by James Andrus
Lynn didn’t mean to sound quite so annoyed when she barked at Leon, “What’re you doing here? Are you following me?”
The lean, older man nodded his head and said, “A little bit.”
“Why?”
“I already told you that I could help you with whatever you’re doing.”
“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t care. I just miss the excitement. I miss having something important to do. I don’t mind washing a few cars at Thomas Brothers and I don’t want to go back to prison, but if I don’t do something a little different once in a while I’ll go crazy.” He placed his hand on Lynn’s arm and said, “Please let me help you if for no other reason than to show respect for your father.”
Lynn thought about his offer for a moment. “There is something I could use some help on.”
“Anything. Anything at all.”
“Could you find someone for me?”
“Easy. Especially if he was in the business. What’s his name?”
“Zach Halston.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Stallings lined up his punch like a professional billiards player lined up a championship shot. But a split second before he balled his fist and threw the punch a woman with curly blond hair wandered in from the living room and said, “Who’s at the door, dear?”
Stallings used the distraction to take in the scene. He gave no indication of what his next action might be.
Brother Ellis composed himself quickly, turning to the woman and saying, “This is Maria’s husband, John.” He gave Stallings a look that said, Be cool. “John, this is my wife, Denise. We were just visiting with Maria. She ran upstairs to grab a photo album and will be down in a minute. I’m sure she’d love to have you join us.”
Stallings managed a weak smile as he nodded to the pretty blond lady and stepped into the house on unsteady legs. The whole situation freaked him out a little bit.
Tony Mazzetti lingered in his car as Sparky stepped out of the Crown Vic, waiting for his partner to join him. Mazzetti hated talking to families of dead people. Whether it was an auto accident or a homicide, talking to a family after a case was closed either raised hopes or suspicions. Every parent saw conspiracy in the dead child. No one wanted to admit to the fact that random chance played a vital role in everyone’s lives. No one ever wanted to admit the death could be the victim’s fault. They wanted answers and scapegoats. They wanted a reason to not feel so desolate. Mazzetti didn’t want to do that to someone who’d already grieved over the loss of a loved one and now he had nine files waiting for him to do just that. Nine families whose old wounds would be reopened just by talking to the police.
Add to that the fact that his old partner, Christina Hogrebe, was still teaching at the police academy and he felt real despair. Christina or “Hoagie,” as she liked to be called, could talk to anyone about anything and make them feel good. It wasn’t just the fact that she was an intelligent, beautiful girl; it was some unquantifiable quality she had that allowed her to deal with people in an easy manner. Patty Levine had a similar quality. The only person in the detective bureau with less ability to speak to someone easily than himself was his new partner, Sparky Taylor. For all his brains and sharp insight, Sparky talked to people like a robot and appeared to have no ability to feel any empathy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t compassionate. He cared about how people felt; he just had no ability to understand emotions. Now Mazzetti had to interview a family who lost a son two years ago. What a way to start the holiday season.
Mazzetti knocked on the front door of the nice suburban house. He noticed the Star of David over the door. Mazzetti identified himself with his open credentials as soon as the nice-looking, middle-aged woman opened the door. Without hearing anything but his name, just seeing the JSO credentials, the woman started to cry uncontrollably.
Once inside the house and sitting on a couch, the woman composed herself. When she’d stopped crying and only sniffled, she managed to say, “Have you found something new about Robert’s death?”
“No, ma’am. We just had a few questions about him. It’s sort of a follow-up study were doing on deaths in the county over the past two years. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”
“If you’re asking me why he would hang himself at the dorm shower room, I still have no idea.”
Having an entire sleepless night to reconsider how he felt about Brother Frank Ellis had led John Stallings to the conclusion that he needed to listen to people more. He had spent more than an hour looking at old photographs of the family with Ellis and his wife, Denise, and the pastor had never once hinted that Stallings had roughed him up or treated him badly in any way. The fact that the man was visiting Maria with his wife also indicated that perhaps Stallings was wrong about him being interested in Maria. If he was wrong about Brother Ellis, what the hell else could he be wrong about?
Counter to stereotype, many cops liked to focus on the best in people. Stallings had to look for the best or risk drowning in despair at how people could act. The vast majority of people did what was right because it was right, not because of the law or the work cops did to enforce the law. If people started doing whatever they wanted, there weren’t enough cops in the world to set society back on the right track. It now annoyed Stallings that the one guy he thought was an asshole turned out to be a decent guy. Shit.
Stallings’s cell phone pulled him out of his deep thought. As soon as he flipped it up and noticed a number from Volusia County he immediately recognized the voice.
The woman said, “This is J. L. Winter. Remember me?”
“How could I forget?”
“It would be hard, wouldn’t it?”
Stallings could feel her confidence even over the cheap Nextel phone.
J.L. said, “Can we meet? I have information on Zach Halston.”
