The Perfect Scream (25 page)

P
atty turned, leaned down, and spoke through the open passenger-side window to the fraternity brother who had driven her to the J Tavern. The other two brothers who had been playing pool with him were crammed into the back seat of the beat-up, eight-year-old Camaro.

Patty said, “I think you fellas understand how important it is to keep all this quiet. That is, unless you want Detective Stallings and I to come back out and visit you.”

All three young men nodded and the driver mumbled, “I swear we will all try to forget this evening as quickly as possible.”

Patty couldn’t help but smile as she patted the car and sent the boys on their way. She had made them drive her over here as soon as Stallings called to say he had secured Bobby Hollis at a corner table inside the local tavern. She was surprised the place didn’t have TVs or music blaring. It had a nice, homey atmosphere. Stallings sat at a round table in the far corner of the low-ceilinged room. The only other patrons sat at a high top near the bar, three college-age boys who kept looking over their shoulder at Stallings. They were probably the friends Bobby had been visiting before Stallings showed up.

Patty slid into the chair next to Bobby as Stallings said, “You remember Detective Levine.” Stallings looked at Patty and said, “We were getting to know each other and setting up the ground rules for our conversation. So far it hasn’t sunk into Mr. Hollis’s head how important this is.”

Patty saw Stallings nod and knew that he wanted her to take over the interview. She took a moment to let Bobby calm down and ordered a pitcher of Miller Light from the plump waitress who came from behind the bar to take their order. The place stank of cigarette smoke and that meant they didn’t serve food.

After a couple of minutes of silence, and having served a mug of beer to each of them, Patty got Bobby Hollis’s attention with a warm smile. She knew Stallings would sit there silently like a big dog on a chain ready to be released. She liked toying with hostile witnesses. She let Bobby’s imagination consider all the things Stallings might do while he sat there silent and still. It was an act the two partners had used a hundred times before.

When it was time, Patty said, “You lied to us, Bobby.”

Now the boy looked her in the face and said, “What did I lie to you about?”

“You know there’s a lot more to the accidents that have been going on with your fraternity brothers.”

Bobby hesitated, then said, “You mean the curse?”

Now Stallings barked, “Cut that curse bullshit out. It’s embarrassing to the Florida public school system.”

Bobby swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looked from Stallings to Patty, but didn’t say a word.

Patty said, “What are you worried about?”

Still the was no response.

“Why this code of silence? I know there’s a certain brotherhood in fraternities, but you guys are taking it to the extreme. Don’t you understand that we don’t think your friends died from accidents?”

Bobby grabbed the mug of beer and took two big gulps. It was hard for him to set it back on the wooden table without showing how badly his hand was shaking. But he still didn’t say a word.

Stallings changed his tone and leaned forward, saying, “I can see you’re scared about something. I would be too. And I think you’re worried that you and your friends are going to get in trouble for something. I swear to you, Bobby, we’re just interested in getting to the bottom of these deaths. I don’t care what else you guys did. I don’t care if you sell pot, if you launder money, or if you cheat on your fucking final exams. I’m going to give you immunity for anything you say.”

Patty gave him a look to make sure he didn’t go too far with his promises.

Stallings acknowledged her look with a subtle nod, then faced Bobby again, focusing on the boy. “I will not let anything happen to you. Just tell us the truth. You know more than you’re letting on.”

Patty watched as Bobby’s eyes came up to meet Stallings. He started to say something, then stopped. Patty hadn’t seen someone in this much turmoil since they had caught a pedophile who had to face what he had done and admit it to the detectives.

Stallings said, “Come on, Bobby. It’s not like you killed somebody.”

With that Bobby lost all color in his face, looked panicked, turned his head, and vomited onto the linoleum floor in the back of the J Tavern.

 

 

 

Lynn sat in her car, huddling against the cold, waiting for her engine to run long enough to warm up and work the heater. As she sat there, an Impala rolled into the lot and into the first spot that was open near the front door of the J Tavern.

A tall man with a blue Windbreaker stepped out of the car and she immediately recognized him. He had been at Kyle Lee’s house in Orlando. She’d seen him in St. Augustine too. He had to be a police detective and that meant her time was up. She knew they couldn’t point to her as a killer because the police would’ve come to visit. But they had figured out the deaths of the fraternity brothers were connected.

