Authors: James Andrus

The Perfect Death (7 page)

BOOK: The Perfect Death

6.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

TWELVE

Stallings could always tell when the whole squad was on one big case by the way detectives tended to focus on reports and information on their desk rather than chatting back and forth. The usual friendly atmosphere of the detective bureau went out the window when cases got serious and detectives got tired. In the past, before the recession, when overtime was plentiful, everyone had been buoyed by the idea they were making a lot of extra money by working such long hours. Some cops had equated the extra hours and pay to specific material things like, “Fifty more hours and I can get a pool.” Some cops had built a future on itâ“This is Tommy's college fund.” Now the detectives seemed to work a lot of hours for comp time or some other bullshit they never got reimbursed for. That was never Stallings's motivation for working hard. He wanted to find who was responsible for Leah Tischler's disappearance and punish him.

He and Patty had been looking for the last person who'd seen Leah. They had a list of friends and intended to go out to the Thomas School for interviews later in the day. Stallings really felt like he needed to know if Leah had run away, and if she had, where she'd run to. Maybe Jeanie had done the same thing and gone to the same place. Leah's mother had called him three or four times since he'd first gone out to their opulent house at the beach. He knew how tough it was and he wasn't going to tell her to stop calling.

Patty stepped over from her desk and said, “Almost done here. Besides going to the school, is there anyone else we need to talk to today?”

“I have a couple more questions for Liz Dubeck.”

“I'll bet you do.” Patty flashed that perfect smile.

“No, it's not like that at all.”

“Really? What is it?”

It surprised Stallings he had to think about his answer, but he was rescued by Sparky Taylor walking past on his midmorning routine of eating organic whole wheat bread and a stack of vitamins.

Stallings said, “Whatcha got there, Sparky?”

“The usual weight-control stuff. Eating a slice of organic, whole wheat bread and drinking two glasses of water helps me keep my weight in check.”

Stallings stared at the portly detective and managed to hold his tongue when he saw how sincere Sparky was.

The squad door opened with a bang, and a tall narcotics detective, whose name Stallings couldn't remember right away, stepped in with an armload of packages wrapped in duct tape. The man, in his mid-thirties, was tall and stooped and looked a little like Big Bird with thick glasses. The man glanced around the room until his eyes fell on Sparky. “Hey, Spark. Our sergeant told us to come up here to process evidence and prisoners to keep them away from some meth-lab guys we have down in our office. He cleared it with the Yvonne the Terrible.”

Sparky stepped over and helped the man lay out the packages on the desk. Stallings realized they knew each other from the tech unit, where they had obviously shared similar interests.

Stallings wandered over and casually inquired about the prisoners who were on their way.

The nerdy detective said, “We scored big. One of the guys bought fifteen hundred OxyContin from a gang not far from here. They'd been selling them to some dude from Kentucky who resold them and made a fortune. When we took down the guy from Kentucky on the highway he gave up a gang.”

Stallings mumbled, “Sweet.”

“I knew Yvonne wouldn't mind us using the squad bay. She was our sergeant before she was yours and we hated to see her go.”

“Then why'd you name her Yvonne the Terrible?”

“What better way of keeping people from stealing a good sergeant?”

Stallings had to nod, appreciating the simplistic brilliance of their plan. He let the detective sort out his evidence and noticed Patty talking with Mazzetti at his desk. Even though he knew about the relationship, that didn't mean he liked to see her too close to the weasel.

Buddy used his grinding wheel to put an edge on the long knife he intended to use to kill Donna's sister, Cheryl. There was no simple way to say it. He had to kill the dumb bitch before she ruined his life completely. He had to be careful because he might be considered a suspect in this killing. The fact that he knew her and disliked her meant he might have to answer some questions. He'd always been careful in selecting women for his work of art and he didn't think anyone had ever suspected him. He had never really worried about answering questions from the police, but this time he had to plan things out.

Most importantly he'd make sure he'd be able to find her somewhere away from her house and from his shop. He'd never risk letting her contaminate his work of art. She had no business being remembered for all eternity. In fact, he wished he could just forget about her now, but as long as she continued to hound him about the lease and barge in when he needed privacy, he had to take action.

He was going to use the knife because it was so different from the strangulations he'd done in the past. Although it was comfortable using his hands to choke someone, he'd never stabbed anyone and he didn't own a gun so he couldn't shoot her. Guns were too dangerous and he opposed them. His first preference would be to simply run her down, but he wasn't sure he could do it without witnesses and his van was fairly recognizable. That left the knife. He had read several articles on the Internet about stabbing someone to death and knew he'd have to either stick it in under her rib cage and into her heart or into her throat. He had no illusions and knew it'd be a messy job. Stabbings didn't always kill someone; in fact unless they were well-planned and delivered with force it was very difficult to kill someone with a knife attack. But it might make his life a lot easier.