Patty listened carefully as Tony Mazzetti systematically explained everything he and Sparky had learned about the suicide at the University of North Florida two years earlier. The victim had been a member of the fraternity and attended many of their parties. The boy’s mother noticed a change in him before Thanksgiving two years ago. He had seen a doctor for depression several years before that. He was probably a true suicide.
Patty asked why he had not had a tattoo.
Mazzetti had thought of that too and had asked the grieving mother. Tau Epsilon never forced anyone to get the goofy logo on their ankle, and the boy was a practicing Jew. He’d skipped the tattoo for religious reasons.
Mazzetti said he then raced over to the medical examiner’s office to go through the file with Lisa Kurtz. There was nothing at all to indicate this was anything other than a suicide. Mazzetti had even gone as far as contacting the retired detective who had worked the case. The detective had found three of the victim’s friends who had said he was deeply troubled by something. They said it was something that had happened shortly before his death. That put the time frame right around the Halloween party.
The story sounded like classic Tony Mazzetti, emphasizing how hard he worked and how quickly he jumped on leads, but mainly how the death could not possibly be a homicide. However, in this case, Lisa Kurtz agreed with him. Patty was surprised how much she liked Tony’s new squeeze. But the less interested she became in her own boyfriend, the more jealous she was of the pretty young assistant medical examiner. Despite her personal feelings, she couldn’t deny that Lisa was sharp and dedicated. She represented women well in law enforcement. That meant a lot to Patty.
But now in the conference room, seeing Sergeant Zuni and Sparky staring at Mazzetti, it was clear they had a problem. Mazzetti wanted the problem to be a rash of accidents and suicides, but Patty knew it to be something else. She said, “There is no way these are all coincidence. I don’t care if they happened over the course of two years or ten years, the common thread of the fraternity links these deaths together. These have got to be homicides.”
Mazzetti shook his head. “Too many var
iables. A gunshot, all kinds of different drugs, even ketamine. I mean, Jesus, where do you even find that shit?”
Sparky said, “Usually at a veterinarian. But the rampant spread of the drug used recreationally has provided a number of sources.”
Mazzetti looked at his partner and said, “What’re you, a commentator on a documentary?”
Patty had to smile at the give-and-take between the two partners but noticed that Lisa Kurtz, sitting at the end of the table quietly, was the one who came up with the comment that shut Tony Mazzetti down.
Lisa said, “What if the killer did it specifically so they wouldn’t be caught? Change up the mode of death so radically and use so many different jurisdictions that the cops would never catch on? Made it seem like a woman, when it was really a man, or something like that.”
The comment earned a frown from Mazzetti, but Patty wanted to cheer the young medical examiner who’d put it all together.
This was the start of something big.
THIRTY-FIVE
John Stallings sat in a booth at a Denny’s in the south end of Duval County. He wanted to stay in his official jurisdiction just in case there was a problem. He couldn’t fully trust a pot grower, even one as attractive as J. L. Winter. From the window he could see the traffic coming down J. Turner Butler Boulevard. He wasn’t sure what kind of vehicle to look for but wasn’t surprised when he saw the beautiful woman pulled into the lot driving a Cadillac CTX. Nice, but not too flashy.
He stood when she entered the restaurant and approached him. He held out his hand to forestall any chance of a hug.
J.L. said, “What a gentleman.”
When they settled into the thick padded benches, J.L gazed out the window and said, “I try not to come into civilization too often. But it gets so boring on the farm and I have so few visitors, I have to keep occupied.”
“My guess is you could have all of the visitors you wanted.”
“Given the nature of my occupation, I try to limit the number of people who actually come onto the premises.” She gave him a sly smile. “But you have an open invitation.”
“Why do you live in such isolation? There is so much you could be doing.”
“If business stays like it is, I can retire in a couple of years and never worry about money again.”
Stallings had heard that same line from every prostitute, drug dealer, and thief in Jacksonville. “What do you do when you have enough money?”
J.L. shook her head, causing her black hair to fan out behind her. “I don’t know. Maybe public service so God won’t judge me too harshly. I thought about teaching. I have my bachelor’s in elementary education from USF.”
Stallings said, “I was at the University of South Florida on a baseball scholarship.”
“When did you graduate?”
“Never did.”
“How do you go from baseball to a police officer?”
“Maybe I want God to take it easy on me too.”
Lynn couldn’t believe how quickly Leon had found information on Zach Halston. She’d already written down where he had been seen down in St. Augustine. Now she looked back up at Leon sitting across from her at her desk.
“How’d you get this?”
“One phone call. You just have to know the right people to call.”
“I appreciate this, Leon. But I think you’ve done everything you could do for me.”
The hard-looking man shook his head. “No, there’s a lot more I could do. This was too easy. Now that I’ve done this, we’re joined together.”
“But I don’t need any help.”
“Everyone needs help and this makes me feel good. You don’t want me to feel bad about myself, do you?” His tone changed.
Lynn could see how effective this man could be in almost any cutthroat industry. But now he was her problem and she had to figure out a way to deal with him.
