past Duvall’s Toyota, and Mrs Wheat’s Chevrolet.

  Leroy rang the doorbell, and then again after a minute. He was about to ring a third time when the door opened.

  Mrs Wheat was dressed in a black, silky dressing gown. Her hair was dishevelled, and she was clearly naked underneath.

  ‘Can I help you, Detectives?’ she asked, tightening the belt around her robe.

  ‘Good afternoon, ma’am. We’d like to ask you a few more questions about your late husband’s murder.’ He paused, more for effect than anything else. ‘Down at the station. May we come in? We can wait inside for you to get changed.’

  She was so taken back that it was more of a reflex for her to step back, allowing the four officers to step inside.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ she asked. She had partially recovered her wits by now, and surprise had been overtaken by indignance.

  ‘If you could get dressed, Mrs Wheat, we’ll go.’

  ‘I think this is out of order. I’ve already answered all of your questions, and may I remind you I am still waiting for my husband’s body to be -’

  ‘Adrienne? Are you all right? What’s going on?’ came a voice from the top of the stairs. Leroy looked up, to see Howard Duvall, wearing a matching black silky robe, looking over the edge of the railings.

  ‘Attorney Duvall, I presume?’ said Leroy. ‘Sir, you’ve saved us a journey.’

  Duvall hurried down the stairs, also tightening the cord around the robe. ‘What the hell is the meaning of this?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry if we interrupted anything,’ Leroy said. ‘A client consultation, or something.’

  Duvall said nothing, but his face turned bright red.

  ‘As I said, Mr Duvall, you’ve saved us a trip to Beverly Hills. We’d like you to come down to the station also.’

  ‘Station? Which station?’

  ‘West Los Angeles. Now, maybe you could get dressed first, sir; then Mrs Wheat.’

  ‘I know the Valley Bureau Chief,’ Duvall spluttered. ‘I shall be talking to him.’

  ‘Then that can be your phone call, sir. When you’re at the station.’ Leroy looked over at one of the uniforms. ‘Go with him.’

  ‘I can get dressed myself!’ Duvall thundered.

  ‘I’m sure you can; nevertheless, the officer will accompany you. You’ll be able to make your phone call when we get to the station.’

  ‘This is intolerable,’ protested Duvall, as Dillon accompanied him up the stairs. ‘Your career in the Police Department is over, I can promise you that.’

  ‘Are we under arrest?’ Mrs Duvall asked.

  ‘Don’t say anything to them, Adrienne,’ Duvall called out from the landing.

  Ignoring Duvall, Leroy said, ‘Not at this time, but we have some questions we need to ask you.’ He glanced up to the top of the stairs. ‘Ask you both. You’ll also have the opportunity to make one phone call once we get to the station.’ As he spoke, he noticed her eyes moment
arily shot up to the second floor. ‘Once your lawyer is done, you can go up and get dressed.’

  ‘I won’t need a babysitter,’ she snapped, glaring at the second officer.

  ‘Officer Contreras will still go upstairs with you. Please remember, we’re taking you both in for questioning, but if there’s no cooperation, you will be arrested.’

  By now, Duvall and Dillon were coming downstairs. Duvall was wearing business attire, only with his shirt open-necked, no tie. Leroy nodded at Contreras, who led Mrs Wheat upstairs.

  ‘Well?’ Duvall demanded.

  Leroy turned to Quinn. ‘You two take Mr Duvall to your car. We won’t be long. Any problems with him, arrest him.’

  ‘You are going to regret this,’ seethed Duvall, as Quinn led him outside. ‘You’re going to fucking regret this.’

  Leroy waited alone at the foot of the stairs for Mrs Wheat to get dressed. After five minutes, she came downstairs, wearing a tight pair of blue jeans, white blouse, and red stiletto shoes. She had brushed her hair and was wearing full make up.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Leroy asked Contreras.

  ‘Detective,’ she nodded.

  ‘Do you mind if I lock up before we leave?’ Mrs Wheat asked, sarcastically.

