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Authors: Philip Cox

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FIFTY-SEVEN

Secretary of Defence
George Davison closed the study door behind him. He leaned with his back against the door for a moment, then took a deep breath. He could hear the sound of chatter and laughter coming from the dining room. The dinner party his wife had arranged was in full swing. The sort of event he hated: even since the late seventies, when they were newly married, he and his wife had different circles of friends; they would each go their separate ways, with their own interests, only meeting up when a public appearance was involved. This particular evening was supposed to be a fund raising event for something his wife was involved with. She had told him what, but he had forgotten; he didn’t really care, either. The day after tomorrow there was another dinner, this time at the White House. It was to honour the former Ambassador to Belarus, or somewhere. Barbara would go along to that with him, of course; she lapped up all that bullshit. He, on the other hand, got bored rigid by ‘her’ events. This one was going on so late: it was way past one, for Christ’s sake.

Normally, he would excuse himself after the brandy and cigars were brought out to his study, and take a look at some footage from
Los Angeles. Sometimes pre-recorded, sometimes a live feed. He pushed himself off the door and stepped wearily over to the brown leather armchair in front of the fireplace, slumping heavily into it.

Tonight was different. A slightly inebriated local dentist had told him a joke which he thought hilarious and
Davison just didn’t understand when his phone rang. In the early hours of the morning, Dwight Mason had called him. Something had happened at
Whiteleaf
last night. Ever since they first met, Mason was cool, calm and collected; always knew what to do in a crisis. When Mason called him the second time last night, he was anything but cool, calm and collected. Where was his loyalty now?

The call tonight was different
: not Mason, who seemed impossible to contact during the day, but Harry DuPont, another old friend, but also the CEO of 
The Washington Herald.
DuPont was so sorry, but there was nothing he could do. He had wind of the story that would be in the paper in the morning.

Davison
sighed. Got up and stepped over to a bureau and poured himself another brandy. Then another. Then another.

He walked over to the cabinet the other side of the study. Fished a little key out of his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the glass door. He took an old shotgun off its hook and studied it. It had been in his family for years: when he was growing up, his father kept it at home ‘just in case’, as he used to say; when he himself moved to DC, the gun came too and sometimes left the cabinet when
Davison hunted deer.

He took out another small key and unlocked a drawer in his brown oak desk. Took out a small white box, and out of this box two shells. Loaded the gun.

Shoulders slumped, he returned to the leather chair. Rested his head back on the leather, and stared up at the portrait of his father which hung above the fireplace.  Then leaned forward and put the shotgun barrel in his mouth.

He took one look at the black and white picture which stood on a table next to the chair. It was of him, Barbara, and his two sons on vacation many years ago in the Caymans.

Happier times.

Maybe.

Then he squeezed the trigger.

 

 

FIFTY-EIGHT


Sam, don’t argue
. You’re going to need a wheelchair. At least for the time being. Not for ever. You heard what the doctor said.’

Julia Moore had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with Leroy over how he would get out of the ER room at
Los Angeles County Hospital and into her car. He eventually gave in.

‘Is there anyone who can look after you?’ the well-meaning doctor had asked him. Leroy explained quite patiently and calmly that it was only a flesh wound on his leg and he was still mobile. He would be living at his apartment, Julia at hers, but she was only ten minutes away in an emergency. Anyway, he would be back at work soon. The doctor wisely chose not to argue.

‘You sure you’ll be okay?’ Julia asked, as they drove back.

‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.
Ray’s off today, so he’s coming round later.’

‘Hey, Sam - remember what the doctor said: no alcohol while you’re on those pain killers.’

‘Oh, yeah. I forgot. Great.’

They arrived back at Leroy’s building and she helped him up to his apartment.

‘You sure you need to go straightaway?’ Leroy asked, patting the seat next to him.

‘Yes, I am. Remember what the doctor said. Take it easy and rest your leg.’

‘Wasn’t going to use my leg,’ Leroy grinned.

‘Sure.  Just save your energy for Catalina,’ Julia said, leaning over to kiss him. ‘I’ll call you later.’

Just as she was leaving she bumped into Quinn at the door. ‘I have to go back to work,’ she said. ‘Make sure he rests, and no booze. He’s on painkillers.’

Quinn
gave her a mock salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’  Once she had gone, he slumped down in a chair opposite Leroy. ‘Is that true?’ he asked. ‘No booze?’

Leroy pulled a face. ‘Seems so. While I’m on these painkillers.’

‘It doesn’t apply to me, does it?’ Quinn asked, getting up and heading for Leroy’s fridge.

‘Yes, it does,’ Leroy called out. ‘If I can’t, you can’t.’

‘That’s not fair.’ Quinn said. ‘Coffee, though?’

‘Yeah, go on.’

‘When do you expect to get back?’ Quinn asked once had made coffee.

‘Couple of weeks, I guess.’

‘Need any physiotherapy?’

‘A little, maybe. The doc said to do plenty of walking for a start, then see how things go.’

‘Lucky it was only a flesh wound.’

‘Yeah. Though I’ve still got no idea what Patterson was aiming for.’

‘Lucky.’

‘How’s married life?’ Leroy asked. ‘Still good?’

