The Perfect Death djs-3

by James Andrus

  Buddy smiled and nodded to the young doctor. Maybe an alibi if necessary later on.

  His plan was to leave, keep his pass, and come back later tonight when Katie was working. He was certain there were several places they could go to be alone at a facility this size. First he had some jobs to check on and he needed to pick up a check at a site downtown.

  He’d definitely be back later.

  THIRTY-NINE

  John Stallings and Tony Mazzetti had purposely left Sparky Taylor out of the loop. Daniel Byrd was a long shot but one they could take without interrupting the investigation much. He also recruited Patty Levine. Each of them drove their own county-issued cars so they could set up on surveillance at the construction site for a long time. It was the kind of plan Stallings appreciated: short, sweet, simple. He wished life could be as easily defined. Instead, tonight he’d spend long hours alone in his car trying to figure out what his latest offense to Maria was. Since her call after finding Jeanie’s diary and spending the night huddled against Stallings’s shoulder, she’d barely spoken to him and had been out of the house more than she’d been home. He didn’t know what to make of it but couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  He was also worried about Patty Levine. He knew she’d had a minor accident a couple of days ago and she told him that Ronald Bell had questioned her about not telling anyone what had happened. Patty also said he had asked her a few questions about the fight in the squad bay and if she’d seen what had happened to one of the bundles of pills the detectives were putting into evidence. She said the inquiry was casual, but Stallings didn’t trust the son of a bitch any more than he’d trust the president of Iran.

  The entire sheriff’s office had followed the progress of the detective injured in the fight. He had suffered serious head trauma but appeared to be recovering. Stallings had heard that the detective had large gaps in his memory and drugs were missing from the seizure. The narcotics guys had already been questioned and any moron could see the next step would be interviewing every crime/persons detective who’d been present during the fight. It was nothing that bothered Stallings, but he felt anxiety for Patty. He wasn’t quite sure why. She’d seemed distracted over the past month. He had his own problems but always tried to stay tuned in to his partner. God knew she’d been a huge help to him over the last few years.

  But now Stallings wanted to focus on finding the jerkweed Daniel Byrd. Nothing indicated that this was a guy who contributed to society in any way. When someone like Peep Moran looks down on you, you’re not scoring too high on the social ladder. Stallings didn’t care what it would take to catch this guy. He had an idea they’d be successful.

  Katie Massa was in a pretty good mood. Often when she left her son with her mother, Tyler would cry as she walked out the door. It drained and distracted her at work when she needed to concentrate on helping the kids on the ward. But tonight Tyler waved a cheerful good-bye and she felt very comfortable leaving him until she was able to roll home about eight o’clock in the morning. This was the first day of her three-day schedule and she knew she’d have plenty of energy to make it through the shift. It was the middle day that caused her problems. On the third and final day of her schedule she was looking forward to four days off to do whatever she wanted. About every three weeks she and Tyler would take the two-and-a-half-hour drive down to Orlando and visit one of the theme parks. She had an annual pass to Disney, MGM, and SeaWorld. Often she’d leave it up to Tyler where he wanted to go as they drove into Orlando. Sometimes he wanted to go see the big fish, Shamu. But sometimes he wanted to see the big mouse, Mickey.

  Katie wanted to give Tyler a magical childhood, and she felt like she got a good start on it by taking him on these quick trips. She knew in a few years he wouldn’t want to spend as much time with his mother. Katie was determined that the memories Tyler had of spending time with her would be fun and beautiful.

  One of the few regrets she had since her divorce was that she would like to have another child close enough in age for Tyler to play with him or her. He’d be a great big brother. But he was already four and she had no real prospects for a man in her life.

  She did like Buddy, the guy who had turned her on to the downloaded crosswords from the New York Times. He had a very warm smile and friendly manner and she could tell he was intelligent. She wasn’t real clear about what he did for a living but knew it was in the construction industry. He’d mentioned that he owned his own glass company, but she wasn’t sure if that meant windows or something more artistic like etching. She’d given him her phone number. Something she didn’t do very often.

