Authors: James Andrus
The Perfect Death (5 page)
EIGHT
John Stallings picked Patty Levine up at her condo in his Impala so they could cruise along North Davis and talk to the managers for some of the hotels where runaways hung out.
Patty said, “What'd you do last night?”
“Hit the hay early.” It wasn't an exact lie. He had gone to bed early, giving up trying to sleep, and come down here for a look around, but Stallings didn't want to hear Patty tell him how he needed time for himself or needed more rest.
Patty said, “I bet Tony five bucks you'd go out on your own time and see what you could discover. I guess I'll pay up this evening.”
Stallings turned and frowned at her. She knew him too well. He mumbled, “Don't pay up.”
“I knew it. You gotta stop going out on your own. You coulda been hurt and no one would've known where you were.”
He hadn't considered that argument.
Patty added, “You need your rest. I told you to get seven or eight hours of sleep a night.”
He nodded and listened for the next fifteen minutes as he cut in and out of Jacksonville traffic, taking surface streets and alleys like any good cop would.
Stallings pulled the Impala to the curb in front of a four-story, brick apartment building. Each unit had one window and about twenty percent of those were boarded. Stallings figured there were maybe a hundred tenants in the whole place. He'd heard this was the new runaway central and under new management. Different buildings popped up in the city as mainstays of runaways. Sometimes it was cheap rent that attracted them. Sometimes it was a manager who looked after the runaways. Either way the new manager here might have seen Leah and maybe even if she met with anyone.
They entered the neat lobby with new, cheap carpet and a plain set of Rooms-To-Go furniture in the corner, where people could gather on a couch and three matching chairs around a coffee table.
Stallings stepped to the clean counter and knocked on the countertop. “Hello?”
Like a good partner, Patty wandered to the hallway and casually stood, but in reality it was an instinct that couldn't be taught at the police academy. She was in position in case something surprising happened and she had to cover Stallings, or if someone rushed them from the hallway, Stallings could do the same for her.
He shifted to expose his gun and badge on his hip so they would be seen by anyone coming out of the office behind the counter. He didn't want to waste a lot of time explaining who he was. He had plenty of his own questions that needed answers.
He was about to call out again when he heard a woman's voice say, “I'll be right out.”
He stared as she stepped out of the office and behind the counter.
Her dark eyes met his and she gave him a cursory smile.
The woman said, “Hello, Officer.”
It was the woman who had scolded him last night.
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A stack of small notebooks were spread across the wide conference room table. Tony Mazzetti looked over the mess at his partner, Sparky Taylor. The fact that it looked as if there were two victims had already pushed everyone to the edge. New information was coming at him from three different sets of detectives and everything was piling up fast.
Mazzetti said, “What'd you think, Sparky? It would help to have some kind of viable theory to filter through some of the shit.”
Sparky slowly raised his face from the open file he'd been studying intently and focused his brown eyes on his new partner. “We've already checked former boyfriends and possible stalkers. Those would be the most likely suspects in a case like this. But if we look at the circumstances of the body being dumped it leads us in another direction.”
Mazzetti slowly sat down in the seat at the opposite end of the table, staring at Sparky. “Go on.”
“First, I don't think the killer, which I'll assume is a âhe' based on the nature of the crime and location of the body, lived close to the construction site. I believe he was driving, so why stay in an area that could help identify you if you've already made the risk of transferring a body to the vehicle? He's pretty strong, yet not necessarily tall because he was able to get the body into the Dumpster, but there were two cinder blocks stacked next to the Dumpster where the body was found. With the number of canals and rivers all over Duval County, a construction site is a poor choice to dump a body.”
“All right, Columbo, where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us with a lot of suspects if we considered all the construction workers in the city. I wonder what percentage of construction workers are felons?”
Mazzetti let out a snort of laughter and said, “That's like saying âWhat's the bad part of Jacksonville?' I have to say, Jacksonville.” He laughed at the old joke every cop in the city liked to tell.
Sparky didn't change his expression and said, “I like Jacksonville. I'm raising two boys here.”
“Have you ever seen the NBC special on runaways in Jacksonville?”
“We don't really watch TV around our house.”
“Really? None at all?”
“We watch one hour a night as a family. Usually half is the national news and the other half is The History Channel.”
“What'd you guys do for fun at night?”
“We play games.”
“Like Monopoly?”
