The Perfect Death Read online

  Mazzetti looked at Sparky Taylor to involve him in the conversation. The rotund detective took the hint and said, “We’ve identified it as a part of the Thomas School uniform. There’s a girl named Leah Tischler missing from the school and it’s a good bet the belt was hers. The only question now is, did she discard it when she ran away or is she another victim of the same killer, who took the belt from her?”

  The woman looked at Sparky and said, “The Thomas School. That’s big-time. I bet you boys are under some pressure to solve this one quick.”

  Mazzetti cut in and said, “We’re under pressure to solve every murder quickly.”

  The assistant medical examiner stood from the stool and stretched, removed her glasses, focused those drop-dead-gorgeous blue eyes on Mazzetti, and said, “You look like you handle it pretty well. Wish I could stay in shape as well as you.” She smiled at him.

  Mazzetti felt like he’d stumbled into a robbery the way his heart raced and his face flushed. He wondered if he was misreading the cute assistant medical examiner when she added, “We should meet at the gym over at the PMB sometime.”

  No, he was reading it right.

  Patty Levine knew when to ask her partner personal questions and when to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t know what had happened earlier in the morning, but John Stallings was in a silent, brooding mood.

  She casually asked, “How was coffee?”

  “Look, I’m married. Nothing happened.”

  She couldn’t remember her partner ever speaking so sharply to her and, although it was hard for a moment, she knew he wasn’t mad at her. Something else was eating at him. They rode along in silence as she checked her list of safe houses that runaways used on occasion. The runaway population in Jacksonville had its own underground railroad of sorts. It also had a communications network rivaling AT&T. The runaways seemed to know where they could congregate safely, eat, and sleep with a roof over their head. The county government provided very few services for runaways compared to the problem, but there were a number of alternatives like the cheap hotels decent people like Liz Dubeck ran or houses that rented rooms cheaply.

  Patty and Stallings had already checked three safe houses Stallings had a very good relationship with. No one had seen any sign of Leah Tischler or knew anyone who had had any contact with her. A common response during one of these investigations.

  Stallings pulled his Impala to the curb in front of an old Florida, flat-roofed, cement-block house. Two men in their early twenties sat on the porch with their feet dangling off. They started to get up when they saw the car stop but relaxed once they realized it was Stallings.

  Patty was always amazed how calm her partner was as he approached people and situations like this. He nodded and said, “Hey, boys. Darryl inside?”

  One of them said, “Watching Family Guy in the main room. He got himself a DVR and hasn’t left his TV chair in four days.”

  Stallings chuckled. “Everyone needs a goal in life.”

  Patty followed him through the open door, aware of the gun on her hip covered by a loose shirt. She knew Stallings and Darryl Paluk had a long history, which included a broken nose and several broken fingers before Darryl realized he should never hold back information from Stallings about missing girls. For his part Stallings had never hassled Darryl about his pot dealing and constant use of the drug inside the house. Even now, late in the morning, Patty navigated through the thick haze of marijuana smoke.

  The big, hairy, shirtless man sat in an oversized La-Z-Boy recliner, laughing wildly at an episode of the animated show Family Guy.

  Stallings stood in the doorway to the main room until one of the men on the couch looked up and gave a little shout of surprise. Darryl turned his massive head, chuckled loudly, and said, “Stall, my brother. What brings you by this bright, sunny day?”

  Stallings stepped into the room, and Patty automatically slid to the other side of the doorway so that between them they could cover the entire room.

  Stallings said, “Have you met my partner, Patty Levine?”

  Darryl Paluk struggled to his feet, pulling his shorts all the way to his gigantic waist. “I have not had the pleasure.” He extended his hand. “I can’t believe the local police agency would have the good taste to hire a babe like you.”

  Patty gave him a short glare as Stallings said, “This babe will crack you in your head with her ASP and not think about it again today.”

  Darryl looked at Patty and said, “Is this true?”

  Patty knew actions spoke louder than words with guys like this so she reached behind her loose shirt, grasped her ASP tucked in the small of her back, yanked it out with her right hand, and flicked it open over her right shoulder so it made a sound like a shotgun racking. The metal baton expanded from eight inches to thirty inches in the blink of an eye and had caused more than one street thug to poop in his pants. The action brought a stunned silence to everyone in the room except Stallings, who used it as a chance to produce a photo of Leah Tischler and ask Darryl and his friends if any of them had seen her. It was a perfect example of how well they worked together as partners. They always wanted the element of surprise but never wanted to surprise each other.

  A tall, thin youth leaned up from the couch, his long greasy hair dangling over his shoulder. He took a good look at the photo, then faced both Stallings and Patty. This was usually a sign someone had some information. The young man looked at Leah’s photo again and said, “I think I saw her. She was in some kind of school uniform over near Davis.”

  Patty didn’t say anything and she felt her heart skip a beat.

  “She’s a rich girl. I can tell by the professional photograph. And that’s one of the reasons I noticed her. She got into a white van, I think. I remember the uniform and her pretty dark hair. If you give me some time I might be able to come up with a few more details.”

  Stallings said, “Could it have been a construction van?”

  “There was no sign I remember, but it could’ve been,”

  They had another lead.

