The Perfect Death (9 page)

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Authors: James Andrus

BOOK: The Perfect Death
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SIXTEEN
Tony Mazzetti had to admit it would've taken much longer to go through the detective bureau analyst and run profiles on each of the names Joey Big Balls had given him. But Sparky Taylor had jumped right on it and now had a driver's license photo, personal data sheet, and, for four of the five names, a criminal history.
Mazzetti said, “Are you telling me four out of the five men at a construction site have criminal histories?”
Sparky shook his head. “Statistically that would be quite improbable. The reason so many of these men have histories is their names were brought up specifically because you told your informant to look for potential violent criminals. Your informant wouldn't give us the names of men he had no reason to suspect of a crime. Therefore, it's not surprising four of them have a criminal past.”
“Who are you, Spock?”
“You can ridicule logic and reasoned thinking all you want, but the fact remains that not all construction workers have felony convictions. And while we're on the subject, Spock, as portrayed by Leonard Nimoy, is an extraordinarily interesting and complex character, and his actions are based on a well-thought-out literary principle.”
Mazzetti really couldn't answer because he was actually afraid to engage his partner in any further conversation.
 
 
It was later in the afternoon when Yvonne Zuni found herself standing in the doorway to her small office looking out over the squad bay. The entire detective bureau took up the better part of the second floor and had been called the Land That Time Forgot for as long as she'd been with the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office. Each detective had his or her own desk, no matter what shift they worked. In addition, there were a number of extra desks that were used when people were brought in to help on specific cases. There were four secretaries and four criminal intelligence analysts in the room at any given time, except for the evening and most of the midnight shift. That left a whole lot of potential suspects in the theft of the pills lost during the fight. And that's what she had to keep reminding herself. It was not necessarily a theft, even if she could find no other rational explanation for what had happened to the melting pills.
The use and abuse of, and trafficking in prescription pain medications had risen drastically over the past few years. When she'd first started in narcotics, the unit focused almost solely on cocaine and specifically crack, which had torn apart certain communities worse than anything else. She had noted a sharp rise in the use of heroin. But it was nothing compared to the industry being built around prescription narcotics on the streets. Even though the pills were controlled and supposedly tightly regulated, there was always a way around the system and she felt that drug companies had to be complicit in the wave of painkillers that had swept through the country. The idea they'd become so valuable someone would steal them directly from a police department was unsettling but not unbelievable.
As she eyeballed the room and thought about her own detectives, Sergeant Zuni considered them in a different light. She wondered,
How does Stall keep going at full speed all the time? Is Tony Mazzetti sore from all the weights he lifts?
These were things she'd never considered. She hoped she wouldn't start to look at someone who slept late in the morning as a potential drug user, but Ronald Bell had planted the idea in her head.
She wanted IA to keep things as low-key as he had said they would and resolve the issue before rumors started to run rampant.
 
 
As John Stallings and Patty Levine cut through downtown Jacksonville from the Thomas School on their way to the Tischler house near the beach, Patty closed her cell phone and said, “The housekeeper told me Mrs. Tischler won't be home for another forty minutes. I think we should talk to her before the husband gets home.”
“Should we try to meet her while she's away from the house?”
“I don't want to scare her with a call, and this is something we should handle face-to-face.”
Stallings nodded his agreement. His mind was whistling through the information they'd learned today, as well as a very cold phone conversation he'd had with Maria when he called to inquire about the kids. That made him think of a pleasant conversation he'd had with Liz Dubeck at her small hotel not far from where they were right now.
Stallings said, “Let's go by and see if the lady at the hotel remembered anything more about her brief conversation with Leah.”
“You mean the pretty lady at the hotel near Davis Street?”
“That's exactly who I mean. And I would appreciate it if you didn't give me any shit about it.”
“For how long?”
“Until tomorrow morning?”
Patty smiled and said, “Done.”
 
