Authors: James Andrus

The Perfect Death (10 page)

BOOK: The Perfect Death

10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

EIGHTEEN

It was too early in the morning for Stallings to have so much on his mind. He got into the coffee shop where he was supposed to meet Liz Dubeck early and was sipping on a cup of unsweetened black coffee. He felt a pang of guilt meeting a woman for coffee. It didn't matter that she was a witness. He was meeting her because he liked talking to her. In addition, he was troubled by his father's confusion last night. He had talked it over with the priest, who said he hadn't noticed any previous memory lapses. He promised to keep an eye on Stallings's father and note any similar incidents. Stallings silently pledged to visit more frequently to make sure it wasn't anything more than a man who had had a hard life and was getting older.

Liz came through the front door, looking cute, like a suburban mom with a slight edge. He got her a cup of coffee and they sat and chatted, first about her work at the motel, which was funded by grants through the city and the federal government, then about her personal life. Stallings wasn't surprised she'd been married and had no children of her own. He could see a woman like this spending so much time working with the runaways that her husband had found other ways to occupy his time. He found himself confiding in her about his separation and gave her some details about his kids and how he hadn't seen Jeanie in three years.

Stallings said, “What's your plan now?”

“What'd you mean? Like my plan on convincing you to have dinner with me?”

He smiled. “I meant your long-term plan with your job and those sorts of things. You made it sound like you were looking around.”

“Does that mean you won't have dinner with me?”

This time he even laughed. He could think of nothing he'd like to do more than have dinner with her. Instead he said, “Things are complicated right now. Can I have a little time to answer you?”

“That's a refreshing attitude from a man separated from his wife. You can have all the time you need.”

He felt like leaning across the table and kissing her on the cheek, but before he could, she gave him a kiss on the lips.

He said, “What was that for?”

“For not realizing what a sweet guy you are.” She stood, straightened her blouse, and said, “When things are less complicated, please give me a call.”

Like the night before, he couldn't speak. Instead he smiled, nodded his head, and watched her as she turned quickly and walked out of the cafÃ©. He thought about running after her but realized she wanted to exit on her own terms. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and took another sip of coffee as he dug in his pocket for a ten-dollar bill to lay on the table.

As he looked up, a face caught his attention. Staring at him from across the room was his wife, Maria.

It was quiet in the office so Patty used the opportunity to casually take a seat next to Tony Mazzetti's desk. She knew John was having coffee with Liz Dubeck. She fully approved of Stallings's informal meeting, hoping it might get the guy's head out of his family situation. It seemed clear to everyone but him that Maria intended to move forward with the divorce. But poor John could never let anything go easily. It broke Patty's heart to see someone she cared so much about experience the kind of problems John Stallings had.

Her eyes made an involuntary sweep of the detective bureau. That's what her secret relationship with Tony Mazzetti had done to her. But the Land That Time Forgot was almost devoid of people except for Yvonne Zuni, working quietly at her desk in her office, and a team of crime scene people collecting any possible evidence left from the fight the day before. It seemed odd to her that they were so worried about errant DNA and fingerprints, but one of the crime scene techs had explained that the state attorney's office was considering additional charges, which could include attempted murder if the injured detective did not recover fully. She noted that there were no detectives supervising the crime-scene geeks and thought it was a little unusual. But in cost-cutting times like this there was no telling what was important enough to warrant a detective and what wasn't.

She focused her attention on Tony Mazzetti's handsome, smiling face. He had a strong chin and his nose had been broken one too many times, but he still had a cute quality to his looks. If Patty could correct anything about her boyfriend's appearance it'd be his crooked bottom teeth. He definitely would have benefited from a couple of years in braces as a teenager, but it was nothing she'd ever mention.

She even liked the neat mustache he spent so much time trimming and loved to show off on TV.

Mazzetti said, “You okay? You look tired.”

Patty shrugged. “Just a few aches and pains.”

“Maybe you should take a day off and rest up.”

She was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “No. No way. Not until we find out what happened to Leah Tischler or find the killer. I think Stall believes there's a chance she's alive.”

“Even after finding the belt?”

“He says she could've discarded it.”

“Keep dreamin'.” Mazzetti took a moment to really look at his girlfriend. He said in a quiet voice, “You look beat. You sure you're okay?”

“I've been tired before.”

“Fair enough. You have any plans for this evening?”

“I haven't checked my datebook or any messages on my phone. But I can assume I'm relatively open. What'd you have in mind?”

“I have to check a couple of construction sites down in the south and near Dearwood Park. There's an Italian place named Gi-Gi's off J. Turner Butler Boulevard. I thought it might be nice if we ran into each other there about eight o'clock.”

“I'm assuming you visiting the construction sites has something to do with your homicide investigation.”

Mazzetti nodded quietly.

“What if you get hung up and I'm waiting all alone in a nice Italian restaurant? Maybe I'll wear my tiny black dress and other patrons can hit on me if you don't show.” She gave him her best mischievous smile.