The only link that could hurt her was Alan Cole in Daytona. He had seen her behind the wheel of the big blue Suburban. If he was improving like the nurse said, Lynn would have to deal with him. She might also have to put off finishing her mission until Bobby Hollis was no longer on guard and the police less interested in the case.

She put the car into gear, knowing she couldn’t be seen waiting here.

Stallings had quickly taken some paper towels off the roll on their table and thrown them over the vomit on the floor. Bobby Hollis’s quick motion and fluid puking action—no doubt developed over many nights drinking hard—had not attracted any attention in the bar.

Bobby wiped his face with another paper towel, then his eyes, and looked back up at Stallings and Patty.

Stallings said, “I hope you realize you’re not the best at keeping secrets. If we were playing poker I’d say you just gave away your hand.”

Bobby nodded slowly.

Patty placed a hand on his arm and said, “Tell us what’s going on, Bobby. You’re not under arrest and you’re free to go if you really need to.”

Stallings appreciated how subtly his partner laid down a statement that could be used in court later. From watching TV, people thought the police have to read Miranda warnings to everyone they spoke to. In fact, the circumstances under which the Miranda rights were given were very narrow. A suspect had to be in custody or imminent custody. Once Patty told him he was not under arrest and was free to go, anything he said from here on out would be legally admissible in court. Stallings wasn’t always good with the subtleties of building a case, but he admired a detective who could stick to the rules without inhibiting a witness.

Bobby cleared his throat and said, “It was really between Zach Halston and Josh Hickam.”

“What was?”

“It was sort of a feud. They both had their own sources for pot. But Zach considered himself some kind of a kingpin. He used to joke that he was the Tony Montana of Jacksonville. He and Josh went back and forth about who had the right to sell pot to different groups. Josh was quiet and really didn’t argue the fact with Zach.”

Stallings wanted to hurry the story along. This is what he had been waiting for. But he kept silent, knowing Patty was better at coaxing reluctant witnesses.

Patty said, “So what happened between Josh and Zach?”

Bobby swallowed again, took another sip of beer, and said, “It just went back and forth. A bunch of the guys worked for Zach. It was like a pyramid scheme. No one sold much, but it ended up being a lot of money for Zach.” He paused and took another gulp of beer. “We didn’t mean for it to go so far.”

“For what to go so far?

“It started at the Halloween party. Josh drank way too much. He mixed beer with rum punch and shots of tequila.”

The long silences between each fragment of information were driving Stallings crazy. He waited for Patty to nudge the boy along.

Bobby said, “So once it got rolling, Zach had us all keep feeding drinks to Josh. He had some stupid idea about putting him behind the wheel of the car and letting him get arrested for DUI on campus and thrown out of school. Some kind of crazy plan like that. Zach thought it would keep them from poaching the same customers.” Bobby just stared straight ahead for a few moments, then started to cry. He pulled off another paper towel and blew his nose.

“It just got out of hand and, in the early morning hours, when a couple of us went to put Josh into a car, he felt like a sack of potatoes. It took us a few minutes to realize how cold his body felt. Then we realized he was dead.”

P
atty Levine could hardly believe the incredible story Bobby Hollis had laid out before them. Although the fraternity brothers had intentionally pumped Josh Hickam full of alcohol, he could see it was an accidental death. But that meant that Josh Hickam was not a victim of the conspiracy to kill members of the Tau Upsilon fraternity.

Bobby Hollis had regained his composure and said, “Zach stayed real calm and told each of us what to do. We put Josh in his car and parked it in one of the rear lots of the university so no one would find him until the next day. Then he told us how we could all be charged with murder. Basically it scared us all into silence.”

Patty said, “Who was involved from the fraternity?”

“There were a whole bunch of us. Some of the guys were from other chapters but had all worked with Zach distributing the pot. The guys from Gainesville depended on him as part of their income.”

“Do you know if anyone ever talked about this?”

Bobby shook his head. “I know no one ever talked to the police. I doubt they ever said anything to anyone else either.”

“But you can see that someone has been killing your fraternity brothers.”

“I can now.”

At least Patty didn’t think they were chasing shadows anymore.

