Something To Die For (Sam Leroy Book 1) Read online

  Davison was born in Flagstaff, Arizona, one of four sons. His mother, Alice (née Adams), was of Catholic Irish ancestry, and his father, Henry Davison managed a restaurant.

  While in high school, Davison was a basketball player and was named to the Arizona all-state high school team.

  Legal, academic, and early political life

  After graduating, Davison returned to Flagstaff and earned partnership in a local law firm. He became assistant county attorney for Coconino County. He was elected to Flagstaff City Council and served as Flagstaff mayor for one year.

  Leroy stretched and nodded slightly. He knew a little about Secretary Davison from the media. This was nothing new. He continued reading.

  House of Representatives and Senate

  After serving one term as Mayor, Davison won a seat in the US House of Representatives, succeeding fellow Democrat Alan Clay, who was elected to the US Senate.

  During his time in Congress, Davison was one of the first to break with his party, and voted for the impeachment of President Bill Clinton.

  After two terms in the House, Davison was elected to the US Senate, defeating Alan Clay in his first bid for re-election. He was re-elected himself twice, and served a total of 15 years in the Senate.

  While in the Senate, he served on the Senate Armed Services Committee. During the Iraq War, he was highly critical of President Bush but was hesitant to call for an immediate and complete pull-out. He announced that he favoured withdrawing most of the US forces from Iraq and leaving a small force in the Northern region for a limited period. While acknowledging that a withdrawal would lead to more violence, he felt that it would be the only way for the Iraqi government to take control of their country.

  After retiring from the Senate, Davison was appointed by the President to the position of Secretary of Defence. One of his first major duties as Secretary of Defence was to present to Congress the Fiscal Year Defence budget, which had been prepared under Secretary Bryant. Davison requested a budget of $255.2 billion, which represented 3 percent of the nation’s estimated domestic product. Davison stressed three top budget priorities: people (recruiting…..

  He stretched again, and rubbed the back of his neck. All this was very interesting, but was not really relevant to what he was looking for.

  International relations and situations

  As he settled into office, Davison faced the question of the expansion of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which he supported, and its relationship to Russia. At a summit meeting between the President and Russian President Putin, Putin acknowledged the inevitability of broader NATO membership. Two months later he agreed, after negotiations with NATO officials, to sign an accord providing for a new permanent council, to include Russia, the NATO secretary general, and a representative of the other NATO nations, to function as a forum in which Russia could air a wide range of security issues that concerned that country

  Social issues

  Finally, Davison had to address social issues that engaged the widest public interest. These issues included the status and treatment of lesbian and gays in the military, the role of woman in combat as well as in other jobs in the services, racism, and sexual harassment.

  He had read enough. He was not sure exactly what he was expecting to find, but all this information was public domain stuff, and didn’t help. But it gave him a better understanding of what Davison was about.

  But not why a hooker would be rushing back to a house he owned in California. In fact, from the biographical detail, there was no California connection. His entire life seemed to be centred around three locations: Flagstaff, Arizona; Oxford, England; Washington, DC.

  He leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. Why would a politician working on the East Coast own a mansion here? Maybe if it was a beach property: somewhere in Malibu maybe, looking out to the ocean – that he could understand, but a secluded property off Mulholland Drive: he failed to see the attraction.

  He checked the time at the corner of the screen: time to get back to work. This would have to be homework. He logged off, made a quick restroom stop, and returned to his car.

  Five minutes later, he pulled up on Ocean Avenue behind a patrol car. He watched as an articulated bus slowly made a left from Washington Avenue, holding up traffic in the process. In the park, an area of grass about thirty yards square was still taped off, and two officers were standing by the tape. Leroy walked over the grass to join them. He recognised both of the officers.

  ‘Guys,’ he greeted them.

  ‘Detective,’ they both responded.

  ‘I take it the forensic guys have finished here?’

  The first officer nodded. ‘Yes; they both left twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘Why the tape, then?’