“Monopoly leaves too much to luck and has too simplistic a view of world economic pressures to be of any value to the children. We like to play a game which combines Trivial Pursuit with Jenga. You have to answer a question that challenges your intellect, then use your spatial abilities to dismantle the wooden tower pieces. The boys enjoy it very much.”
Mazzetti couldn't come up with anything to say and continued to stare in silence. After he gathered his thoughts, he decided his only hope was to refocus their attention on the case. He said, “So where does that leave us? We need a jumping-off point. We have all the usual bases covered. I'd like to hear what you think might be a new way of looking at this homicide.”
Sparky said, “The logical place to start looking would be at construction sites. If we have no specific leads on a suspect and the other detectives are looking at the victims, you and I can focus on other things. Whoever dumped Kathy Mizell's body specifically picked a construction site with a full Dumpster. It may not have been a coincidence he realized the Dumpster was going to be hauled away and dumped soon. It's just an idea, but one I've been formulating all day.”
Mazzetti took a moment to assess his enigmatic new partner. The guy may have been a techno-freak who had spent most of his career in the tech squad, but he had some good insight. Even with a light Southern accent and relatively soft voice, the guy's comments had impact. He was right. Stallings and Patty were busy working the Leah Tischler aspect of the case. Another set of detectives was looking into Kathy Mizell's background and associations. A third set was running leads and interviewing people at UNF and the health center. So far, Mazzetti and Sparky had been out at the health center talking to Kathy Mizell's instructors and classmates. They had also looked through all the available forensic information. Sitting on the table were security-camera shots from ten different cameras at the health center. That was the last place anyone had seen Kathy Mizell alive and it might provide a clue. But this idea of considering a construction worker wasn't half bad.
Sparky Taylor turned in his seat and started to tap on the keyboard of the Dell laptop he took everywhere with him. He typed at a speed Mazzetti could not comprehend.
Mazzetti thought about what his partner had said and looked down at his legal pad with a list of tasks to accomplish filling most of two pages. But years of experience had taught him to follow his instincts and right now his instincts said Sparky Taylor was more than just a puffy Georgia Tech engineering graduate with odd habits.
Mazzetti said, “I wish there was an easy way to figure out exactly how many large construction sites there are in the city.”
Sparky looked from the computer screen and said, “There are thirty-nine sites requiring one or more debris Dumpsters in the downtown area and surrounding residential neighborhoods. There are an additional eighty-two three-yard Dumpsters spread out at smaller sites across the county.”
“How in the hell do you know something like that?”
“I accessed Waste Management's website and went to a page designed for city employees. It's supposed to help code enforcement people when they have issues with debris.”
Mazzetti sat, openmouthed, and finally said, “How did you know that site was even available?”
“It was in a memo sent out by the Intel squad about six months ago. Don't you read the memos sent out by the other divisions?”
“Why would I do something like that? It's all I can do keep up with my cases as it is.”
Sparky calmly looked across at Mazzetti and said, “Because it's in our policy manual we should read memos distributed from other divisions. It also makes sense on a practical level by increasing the number of people looking at any one problem.”
“You'd have to prove to me the value of reading memos from other divisions.”
“I thought I just did.”
NINE
The pretty woman standing behind the counter in the hotel lobby extended her hand to Stallings and smiled politely. “I'm Liz Dubeck and I run this place. You might recall we met last night.” Her sly smile conveyed more than any words could.
Stallings took the hand and nodded, avoiding Patty's intense gaze.
Patty whispered to him, “Aren't you glad you told me the truth already? Otherwise this might be an awkward moment.”
Stallings felt like a school kid in a parent/teacher conference as both women turned their attention to him.
Patty took the woman's hand and introduced herself, then set her battered metal case on the counter and started to take down contact information.
Stallings liked how professional Patty could be on a moment's notice.
As soon as Patty had finished, the woman looked at Stallings and said, “What was your problem with the man I saw you with last night?”
“Just a miscommunication.”
“You seemed to be making your point very clear.”
Now Stallings felt a physical pressure from Patty's gaze. He reached across into Patty's metal case and pulled out a photo of Leah Tischler and laid it out on the counter. “We've been trying very hard to find out if anyone saw her in this area in the last few days. We have reason to believe she might've used a pay phone at the check-cashing store down the street and she would've been looking for a place to stay.”
The woman leaned down to look at the photo closely. Her dark ponytail slipped across her shoulder. Stallings appreciated the attention she was giving the photo as well as the shape of her shoulders and neck.