  ‘Go for it,’ Leroy replied, indicating for Contreras to accompany her. Once she had locked up, and they had paused while she set the intruder alarm, Leroy led the two women to his car. Leroy leaned on the roof of Quinn’s vehicle, and spoke to his partner.

  ‘See you back at the station. Remember, arrest him if he gets awkward, and no calls until we get there. Sunset, then Santa Monica’s probably the best route. Thirty minutes, I reckon. No rush, no need to red light it.’

  Both Leroy and Quinn used Mrs Wheat’s driveway to turn around, and headed back to Laurel Canyon Boulevard, then the small convoy made its way to the police station.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  They did not attempt a convoy all the way to the station. Quinn arrived with Duvall a few minutes before Leroy did with Mrs Wheat. They were taken to separate interview rooms.

  The question of the phone call came up as soon as they arrived at the station. Duvall called another lawyer from his own firm, who also turned out to be one of his employees. The employee, a bespectacled thirty-something who went by the silly name of Truman Truman, arrived thirty-one minutes after Duvall made the call. Obviously he had been told to drop everything.

  Mrs Wheat was less certain. When Quinn made her the offer, she said she was not sure.

  ‘Do I need one?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re not under arrest, Mrs Wheat; you’re just here to answer some questions, but you’re entitled to make a phone call. That doesn’t have to be to a lawyer.’

  ‘Howard’s my lawyer.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be calling another lawyer, even though he doesn’t need to. Do you want me to ask if his lawyer can come in when you’re questioned? It could mean you’re here for longer.’

  ‘How so?’ she asked.

  ‘Once you’ve answered what we have to ask to our satisfaction, you’ll be able to leave,’ Quinn explained. ‘If Duvall’s lawyer is present while we’re talking to you, then we can’t carry out the interviews simultaneously. So do you want me to ask?’

  She nodded.

  By this time Truman Truman had arrived. He immediately protested to Leroy that his client was being held unjustifiably.

  ‘Your client, or your boss?’ Leroy asked.

  Truman was momentarily lost for words.

  ‘My client.’

  ‘Your client,’ replied Leroy, ‘is here to answer a few questions. We are grateful for his cooperation in what is a murder investigation. Possibly a double murder investigation.’

  Leroy, Duvall and Truman sat down to begin the session, Duvall and Truman together across the table from Leroy.

  ‘Before we begin,’ Leroy said, ‘Mrs Wheat is not sure who she can call, as you are here. She is apparently wondering if Mr Truman here can be present for her interview, also.’

  Truman glanced at Duvall, who gave an irritated sigh, then nodded to Truman.

  ‘We’ll begin then,’ said Leroy, opening the file. ‘Firstly, does the name Chuck Wu mean anything to you?’

  Duvall gave an ostentatious shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘No, why? Who’s he?’

  ‘He’s a corpse lying in the morgue right now.’

  ‘What does that have to do with my client?’ Truman asked.

  ‘As your client may or may not be aware,’ countered Leroy, ‘before Martin Wheat was married to the lady in the next room, he was married to the first Mrs Wheat. And before he was married to the first Mrs Wheat, he was in a relationship with a young man by the name of Chase Underwood.’

  ‘I fail to see what -’

  ‘Chase Underwood was clubbed to death in the Wheat family home. Chuck Wu was arrested and charged with his murder.’

  ‘What is all this bullshit?’ Duvall asked Truman.

  ‘I still fail to see the relevance to my client,’ said Truman, robotically.

  ‘The relevance to your client is,’ Leroy replied, ‘although he was charged with Underwood’s murder, the DA dismissed the case, so Wu has been out on the streets. Literally, as he had been living downtown, on the streets. Until he was murdered himself the other night. Before he was killed, he used to frequent the…’ He referred to the notes on the file as he read out the name. ‘Sacred Mission of Saint Ignatius. It’s a church on Alameda. They provide meals for the homeless.’

  ‘Is he going to come to the point?’ Duvall asked Truman.

  ‘Detective?’ said Truman.