 
A few minutes later Stallings was looking into the dark eyes of Liz Dubeck while Patty politely waited in the car and made a few phone calls.
Liz said, “Any luck on finding the girl?”
He shook his head. “That's why I'm here. See if you remembered anything.”
“Nothing new, but I could ask around. People might be more inclined to talk to me than a big, scary cop.”
“You think I'm scary?”
“I don't, but others might. I've gotten to know a lot of people in the neighborhood and can ask without raising any eyebrows.”
“That'd be great. I'll be on my cell.”
Liz paused, smiled, and said, “Why don't we discuss it over coffee? Maybe tomorrow morning.”
He froze, surprised by the offer.
“I'll come over near the sheriff's office. Is there someplace you like in particular?”
He stared at her, unable to speak.
Liz said, “How about Junior's by the Mobis Tower? Everyone seems to like it and it's far enough away from your office that we won't run into anyone if that makes you more comfortable.”
He slowly nodded.
“Maybe you'll regain your power of speech by then.”
He nodded again and headed out to Patty in the car.
 
 
It was late afternoon and he finally had the good luck to see Cheryl in the fancy new Chrysler 300 her mother had bought her. He'd stayed well back on the long ride west and north of the beach at Ponte Vedra toward Jacksonville. Even with no commercial lettering on his white van it was taller than most vehicles and stuck out in traffic. On the bright side, he sat up high and could see a good distance. He realized he was distracted thinking about meeting Mary tomorrow night at the cozy café not far from his apartment. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do but knew it was the perfect window because of her cruise. She had already told him how she was going to park in extended parking at the airport and catch the quick flight to Fort Lauderdale, where she'd board the cruise.
It'd be at least four days before anyone even came close to realizing she was missing, and her friends might not even report it right away. If he played his cards right, he'd have one more piece of this work of art completed without any risk whatsoever.
But now he was planning ahead. Planning something that might be satisfying, as well as necessary. If he had to be honest with himself, he was curious what it would feel like to plunge his razor-sharp knife into Cheryl's heart. See how long she twitched at the end of the metal blade. Every time he thought about her snide comments, sneers, and generally smug demeanor, he got so mad he could feel his face flush. And that made him believe he'd enjoy sticking her like a marshmallow about to go over a campfire.
He had no idea where Cheryl was going, but was surprised when she pulled over quickly into a large strip mall with a Home Depot at one end and a Sports Authority at the other. He eased into the parking lot and caught a glimpse of her walking near the Sports Authority. All he was really trying to accomplish today was to get an idea of where he could deal with her since he knew he couldn't do it at her house or his apartment. Maybe his best bet was to follow her out of her parents' development like he had today.
He pulled the van into a spot where he could see her walk from her car toward Sports Authority. She was wearing jeans and a tight blouse showing off the big, fake boobs she was so proud of. Then, as she pushed through the front door, she stopped and looked back like she was checking to see if anyone was watching her. She didn't look directly back at the van, but her suspicious movements made him very uncomfortable.
The sooner she was dead the better off he would be.
SEVENTEEN
Patty Levine and John Stallings waited in the car at the end of the long driveway to the Tischler house. As soon as Mrs. Tischler pulled in and parked her Jag, they were out of the car and meeting her at the front door.
Just the sight of the two police officers approaching her made Mrs. Tischler gasp and start to cry.
Patty knew Stallings had been through this and was amazed how quickly he got to her to say, “We don't have any news, Mrs. Tischler. Just a few more questions.” He firmly grasped both of Mrs. Tischler's arms until she looked at him and seemed to acknowledge his comment.
Stallings said, “Do you understand me? We don't have any information about Leah yet. I promise you we're looking very hard.”
Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and ushered the detectives inside the opulent home.
Patty noticed the two younger boys nestled in front of the TV watching an older Jackie Chan movie. When they settled in the den, Patty sat close to Mrs. Tischler. That's when she noticed the telltale signs of someone strung out on prescription drugs. It looked like she was moving in slow motion, she was clearly lethargic, her tongue worked its way around her lips as if she was thirsty, and her pupils looked like pinpricks even in the low light.
Patty said, “Have you heard anything at all about Leah from anyone else since we spoke?” It was more a habit than a real question.
