James Andrus - The Perfect Death

Sergeant Zuni said, “We’ve got too much to do for this bullshit. You need to get out of our hair. And I mean right now.”

Bell said, “There’s nothing I’d like to do more. But first I need to do an interview. Not an arrest. Just a simple interview now that this is an official inquiry.” Once again his attention was completely focused on Patty Levine.

Now Patty understood why guys on the street would run from cops. She felt like sprinting out of the office and away from Ronald Bell right that second.

From behind her Sparky Taylor spoke in a clear voice, saying, “Policy demands that I be heard.” It was the most forceful thing anyone had ever heard him say. And everyone turned to look directly at Sparky Taylor.

Buddy made some calculations in his head. He’d been at the house almost ten minutes with his plain white van sitting in the driveway. How many neighbors would have noticed him in that time? Did it really matter anymore? He’d be done with his work of art very soon and that was all that was important. His monument to eternity, displaying the gifts God had given him.

His eyes followed Janet as she walked through the cavernous house as graceful as a dancer with a pleasant smile the whole time. She’d showed him two different sketches of etchings she liked on two large panes of glass that would set off the living room from the entryway. One etching was of a cross with Christ crucified on it and a faint shadow cast below him and the sun above his head. She had drawn it herself and it was moving in its own way. Certainly a unique and important skill that could be remembered forever.

Buddy brought in a leather work pouch that contained two measuring tapes, a carpenter’s square, several pencils, and a grease pen. In addition, the special cord and the last jar were in the bag. He was ready. He had decided. He reached in and pulled out his jar.

Janet said, “What’s that?”

He handed her the jar. “Something I made.”

Janet held the dark green jar to the light, not bothering to conceal her admiration. “This is wonderful.”

Buddy was ready to make his move.

John Stallings felt like he wanted to strike Ronald Bell in the head. The only question in his mind was if he should use his fists or elbow. But Yvonne Zuni seemed to be able to read his mind and gave him a serious “chill out” look. With a nod of her head she sent him back to his desk, worried about his partner. While he sat there thinking, he realized, maybe for the first time, that Patty had somehow filled a void in his life and he viewed her as a daughter. She was a partner he trusted, but he had very strong paternal feelings about her welfare. Even though there was only thirteen years’ difference between them, he worried about her like she was one of his own.

He took a few minutes to breathe deeply and concentrate on calming down. There was a lot of work to do and no matter how much satisfaction he’d take in laying out the noxious IA investigator, in the long run it wouldn’t help his chances of catching and stopping this killer who had claimed so many lives in such a short time.

He wondered what Sparky was saying behind the closed door of the sergeant’s office. Patty had been pulled in along with the sergeant and Ronald Bell. After a few minutes Stallings regained his composure and started going over the tasks he needed to complete.

Luis Martinez, a relatively new detective in the crimes/persons unit, plopped down in the chair in front of Stallings.

Luis inclined his head toward the sergeant’s office and said, “What’s going on in there?”

Stallings mumbled, “Usual bullshit.” He liked the tough, direct former Marine who had recently been assigned his first homicide. “How’s your stabbing case going?”

Martinez shrugged. “No one really cares about the Kazem stabbing. All anyone is talking about is the serial strangler. I haven’t gotten anywhere on the stabbing except to talk to a lot of ex-boyfriends and associates.” He opened his notebook and stared out the first sheet of paper. “Shit.” He ripped out a sheet of paper, crumpled it, and tossed it in the garbage can by Stallings’s desk.

Stallings said, “What’s wrong?”

“I got some kind of kind of chemical shit on the paper when I was over at the glass company talking to a guy who leases the building from the murder victim.”

“Is the guy a suspect?”

“No, he’s okay. He had no real motive and definitely wasn’t interested in her romantically.” Luis stood and said, “I gotta get back to work, Stall. It’s a lonely case.”

Stallings mumbled, “Let me know if I can help.” Then he looked down at the damp sheet of paper Luis had tossed into his can. He wondered if it would hurt Ronald Bell if he picked up the garbage can and smacked him in the head with it.

Buddy was lost in the image of Janet holding his homemade jar to the sunlight streaming in from a tall window-her light brown hair like satin, her full red lips, and that beautiful graceful neck. It was her neck that had him mesmerized as he held the cord loosely in his right hand. It looked like he just had a length of rope. Nothing threatening or unusual. It could’ve been a standard for measuring glass. His only concern was that if he moved too quickly she might drop the jar.

She turned and faced him, handing back the heavy jar. Those wide eyes and that brilliant smile grabbed his attention now. She said, “It looks like the jar has a specific use.”

“I’ve made eighteen of them to hold one of the most precious commodities on earth.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. “What would that commodity be?”

Buddy decided he’d tell her as he was collecting the commodity. He placed the jar gently on a coffee table, faced her, once again taking in her beautiful face. He worked the logistics out in his mind of how to loop the cord around her throat and apply even pressure so he didn’t have the same problem he’d experienced with the nurse, Katie Massa.

As he started to shuffle to one side he heard the front door and a male voice call out, “Sweetheart, where are you?”

She turned and took a step away from Buddy, yelling, “I’m in the living room with a true artist.”

She was so sweet it hurt Buddy’s heart that he couldn’t make her part of eternity right now. It seemed unfair to her.

He watched the tall, well-built young man embrace his wife, then offer his hand to Buddy.

Buddy shifted, saying, “Nice to meet you.”

Buddy smiled and nodded as he took another look at his perfect subject. He even wondered if it would be worth killing the husband with a knife or a blow to the head. He figured in his current condition he wouldn’t have the strength to overcome such a fit young man. And that made him even sadder.

He’d have to keep his eyes open for another subject. Then he brightened as he thought about the manager of the hotel. He had to concentrate to think of her name: Liz Dubeck.

Patty was in the sergeant’s cramped office with Sparky Taylor and a clearly agitated Ronald Bell facing the stern sergeant sitting on her throne behind her desk.

Bell looked at Sparky and said, “What fucking policy do you want to quote now? It’s too bad you didn’t read policy about staying fit or maybe your fat ass wouldn’t have gotten stuck in a bathroom window and you could’ve stayed in the tech division, where at least people care about your fucking opinion. Jesus Christ, I am sick of tech agents.”

Yvonne Zuni said in an icy voice, “That will be quite enough.” And it worked because Ronald Bell shut up and sat down like his third-grade teacher had struck him with a ruler.

For his part, Sparky seemed completely unfazed by the outburst. He said, “The policy says that when there is a large seizure of contraband that must be tested in the lab, a representative sample can be stored in temporary evidence downstairs while the overall seizure is secured.”