He'd never considered the advantages of murder for convenience. He felt like art was a decent justification, but the idea of stabbing someone because they annoyed him made him uncomfortable.

Patty Levine looked into Tony Mazzetti's intense brown eyes and said, “This is not the time or place to have a talk like this.”

“When is the time?”

“Off duty and in private.”

Patty noticed Mazzetti's jaw clench and the muscles on each side work. She couldn't believe she'd said something like that, but it was true.

Mazzetti said, “I just want us to take the next step. No one visits either of us. No one would know if you moved in with me. It's not like we'd be adding to our secret.”

“Why wouldn't you move in with
me
?” Patty folded her arms like a schoolteacher waiting for a child to answer for some transgression. In fact she was ready to live with anyone, anywhere.

“Because I have a house. With a garage and a yard and a property value that's increasing. There was no sexist meaning in my comment.”

Patty considered the sincere offer from her boyfriend, but it really wasn't the right time to accept. She had a lot going on, and until she got a handle on at least her prescription drug problem she didn't want to drag anyone else into it. She also wondered if his offer was an attempt to bridge the chasm that had recently grown between them. She couldn't put it into words, but it just didn't feel right. On the other hand she didn't want to chase him away, either. As she was about to say something conciliatory a crash at the front of the squad bay startled her. Someone flew in through the door, smacking into the table with a thud next to the detective who'd been processing the seized OxyContin.

Stallings's head had jerked up at the sound of the commotion and he saw three young black men in handcuffs held by a mix of tactical, plainclothes officers and narcotics guys, mostly twenty-five- to thirty-year-old hotshots who spent lots of time in the gym. These young, slick detectives seemed to be more in love with the idea of being a cop than with the hard work needed to be a good police officer. They looked good in tailored shirts and low, tactical holsters worn outside their jeans, but any time a big case rolled down the pike those were not the kind of cops he wanted to work with.

One of the prisoners had already been tossed through the door and bumped into the nerdy detective working on the evidence. The prisoner jumped up and kicked the nerdy detective squarely in the head, knocking him sideways, where he struck his head on the corner of the desk on his way down. This emboldened the other two prisoners, who started struggling immediately in the grasp of the muscular cops. One headbutted a young black police officer, shattering his nose and driving him back into the hallway. The third prisoner used his legs to kick off the wall and forced two detectives back with him on the ground, taking them all out of the fight.

As Stallings pushed away from his desk, ready to rush over and help, he saw Patty Levine weigh in from the side, all elbows and knees, cracking one of the prisoners three or four times with effective blows and knocking him out of the fight instantly.

Two other crimes/persons detectives were slow to react. These were non-uniformed detectives and no one carried a Taser. For years the public had cried out about police punching suspects who acted up; then, with the introduction of the Taser it seemed the controversy would die down. Now the public, uneducated in the use of the Taser, viewed it as a near torture device. Stallings wasn't fond of the small devices that delivered electronic shocksâjust more equipment to keep track of. He'd punched enough people in his career to know how effective a right cross could be. And that's what he intended to use right now as the last prisoner was able to shake off the detectives holding him.

Stallings crossed the room, raising his hand ready to strike. He looked the prisoner right in the face, giving him a chance to surrender. He saw no surrender in the man's eyes and prepared to strike hard across his face when another detective popped out from behind the door and swung an ASP, missing the prisoner with the metal expandable baton but striking Stallings hard in his left arm.

The blow knocked Stallings to the side. He immediately reached for his arm, feeling the pain shoot through his shoulder. It worked exactly like every training class had ever taught him. The fluid shock of the ASP strike had traveled up his nerves in his arm and felt as if someone had slammed his hand in a car door.

The detective swung the metal ASP again, striking the prisoner in the arm and, after a full backswing, struck him in the leg, dropping the young thug to the ground.

As quickly as it started it was over. Whew. Stallings looked around the room at the various groaning and moaning men on the floor. The only one who seemed to be seriously injured was Sparky Taylor's friend from the tech division. Patty knelt beside him trying to stop the bleeding from his forehead. Evidence was scattered everywhere, and a new form of chaos descended in the room as everyone tried to separate the prisoners, the wounded, and the evidence.

THIRTEEN

The fight at the office had disrupted everyone's day. Unlike the way many TV shows portray police departments, any kind of a scuffle outside the booking area or jail facility is rare. Stallings once explained it to one of his neighbors by saying it would be like having several stockbrokers get into a fight at the Charles Schwab office. It happens, but those in the area are always surprised. Heading north of the city to the Thomas School was an excellent way to break up the day and step away from the chaos of the fight. Not only was Dwight, the nerdy detective, rushed to the hospital with a serious head wound, two of the three prisoners had to be hospitalized. It had been an all-out brawl and injuries happen, but he was sure some reporter trying to make a name would focus on the broken wrist of a prisoner or the fact that they had been handcuffed at the time of the fight. Someone who'd never been hit had no idea how distracting it could be.

