James Andrus - The Perfect Death

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 amp;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.

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 elementary 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.