 

 

 

It wasn’t even eight in the morning and John Stallings felt like he was accomplishing something. He should have been exhausted but spent the night ensuring Bobby Hollis packed a few things and went to visit his aunt in Kentucky. Stallings hadn’t allowed the boy to speak to any friends or fraternity brothers. After Patty and he had shown the terrified fraternity member what had really been happening, he was able to say that there were no obvious victims left in the fraternity house. Some had graduated and moved away, and, of course, several were dead. They had briefed Sergeant Zuni and Lieutenant Hester so they could make the best decision about how to inform the fraternity. In the meantime, a JSO patrolman had been assigned to sit at the fraternity house. If that didn’t send a message, nothing would.

Stallings walked into the seedy International House of Pancakes off J. Turner Butler Boulevard and smiled. The lean, weary-looking man in the booth did not seem to be in such a good humor.

Stallings said, “I appreciate you meeting me.”

“We do things on a slightly different schedule at the DEA.” Ed Wiley took another sip of coffee, then wiped his face with his hand. “I don’t mind getting up early, but gathering all of this information in one evening kinda wore me out.” He slid a manila envelope with Stallings’s name written in Magic Marker across the front. “You swear you’ll only use this information on your homicide case?”

Stallings raised his right hand, suppressing a smile. “On my honor as a certified law enforcement officer in the state of Florida, I will use any information you provide me for the sole purpose of a homicide investigation. I will eat the paper the information is printed on before I allow anyone in narcotics to see it.”

Wiley chuckled. “You have no idea how competitive the world of narcotics investigations can be.”

“My experience is that all law enforcement is competitive. Narcotics is one of the few areas that’s easy to measure. Arrests or seized narcotics. Both play well in the news.”

“And thank God for it. If we didn’t get decent airplay now and then the FBI would steal every penny of funding we have coming our way.”

Stallings started to get up, saying, “I appreciate this. I have a meeting in less than an hour and this information will be vital.”

Wiley smiled. “If Ronald Bell says you’re a hard ass, you’re okay with me. If you were a little younger we could use you.”

“I’m happy where I am.” He stood and paused by the table, looking down at the DEA agent. “You don’t think Josh Hickam’s father is responsible for these deaths? I know we talked about it and you said he didn’t have it in him. I just don’t want to miss something.”

Wiley shook his head. “No way. You gave me the dates and places of the deaths and I checked all of them against our surveillance. He was at home. He’s hardly left that house for two years. We’ve got cameras, trackers, and the occasional live surveillance. Plus our intelligence from informants says the old man’s all done. His son’s death just took it out of him.”

“But you’re still going after him on a case?”

“Have to. He was a boss. He brought in a lot of product. You’ll see in the packet I gave you a list of associates. It’s long. A dozen of them have already been to jail. We can’t pick on the little guys without going after the kingpin once in a while.”

Stallings held out his hand and said, “You’re okay.”

Wiley took his hand and shook it, saying, “The DEA doesn’t hear that much. Thanks.”

 

 

 

Tony Mazzetti bristled every time someone else brought up a piece of information that supported the serial killer theory in the Tau Upsilon case. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the goddamn theory. It just felt like they were rubbing it in his face. Sitting around a big conference room table with everyone remotely involved in the case staring at him, he felt like a jackass. Somehow the only thing that mattered to him right now was that Patty Levine didn’t think he was a jackass.

That asshole John Stallings had provided a list of associates related to the pot smuggler whose son appeared to be the first victim in these lines of deaths. The victim, Josh Hickam, died of alcohol poisoning. Even Mazzetti’s current girlfriend, Lisa Kurtz, had confirmed that assessment. But now they were all pushing the angle that the deaths were somehow related to the pot business being run out of the fraternity.

Mazzetti picked up the list of more than forty names and said to Stallings, “What the fuck do you want me to do with this?”

Stallings stayed very calm and said, “First, check it against the list of Suburban owners whose license plates start with the letter A. We might get lucky and find the driver of the truck that ran down Zach Halston on the list. It’s just another group of suspects.”

Mazzetti was frustrated, but what Stallings was saying made sense. He still had to say, “Why not look at old man Hickam?”

“The DEA is all over him. I gave them a list of dates corresponding with the deaths of different Tau Upsilon members and he was at the house every single time. In fact, they say he very rarely leaves the house.”

Mazzetti shook his head and took a quick second to look at the face of each person at the table. Then he turned and handed the list to his partner, Sparky Taylor. Sparky had been quietly taking in the different conversations but had yet to say a word.

Mazzetti said, “Can you look through this bullshit, then use your computer brain to make sense of it?”