The school sat back from the road with a pattern of soccer and baseball fields adding to the stately feel of the buildings. It looked more like a small college than an exclusive, private prep school. Stallings had heard tuition topped thirty thousand dollars a year and it looked as if they had put a fair amount of that money back into the school.

Stallings had let Patty work her magic to get them set up in an administrator's office near the front entrance. It wasn't only her professional manner; he had to admit she could deal with regular people much better than he could. He liked to think he was learning from her. Then they'd get behind on a missing person investigation, and he'd lose his patience and deal with people too bluntly. And like an epileptic seizure creeping into the consciousness, he could feel his patience ebbing away as they made no progress toward finding Leah Tischler. Although there was the strong possibility she'd been a victim of whoever strangled Kathy Mizell, there was no absolute proof she was dead. Either way he felt a burning drive to discover what had happened to her. The rational side of his mind told him there was no greater chance of him finding out what had happened to his own Jeanie by finding out what had happened to Leah, but he recognized he wasn't always rational and sometimes it was an irrational hunch that solved the case. If nothing else, he wanted to give the Tischlers some sense of closure. Something he and Maria had never felt.

With a great deal of assistance from some Thomas School administrators, Stallings and Patty were able to see, in quick succession, a slew of snooty girls all wearing the same uniform as Leah Tischler wore in her final photo. The school had agreed to help in exchange for the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office being clear Leah had not disappeared from school and the school had no liability in the matter. Stallings agreed, knowing it was someone higher than him who would make the call at a news conference and decide whom to throw under the bus. His guess was that if the school had any responsibility at all, they'd be mentioned prominently in the news. But that wasn't his concern. He had one goal. Maybe one of these girls would help him achieve it.

The sixth girl to walk through the door of the small office sighed loudly as she stood there waiting for the detectives to acknowledge her. Stallings looked up from his notes and was surprised to see a girl with piercings all along her ear and the tip of a tattoo on her neck coming out of her collar.

Patty said, “Are you Marcie?”

The girl nodded her head, causing her stringy hair to flop across her forehead as she stepped forward and plopped into the hard wooden chair. Her plaid skirt puffed out as she hit the chair.

Patty said, “I like your piercings.”

The girl perked up, shifted from a suspicious glare at Stallings to a more attentive expression toward Patty. “The ears are the only thing that can be pierced around this place. They made me pull out my nose ring and lip stud. I just put them in again as soon as I walked out that stupid gate.”

Stallings sat back and let Patty chat with the girl, putting her at ease before turning to the questions they needed answered.

Patty asked about running away, and the girl said, “We all think about it. It's a nice change, a way to get away from our shitty lives.”

Stallings had to ask, “What's shitty about your life?” He wasn't judging her, but he really felt he needed to know the answer. He wondered if Jeanie had had the same conversation with someone else before she disappeared.

The girl said, “You know, our parents don't get us. This is a boring backwater of a town. Jesus, this is the best school in North Florida and even it sucks.”

Stallings was surprised when Patty scowled and leaned forward. “What's your father do?”

“He owns a Cadillac dealership north of here.

“So you have your own car?”

The girl nodded and mumbled, “A CTX.”

“You ever miss a meal?”

“What'd you mean?”

Patty's normally pleasant blue eyes flashed fire, and she said, “Look around you. Look beyond this school and you'll see people are barely getting by. There's real suffering, not the imaginary shit you and your friends dream of.”

The girl looked shocked.

“You guys think running away is some kind of romantic escape. Leah Tischler's parents are beside themselves with grief. There is a very real chance Leah has suffered some traumatic shit. We're working our asses off to try and find her and to help her parents get through a rough time. All I've heard from you girls so far is how tough life is. I think you're as disconnected and screwed up as you think this school is. Now cut the shit, Marcie. You know anything that might help us find Leah Tischler?”

The girl looked like she might cry and was fighting to hold it back.

Stallings stared at the girl and noticed the hole for her lip stud on the right side of her wide mouth. But he could see in her face that Patty had struck a chord.

The girl said, “I might know why Leah ran away and maybe even where she ran to.”

The way the girl said it made Stallings hope, just for a second, that this meant Leah had discarded her uniform and a killer had found the belt. He leaned forward. “Where is she?”

The girl said, “Ask Tonya Hazell.”

It was another lead, and Stallings intended to run with it.

BOOK: The Perfect Death

6.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads