Authors: James Andrus
The Perfect Death (25 page)
FORTY-EIGHT
Not long after meeting with Liz Dubeck and her witness, John Stallings found himself in a big conference room of the Land That Time Forgot. Yvonne the Terrible was holding court with Mazzetti, Patty, and Sparky throwing out all the information they had gathered on the homicides.
Sparky said, “The chemical found on the body in the playground and Lexie Hanover's apartment matched. The lab says it's an industrial cleaner with specks of potash and other burned byproducts. They're checking to see what some of the uses of this chemical combination would be in the real world.”
Patty said, “We've sorted the two hundred twenty leads that have been called in since the press conference this morning. Most are things that we've already covered and a few are about specific suspects. Nothing earthshaking right now, but we'll keep working on them.”
Sergeant Zuni turned her pretty face to Stallings, obviously saving Mazzetti, as the lead investigator, for last.
Stallings said, “I just talked to a witness who says she saw Leah Tischler, out of her school uniform, after she disappeared from home. That means she could have discarded the belt found around Kathy Mizell's throat.” That caused a humming in the room as almost every detective had a question. Stallings held up his hand and said, “This may not be the most reliable witness in terms of time frame, but I believe she did see Leah and she was very specific about what she was wearing. Jeans and a man's plaid shirt. She said it looked like a lumberjack's shirt. Leah was at a bus stop and mentioned something about going on a trip.”
Sparky went on about some technical issue and what policy demanded, but Stallings tuned him out as he stared at the photos of the dead girls and Leah Tischler laid out on the table. He'd done this a number of times, staring deeply into each girl's face, trying to see what the killer might have seen. Why had he chosen these specific girls? They ranged in age from seventeen to thirty-five. None of the hair colors or even facial features appeared similar to Stallings. Yet there was something about each of them that seemed noticeable. They were each pretty, but not flawless or gorgeous. In each photo the victim was smiling, and they all had appealing smiles and bright eyes. If Stallings were going to attribute any single feature, he would have to say they all had an innocent look. Maybe a pleasantly naïve look. Would that be enough to attract the notice of the killer?
Tony Mazzetti started to talk, then cleared his throat loudly until Stallings looked up from the photos. “From the position of the body and the fact that the killer is never seen on any of the surveillance cameras in the hospital, I believe the killer knew the layout of the hospital fairly well. That might mean he's an employee and we're checking on that thoroughly. He used a cord around her neck that left a small pattern. It appears to be very similar to the pattern left on Lexie Hanover's throat. There was no chemical residue found anywhere and really no other forensic evidence from the body so far.”
“The thing I've been wondering is why has the body count jumped so quickly in such a short amount of time? I can't believe that this guy just decided to start killing and in a week had four identifiable victims.”
Patty said, “Maybe he's very young and developed a taste for it.”
Sparky said, “I'm checking prisoners released in the last month from any prison in the Southeast. It may be that he's trying to make up for lost time.”
Mazzetti shook his head. “I don't know. I get the feeling that this creep has been at this a long time and recently picked up the pace. He's got some specific goal in mind. If we figure out that goal we might get ahead of him.”
Sergeant Zuni said, “The news media is already building on the story. An Atlanta station is running the same story that was run here and will broadcast Leah Tischler's photo from Daytona to Tennessee. We're going to get awfully busy so I intend to call in more help.”
As the sergeant opened the conference room door everyone froze. Standing there, in a beautiful Burberry suit, was Ronald Bell.
Stallings knew his day just gotten worse.
Buddy felt the excitement grow as he drove his van into an elegant subdivision near Hyde Park. He'd removed the magnetic sign from his plain white work van and pulled into the driveway of the beautiful two-story home with a giant oak tree out front.
The woman who had approached him while he worked at the hotel had asked him to show her some of his work and give an estimate for an actual sculpture he could blow from glass to go in this ostentatious but beautiful house.