She looked up and said, “She said her name was Lee and she was looking for a room for a couple of nights. I told her she had to let someone know she was okay. She didn't have to tell them where she was, but I didn't want whoever was responsible for her worrying. I could tell right away she wasn't a street person. She had on a school uniform of some kind.”
Patty turned to him and said, “That must've been why she called the music teacher.”
“I offered the phone here, but she said she'd have to think about it and left before I could stop her.” The hotel manager paused. “I hate to ask this, but is she okay?”
Patty took this one and Stallings was glad of it. “She's been missing a few days and there's an indication she may have fallen victim to violent crime.”
“Oh my goodness. Is there anything else I can do?”
“You can keep your ears open and let us know if you hear anything.”
It was clear this woman was concerned. “Of course, of course, anything you want. Almost everyone in this area comes through here at one time or another.” She stepped from behind the counter and joined Stallings and Patty in the lobby.
Stallings took in a breath as she walked past and brushed his arm. She gestured toward the couch and two chairs in the corner of the clean lobby. When they were all seated she said, “I work very hard to make this a clean, safe place for people down on their luck. We get a few grants and I don't always have to charge full rates. I would have let Leah stay here for free if she'd come back after I told her to let someone know she was safe.”
Patty reached over and gave the woman a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
Stallings looked around the room and said, “It does look like a nice place. That's hard to find if you're lonely, scared, and have no money.”
Liz looked around and nodded. “We've come a long way, but there are always a lot of things to finish around here. You can see the linoleum is peeling in the corners and throw rugs only cover so much. About half the rooms need new beds and it'd be nice to do some cosmetics like replacing this front window that's cracked from top to bottom. I've applied for several federal grants to help.”
Stallings looked at the bay window and saw a reflection of light from outside and the hairline crack. “There's only so much you can do, and believe me you've already helped us tremendously.”
“I'd do anything to help ease the suffering of a parent worried about a child. Even in your job it's probably hard to completely realize the anguish of missing a child.”
Stallings leveled his eyes at her and said, “No, I think I can imagine it.”
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Buddy sat on a hard, carpeted floor of the dentist's office way down in the southern part of the county, on the edge of an area known as Mandarin. Instead of the goofy posters of giant teeth most dentists had used when he was a kid, there were framed, signed cartoons featuring Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. The office was comfortable and the staff had been very friendly. And it was really good money for simply installing one four-foot, etched-glass divider with a nicely drawn dolphin exactly in the middle. There were also three outside windows he was going to change, but they didn't have the artistic edge this large sheet of glass offered. For some reason he didn't really mind the mundane job on this bright September morning.
He kept trying to focus all of his attention on the thin edge of the wide glass window as it slid into place. The problem was his mind kept racing as he thought about the girl at the bus stop and the hours he had spent with Jessie, the subject he'd found ten days earlier.
Jessie had been so special. The whole experience was magical. Getting to know her and making sure she was right for his work of art. Those had been a precious few hours. He'd seen her not far off Davis and made sure he parked the van well ahead of her before opening the door. This was an impulse on his part. He had no plans to take any violent action. She came closer with that beautiful wet, tangly hair and a few raindrops staining her white T-shirt. The shirt had the logo on it. A giant bright yellow sun bursting over the horizon with the words HILLSIDE FARMS, OCALA, in blue, under the sun. He made some comment about her being soaked.
The bright young woman turned her head to him and looked in the van. She surprised him by saying, “If I could get someone to give me a ride to Orange Park it would save me a long miserable bus ride.”
He didn't hesitate. “My shop's down that way.” He said it calmly and coolly, but in fact he could see the top of his building down the street where he was standing right at that moment.
She got in the van and immediately started to chatter about how much she appreciated the ride and she had a friend who would let her stay the night in Orange Park. The young lady introduced herself very properly and he could already tell she met his requirements for eternity.
He drove around the block and hit the automatic garage door opener to his warehouse.
Jessie said, “I thought you said your shop was in Orange Park.”
“It is. This is just a warehouse for the glass we work with. We have a couple of them around the city. I'll only be a few minutes and then I'll take you wherever you need to go.” He kept his demeanor cool and didn't force anything he said. He invited her to step out and have a soda while he walked past the display glass into his private workspace and selected one of his finished jars. The lid was already made for it, but he had to make the rubber seal that sat inside the glass lid. It only took a second to cut a gasket from a large square of industrial rubber. He never hurried through the warehouse as Jessie sat quietly on one of the stools next to the workbench glancing around the large bay. He had left the bay door open to give her a greater sense of ease, but he knew no one ever walked this far down the street or bothered to look into the boring old glass company's warehouse. The only people who ever bothered him were Cheryl and Donna. Those visits had been too frequent lately. They had already ruined one chance he had at adding to his masterpiece. Barged in and made his subject scurry away like a frightened deer. He never even saw her again. Buddy looked on the bright side: another five minutes and they would've caught him with a dead body in his shop. That would've been enough to cancel his lease.