  TWENTY

  Tony Mazzetti sat across the table from Sparky Taylor at a local sandwich shop. Sometimes detectives new to homicide and not used to visiting the medical examiner’s office had a problem eating after witnessing an autopsy, especially the autopsy of an elderly man who had nothing to do with your case. The way Sparky Taylor wolfed down his ham sandwich and extra-large bag of Doritos told Mazzetti he didn’t suffer from that kind of problem.

  Mazzetti said, “I got a line on five possible people of interest. It’s a long shot, but the names my snitch, Joey Big Balls, came up with work at a couple of construction sites he manages down in Deerwood Park.”

  “That is a long shot. Don’t you think there are better ways to utilize our time?”

  “There’re always better ways to use our time, but sometimes it’s a weird lead that breaks things wide open. This isn’t tech services where we know how long it takes to install a hidden camera or copy a couple of tapes. This is homicide, which is part science, part luck, and all hard work.”

  “I wasn’t questioning your methods, Tony. I was analyzing them. When are we gonna visit the construction sites?”

  Mazzetti felt bad for snapping at his new partner. The guy had proved to be hardworking and insightful and was merely bringing up something he thought was important. “I was going to try and hit the swing shift tonight about seven o’clock. There’s one guy I’ll focus on first.”

  Sparky paused while he swallowed a tremendous bite of the Reuben sandwich. He wiped his mouth from left to right like he did after every single bite. He wadded up the napkin and added it to the growing pile at the end of the table. Mazzetti had wondered why his partner grabbed the huge stack of napkins as they walked past the counter. Now he realized the quirky detective used a brand-new napkin after every bite. Finally, Sparky swallowed and said, “My son is in the academic games tonight over at the community college. Twice a year they take the winners of the local e
lementary school academic games and host the finals at the college.”

  Mazzetti waved his hand and said, “Don’t sweat it. I got this covered.”

  “Policy says at least two officers should be present during any potentially confrontational interview. I’ll go with you.”

  “That’s crazy. If we chased every kooky lead and ignored our families on everything that came up at the office, no one would be married and kids would be running wild in the streets. I’ll get Patty to go with me.” He watched his partner carefully until he was certain Sparky was satisfied. Mazzetti had no intention of asking Patty to go out on a lead prior to a romantic dinner. She already looked tired and he didn’t want to add to her workload. It would only take a few minutes to talk to these mopes at the construction sites; then he could meet Patty at Gi-Gi’s and maybe even consider taking Saturday off.

  John Stallings never liked to think of himself as the brooding type, but as he sat at his desk in the Land That Time Forgot he did feel down and maybe even depressed. The whole day had worn on him from his awkward and uncomfortable encounter with Maria to some unknown anxiety that had been creeping up on him for several days. A least the guy who gave him a lead at Darryl Paluk’s house had been encouraging. Not encouraging in a way that meant Leah Tischler might still be alive, but any information, anything he could use at all, was helpful.

  He’d made dozens of phone calls to missing persons detectives he knew across the Southeast from Atlanta to Daytona. Each of the detectives knew him well from three years of inquiries about Jeanie. Usually he was careful to make contact with them off-duty so no one would ever accuse him of searching for his own daughter—a case that was not even assigned to him—while he was on duty at the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. He had an official reason to call them today. Leah Tischler’s disappearance was assigned to him and Patty. He didn’t think anyone would care if he happened to mention Jeanie while was talking about Leah Tischler.

  He often limited his initial search for a missing person to Atlanta in the north to Daytona in the south. It was amazing how people from the Jacksonville area didn’t drift much farther than either of those two cities. Atlanta had a certain mystique and held an allure to people hoping to get rich. Whether it was large corporations that seemed to always be hiring or the lucrative drug market, young people from Jacksonville often thought their fortune lay in Atlanta. On the flipside, Daytona had a reputation as being a laid-back surfer community where young people thought they could draw caricatures of the tourists or some other fun activity to make a few bucks while they lived a relaxed lifestyle.

  Stallings didn’t know which image of the cities was more incorrect. Atlanta was a sprawling urban metropolis with a horrendous crime rate. A young woman without any skills or family could likely find herself in the stable of an industrious and vicious pimp. While Daytona was smaller, the opportunities for legitimate employment were grim.

  Stallings made it a point to stay on close terms with detectives from each of the cities, as well as the other points of interest as far west as Tampa, and definitely to include Orlando. Oddly, it was the tourist capital of Florida that offered the best opportunity for people fleeing their lives in Jacksonville. There really were a number of legitimate job opportunities at the incredible number of hotels and restaurants in the landlocked tourist haven.

  Stallings called the detectives he knew best, then a contact at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Washington, D.C., a public and privately funded agency that grew from the efforts of John Walsh, the father of a young boy who was kidnapped and murdered in South Florida in 1981. Most people knew John Walsh as the host of America’s Most Wanted, but he was one TV commentator who had earned his credibility the hard way. He’d been relentless and utterly honest about all aspects of his son’s disappearance and what it did to his family. He had turned his own anguish into a national crusade, and as a result thousands of children had been reunited with their families.