  ‘The point is,’ said Leroy, ‘that your client was seen at this mission, talking to Chuck Wu, a few days before Mr Wheat was killed.’

  Truman looked up from the legal pad where he had been scribbling.

  ‘And you can prove this?’

  ‘We have a witness.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Just one, who positively identified your client.’

  ‘Identified to what?’

  ‘To your client’s picture on your firm’s website.’

  Duvall and Truman briefly glanced at each other.

  ‘So,’ said Truman, ‘just one witness.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Anything to corroborate?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Leroy asked.

  ‘Was this alleged conversation recorded on CCTV, for example?’

  ‘No. There are no cameras there.’

  ‘So it’s just my client’s word against your witness’s?’ Truman gave Leroy a look of contempt as he spoke the word witness.

  ‘That’s perfectly correct,’ admitted Leroy. ‘Your client’s word against theirs. Now, to move on: what exactly is your client’s relationship with Mrs Wheat?’

  Truman said, ‘My client is Mrs Wheat’s lawyer. He is the family lawyer, and, I believe, a personal friend of the family.’

  ‘I see. So is that why he conducts business with Mrs Wheat while wearing a black silky kimono?’

  Stunned, Truman looked across to Duvall.

  Duvall closed his eyes and held out a hand to restrain Truman.

  ‘It’s okay, Truman. Yes, Mrs Wheat and I are having a relationship.’

  ‘How long has this been going on for?’ asked Leroy.

  Now Truman was taking a back seat.

  ‘A few months,’ said Duvall.

  Truman said, ‘This comes under the heading of my client’s private life. I still fail to see how this is relevant to your investigation.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ said Leroy, genuinely astonished by Truman’s tactics. ‘Your client is sleeping with Mrs Wheat, whose husband has just been murdered.’

  ‘Are you saying now that my client is involved in Mrs Wheat’s husband’s murder? What evidence do you have? We admit my client is having an inappropriate relationship with Mrs Wheat,’ said Truman, looking disapprovingly at Duvall. ‘With one of his clients, who, as we ha
ve said, is also a close personal friend of my client. Detective Leroy, you supposedly have a witness who says they can identify my client at this church. There is no other evidence: purely my client’s word against the witness’s. I think this is a rerun of the Underwood investigation, Detective, in that you have no evidence. Do you really think the District Attorney’s Office will go with this?’

  Leroy was momentarily taken aback; he had not expected Truman to be aware of the details of the Underwood case. Not as geeky as he looked.

  ‘As I’ve said before, your client is not under arrest. We merely want to ask him some questions.’

  ‘Then why bring him here? Why not ask him these questions at his offices?’

  ‘We went to his offices, but he wasn’t there. He was on Hollywood Boulevard, comforting the recently bereaved Mrs Wheat.’ At that moment, Leroy’s phone bleeped. He looked at who the caller was. ‘I’m sorry, I need to take this call. I’ll only be a few moments.’

  He left Duvall and Truman alone in the room.

  *****

  In the next room, Quinn was talking to Mrs Wheat. He had just updated her that Duvall had agreed that Truman could sit in when she was questioned.

  ‘He’s agreed, has he?’ she said. ‘Arrogant bastard.’

  ‘So we’ll wait. I’ll leave you in here, and once my partner has finished with Mr Duvall, we’ll begin questioning you.’

  ‘How long’s that going to take?’

  ‘It depends on Duvall and his lawyer.’

  ‘Fuck him, and his lawyer. Am I under arrest?’

  ‘No, we just have some questions for you.’

  ‘And why couldn’t you have asked me them at my house?’

  ‘That was a decision my partner made. He’s the lead detective. But as Mr Duvall was present at the house, we could save time and bring you both here at the same time.’

  ‘You didn’t want us conferring, is that it?’

  ‘That’s kind of it, yes.’

  ‘Like I said, fuck him. I have nothing to hide: what do you want to ask me?’

  ‘What’s your relationship with Howard Duvall?’

  She looked Quinn in the eye.

  ‘He’s my lawyer; and, yes, I’ve been having an affair with him.’