The Perfect Death

by James Andrus

Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and ushered the detectives inside the opulent home.

  Patty noticed the two younger boys nestled in front of the TV watching an older Jackie Chan movie. When they settled in the den, Patty sat close to Mrs. Tischler. That’s when she noticed the telltale signs of someone strung out on prescription drugs. It looked like she was moving in slow motion, she was clearly lethargic, her tongue worked its way around her lips as if she was thirsty, and her pupils looked like pinpricks even in the low light.

  Patty said, “Have you heard anything at all about Leah from anyone else since we spoke?” It was more a habit than a real question.

  Mrs. Tischler shook her head.

  Patty asked a couple more questions, all of them receiving slow, negative responses. She paused and said, “I have one question that, um, could be a little sensitive.”

  Mrs. Tischler looked at her with those pale eyes, waiting for the question.

  “Did you or your husband have any intense discussions with Leah last week before she disappeared?”

  “I told you we hadn’t really had a serious fight.”

  “I’m not talking about an argument, so much as a disclosure. Perhaps Leah told you something that upset you or your husband. Anything like that at all?”

  Mrs. Tischler’s eyes seemed to focus all at once; then in a low voice she said, “Who have you been talking to?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Leah ...” Mrs. Tischler took a very long pause, using the time to breathe deeply several times. “... said that she and another girl at the school had a relationship.”

  Patty was very careful when she said, “A romantic relationship?”

  Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and mumbled, “Why would that matter?”

  “What matters is how Leah perceived your response to her admission. It matters because it’s very important to know whether she ran away or if something else happened. It’s important because we need to know the whole truth.”

  Mrs. Tischler started to cry and reached for a Kleenex.

  Patty said, “Do you have any idea where she might’ve gone?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did she ever mention a girl from Tennessee?”

  Mrs. Tischler shook her head.

  Mrs. Tischler murmured, “She was just so confused.”

  Patty didn’t know how many times she’d heard that exact phrase the past two years and knew that in this case it really meant we were appalled. But it answered one question: Leah had definitely run away. Patty wondered if that made any difference to Stallings or if it hit home a little too hard.

  Patty said, “So she did run away.”

  Mrs. Tischler nodded her head and a barely audible “Yes” escaped her.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “It was Bob. He was the one who couldn’t take it. He was being so unreasonable and he didn’t even realize it. He drove her away from us.” The woman started to cry uncontrollably.

  Patty sat there for a second, looked at her partner, and could see in his face he was wondering if he had somehow chased away Jeanie.

  Stallings was shaken by the meeting with Leah Tischler’s mother. After he dropped Patty off at the PMB so she could check with the computer techs to see if they had any e-mails or indicators pointing toward Tennessee, he swung by the community center where his father would be working on a Thursday evening. As always, he was careful to park his car across the street in the church parking lot so as not to scare anyone participating in any of the classes or support groups in the giant community center.

  He was surprised when he walked in the front door and saw how many people were making use of the facility. In the far corner, the single basketball court was being used by a dozen young men. Scattered in front of the court were eight tables, each filled to capacity with people in support groups or learning some new craft.

  There were three priests from the church across the street who supervised the busy community center and wandered around with their collars on more casual, short-sleeved shirts.

  After Stallings had been standing there a few minutes, one of the priests approached him. He looked to be about Stallings’s age or maybe a little younger, like his late thirties, but he still had a paternal air about him.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  Stallings pointed at the table where he saw his father was leading a discussion and said, “I’m James Stallings’s son.”

  A smile spread across the priest’s face as he said, “You must be the policeman, Johnny. I’ve heard a great deal about you and your wonderful family.”

  Stallings didn’t know what to say so he smiled and nodded.

  The priest said, “You should be very proud of your father. Not only has he been able to overcome his alcoholism, but he’s obviously working hard to help others. He and I have gotten very close over the last few years as he’s worked more and more around here.”

  Stallings nodded again, realizing he didn’t have to go into the history he had with his father. There was no need to detail the beatings or the rantings that had driven his sister to run away, then come back, never quite the same. He let the priest have his saintly view of his imperfect father.

  The group sitting around his father’s table broke up and the priest led Stallings over. He could hear his father say good night to each of the men by name, offering them some little encouragement.

  His father looked over, smiled, and stood, saying, “Hello, Johnny, what a nice surprise to see you over here.” He looked at the priest, whom he’d known for several years, then back to Stallings. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Johnny?”

  Now Stallings knew there was a problem.

  EIGHTEEN

  It was too early in the morning for Stallings to have so much on his mind. He got into the coffee shop where he was supposed to meet Liz Dubeck early and was sipping on a cup of unsweetened black coffee. He felt a pang of guilt meeting a woman for coffee. It didn’t matter that she was a witness. He was meeting her because he liked talking to her. In addition, he was troubled by his father’s confusion last night. He had talked it over with the priest, who said he hadn’t noticed any previous memory lapses. He promised to keep an eye on Stallings’s father and note any similar incidents. Stallings silently pledged to visit more frequently to make sure it wasn’t anything more than a man who had had a hard life and was getting older.