‘Of course. Holly says the two of you must come over for dinner. While you’ve got time on your hands.’

‘Thanks.’

‘She moving in yet?’

‘No. Let’s change the subject: how’s things at the Department?’

‘Much the same, really. Obviously there’s no captain.’

‘Obviously. Perez having to make decisions all by himself?’

‘Yeah. Just like he did the other night.’

Leroy nodded. ‘True,’ he said quietly.

Quinn asked, ‘Is Julia going with you to Domingo and Connor’s funerals?’

Leroy nodded. ‘Said she would. Domingo was Catholic, so may be a large affair. Both would be, I guess. What about Patterson’s?’

‘Haven’t heard anything.’

‘Will be a low-key thing, I would think. Just family. Just like the other guys: Guy Robbins, Lance Riley, and Ted Parker. What about the fourth one? The one at the Blue Line station?’

‘Haven’t heard anything. Maybe he survived. Maybe they haven’t found the body yet. By the way,’ Quinn added, ‘Emma Kennedy isn’t being charged.’

‘No?’

‘The DA said insufficient evidence.’

Leroy shrugged. ‘Well, I guess having your brother blow his brains out is enough.’ He paused. ‘Any word on that little prick Dwight Mason?’

‘Nothing yet, as far as I know. He seems to have gone aground.’

Leroy leaned back and rested his head on the back of the sofa. ‘Well, it’s only a matter of time before he’s picked up.’ He yawned.

‘You know, it all started on one night,’ said Quinn. ‘Just one night.’

‘Say what?’

‘Well, think about it: Davison and Patterson had this little enterprise going; for some time, by all accounts. Then one night, it all went tits up. If that one guy hadn’t spotted that his hooker -’

‘Was the
United States Secretary of Defence in drag? Yes, that had occurred to me.’ Leroy paused again. ‘I guess the case really is closed now.’

Quinn nodded. ‘It is, now Davison’s gone. He was the last man.’

Leroy yawned again. ‘Apart from Mason.’

‘Apart from Mason,’ agreed
Quinn. He stood up. ‘I think it’s time to go, Sam. You need to rest. I’ll give you a call in a day or so, and we can all get together.’

Leroy looked up at his partner. ‘Sure, I’d like that. Give Holly my love. Let yourself out, will you?’

Quinn did so, and left Leroy on the sofa. He leaned back again and closed his eyes.

*****

Leroy was awakened by the sound of his phone ringing. It was Julia. Or so the phone said.

‘Hey, baby,’ he said, answering.

Only it wasn’t Julia.

‘Hello, Detective,’ said a familiar, sneering voice.

‘Mason?’ Leroy said, manoeuvring himself up. ‘What the hell are you -?’

‘Don’t worry, Detective, she’s okay. In fact she’s twenty feet away in the park with a friend. She doesn’t even know I have her phone. The silly bitch just left her bag open on the seat next to her.’

‘What do you want? If you -’

‘You think you’ve been so clever, don’t you, Detective?  Have you considered what you have done? You single handedly destroyed the life of one of the best politicians this country ever had. One day he would have been President of the United States of America.’

‘I don’t think so, Mason. And it won’t be long before you’re picked up. Now, I asked you where’s Julia?

Mason laughed. ‘Now it’s time I gave your girlfriend her cell phone back. I think I’ll say she dropped it on the ground.’

‘Where are you, Mason?’

‘I have to give her the phone back. Can’t have you using it to trace me, can I?  But it just goes to show one thing, doesn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘How close I can get to your girlfriend.’

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

SAM LEROY WILL RETURN

 

 

 

 

Also by Philip Cox

AFTER THE RAIN

Young, wealthy, handsome - Adam Williams is sitting in a bar in a small town in
Florida.

Nobody has seen him since.

With the local police unable to trace Adam, his brother Craig and a workmate, Ben Rook, fly out to find him.

However, nothing could have prepared them for the bizarre cat-and-mouse game into which they are drawn as they seek to pick up Adam’s trail and discover what happened to him that night.

Download from:

UK
:
www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005FZ0RAI

US: 
www.amazon.com/dp/B005FZ0RAI

DARK EYES OF
LONDON

When Tom Raymond receives a call from his ex-wife asking to meet him, he is both surprised and intrigued – maybe she wants a reconciliation?

However, his world is turned upside down when she falls under a tube train on her way to meet him.

Refusing to accept that Lisa jumped, Tom sets out to investigate what happened to her that evening.

Soon, he finds he must get to the truth before some very dangerous people get to him…

Download from:

UK:
www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007JMWBM2

US: 
www.amazon.com/dp/B007JMWBM2

 

SHE’S NOT COMING HOME

EVERY MORNING

At 8.30 Ruth Gibbons kisses her husband and son goodbye, and goes to work.

 

EVERY EVENING

At 5pm she finishes work, texts her husband leaving now, and begins her walk home.

 

EVERY NIGHT

At 5.40 she arrives home, kisses her husband and son, and has dinner with her family

 

EXCEPT TONIGHT

 

Download from

UK

www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B009US94U0

US:
www.amazon.com/dp/B009US94U0

 

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Last Man’s Head
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www.philipcox.moonfruit.com

BOOK: Last Man's Head
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