Stallings sipped his coffee and let J.L. talk about herself for a few minutes before he focused her on what he really wanted to know.
“You said you had some information on Zach Halston.”
“You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”
“I don’t arrest minor pot dealers. Almost no one does. He’s a missing person, his parents are worried, and I have a few questions for him. That’s it.”
“That’s what I thought. And I believe you; otherwise I wouldn’t be saying anything. The last thing you want to happen in this business is be labeled a snitch.”
Stallings just gave her a scowl, hoping to prod her into divulging the information.
J.L. said, “I heard some talk. A few people are not happy with Zach. He’s unreliable and owes some money, but it’s nothing too serious. The pot-dealing community is not known for its violence. He’s just laying low down in St. Augustine.”
“Can you be more specific? The tourists alone could keep me from searching all of St. Augustine for one missing college kid.”
J.L. let loose with a dazzling smile. “He hangs out at a bar off King Street named the Ponce de Leon Pub. It’s supposed to be a small, dingy place with good food and a couple of decent TVs. My source thinks he’s staying at a motel close by. He eats lunch at the pub every day.”
Stallings wrote the name of the pub in his notepad as he gazed out the window and considered his next move. He knew he’d have to go down to St. Augustine alone. He couldn’t have anyone around when he found Zach because his first question was going to be about the photograph of Jeanie.
J.L. cleared her throat to get his attention and when he looked back she said, “I’m not used to men forgetting I’m close by.”
“I bet you’re not.” He laid a twenty on the table and said, “You’re probably not used to men leaving you in a restaurant either, but I’m afraid I have to go. I really appreciate the information you gave me.”
J. L. Winter lifted her left eyebrow and said, “Oh yeah? How much do you appreciate it?”
Stallings looked at her and said, “Enough to hope you become a teacher really soon.”
THIRTY-SIX
Patty Levine had to admit she enjoyed being alone with Tony Mazzetti even if it was in the conference room of the D-bureau. Everyone had left the informal meeting and gone about their day, but she enjoyed the few moments with her ex-boyfriend, purposely scooting her chair closer to his so he’d get a hint of her perfume. She was feeling good about herself because she had gone a day and a night without any prescription drugs. It seemed like that was becoming a more common occurrence. The problem was she felt loopy from the lack of sleep.
Patty said, “The key to this thing is in the victims.”
“Still officially accidents.”
“Whatever. You know as well as I do how much work we have to prove it either way. I don’t care about the political considerations command staff has about labeling Jacksonville the home of another serial killer. We’ve got to figure this out.”
Mazzetti reluctantly nodded his head. “I hate talking to the families. Sparky and I will work on the leads we’ve developed and talk to the frat boys if you and Stallings talk to some of the families of the deceased.”
“John is down in the south end of the county for something today, but I’ll start on it by myself. I should have all of it done by tomorrow afternoon and we can see where we are then.”
Mazzetti smiled and said, “Thanks, Patty. You’re the best.”
For no reason Patty went with her urge and leaned across the short gap between them, placed her hand behind Tony’s neck, and laid a deep, meaningful kiss on him.
John Stallings took advantage of meeting J. L. Winter in the south end of the county and wasted no time making the short drive down to St. Johns County, then east into St. Augustine.
He liked the historic little town that gave the relatively newly settled state of Florida a link to the past that rivaled New England’s. St. Augustine was the oldest European settlement in the continental United States. Every public school student learned that it was settled in 1565
by a Spanish admiral named Menendez. Most people liked the fairy tale of Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain of youth. The story and man were referenced all over the city.
Almost in the center of the city was Flagler College, which filled up an old Henry Flagler hotel and the area immediately around it. Stallings used to like the good, tiny Florida school until he learned Tony Mazzetti was a graduate.
Stallings had always enjoyed the historical Florida town. He’d brought the kids here on a number of occasions and still brought Lauren and Charlie whenever they had a chance. Charlie was fascinated by the Castillo de San Marcos. All of Stallings’s memories now were categorized by whether they’d occurred before or after Jeanie disappeared. He could remember every event so clearly based on if she was there or if not. The last time they were in St. Augustine together she was about thirteen. She’d pretended to be too cool for the tourist attractions but enjoyed walking the walls of San Marcos just as much as the rest of them. Stallings had a photograph of Maria looking off a rampart with the wind blowing her dark hair behind her. He needed to frame that photo and put it on his desk.
Driving down King Street he saw the Ponce de Leon Pub on the right next to Ponce de Leon Pawn and Gun and across the street from the Ponce de Leon Quick Stop. It was not the heart of downtown and there was almost no traffic. His instincts told him to take a few minutes and drive through the area. That would get him familiar with the streets and also give luck a chance to play a part if Zach Halston was walking down a sidewalk.
There was nothing unusual on the quiet weekday. He noticed a blue Suburban with dark-tinted windows roll past him and turn a block west of the pub. He patted the photograph on the seat next to him and looked down at Jeanie’s smiling face next to Zach. He felt like he was close to getting some answers.