  Liz came through the front door, looking cute, like a suburban mom with a slight edge. He got her a cup of coffee and they sat and chatted, first about her work at the motel, which was funded by grants through the city and the federal government, then about her personal life. Stallings wasn’t surprised she’d been married and had no children of her own. He could see a woman like this spending so much time working with the runaways that her husband had found other ways to occupy his time. He found himself confiding in her about his separation and gave her some details about his kids and how he hadn’t seen Jeanie in three years.

  Stallings said, “What’s your plan now?”

  “What’d you mean? Like my plan on convincing you to have dinner with me?”

  He smiled. “I meant your long-term plan with your job and those sorts of things. You made it sound like you were looking around.”

  “Does that mean you won’t have dinner with me?”

  This time he even laughed. He could think of nothing he’d like to do more than have dinner with her. Instead he said, “Things are complicated right now. Can I have a little time to answer you?”

  “That’s a refreshing attitude from a man separated from his wife. You can have all the time you need.”

  He felt like leaning across the table and kissing her on the cheek, but before he could, she gave him a kiss on the lips.

  He said, “What was that for?”

  “For not realizing what a sweet guy you are.” She stood, straightened her blouse, and said, “When things are less complicated, please give me a call.”

 
; Like the night before, he couldn’t speak. Instead he smiled, nodded his head, and watched her as she turned quickly and walked out of the café. He thought about running after her but realized she wanted to exit on her own terms. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and took another sip of coffee as he dug in his pocket for a ten-dollar bill to lay on the table.

  As he looked up, a face caught his attention. Staring at him from across the room was his wife, Maria.

  It was quiet in the office so Patty used the opportunity to casually take a seat next to Tony Mazzetti’s desk. She knew John was having coffee with Liz Dubeck. She fully approved of Stallings’s informal meeting, hoping it might get the guy’s head out of his family situation. It seemed clear to everyone but him that Maria intended to move forward with the divorce. But poor John could never let anything go easily. It broke Patty’s heart to see someone she cared so much about experience the kind of problems John Stallings had.

  Her eyes made an involuntary sweep of the detective bureau. That’s what her secret relationship with Tony Mazzetti had done to her. But the Land That Time Forgot was almost devoid of people except for Yvonne Zuni, working quietly at her desk in her office, and a team of crime scene people collecting any possible evidence left from the fight the day before. It seemed odd to her that they were so worried about errant DNA and fingerprints, but one of the crime scene techs had explained that the state attorney’s office was considering additional charges, which could include attempted murder if the injured detective did not recover fully. She noted that there were no detectives supervising the crime-scene geeks and thought it was a little unusual. But in cost-cutting times like this there was no telling what was important enough to warrant a detective and what wasn’t.

  She focused her attention on Tony Mazzetti’s handsome, smiling face. He had a strong chin and his nose had been broken one too many times, but he still had a cute quality to his looks. If Patty could correct anything about her boyfriend’s appearance it’d be his crooked bottom teeth. He definitely would have benefited from a couple of years in braces as a teenager, but it was nothing she’d ever mention.

  She even liked the neat mustache he spent so much time trimming and loved to show off on TV.

  Mazzetti said, “You okay? You look tired.”

  Patty shrugged. “Just a few aches and pains.”

  “Maybe you should take a day off and rest up.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “No. No way. Not until we find out what happened to Leah Tischler or find the killer. I think Stall believes there’s a chance she’s alive.”

  “Even after finding the belt?”

  “He says she could’ve discarded it.”

  “Keep dreamin’.” Mazzetti took a moment to really look at his girlfriend. He said in a quiet voice, “You look beat. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ve been tired before.”

  “Fair enough. You have any plans for this evening?”

  “I haven’t checked my datebook or any messages on my phone. But I can assume I’m relatively open. What’d you have in mind?”

  “I have to check a couple of construction sites down in the south and near Dearwood Park. There’s an Italian place named Gi-Gi’s off J. Turner Butler Boulevard. I thought it might be nice if we ran into each other there about eight o’clock.”

  “I’m assuming you visiting the construction sites has something to do with your homicide investigation.”

  Mazzetti nodded quietly.

  “What if you get hung up and I’m waiting all alone in a nice Italian restaurant? Maybe I’ll wear my tiny black dress and other patrons can hit on me if you don’t show.” She gave him her best mischievous smile.

  Mazzetti said, “I really don’t expect to find our man at this construction site. It’s more of a process of elimination. But if he turns out to be there and I make an arrest, I feel pretty confident I can call you, explain what happened, and you’ll fully understand. Then I’ll deal with anyone who tried to hit on you.”

  Patty leaned in close and let her hand drift over to his leg. “You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now.”