  ‘They said you were coming over, and to leave the tape until you’d had the chance to look.’

  ‘I see,’ said Leroy, amused. ‘As if I would find anything else.’ He stepped under the tape. ‘Where exactly did it happen?’

  ‘In the centre here,’ said one of the officers, joining him inside the tape. There was very little sign of anything, apart from the flattening of the grass where people had been standing.

  Leroy knelt down. ‘No sign of blood,’ he said, looking up at the officer.

  ‘Apparently most of it got soaked up by the victim’s clothes. She was lying on her back and the wound was in her front.’

  ‘Are you two the ones who were here at the time?’

  ‘No; they took the suspects back for questioning.’

  Leroy looked around, then stood up. ‘Do you know about any other witnesses?’

  ‘As far as I know, just the woman the victim was with. There were some passers-by, but they had all moved on by the time anyone realised she had been stabbed.’

  ‘The other transients? I take it there were more than two here.’

  ‘Sorry, Detective, I don’t know. It was all over by the time we arrived. We were just ordered to stay here until you had cleared the scene.’

  ‘I’ll ask when I go talk to the suspects.’ Leroy turned and looked out to the ocean. The sun was high in the sky now, its light being reflected off the water. He squinted, and put on a pair of sun glasses. Through the shades, he could make out some boats on the water. A helicopter was flying north, parallel with the coast. It seemed peaceful, apart from the sound of traffic travelling along the Pacific Coast Highway underpass.

  He turned back to the officer. ‘You can remove the tape now,’ he said. ‘I’m done here.’

  ‘Sure thing, Detective,’ the officer replied, and began winding up the tape. Leroy walked back to his car, looking around the park. Whilst not particularly busy, there were still several people wandering around the park. In spite of the traffic sound, it still seemed peaceful; after all these years, Leroy still found violent crime incongruous with such a location. Across the street was a branch of Wells Fargo bank: Leroy remembered having to attend the bank after a robbery homicide eighteen months or so back. Three masked raiders, heavily armed, forced the staff and customers in a corner at gunpoint, and proceeded to empty the safe. One customer foolishly tried to tackle one of the raiders, and was hit in the chest almost at point blank range. In the commotion afterwards, the security guard tried the same thing, and was killed as well, this time with the addition of a single shot to the back of his head, execution style. It was always the same with robbery homicide: once one person was down, the raiders would have nothing to lose.

  Leroy turned back to the car; just as he opened the door, his phone rang. It was Medical Examiner Hobson.

  ‘Hey there, Russell,’ said Leroy, as he climbed back into his car.

  ‘Hey, Sam. Where are you right now?’ Russell asked.

  ‘Over at Santa Monica. A stabbing.’

  ‘Ah, yes; the two women. Look, Sam: I need you to get over here.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing had happened. Not today, anyway. I just need to show you something.
It has a bearing on the John Does.’

  ‘Can’t really right now, Russell. For one thing, I have two suspects to interview; and for another, all the John Doe cases have been closed.’

  ‘Yes, I know they’ve been closed, but something’s come to light.’

  ‘Come to light? What do you mean?’

  ‘I was just finishing up one of the bodies, when I noticed something. I went back to the others, and found the same thing.’

  ‘And that was?’

  ‘On each of them, on the left foot, between two of the toes, was a needle mark.’

  Leroy sat up. ‘A needle mark?’

  ‘Yes, so tiny, so hidden between the toes, that they got missed.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘Maybe not much, maybe a lot. But the angle of the mark would make it difficult for someone to self inject. They seem to come up from below the foot. Something like a forty-five degree angle.’ There was a pause. ‘You there, Sam?’

  ‘Yes, Russ, still here. Was just thinking. That must be the way the drug cocktail got into their systems.’

  ‘Probably, yes.’

  ‘And there was no way they could have injected themselves?’

  ‘Not no way, but unlikely, in my opinion. So before you ask: I think these men didn’t die as a result of misadventure. I think they were murdered.’