  Katie hoped he’d call her. It’d been some time since she’d gone out on a date. She wasn’t even necessarily interested in sex, just some adult conversation with a few drinks. It seemed like the last year the only adult conversation she had was hearing about her mother’s conflict with her elderly neighbors.

  She came in the hospital through the employee entrance in the rear of Shands and said hello to the lone security guard, who rarely got off a specially reinforced stool near the door. She often wondered why the hospital didn’t put the security guard in the lobby with the public coming in and out, instead of the elderly female volunteers who seldom asked for identification and could barely hear the requests for the room numbers of patients.

  She skipped the elevator altogether and took the rear stairwell to pediatric endocrinology on the fourth floor. There were five babies on the ward tonight under two years old. If she did nothing else but comfort them and make one of them giggle she felt like she had accomplished a lot both as a person and as a nurse.

  She wished every day was like today.

  Tony Mazzetti was already agitated when they set up a three-car surveillance around the construction site in downtown Jacksonville. Stallings explained that a reliable informant had said Byrd would pick up his paycheck around nine o’clock. That didn’t bother Mazzetti; what he was pissed off about was that the man running the finances of the construction site was his informant, Joey Big Balls. Joey had known he was looking for Daniel Byrd and hadn’t said anything. It was some passive-aggressive bullshit that guys like Joey got off on. Mazzetti lived by a code that included punishing people who double-crossed him. Something terrible would have to happen to Joey Big Balls. Mazzetti wished Joey was still on parole so he could get him violated, if he could get one of the lazy-assed parole officers to fill out the paperwork and go before a judge. With his latest experience at the parole office, he doubted he’d get that to happen.

  The other thing bothering Mazzetti was his quickly deteriorating relationship with Patty Levine. She had been cordial and professional as they prepared to go out on surveillance, but when he asked if she would like a ride to his car with she said, “We’ll probably need at least three cars after. I’ll take my own.” It was the professional and right thing to do but not what she would’ve said two weeks ago. If that wasn’t a clear signal that his girlfriend didn’t want to spend any more time with him, nothing was.

  Mazzetti had told Stallings if they saw Byrd, to allow him to walk into the trailer so that Mazzetti could confront Joey Big Balls too. He recognized Stallings was not one of those detectives you had to explain everything to in great detail. For a jerk and an asshole he was pretty bright.

  Mazzetti needed time away from the massive crush of leads and the constant requests for updates by the command staff of JSO. This was a perfect little job for the evening.

  Stallings monitored a handheld radio that had been rendered almost obsolete by new, reliable cell phones. But nothing could replace radio’s ability to broadcast information to more than one person at a time. When conducting a surveillance or in a chase, it was vital to let every other unit know exactly where you were and what you were doing. It was important to be able to broadcast what kind of threat the suspect posed. If they were armed and dangerous. If there was an active warrant. Or if they were mentally unstable. A cop had to approach each situation differently, and getting th
e right information was imperative.

  Tonight the three detectives from the crimes/persons squad were on a rarely used frequency that was not monitored by dispatch. That meant they could speak more casually and say things they normally wouldn’t say over the radio. This included somewhat idle chatter while they waited for Daniel Byrd.

  Stallings heard the crackle of static before Mazzetti said, “The second he steps into the trailer we’ll move in. Simple, clean, and quick.”

  Stallings had to chuckle. Experience had taught him nothing was ever clean, quick, or simple. That’s why he always tried to stay prepared mentally and said out loud to nobody, “Is today the day that changes the rest of my life?” As he said it, he reached down with his right hand and felt his Glock Model 22.40-caliber semiautomatic pistol tucked snugly into his Safariland holster on his right hip. He also had an ASP expandable baton in the rear left pocket of his jeans. He was too old to worry about punching people if he had something hard he could strike them with instead. But it was still his hope that Byrd would surrender without an argument. While he was hoping, he wanted Byrd to also confess to three murders and help them find Leah Tischler while he was at it. Those were the kind of wishes Stallings would ask if anyone ever cared.

