“You saying I do mind it?”
“You tell me.”
“I listen to your suggestions all the time.”
“But you’re still senior partner. The sarge can order us around all day and doesn’t have to ask about opinions. She takes ‘em or leaves ‘em as she sees fit.”
“What’s your point?”
“That the sarge has you spooked.” She smiled as she chomped on the bubble gum that was always wedged in her molars.
It was tough to get upset with anyone who looked like her and had that kind of delivery.
Yvonne Zuni took a minute to survey the scene before she got out of her nice new Dodge Charger. Being new to the unit she was still trying to get a feel for how everyone worked and interacted with each other. She knew Mazzetti’s type: brash, arrogant, efficient. And Patty Levine was smart, professional, and insecure. It was John Stallings who gave her a hard time. She couldn’t get a decent read on him to save her life. She’d heard all the rumors. He was tough, resourceful, and he paid little or no attention to the SO policies. That was something they might butt heads over. The new sergeant was smart enough to realize that Stallings was an old friend of the lieutenant’s. That could be tricky too. She also knew his personal story. He wasn’t living at home right now, even though he didn’t broadcast it. She’d listened to two of the secretaries gossip about it, each with her own plans to scoop him up if he stayed on the market much longer. The sergeant figured that the split was a delayed result of his daughter’s disappearance. Marital problems were a well-known side effect of family tragedy. She knew it from personal experience.
She watched as Stallings directed the crime scene people toward the body of the young woman. He also seemed to deal well with that loudmouth Mazzetti. The two exchanged a few words, but she noticed that Stallings had enough sense to let Mazzetti walk toward the scene alone.
The sergeant wanted to see if she could have the two men work together. As long as her detectives followed the rules they’d all get along like a big happy family. And she was the mother. She missed being a mother.
Fourteen
Stallings’s last major case had been a serial killer who had murdered one of the runaway girls he’d returned home several times over the years. That case was so big that a task force had been formed to stop the killer. No one would be forming a task force for this poor girl. It would be Mazzetti and Christina Hogrebe all the way. Unless Stallings could find a good enough reason for Sergeant Zuni to assign more detectives.
He realized this was a quirk with him. He got so entangled in cases involving young women that he couldn’t think about anything else. He knew it had to do with Jeanie. He didn’t care. This was one impulse he didn’t intend to fight.
He and Patty stood straighter as the sergeant walked their way and talked into her cell phone at the same time. No detective sergeant alive could go thirty seconds without getting a phone call. It was one of the rules of police work.
Finally she closed the small cell and looked up at the two detectives. “You did a great job of finding her, Stall. I’m just sorry it turned out this way.”
Stallings nodded.
“Anything obvious around the body?”
He shook his head. “She’s clothed, no obvious signs of trauma. But I didn’t get too near.”
The sergeant looked up at him but said nothing.
Stallings was struck by her clear green eyes and high cheekbones. She could be a runway model if she wanted and was a few inches taller.
Mazzetti stomped over, muttering about the crime scene techs. The homicide detective always built up an excuse in case he couldn’t clear a case. Sometimes he’d claim the crime scene techs screwed up the scene. Other times he’d blame the arriving unit for trampling a scene. In the past he’d said the media coverage inhibited his investigation. There was always something that derailed an unsuccessful investigation. Stallings knew a lot of every case was fate. To find a minute piece of evidence had an element of luck in it. To find the right person to interview and to have them tell the truth was incredibly lucky. He used the term “luck,” but in the last few years he knew there more to it than luck. He’d come back to his early Catholic school roots and realized there were higher forces at work in the universe. Maybe it was all the A.A. meetings with Maria or his need to feel that someone was watching over his Jeanie, but he had come to the conclusion that there was, in fact, a God. He also felt, much like the old saying, that God favors those who are prepared, so he left as little to chance as possible. But it was always that last tip or piece of fiber evidence or security video that solved a case. Those things were in God’s hands.
Mazzetti briefed the sergeant, but he didn’t know anything yet either. Like any decent homicide detective he had a list of things he was going to do right away and most of those, at least for right now, concerned the crime scene and subsequent autopsy.
Mazzetti said, “Who knows, this girl might’ve died of alcohol poisoning. Happens all the time with these wild-assed spring breakers.”
Sergeant Zuni turned her head slowly and said, “Is that what you want to tell her mother? She’s staying at the Marriott downtown.”
Mazzetti didn’t answer.
“Maybe we could hold off on the conjecture until we have some kind of evidence to support theories.”
Mazzetti nodded.
The sergeant turned to Stallings. “Have you found anything in your interviews or the victim’s background to indicate drug use or heavy drinking?”
Stallings hesitated to mention that one of Allie’s traveling companions had admitted to them trying Ecstasy. He didn’t want the death dismissed so easily. But he had to be open in a case like this. “One of her friends said someone had given them X.”
“Did she know the supplier?”
“No, she’d never met him. It was someone Allie had met. Maybe more than once during the week.”
“That could be important. Do we know where she was last seen?”
“Probably the Wildside the night before last. That’s our best information now.”
The sergeant nodded as she considered this information. She turned to Mazzetti. “Finish the scene and autopsy. Stall and Patty will determine if anyone saw her at the Wildside and talk to the bartenders and staff there.”
Mazzetti said, “You want us to treat this like a homicide? It’s probably an overdose. It’s like natural causes for spring breakers. If we investigated every overdose we’d never have time to work the real homicides and we’d have a shitload of open cases.”
The sergeant said, “There may be extenuating circumstances in this case. You don’t know all the facts or all the issues. This could end up being a high-profile case.”
Mazzetti got that glazed look on his face like he did when he was about to go before the cameras, then said, “But Christina and I are the lead, right?”
The sergeant said, “For now.”
He ran hard, invigorated by his recent kill. Like any predator, he had to keep his skills up, and a run like this along Neptune Beach in the middle of spring break did two things: it kept him in tip-top shape, and it offered him a look at all the blond prey hanging around. He knew that the first sunny, relatively warm day in a week would bring the crowds out to the beach, and he needed a little sun. He had his shirt off to show his pecs and wore the smallest pair of shorts he had.
His eyes scanned the crowds as he raced by. This was a fitness lap and a chance to let the young girls see him. In ten minutes he’d jog at a reasonable pace to inspect the prey more closely.
He preferred to meet his prey in bars. It seemed more anonymous and safer in a dark, crowded club. That wasn’t a strict rule. He’d met Kathleen from South Carolina in a cafe. But the more he thought about it, the beach was a good choice too. As long as he found a girl away from her group. Anything to make his identification more