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Red light flashing and siren wailing, Leroy hit the 10 Freeway at sixty-five. It was just over twenty-five miles to the Forensic Science Center, so he should be with Hobson within thirty minutes.

  The ME had offered to send photographs of the puncture marks to Leroy’s phone, but he wanted to see them in person. After he had hung up on Hobson, he considered whether to speak to Perez, hopefully get him to say, ‘Okay, Sam; you get yourself up to the ME’s and take a look for yourself. Don’t worry about the suspects and witnesses you have to interview,’ but hell would freeze over before the lieutenant departed from the official line. Leroy wondered what he would have done had he gotten the lieutenant post: he was sure he would have reopened the cases. No, he would never have closed them. Maybe that was why Perez was the lieutenant now.

  As soon as Hobson told him about the needle marks, he knew he had been on to something all along. Thing was, he still was not sure exactly what he was on to.

  Thirty minutes to get to the ME, thirty minutes there, and another thirty minutes back to Santa Monica; the two suspects in the cells and the victim’s companion could wait another hour and a half.

  The eastbound traffic was heavy, but moving steadily, and vehicles moved over without any hesitation to let him pass. As he finally left the freeway, he had to drop his speed: negotiating the sharp bend as the road approached Eastern Avenue, he had to drop to forty-five, even though the sign specified a maximum ten miles per hour lower. Even with the windows closed and the AC on, he could smell the rubber of his tyres burning as he negotiated the bend.

  Once on Eastern Avenue, he easily negotiated the traffic leading up to the University Campus, and was soon at the Forensic Science Center. Moments later, a breathless Detective Leroy burst in to Hobson’s laboratory. The ME was sitting at a desk, typing on a keyboard. He looked up and laughed.

  ‘You took your time, didn’t you?’ he joked.

  Leroy laughed and sat down on a chair opposite, still out of breath from running from the car and up four flights of stairs.

  ‘Surely you didn’t run all the way,’ Hobson laughed as he hit his return key and pushed the keyboard back.

  ‘No, just up the stairs.’ Leroy took a deep breath and sat back. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘I guess you want to see these guys’ feet,’ said Hobson, standing up. ‘Let’s go take a look.’

  Hobson led Leroy out of his lab and down the corridor into another room. On the way, they stood to one side as a white-coated man pushed a gurney on which there was a green plastic sheet, covering whoever was on it. Hobson nodded to the man.

  At the end of the corridor they went through a set of double doors to a room where on all three other sides of the room were banks of drawers, four high. Hobson led Leroy over to the far end and pulled open a drawer.

  ‘I was just preparing the bodies for release back to the families,’ Hobson said, ‘and thought I would give them one more look over. Then I found the marks. Here’s the first one,’ he said, pulling out the drawer. ‘This is the one they found in the parking garage in Century City.’

  ‘Lance Riley,’ said Leroy.

  Hobson picked up the single sheet form which was resting on Lance Riley’s shrouded legs. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ He lifted up the lower part of the green sheet covering the body and lifted up one foot. ‘Look, Sam; here. Between the big toe and the next.’

  Leroy bent down and checked between the toes. Hobson said, ‘You will need to move the toes apart slightly.’ He did so, and just as Hobson had said, between the two toes, was a tiny puncture mark. Still bent over, he looked up at the ME. ‘And the others were like this also?’

  ‘Yes. You want to see them?’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  Hobson replaced the proforma and pushed the drawer closed, then took Leroy over to another drawer. Opened it, and checked the paperwork. ‘Guy Robbins,’ he read.

  ‘Found behind Hollywood Boulevard.’

  ‘That’s him. Check the foot.’

  Leroy did so, and found a puncture mark in exactly the same spot. Hobson closed the drawer, and asked, ‘Now, you want to see Ted Parker?’

  ‘Ted Parker?’ asked Leroy. Then he realised. ‘Was this the one from Griffith Park?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, I forgot that wasn’t yours. It was…’

  ‘Domingo’s. That’s right.’