  Over the course of forty-five minutes a number of vehicles had rolled into and out of the lot directly in front of the administration trailer on the site of the renovation of one of Jacksonville’s older but more elegant office buildings.

  At nine o’clock a truck rumbled to a stop directly in front of the trailer. Stallings caught a glimpse of the driver as he jumped down, leaving the truck running, and entered the trailer without knocking.

  Stallings reached for the radio when he heard Mazzetti say, “That’s our man, that’s our man, let’s go.” The homicide detective had a tinge more excitement in his voice than normal. He liked to see passion in police officers. Even a jerk-off like Mazzetti.

  Stallings didn’t rush as he put his Impala in drive and rolled across the parking lot a little faster than a jog. Mazzetti peeled up limestone dust as he skidded across the lot, struggling to maintain control of his big Ford Crown Vic. Patty followed Stallings’s lead and did the smartest thing she could’ve, waited in the lot. Stallings and Mazzetti reached the front door of the trailer at the same time.

  Mazzetti drew his gun and said, “I don’t care if this is just an interview. This asshole has a long record and has been hard to find.”

  Stallings agreed but left his gun in his holster as he pulled open the door. Stallings scanned the entire trailer but only saw an older, heavyset man sitting behind a desk.

  Mazzetti looked at the man and said, “Where’d he go?”

  The man said, “Who?”

  Then Stallings heard the truck as it kicked shell and dust into the trailer.

  Mazzetti scowled at the man behind the desk and said, “I won’t forget this, Joey.”

  The man just shrugged.

  FORTY

  Patty suppressed a giggle as Mazzetti’s Crown Vic swerved one way then the other in the loose gravel parking lot. John Stallings drove slowly, under control, directly to the front of the trailer. The one look from Stallings told her someone needed to watch the outside of the building. She had already concluded that three detectives inside the filthy trailer was too many. She didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. Stallings appreciated her tactical sense and she could’ve had worse examples set for her.

  So she sat in her Ford Freestyle, which was great for surveillance because she looked like a young soccer mom or a junior partner in a law firm downtown. No one gave her a second look until she popped on the hidden red and blue lights or blasted the siren.

  Almost as soon as she’d seen Mazzetti and John Stallings step through the front door of the trailer, she noticed someone scurry from the far side of the trailer directly to the truck. It was so fast and unexpected that it took a moment for her to realize it was Daniel Byrd. The truck was pointed toward the exit when he jumped in and he was out of the lot in less than five seconds. Patty knew to stay on him until the others caught on to what had happened.

  Patty tried the radio but realized neither of the other detectives had carried one into the trailer. She pulled out onto the street and barely caught a glimpse of the truck turning right at the next corner. Patty didn’t want to get into a high-speed chase with someone whom, at this point, they just wanted to interview. The Freestyle wasn’t the vehicle to push into a high-speed pursuit anyway. She’d use her natural advantage and wait until Mazzetti and Stallings could catch up to her.

  After she made another turn and saw the truck clearly in front of her, she risked a quick call on her cell phone to Stallings.

  Stallings answered on the first ring. He said, “I was about to call you on the radio. Did you see him when he came out?”

  “Of course. I was where I was supposed to be. Now we’re on Myrtle Avenue headed north. He left in a hurry, but his speed dropped back down and there’s not much traffic.”

  “You rock, Patty.”

  She let a broad smile slide across her face. She needed to hear something like that today. All she could say was, “You bet your ass I do.”

  Tony Mazzetti was fuming as he raced out to his car and kicked rocks in the air on his way out the exit. Thank God Patty was smart enough to wait outside in case something like this happened. Mazzetti realized that Joey Big Balls would’ve probably spotted him and Stallings earlier, but he never would’ve figured the fat man for a double-crosser. He didn’t know why Joey had felt like he had to warn Daniel Byrd. Mazzetti knew he’d pay for it one way or another.