Her name was Janet and she did have a lovely smile. He had no idea what she did for a living, but it looked like it was lucrative. He was torn about using her as a subject in his work of art when she was the first person to ever ask him to create a glass sculpture for money. He tried to figure out a way to do the work, get paid, and use her as a subject, but he didn't see any chance of doing that. Time was too short.
She met him at the front door and extended a delicate hand in greeting.
Buddy said, “What were you doing all the way downtown when you live out here in Hyde Park?”
“I was at the revival in the football stadium. I find Brother Ellis to be completely entertaining and absorbing. I'm going back for his last sermon tomorrow.”
Buddy nodded. He liked the idea that this girl was religious. It meant she would be able to understand what he'd done for her by preserving her memory for eternity. He peeked over her shoulder into the long entryway that opened to a spectacular family room. She stepped aside and welcomed him into her home. Buddy tried to get a sense of who else was in the house. He had his final jar and special cord out in the van. A euphoric feeling swept over him as he realized this could be the final piece of the puzzle. Janet could be the linchpin for his work of art.
Janet said, “I have a warm feeling that I will love your glasswork.”
“Somehow I know you will.”
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Patty Levine's stomach rumbled with anxiety. Ronald Bell stood talking to Sergeant Zuni and Patty outside the conference room. Patty couldn't believe what seeing him did to her nervous system. She could hardly stand up straight.
Bell said, “I'm sorry it has to be this way, but we have to go overt with our investigation and I'm going to interview several of the detectives.” He focused his pale blue eyes on Patty without naming her specifically.
Sergeant Zuni said, “Ronald, I recognize you have a job to do, but this is not a good time. We're in the middle of a major homicide investigation.”
“I understand and wish things could be different. I was hoping someone might confess and save us all a lot of heartache and trouble.” Again he looked at Patty.
From farther back in the conference room Sparky Taylor cleared his throat, stepped forward, and said, “There may be an explanation for what happened to the missing pills.”
Bell snapped, “When I want audiovisual advice or to hear policy recited, I'll give you a call, Detective Taylor.”
Sergeant Zuni said, “We've got too much to do for this bullshit. You need to get out of our hair. And I mean right now.”
Bell said, “There's nothing I'd like to do more. But first I need to do an interview. Not an arrest. Just a simple interview now that this is an official inquiry.” Once again his attention was completely focused on Patty Levine.
Now Patty understood why guys on the street would run from cops. She felt like sprinting out of the office and away from Ronald Bell right that second.
From behind her Sparky Taylor spoke in a clear voice, saying, “Policy demands that I be heard.” It was the most forceful thing anyone had ever heard him say. And everyone turned to look directly at Sparky Taylor.
FORTY-NINE
Buddy made some calculations in his head. He'd been at the house almost ten minutes with his plain white van sitting in the driveway. How many neighbors would have noticed him in that time? Did it really matter anymore? He'd be done with his work of art very soon and that was all that was important. His monument to eternity, displaying the gifts God had given him.
His eyes followed Janet as she walked through the cavernous house as graceful as a dancer with a pleasant smile the whole time. She'd showed him two different sketches of etchings she liked on two large panes of glass that would set off the living room from the entryway. One etching was of a cross with Christ crucified on it and a faint shadow cast below him and the sun above his head. She had drawn it herself and it was moving in its own way. Certainly a unique and important skill that could be remembered forever.
Buddy brought in a leather work pouch that contained two measuring tapes, a carpenter's square, several pencils, and a grease pen. In addition, the special cord and the last jar were in the bag. He was ready. He had decided. He reached in and pulled out his jar.
Janet said, “What's that?”
He handed her the jar. “Something I made.”
Janet held the dark green jar to the light, not bothering to conceal her admiration. “This is wonderful.”
Buddy was ready to make his move.