  The analysts and supervisors at NCMEC always gave Stallings their utmost attention and followed up on every request. He was that rare hybrid of mourning parent and devoted cop. One thing the people at NCMEC appreciated was a hard-charging missing persons detective. They recognized that there were other assignments cops often preferred, including homicide or narcotics. So they cherished a cop who put his entire efforts into finding missing children. They didn’t care what the cop’s motivation was. They understood that it was a special breed of cop who had the determination of Stallings. This was forged through personal desire and loss. Some detectives just understood the issue and the mind-set of other cops. It was hard to convince an old-time road patrolman that a runaway was anything more than a spoiled kid looking to get out of punishment. And the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children was always there to help.

  Today Stallings checked to see if they had any new information developed from what he’d provided about Leah Tischler. It didn’t hurt to throw in a quick query on Jeanie.

  At least now he felt like he was accomplishing something and, for whatever reason, just the ritual of talking to the same people and going through the same tasks made him feel much better

  He was enjoying himself sitting on the balcony of the seafood restaurant on the second floor of Jacksonville Landing. The Landing was Jacksonville’s desperate effort to provide a convenient, clean, safe tourist area. Like most restaurants and big commercial facilities, it was sort of bland and geared toward general tastes. But he enjoyed a moderate breeze and watching Mary try to eat an oyster in a ladylike manner. He soaked in every detail of her pretty face and perfect smile. Although his recent spate of activity had left him tired, he was revitalized knowing he could honor someone like Mary for all eternity.

  She did most of the talking, telling him all about her cruise and how she was a little nervous about her flight to Fort Lauderdale to board the ship. She showed him her bottle of Xanax she claimed would keep her calm during the fifty-minute flight.

  He said, “What time do you have to be at the airport?”

  “My flight’s at nine fifteen, so I’ll get to the airport about eight o’clock.” Mary looked at him and said, “Did you say your apartment is in this part of the city?”

  “Yeah, not too far from here. About ten minutes from the airport.”

  “Maybe I won’t have as far to ride in the morning as I usually would.” She gave him a sly smile and a wink.

  He was surprised by her aggressiveness and couldn’t think of anything witty to say in reply. He was also disappointed she’d be so obvious on their first date. On the bright side, it sounded like it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get her over to his apartment.

  “I’d love to show you one of the pieces of art I made through blowing glass. I keep it in my apartment above my workshop.”

  She gave him the smile her employer should use as an advertisement and said, “I’m dying to see it.”

  Although Patty liked to think of herself as a tough, educated, experienced cop, right at this moment, on a Friday evening, checking herself in the mirror of the ladies’ bathroom next to the Land That Time Forgot, she felt more like a schoolgirl. After the wild week and her increasing pain in her back and lack of sleep, she was really looking forward to an honest-to-goodness date with her boyfriend, Tony Mazzetti. She’d gone so far as to look at the restaurant’s website and dream about sipping good pinot noir and eating clams ore-ganata. She wished she could talk about her date to other people in the squad, but that seemed minor compared to the date itself. She felt confident things would work out and she and Tony could talk about the relationship openly. It might be a good time for her to move forward with her plans to take the sergeant’s exam. If she left the unit as a sergeant, she’d not only be advancing her career, she’d be opening herself to a serious, normal relationship. But before she could think about anything like that she had to make sure her prescription-drug habit was under control. At least under better control than it was now. The Xanax s
he’d taken earlier in the afternoon still had her on an even keel as she got ready to meet Tony down in Deerwood Creek.

  Sergeant Zuni’s voice surprised her, “What are you doing here so late? I thought you and Stall were in pretty good shape on your leads.”

  “I was killing time before I meet ... before I meet someone for dinner. I didn’t want to run back to my condo and out again.”

  The sergeant smiled. “I’m glad you have plans tonight. I worry about you guys working too hard. Especially about Stallings. He always seems to be involved in stuff after hours. I never met a cop who got so fixated on a case.”

  “I worry about him too. He’s under a lot of stress with his kids and he’s trying to keep better track of his father and his health. I keep a pretty good eye on him.”

  Sergeant Zuni gave a short laugh. Patty realized it was because the sergeant knew no one controlled Stallings for very long.

  Patty said, “What about you? Anything exciting on the agenda?” Patty often wondered if the beautiful sergeant got out much. She seemed very private and quiet.

  Sergeant Zuni said, “I might manage to grab a bite to eat tonight.”

  Patty smiled as the sergeant walked away. There was something in the way she’d said she might grab a bite to eat that led Patty to believe she had a romantic evening planned.

  Mary couldn’t believe how lucky she was to meet a guy like this before her cruise. It gave her something to look forward to as well as an easy way to get to the airport. She liked him a lot. He was sweet and polite and a really good listener. That was hard to find in Jacksonville. It seemed like the men were either hotshot attorneys who felt the world revolved around them or underemployed high school dropouts who still lived with their mothers. She’d been burned too many times and had a tendency to take the all-or-nothing bet on men. She rarely waited to see how things would evolve because it was outside her control. Instead, she liked to commit early and completely. That either scared men away or hooked them so solidly she had to get a court order to get rid of them if things went south.