  He fell in behind Stallings, who was catching up to Patty. There was no way to justify this turning into a high-speed chase, just like there was no way he was gonna let that shithead Byrd give him the slip.

  His radio scanned two frequencies. The one he, Patty, and Stallings were using and the main frequency. He’d heard some traffic earlier relating to a search warrant at the north end of the city. Now he noticed several panicked transmissions and realized something had gone terribly wrong. First he heard the dreaded “Shots fired” call; then he heard a narcotics sergeant named Fernandes request fire rescue and any available unit for a perimeter. Fernandes was a cool customer and wouldn’t call for the help unless it was needed. It was an unusual call for a slow Wednesday night in Jacksonville and Mazzetti knew every cop in the city was headed that way right now.

  Mazzetti used the local frequency to raise Patty. “What’s your twenty, Patty?”

  “We’re north on Moncrief a few miles from U.S. 1. He has no idea I’m behind him.”

  Mazzetti said, “Excellent. I’m a minute behind you.” Mazzetti smiled, thinking about how smart his girlfriend was. If she was still his girlfriend. He’d missed talking to her the past few days, but he didn’t want to keep pestering her on the phone. He didn’t want her to think he was too needy. She’d made it clear she wasn’t ready to move in with him, so he told himself not to crowd her.

  He hadn’t even heard about her accident until today. She said it was okay, but the IA inquiry had gotten to her. He weighed the benefits of punching that asshole Ronald Bell right in the face. He’d also heard Bell and his IA cronies were looking into some missing pills. They’d interviewed some of the narcotics guys this morning and already the rumor mill churned out all kinds of theories. One of those theories was that the pills had been taken from the crimes/persons squad during the fight with the gangbangers. Mazzetti knew it was all a bunch of bullshit and wished the IA cocksuckers would try and work a real case once in a while.

  His radio came to life again as more and more resources were dispatched to the search warrant scene at the far end of the county. The helicopter and a dozen more patrol cars were racing that way right now. Three detectives on a slow-speed surveillance didn’t rate any resources. Mazzetti figured the media was on its way north as well. Why not? The SWAT team guys had cool uniforms and big guns and gave pretty good sound bites for t
he late news. He couldn’t even say they were chasing a serial killer because they weren’t. At least not yet. Byrd was only a person of interest.

  It was after ten o’ clock when he wondered how long it would be until they could safely corner this guy. It wasn’t like the old days when no one cared how fast you chased someone or the reasons you were in the chase. It was all part of police work. But nowadays only certain cars could be in the chase and only with a sergeant on hand. And they had to be able to articulate the reasons they’d risk the public’s safety. They had to be chasing a violent criminal who posed an immediate threat.

  This might be a very long night.

  About twenty minutes into the surveillance, John Stallings took the lead and let Patty back her Freestyle off the target vehicle. Just in case Daniel Byrd had been paying enough attention to recognize the same vehicle had been behind him for miles and miles of Jacksonville city streets. Mazzetti, in his more obvious police-car-looking Crown Vic, was the team’s last choice to follow the crafty construction worker.

  Byrd hadn’t tried to get on the interstate, which made Stallings think his destination was relatively close by. As soon as Byrd stopped and got out of the truck, Stallings would make his move. At this point, Stallings didn’t care what tactics he had to use. He had questions that needed answering. Right now Byrd was acting calm. He probably thought he’d lost them as soon as he left the construction site and was chuckling about how inept Jacksonville cops were.

  Stallings saw their chance. The truck pulled into a surprisingly crowded McDonald’s parking lot. He checked his watch, wondering where so many young people came from at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night and why their parents would allow them out so late on a school night. He picked up the radio and said, “He’s pulling into the McDonald’s lot. I don’t know that we can get him before he walks inside.”