Jessie watched him as he walked back with a small glass jar in his hand and then saw her eyes drift over to the stairway to his private apartment.
She said, “What's up there?”
“The office.” He liked the smooth sound of her voice. It had an innocent and youthful quality to it. He set the jar down and glanced around to see if there was a cord or strap he might be able to use. “Why's a girl like you wandering around downtown Jacksonville on a wet, rainy day like this?”
Now she seemed to withdraw a bit. “My ride fell through and I need to get over to my friend's house. Are we gonna head that way soon?”
He knew she was getting anxious and decided it was time to make his move.
Then a voice shook him out of his thoughts and instantly he was back in the dentist's bright office installing a sheet of glass.
“How's it going?”
It sounded like the voice was coming from a fog and it took a moment more to shake him from his daydream about the lovely Jessie. He cut his eyes to the sound of the voice and saw one of the dental assistants leaning over and smiling at him through the opposite side of the glass, the detailed etching of the dolphin obstructing the side of her face.
He had to blink his eyes hard to refocus his thoughts and form a coherent sentence. “It's going pretty well. I'll have this piece in place by lunch and start on the windows this afternoon.”
The woman stepped around the glass, keeping that beautiful smile, and said, “I wish I could concentrate like you. You completely blocked me out while you were setting the glass.”
He smiled and let out a laugh. “That's the idea sometimes.”
The woman's eyes took a quick scan of the room to make sure they were alone and said, “My name is Mary. What's yours?”
Now he turned his full attention to the pretty young woman with long hair and said, “My friends call me Buddy.”
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It was after lunch and Patty had a doctor's appointment. Stallings sometimes worried about his younger partner, but she knew the best way to deflect any questions about a doctor's visit was to mumble something about “female issues.” That tended to shut him up for at least an hour every time.
He decided to use his precious free moments to run a few blocks down and visit his father. In the last four months, since his father had reentered his life after a twenty-year absence, Stallings had learned a lot about poor choices and forgiveness. He'd also learned a lot about his early perceptions of his parents and their relationship. If his mother hadn't told him she frequently spoke to his father and she held no real resentment toward him, he didn't think there was any way he would've ever spoken to the old man again. But his mother, with her abundant patience and open mind, had explained to him she understood the disease of alcoholism and the pressures his father had been under during his career in the Navy. It'd been a slow process, but his father's open adoration of Lauren and Charlie had given Stallings the incentive to risk getting to know him again.
Now sixty-four years old, he was a shell of the belligerent bully Stallings remembered as a child. The hard-drinking, loudmouth jerk had evolved into a conscientious and surprisingly funny older man. He had not had a drink in six years and moderated a number of different groups to help the homeless and alcoholics in the wide area of Jacksonville's southern downtown. The municipal football stadium and St. Johns River bordered the southern edge of his father's little kingdom. Stallings's office sat within his father's kingdom, but he had never run into the old man. Now Stallings realized he hadn't been looking for him and could've very well seen him without recognizing the old man on a number of occasions.
He parked his Impala directly in front of the tall, run-down but stately rooming house where his father had a single room on the second story in the rear of the building. As Stallings walked up the pathway he noticed his father sitting on one of the comfortable chairs on the covered porch of the large house. Two other men sat on a low sofa with a plastic cover.
His father laid a hardcover book he was reading in his lap and smiled as Stallings approached and took the straight-backed wooden chair next to him.
“Hello, Johnny. What brings you by this time of day?”
“Just wanted to see how you were doing.”
When his father smiled and his cloudy eyes seemed to clear, Stallings caught a glimpse of the younger man he had known.
Stallings's father said, “How's that girl of yours doing?”
“Which one?”
“The one you married, goofy.”
“Dad, we talked about this. She and I are separated right now.”
The older man looked down and shook his head. “That's a shame. I really like Helen.”
Stallings was about to casually correct him when he realized the old man had no idea he'd confused Stallings's sister with his wife. He checked quickly to make sure his father hadn't slipped back onto the sauce, leaning in to sniff his breath.
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