responsible for her death was more important. He felt that if he could clear this up then maybe he could focus on his own family problems.
After an hour of aimless driving and feeling the exhaustion sweep through his body, Stallings finally decided to head home.
He’d spent more than an hour checking out several bodies of water he’d found on Google Earth. The detailed satellite images had not shown certain trees, curbs, and other impediments to driving a car directly into the water.
Lisa was still naked and curled up in the trunk of the little Mazda. There was very little traffic on the road at this time of the night. He had yet to see any police cruisers and didn’t think he would draw much attention in the plain car as long as he didn’t venture into some of the areas known for selling crack.
Two of the parks that had decent bodies of water also had signs that said they closed at sunset when the gates were locked. One of the canals that he wanted to use had a very steep embankment, and he wasn’t sure he could get the car into the water by himself. Now he was at the edge of a park near an offshoot of the St. Johns River. He had a simple plan. There was a seawall here, and he knew the water immediately dropped down to at least twenty feet. He was going to shove the car off the side of the seawall and hope the murky water kept it hidden for a good, long time.
There was no moon, and the little bit of light from the city cast a haze over the open fields of the park and the trees surrounding it. He positioned the car near the seawall and was getting ready to push it when he heard a noise and noticed a funny odor. It only took a second for him to realize it was marijuana. He spun quickly toward the swing sets on one side. There, in the dim light, he saw a figure swaying slowly on one of the swings.
He called out, “Who’s there?”
“No one here but a fellow criminal.” The figure stood from the swing and walked slowly toward him. When the man had gotten within a few feet he stopped and said, “The government says I’m a criminal because I smoke weed. Why are you out here in the middle of the night about to push your car into the water?”
He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to reach back into the car and find something sharp to ram into this young man’s head. This was exactly what he didn’t need. A witness. His options ran through his head. But he didn’t answer the young man’s question.
The young man took another toke off a small roach, held the smoke in his lungs, then, in a long exhalation, looked up as the cloud of smoke drifted away. He said, “Insurance?”
He just stared at the young man. “What?”
“You got to get rid of the car for insurance money?”
It took a second; then he realized what the young man was saying. “You got me. I can’t afford the repairs on this old piece a shit. Do you mind giving me a hand?”
Without another word the young man stepped to the rear of the Mazda and shoved until the car tipped over the side of the seawall and flipped, roof first, into the water. It drifted away from the wall for several seconds and then after several loud bubbles, dropped beneath the surface. He couldn’t have planned it any better.
He turned toward the young stoner. “Thanks, dude.”
“No sweat. Now what are you gonna give me to keep quiet?”
He made a quick assessment of how hard it would be to kill the stoner with nothing but his bare hands.
Thirty-four
Tony Mazzetti felt a little embarrassed creeping out of Patty’s condo before the sun came up. But she was sleeping so soundly, that cute little combination of a snore and a wheeze keeping a steady rhythm, and he didn’t want to wake her up. He had a ton to do, and it was technically Monday morning even if it was only four hours into it.
This time of night it was only a ten-minute ride to his house on the river. But he couldn’t resist swinging past the stadium toward North Market Street to see if there was any activity around the house where the triple murder had occurred. It wasn’t like he was scratching for overtime. It was just an impulse to see if anything popped up at him. It was a little out of the way, but he couldn’t stop himself.
There was still crime scene tape draped across the porch of the empty house. The state’s attorney had used witness protection money to move the three residents from the house to a hotel on the other side of town. Only one of the residents had seen anything at all, and her story had changed a couple of times. Typical. Even though they weren’t helping the case, they were still witnesses to a crime, and it appeared to have some elements related to gang activity. That was enough for the state’s attorney to spring for a safe place to sleep.
The house was dark and silent, not a soul on the street, and only a few houses had lights on. He turned the corner and saw the mysterious Miss Brison’s house. There were no lights on there either. A dark blue Mustang was parked on the street between Miss Brison’s house and the rundown apartment building next door. He wondered briefly whom the Mustang belonged to but realized he needed to get home and grab another couple of hours of sleep and then hit this case hard in the morning.
The stoner’s face was a little clearer in the single beam of light that came from across the water. “I asked you how you were gonna pay me to keep me quiet?” His voice cracked a little.
He kept his anger in check as he considered twisting this boy’s neck just like he had Lisa’s. The stoner was in his late teens, tall and skeletal, with long, greasy brown hair. On first blush, he doubted anyone would miss the youth if he were to disappear. He patted the pockets of his cargo pants as if he was looking for his wallet. He was really just buying time before he decided on a course of action.
Then he felt something in his pocket that just might save this boy’s life. He reached deep into the left-side cargo pocket and pulled out a green plastic container. He held it up next to his face, smiled, and shook it.
The stoner said, “What’s that?”
“Something a man like you might appreciate.” “I’m listening.” “Ecstasy hits.” “How many?”
“About twenty.” Even in the dim light he could see a broad smile spread across the boy’s acne-scarred face.
“I could get laid almost every night for a month with that.”
“Then we have a deal?”
“Just for helping you push the car in the water?” “And I need a ride.”
Twenty minutes later he hopped out of the stoner’s battered Saturn. He couldn’t risk going to his regular apartment so he had the young man drive to Cleveland Street near his sister’s house. He didn’t think it really mattered as high as the guy was. And the stoner seemed excited about finding a girl to share the Ecstasy with as fast as possible. He made it a point not to say much on the ride home. There was nothing really to worry about unless the car was found by some stroke of luck. Even if it was, the stoner would have to remember the evening and some details. He doubted that was possible.
It was about five o’clock when he slipped his spare key into the front door and padded through the house to the back bedroom. He popped his head in to check on his nephew, who snored softly on the small bed built in a race car kit. Shaking his head he backed out of the boy’s bedroom and walked down the hall and into his own room. He hoped no one would wake him up too early this morning.
As soon as he hit the bed his mind drifted back to the feeling of Lisa wrapping her legs around him and her neck cracking in his hands. He didn’t think he could ever fall asleep with such an intense erection.
Patty Levine looked across at her partner in the bright lights of the plush office of the small pharmaceutical company where Chad Palmer worked. She said, “You’re dressed awfully sharp today in that nice shirt and tie.”
“You dress for the job you’re doing.”
He seemed distant, not his usual laid-back self. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and it bothered her. Patty said, “You look tired. Everything go all right with the kids yesterday?”
“The kids weren’t the problem.”
Patty nodded, saying, “I can’t believe you found Jason Ferrell so late. What were you doing near Market Street in the middle of the night?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later.” He glanced down the hallway. “Here comes our man.”
She saw a tall, impressive man in an expensive Brooks Brothers suit. She’d seen his photo from the driver’s