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John Stallings felt like he wanted to strike Ronald Bell in the head. The only question in his mind was if he should use his fists or elbow. But Yvonne Zuni seemed to be able to read his mind and gave him a serious “chill out” look. With a nod of her head she sent him back to his desk, worried about his partner. While he sat there thinking, he realized, maybe for the first time, that Patty had somehow filled a void in his life and he viewed her as a daughter. She was a partner he trusted, but he had very strong paternal feelings about her welfare. Even though there was only thirteen years' difference between them, he worried about her like she was one of his own.
He took a few minutes to breathe deeply and concentrate on calming down. There was a lot of work to do and no matter how much satisfaction he'd take in laying out the noxious IA investigator, in the long run it wouldn't help his chances of catching and stopping this killer who had claimed so many lives in such a short time.
He wondered what Sparky was saying behind the closed door of the sergeant's office. Patty had been pulled in along with the sergeant and Ronald Bell. After a few minutes Stallings regained his composure and started going over the tasks he needed to complete.
Luis Martinez, a relatively new detective in the crimes/persons unit, plopped down in the chair in front of Stallings.
Luis inclined his head toward the sergeant's office and said, “What's going on in there?”
Stallings mumbled, “Usual bullshit.” He liked the tough, direct former Marine who had recently been assigned his first homicide. “How's your stabbing case going?”
Martinez shrugged. “No one really cares about the Kazem stabbing. All anyone is talking about is the serial strangler. I haven't gotten anywhere on the stabbing except to talk to a lot of ex-boyfriends and associates.” He opened his notebook and stared out the first sheet of paper. “Shit.” He ripped out a sheet of paper, crumpled it, and tossed it in the garbage can by Stallings's desk.
Stallings said, “What's wrong?”
“I got some kind of kind of chemical shit on the paper when I was over at the glass company talking to a guy who leases the building from the murder victim.”
“Is the guy a suspect?”
“No, he's okay. He had no real motive and definitely wasn't interested in her romantically.” Luis stood and said, “I gotta get back to work, Stall. It's a lonely case.”
Stallings mumbled, “Let me know if I can help.” Then he looked down at the damp sheet of paper Luis had tossed into his can. He wondered if it would hurt Ronald Bell if he picked up the garbage can and smacked him in the head with it.
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Buddy was lost in the image of Janet holding his homemade jar to the sunlight streaming in from a tall windowâher light brown hair like satin, her full red lips, and that beautiful graceful neck. It was her neck that had him mesmerized as he held the cord loosely in his right hand. It looked like he just had a length of rope. Nothing threatening or unusual. It could've been a standard for measuring glass. His only concern was that if he moved too quickly she might drop the jar.
She turned and faced him, handing back the heavy jar. Those wide eyes and that brilliant smile grabbed his attention now. She said, “It looks like the jar has a specific use.”
“I've made eighteen of them to hold one of the most precious commodities on earth.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. “What would that commodity be?”
Buddy decided he'd tell her as he was collecting the commodity. He placed the jar gently on a coffee table, faced her, once again taking in her beautiful face. He worked the logistics out in his mind of how to loop the cord around her throat and apply even pressure so he didn't have the same problem he'd experienced with the nurse, Katie Massa.
As he started to shuffle to one side he heard the front door and a male voice call out, “Sweetheart, where are you?”
She turned and took a step away from Buddy, yelling, “I'm in the living room with a true artist.”
She was so sweet it hurt Buddy's heart that he couldn't make her part of eternity right now. It seemed unfair to her.
He watched the tall, well-built young man embrace his wife, then offer his hand to Buddy.
Buddy shifted, saying, “Nice to meet you.”
Buddy smiled and nodded as he took another look at his perfect subject. He even wondered if it would be worth killing the husband with a knife or a blow to the head. He figured in his current condition he wouldn't have the strength to overcome such a fit young man. And that made him even sadder.
He'd have to keep his eyes open for another subject. Then he brightened as he thought about the manager of the hotel. He had to concentrate to think of her name: Liz Dubeck.
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