Sparky looked absolutely delighted.

Mazzetti realized this was a good assignment for his odd partner. He didn’t have to interact with anyone or anything other than a computer. It was perfect for him.

In an effort to kick-start the investigation, each pair of detectives took a list of names developed from owners of Suburbans that had license plates starting with the letter A. The entire effort made Stallings a little nervous; he hoped his eyesight was sharp enough that he had picked up the right letter on the license tag.

Sparky was still sorting out many of the names and intended to run them against the list of Hickam associates the DEA had provided. For now, Patty and Stallings had drawn eight names in the central part of the county. They were going to do simple knock and talks. They’d find the owner of the vehicle, knock on the door, and hope the person confessed or, more realistically, refuse to speak to with the police. That would earn them a spot on the suspect list. Another set of detectives was visiting local body shops hoping to find someone who had repaired front-end damage to a blue Suburban. The Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles didn’t accurately list the color of vehicles. Detectives had found that often vehicles were repainted in different colors or simply listed with the wrong color at the date of registration. In a case as important as this, they couldn’t rely on the simple designation on a vehicle registration.

Just as Stallings was about to exit the D-bureau he saw Lonnie Freed, the detective from the intelligence division whom he had asked to find out anything he could on someone named Gator. It seemed like an eternity since he had approached the detective and asked for help. He’d never told Lonnie the help had to do with finding his missing daughter, Jeanie.

The thin detective with wire-rimmed glasses smiled at Patty as she walked by and said, “How are you this fine morning, Detective Levine?”

Patty gave him her standard smile and nod. She was so used to men hitting on her she didn’t even acknowledge it most days.

Stallings saw some papers in Lonnie’s hand and told Patty catch up to her a few minutes. He looked at the intel detective and said, “Whatcha got, Lonnie?”

“I’ve been working on the description and street name ‘Gator’ that you gave me.”

“You mean you found him?”

“Not exactly. Based on the information you gave me and the description I’ve come up with twenty-eight possibilities in North Florida. These are just men who’ve been mentioned in police reports or indexed news reports through any of the indexing services we subscribe to.” He handed the thick bundle of papers to Stallings.

Stallings looked down and saw that there was a photograph associated with every report. Some of the photographs were from booking at the jail, some driver’s license photos, a few surveillance photos, and a few from sources he couldn’t identify. He looked up at the scrawny detective and said, “This is great, thanks.” He turned to place the papers on his desk.

Lonnie said, “Is this on the fraternity case? I heard it might be big.”

Stallings shrugged and said, “Sort of.”

“Do you think you might be able to get me involved in the case?”

“It’s not up to me, Lonnie.”

“I busted my ass to find all the stuff. Come on, speak up for me. Maybe I can tell the lieutenant how helpful I’ve been already?”

Stallings quickly turned to keep the intel detective from doing anything stupid. “No, no, I’ll see what I can do.” He knew the sergeant wouldn’t turn down help, but he was hoping to keep it quiet. Then Sparky Taylor walked by and an idea popped into Stallings’s head, making him reach out and grab the portly detective by the arm. “Sparky, you know Lonnie from Intelligence, don’t you?”

Sparky nodded and said, “I am familiar with the detective.”

“I think he could be a big help working with you on the lists of names.”

Sparky gave a slight scowl and said, “I can handle it.”

Lonnie cut in, “But I’m good with databases.”

“I am utilizing Microsoft Access for most of this.”

“I know Access inside and out. We could use the databases we’re hooked into in intelligence if we need to.” Lonnie looked like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. “I’d love the chance to work with you. I applied to go into tech, but never got in.”

Sparky’s face softened and he finally said, “Okay. You can help.”

Stallings felt like a matchmaker as he watched the two eccentric detectives walk off together. Their body types reminded him of Laurel and Hardy. Before he could race off to meet Patty, Stallings couldn’t resist taking a moment to thumb through the photographs of the young man Lonnie had given him. Had Jeanie really ran off with one of them?

He moved from leaning on his desk to sitting in his chair as he thumbed through report after report. His cell phone rang. When he picked it up, Patty said, “I thought you were meeting me in the parking lot?”

“I am. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“That’s what you said over an hour ago.”

Stallings looked at the time on a cell phone and saw that he had been sitting at his desk for more than an hour. He’d have to be more careful to keep leads on Gator from distracting him on big cases like this.