Mrs. Tischler shook her head.
Patty asked a couple more questions, all of them receiving slow, negative responses. She paused and said, “I have one question that, um, could be a little sensitive.”
Mrs. Tischler looked at her with those pale eyes, waiting for the question.
“Did you or your husband have any intense discussions with Leah last week before she disappeared?”
“I told you we hadn't really had a serious fight.”
“I'm not talking about an argument, so much as a disclosure. Perhaps Leah told you something that upset you or your husband. Anything like that at all?”
Mrs. Tischler's eyes seemed to focus all at once; then in a low voice she said, “Who have you been talking to?”
“Everyone.”
“Leah ...” Mrs. Tischler took a very long pause, using the time to breathe deeply several times. “... said that she and another girl at the school had a relationship.”
Patty was very careful when she said, “A romantic relationship?”
Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and mumbled, “Why would that matter?”
“What matters is how Leah perceived your response to her admission. It matters because it's very important to know whether she ran away or if something else happened. It's important because we need to know the whole truth.”
Mrs. Tischler started to cry and reached for a Kleenex.
Patty said, “Do you have any idea where she might've gone?”
She shook her head.
“Did she ever mention a girl from Tennessee?”
Mrs. Tischler shook her head.
Mrs. Tischler murmured, “She was just so confused.”
Patty didn't know how many times she'd heard that exact phrase the past two years and knew that in this case it really meant
we were appalled.
But it answered one question: Leah had definitely run away. Patty wondered if that made any difference to Stallings or if it hit home a little too hard.
Patty said, “So she did run away.”
Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and a barely audible “Yes” escaped her.
“It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It was Bob. He was the one who couldn't take it. He was being so unreasonable and he didn't even realize it. He drove her away from us.” The woman started to cry uncontrollably.
Patty sat there for a second, looked at her partner, and could see in his face he was wondering if he had somehow chased away Jeanie.
Stallings was shaken by the meeting with Leah Tischler's mother. After he dropped Patty off at the PMB so she could check with the computer techs to see if they had any e-mails or indicators pointing toward Tennessee, he swung by the community center where his father would be working on a Thursday evening. As always, he was careful to park his car across the street in the church parking lot so as not to scare anyone participating in any of the classes or support groups in the giant community center.
He was surprised when he walked in the front door and saw how many people were making use of the facility. In the far corner, the single basketball court was being used by a dozen young men. Scattered in front of the court were eight tables, each filled to capacity with people in support groups or learning some new craft.
There were three priests from the church across the street who supervised the busy community center and wandered around with their collars on more casual, short-sleeved shirts.
After Stallings had been standing there a few minutes, one of the priests approached him. He looked to be about Stallings's age or maybe a little younger, like his late thirties, but he still had a paternal air about him.
“Can I help you with something?”
Stallings pointed at the table where he saw his father was leading a discussion and said, “I'm James Stallings's son.”
A smile spread across the priest's face as he said, “You must be the policeman, Johnny. I've heard a great deal about you and your wonderful family.”
Stallings didn't know what to say so he smiled and nodded.
The priest said, “You should be very proud of your father. Not only has he been able to overcome his alcoholism, but he's obviously working hard to help others. He and I have gotten very close over the last few years as he's worked more and more around here.”
Stallings nodded again, realizing he didn't have to go into the history he had with his father. There was no need to detail the beatings or the rantings that had driven his sister to run away, then come back, never quite the same. He let the priest have his saintly view of his imperfect father.
The group sitting around his father's table broke up and the priest led Stallings over. He could hear his father say good night to each of the men by name, offering them some little encouragement.
His father looked over, smiled, and stood, saying, “Hello, Johnny, what a nice surprise to see you over here.” He looked at the priest, whom he'd known for several years, then back to Stallings. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Johnny?”
Now Stallings knew there was a problem.

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