  Yvonne Zuni had a good sense of what was going on in the squad’s homicide case. She’d finally finished reading and approving the reports from the night before and felt confident they were doing everything they could to find the killer. She didn’t react to the parents’ sorrow like Stallings did. She felt her strength was in the cool and rational deployment of the resources. The thing that bothered her now was Ronald Bell’s disclosure that someone in the detective bureau was a suspect in the theft of evidence.

  As this thought occurred to her the phone rang. A male voice said, “How is the most beautiful sergeant in all of JSO doing this morning?”

  Sergeant Zuni couldn’t help but smile. “I’d be doing better if I didn’t have a covert IA crime scene in my squad bay.”

  “Would you rather have a full-blown investigation airing out everyone’s dirty laundry?”

  “No, I think this is disruptive enough.”

  “That was one of the reasons I was calling. I wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly. I have no idea what they might pick up, but we need to have as much information as possible before we go public.”

  “It’s quiet in here this morning. Everyone’s out running leads or taking comp time so they can work on the weekend. I hate being sneaky about anything with my detectives.”

  “Please don’t make it sound like I want to be sneaky. This is the best way to handle it.”

  “I agree. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  There was a short pause on the phone line until Bell said, “The other reason I was calling was to see if you might be available for dinner tonight.”

  “I thought it was too dangerous to eat out in public.”

  “Not if we pick some out-of-the-way place. What’d you feel like eating?”

  “I love a good Italian place. Any ideas?”

  Bell said, “I have just the place. It’s down in Deerwood Park. It’s called Gi-Gi’s. How does eight o’clock sound?”

  “Like a date.”

  NINETEEN

  John Stallings was surprised Maria wasn’t bent out of shape. He sat across from her at the small table in the same café where he’d met Liz Dubeck. As soon as he’d noticed her, he’d walked over and tried to explain why he was sitting with another woman, but Maria had showed no real emotion. His first concern was she’d fallen off the wagon, but as he sat there quietly talking to her, he realized it might be a worse problem. She just didn’t care.

  Maria shook her head and said for the third time, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. We’re separated. As I recall, I’m the one who asked you to move out. You can have coffee with anyone you want.”

  Somehow her calm and rational response was even more unsettling than if she’d yelled and cursed. But Maria had never been prone to emotional fits. Even her choice of drugs, prescription narcotics and other depressants, mirrored her personality. She was quiet and thoughtful rather than fiery and vengeful. Right now the quiet, thoughtful approach seemed much harsher to Stallings.

  Stallings said, “What’re you doing over here, Maria?”

  “Like I said, we don’t have to explain ourselves to each other.”

  “I’m just curious. It’s not near the house and there’s no reason for you to be downtown.”

  “What if I told you I was headed down to the football stadium?”

  “I’d say there’s no reason to be sarcastic. I worry about you. I worry about the kids too. Some days you guys are all I can think about.”

  “But apparently not today.”

  That hurt Stallings more than about anything she’d ever said.

  It was midmorning and Mazzetti felt like he had to get out and do some work on the case rather than read other people’s reports about the work they’d done. But there were a lot of aspects to Kathy Mizell’s murder and it required a
lot of detectives. That’s why he and Sparky Taylor were now at the Jacksonville Medical Examiner’s Office on North Jefferson Street. The modern, two-story, white building looked more like a middle school than the last place the residents of Duval County visited.

  Mazzetti gawked at the young, pretty assistant medical examiner. Goggles covered her blue eyes as she perched on a stool, working on a body of a seventy-eight-year-old drowning victim. It was not uncommon for Mazzetti to discuss cases with her while she continued her work. He was amazed at how the young Syracuse graduate could do so many things at once and still get it all right.

  She used a scalpel to slice the skin along the crown of the man’s head as she said, “The one thing I’d say is our killer is strong. He didn’t use the belt as tourniquet; he pulled it manually with his hands. That makes me believe he’s probably large with some muscle mass.”

  Mazzetti said, “But there’s nothing to link Kathy Mizell to the Pamela Kimble murder in Rolling Hills, is there?”

  “Not that I can see.” She paused for a moment as she peeled back the skin and hair of the elderly man’s head. “Kimble was a manual strangulation where the killer used his hands. There are no links. No decent DNA or fingerprints or other organic material. Aside from asphyxiation, even the mode of death is different. One killer used a belt and the other his bare hands. It’s very uncommon to see a strangler change details like that between two different murders.”

  Mazzetti wanted to tell the young assistant medical examiner to stick to the medical aspects of the case and leave the other forensics and profiling to the detectives. He knew she also had a background in psychiatry and kept up with all the medical journals about deviant behavior so he kept his mouth shut. He had learned a long time ago it was easier to let people run their mouths and ignore them than it was to tell them to stick to their fields. He’d need a good working relationship with this woman for a long time to come.

  The assistant medical examiner said, “Any idea where the belt came from?”