  ‘Shit, Sam. That was awful, wasn’t it? Any news yet?’

  Leroy shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. It’s all been handed over to Major Crimes.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Hobson, reflecting. ‘From what I heard, they were both in their patrol car.’

  ‘They were. Up in North Hollywood. Both with one shot to the head.’

  Hobson slowly shook his head, as if in disbelief. ‘Look, here’s the last one.’ He pulled open this drawer, and Leroy checked the toes. Same as before.

  ‘Now, as you know,’ explained Hobson, holding the foot up, ‘this spot here is a common place for drug users to inject themselves.’

  ‘If they don’t want to show any marks,’ added Leroy. ‘Not like in the arm, or wrist.’

  ‘Correct. Now, there are two points of interest here. First: if I’d had one body in here with marks like that, I’d think nothing of it. Business as usual, you know: outwardly respectable guy a secret user. Two - maybe the same. But three - and all brought in on the same night. No way.’

  ‘There has to be a connection,’ Leroy agreed.

  ‘The second point is this,’ continued Hobson. ‘If you’re injecting yourself there, you’d be sitting down, and the point of entry would be straight on - I mean level with the base of the foot, or at a slight angle upwards, up to twenty, maybe thirty degrees. But if you look here,’ - he put one index finger on the mark - ‘you’ll see it’s at an angle, but in the opposite direction to what you’d expect. It would be very difficult to inject yourself at that angle. It’s not impossible, but for three out of three people to have the same puncture wounds on the same night - well, go figure.’

  Leroy stood silently for a moment, staring at the foot.

  ‘What are you going to do now, Sam?’ asked Hobson.

  ‘I’m going back to the station house. I’m going to talk to Perez. This is all too much of a coincidence. There has to be another party involved. And Domingo and I came up with some other angles.’

  ‘You did? What?’

  ‘Tell you another time. I must get back. They have to re-open the cases now.’

  THIRTY-NINE

  Leroy stared at Lieutenant Perez in disbelief. He knew he should not have been surprised; after all, he had k
nown the lieutenant for years, and the conversation they had earlier would have dispelled any doubts.

  After his meeting with Russell Hobson, Leroy left the Forensic Science Center and headed back to the freeway to return to Police HQ. He had only been driving ten minutes, when Perez rang.

  ‘Sam, where are you? I thought you were going to see the two suspects.’

  ‘I’ve been to see Russell Hobson.’

  ‘The ME? You’ve been up to the Science Center? What the hell for?’

  ‘It’s about those John Does, Lieutenant -’

  ‘I’d better be hearing things, Detective. Didn’t we talk about this before?’

  ‘He’s uncovered some new evidence.’

  ‘What new evidence?’

  ‘Some puncture wounds. Injection marks.’

  ‘What? Injection marks? They were all full of drugs, and you’re telling me they had needle marks?’

  ‘It’s more that that. Look, I’ll stop off at HQ and fill you in. On my way back to Santa Monica, that is.’

  There was a moment’s pause, and then, ‘All right. I’ll give you ten minutes. Take it out of your lunch hour. And it’d better be good.’ Then Perez hung up.

  Now, the lieutenant was sitting behind his desk, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t fucking believe this, I really don’t,’ he said. ‘This is nothing. It’s bullshit.’

  ‘Just think about it, Roman,’ Leroy replied, getting as heated as the lieutenant. ‘In all three -’

  ‘I could hear raised voices,’ said Captain Patterson, leaning round the half opened door. ‘Any problem?’

  Perez sat back in his chair and answered the captain. ‘Detective Leroy here has uncovered new evidence in the cases of those three John Does.’

  Patterson briefly closed his eyes as if in thought. ‘Ah yes, I recall: the three accidental deaths due to drug overdoses.’ He looked down at Perez. ‘Those cases are closed, aren’t they, Lieutenant?’