Mazzetti said, “I really don't expect to find our man at this construction site. It's more of a process of elimination. But if he turns out to be there and I make an arrest, I feel pretty confident I can call you, explain what happened, and you'll fully understand. Then I'll deal with anyone who tried to hit on you.”

Patty leaned in close and let her hand drift over to his leg. “You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Yvonne Zuni had a good sense of what was going on in the squad's homicide case. She'd finally finished reading and approving the reports from the night before and felt confident they were doing everything they could to find the killer. She didn't react to the parents' sorrow like Stallings did. She felt her strength was in the cool and rational deployment of the resources. The thing that bothered her now was Ronald Bell's disclosure that someone in the detective bureau was a suspect in the theft of evidence.

As this thought occurred to her the phone rang. A male voice said, “How is the most beautiful sergeant in all of JSO doing this morning?”

Sergeant Zuni couldn't help but smile. “I'd be doing better if I didn't have a covert IA crime scene in my squad bay.”

“Would you rather have a full-blown investigation airing out everyone's dirty laundry?”

“No, I think this is disruptive enough.”

“That was one of the reasons I was calling. I wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly. I have no idea what they might pick up, but we need to have as much information as possible before we go public.”

“It's quiet in here this morning. Everyone's out running leads or taking comp time so they can work on the weekend. I hate being sneaky about anything with my detectives.”

“Please don't make it sound like I want to be sneaky. This is the best way to handle it.”

“I agree. But it doesn't make me feel any better.”

There was a short pause on the phone line until Bell said, “The other reason I was calling was to see if you might be available for dinner tonight.”

“I thought it was too dangerous to eat out in public.”

“Not if we pick some out-of-the-way place. What'd you feel like eating?”

“I love a good Italian place. Any ideas?”

Bell said, “I have just the place. It's down in Deerwood Park. It's called Gi-Gi's. How does eight o'clock sound?”

“Like a date.”

NINETEEN

John Stallings was surprised Maria wasn't bent out of shape. He sat across from her at the small table in the same cafÃ© where he'd met Liz Dubeck. As soon as he'd noticed her, he'd walked over and tried to explain why he was sitting with another woman, but Maria had showed no real emotion. His first concern was she'd fallen off the wagon, but as he sat there quietly talking to her, he realized it might be a worse problem. She just didn't care.

Maria shook her head and said for the third time, “You don't have to explain anything to me. We're separated. As I recall, I'm the one who asked you to move out. You can have coffee with anyone you want.”

Somehow her calm and rational response was even more unsettling than if she'd yelled and cursed. But Maria had never been prone to emotional fits. Even her choice of drugs, prescription narcotics and other depressants, mirrored her personality. She was quiet and thoughtful rather than fiery and vengeful. Right now the quiet, thoughtful approach seemed much harsher to Stallings.

Stallings said, “What're you doing over here, Maria?”

“Like I said, we don't have to explain ourselves to each other.”

“I'm just curious. It's not near the house and there's no reason for you to be downtown.”

“What if I told you I was headed down to the football stadium?”

“I'd say there's no reason to be sarcastic. I worry about you. I worry about the kids too. Some days you guys are all I can think about.”

“But apparently not today.”

That hurt Stallings more than about anything she'd ever said.

It was midmorning and Mazzetti felt like he had to get out and do some work on the case rather than read other people's reports about the work they'd done. But there were a lot of aspects to Kathy Mizell's murder and it required a lot of detectives. That's why he and Sparky Taylor were now at the Jacksonville Medical Examiner's Office on North Jefferson Street. The modern, two-story, white building looked more like a middle school than the last place the residents of Duval County visited.

Mazzetti gawked at the young, pretty assistant medical examiner. Goggles covered her blue eyes as she perched on a stool, working on a body of a seventy-eight-year-old drowning victim. It was not uncommon for Mazzetti to discuss cases with her while she continued her work. He was amazed at how the young Syracuse graduate could do so many things at once and still get it all right.

She used a scalpel to slice the skin along the crown of the man's head as she said, “The one thing I'd say is our killer is strong. He didn't use the belt as tourniquet; he pulled it manually with his hands. That makes me believe he's probably large with some muscle mass.”

Mazzetti said, “But there's nothing to link Kathy Mizell to the Pamela Kimble murder in Rolling Hills, is there?”

“Not that I can see.” She paused for a moment as she peeled back the skin and hair of the elderly man's head. “Kimble was a manual strangulation where the killer used his hands. There are no links. No decent DNA or fingerprints or other organic material. Aside from asphyxiation, even the mode of death is different. One killer used a belt and the other his bare hands. It's very uncommon to see a strangler change details like that between two different murders.”

Mazzetti wanted to tell the young assistant medical examiner to stick to the medical aspects of the case and leave the other forensics and profiling to the detectives. He knew she also had a background in psychiatry and kept up with all the medical journals about deviant behavior so he kept his mouth shut. He had learned a long time ago it was easier to let people run their mouths and ignore them than it was to tell them to stick to their fields. He'd need a good working relationship with this woman for a long time to come.

The assistant medical examiner said, “Any idea where the belt came from?”

