Free Last Man's Head by Philip Cox

nodding.
    ‘Do you work, Michelle?’ asked Domingo. ‘Or have you begun your family leave already?’
    ‘No, I’m still at work. I work as an administrator at a car dealer ten minutes from here. I had a day off today, as I’m due to work tomorrow and Sunday.’
    ‘Would you like us to call them for you?’ asked Domingo.
    ‘No, it’s all right, thanks. My mother will come over; she’ll call them.’
    ‘If you’re sure,’ Domingo replied.
    ‘You have my card with my contact number,’ Leroy said. ‘If there’s anything you need, or if anything else comes to mind, just call me.’
    ‘I will, yes. Thank you.’
    ‘And you’ll get your mother to bring you to identify Lance?’
    ‘I will, yes.’
    ‘Okay. We’ll leave you now. And one again: we’re both so sorry for your loss.’
    Domingo nodded in agreement. ‘You stay here, Michelle. We’ll show ourselves out.’
    Leroy and Domingo left Michelle alone with her thoughts. They walked down the pathway across the lawn which surrounded the modest two-storey house. Got back into the car.
    Domingo looked back at the house. ‘There’s going to be a lot of tears in that house,’ she said.
    ‘Yeah,’ Leroy said quietly.
    ‘She shouldn’t be on her own, Sam.’
    ‘I know, but her mother’s going to come over.’
    ‘Sure. Still, all the same…’
    ‘Let’s head over to Century City,’ Leroy said as he fired up the engine. ‘Have a look around before they all go home.’
    As they pulled away, Leroy spoke again, ‘Before you ask, I didn’t think it the right time to mention that he had had sex not long before he died.’
    ‘Didn’t know he had. It could have been with her that morning.’
    ‘Could have been. Or could have been someone else. And unless you have midwifery as part of your resumé, I think it’s something best left to another time.’
    ‘Fair comment,’ said Domingo. ‘Jesus, seven months pregnant and to get that news. The poor kid’ll never know its father.’
    ‘No. But we need to be asking what was a man with a heavily pregnant girlfriend at home doing to get filled with LSD, roofies and coke.’
    ‘Yeah, I know,’ Domingo said, as they headed in the direction of Century City.
    ‘And another thing,’ Leroy said. ‘Hobson said both victims had had sex not long before death. So tell me: what loving father-to-be goes on a wild drugs and sex binge on a Friday night?’
     
     

FIFTEEN
    Leroy did a time check as they turned off Santa Monica Boulevard into Century Park West. It was almost five.
    ‘ Dammit,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to get here earlier. What time do you think they all leave?’
    ‘Five or six, I guess. Should’ve used the siren.’
    ‘It’s not an emergency call.’
    ‘No, but is it the same building?’
    ‘Is what the same building?’
    ‘Over there: there’s an underground parking garage. Now, is it the same one as where his body was found?’
    ‘I get you.’ Leroy parked at the front of the building. Immediately an elderly uniformed commissionaire appeared. He was just about to remonstrate with them, but stopped when they showed their badges.
    ‘This is 2100,’ said Domingo, pointing up at the four large bronze digits high on the wall.
    Leroy paused, looking around. ‘2100? Yeah, I think it is. It all looks so different in the daylight.’
    He looked over at the ramp leading underground. A sedan was coming up the ramp. He watched as it paused at the main road, then pulled into the traffic.
    ‘Let’s go speak to his workmates,’ he said, leading the way up a dozen concrete steps.
    Once inside, they could see that Culver Technologies was based on the sixth floor. After showing their badges to another uniformed attendant, they called an elevator and headed up to the sixth.
    As the doors slid open at the sixth, they were met by half a dozen office workers who were clearly on their way home.  The crowd was about to bustle past the two cops, but Leroy held up his badge and called out, ‘LAPD.