Mazzetti looked at Sparky Taylor to involve him in the conversation. The rotund detective took the hint and said, “We've identified it as a part of the Thomas School uniform. There's a girl named Leah Tischler missing from the school and it's a good bet the belt was hers. The only question now is, did she discard it when she ran away or is she another victim of the same killer, who took the belt from her?”

The woman looked at Sparky and said, “The Thomas School. That's big-time. I bet you boys are under some pressure to solve this one quick.”

Mazzetti cut in and said, “We're under pressure to solve every murder quickly.”

The assistant medical examiner stood from the stool and stretched, removed her glasses, focused those drop-dead-gorgeous blue eyes on Mazzetti, and said, “You look like you handle it pretty well. Wish I could stay in shape as well as you.” She smiled at him.

Mazzetti felt like he'd stumbled into a robbery the way his heart raced and his face flushed. He wondered if he was misreading the cute assistant medical examiner when she added, “We should meet at the gym over at the PMB sometime.”

No, he was reading it right.

Patty Levine knew when to ask her partner personal questions and when to keep her mouth shut. She didn't know what had happened earlier in the morning, but John Stallings was in a silent, brooding mood.

She casually asked, “How was coffee?”

“Look, I'm married. Nothing happened.”

She couldn't remember her partner ever speaking so sharply to her and, although it was hard for a moment, she knew he wasn't mad at her. Something else was eating at him. They rode along in silence as she checked her list of safe houses that runaways used on occasion. The runaway population in Jacksonville had its own underground railroad of sorts. It also had a communications network rivaling AT&T. The runaways seemed to know where they could congregate safely, eat, and sleep with a roof over their head. The county government provided very few services for runaways compared to the problem, but there were a number of alternatives like the cheap hotels decent people like Liz Dubeck ran or houses that rented rooms cheaply.

Patty and Stallings had already checked three safe houses Stallings had a very good relationship with. No one had seen any sign of Leah Tischler or knew anyone who had had any contact with her. A common response during one of these investigations.

Stallings pulled his Impala to the curb in front of an old Florida, flat-roofed, cement-block house. Two men in their early twenties sat on the porch with their feet dangling off. They started to get up when they saw the car stop but relaxed once they realized it was Stallings.

Patty was always amazed how calm her partner was as he approached people and situations like this. He nodded and said, “Hey, boys. Darryl inside?”

One of them said, “Watching
Family Guy
in the main room. He got himself a DVR and hasn't left his TV chair in four days.”

Stallings chuckled. “Everyone needs a goal in life.”

Patty followed him through the open door, aware of the gun on her hip covered by a loose shirt. She knew Stallings and Darryl Paluk had a long history, which included a broken nose and several broken fingers before Darryl realized he should never hold back information from Stallings about missing girls. For his part Stallings had never hassled Darryl about his pot dealing and constant use of the drug inside the house. Even now, late in the morning, Patty navigated through the thick haze of marijuana smoke.

The big, hairy, shirtless man sat in an oversized La-Z-Boy recliner, laughing wildly at an episode of the animated show
Family Guy.

Stallings stood in the doorway to the main room until one of the men on the couch looked up and gave a little shout of surprise. Darryl turned his massive head, chuckled loudly, and said, “Stall, my brother. What brings you by this bright, sunny day?”

Stallings stepped into the room, and Patty automatically slid to the other side of the doorway so that between them they could cover the entire room.

Stallings said, “Have you met my partner, Patty Levine?”

Darryl Paluk struggled to his feet, pulling his shorts all the way to his gigantic waist. “I have not had the pleasure.” He extended his hand. “I can't believe the local police agency would have the good taste to hire a babe like you.”

Patty gave him a short glare as Stallings said, “This babe will crack you in your head with her ASP and not think about it again today.”

Darryl looked at Patty and said, “Is this true?”

Patty knew actions spoke louder than words with guys like this so she reached behind her loose shirt, grasped her ASP tucked in the small of her back, yanked it out with her right hand, and flicked it open over her right shoulder so it made a sound like a shotgun racking. The metal baton expanded from eight inches to thirty inches in the blink of an eye and had caused more than one street thug to poop in his pants. The action brought a stunned silence to everyone in the room except Stallings, who used it as a chance to produce a photo of Leah Tischler and ask Darryl and his friends if any of them had seen her. It was a perfect example of how well they worked together as partners. They always wanted the element of surprise but never wanted to surprise each other.

A tall, thin youth leaned up from the couch, his long greasy hair dangling over his shoulder. He took a good look at the photo, then faced both Stallings and Patty. This was usually a sign someone had some information. The young man looked at Leah's photo again and said, “I think I saw her. She was in some kind of school uniform over near Davis.”

Patty didn't say anything and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“She's a rich girl. I can tell by the professional photograph. And that's one of the reasons I noticed her. She got into a white van, I think. I remember the uniform and her pretty dark hair. If you give me some time I might be able to come up with a few more details.”

Stallings said, “Could it have been a construction van?”

“There was no sign I remember, but it could've been,”

They had another lead.

BOOK: The Perfect Death

10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads