license database. He reeked of self-confidence. A graduate of the University of Florida School of Business, Palmer was the senior sales rep for a company that sold pharmaceuticals from six different manufacturers. As he came closer, he also reminded her of Gary Lauer. That same sort of swagger and belief that women found him irresistible. His precise haircut, manicured nails, white teeth, and fake smile made him the perfect lounge lizard.
They had already spoken to the receptionist, so he knew who they were. The real question was did he know why? His first interaction would tell them a lot.
He stopped right in front of them, raised his hands, and said, “You got the wrong man, officers.” Then laughed at his little joke.
Patty and Stallings introduced themselves and showed their IDs so there was no mistake they were here on official business.
Palmer said, “My sister said you’d been by her house. I knew we’d run into each other today if it was that important. I must confess that I am curious what this is all about.”
Patty held up a photo of Allie Marsh and said, “Do you recognize this girl?”
Palmer showed no emotion as he studied the photograph, then finally said, “She looks familiar. But I have to confess I meet a whole lot of women.”
Just the comment and the way he grinned reminded Patty of Gary Lauer again.
Palmer looked at Stallings and said, “Why, is there a problem?”
Stallings simply said, “She’s dead.” His tone and manner left little doubt who he thought was responsible.
Palmer still didn’t react.
Patty did the follow-up. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” It was an old detective trick, but sometimes it worked. This guy obviously wasn’t used to criminal investigations. He might start to blab without thinking.
Instead Palmer calmly said, “Do I need to contact my attorney?”
Thirty-five
Stallings plopped into his office chair. He’d evaded most of Patty’s questions about his personal life on the short ride back to the PMB. The interview had been a bust; at least if they were looking for a confession, it was a bust. But it was never that easy in cases like this. Especially with smart, rich guys who knew the threat of an attorney would shut most cops down.
Patty slid over from her desk. “Why were you so rough on Palmer? He’s a suspect, just like Lauer. I don’t see a big difference between the two except Palmer is a little more polished.”
“Lauer is a cop.”
“He’s still an asshole, just like Palmer.”
The pharmaceutical rep had loosened up and not called his attorney. He admitted that he liked to hang out at dance clubs and he flirted with a lot of women. It was as if he had practiced the word “flirt” and never used any other phrase. The shocked expression on his face seemed almost genuine when Stallings asked him about giving X to any of the girls.
Stallings said, “I’m trying to be objective with all the suspects. But Palmer’s whole career won’t be marred by rumors and innuendo just because we talked to him. Lauer doesn’t have that same luxury. I want to believe that a guy who worked hard to get through the police academy wouldn’t do something like this.”
Patty was about to say something else when Stallings picked up an envelope that had been sent by overnight mail. He didn’t even check the return address as he ripped it open to pull out several photographs and reports from the Daytona Beach Police Department.
Patty said, “Who are they?”
“Daytona’s spring break deaths last year.”
“Are there any dark-haired girls that go on spring break anymore? Those three look just like the two we have.”
“You know what else is interesting?”
“What’s that?” Patty said as she pulled the photos from Stallings’s hand and eyeballed them.
“All three of these girls had Ecstasy in their systems too.”
Patty said, “I hope this is just a coincidence.”
“Me too. But we better show these to the sarge just in case.” Stallings had an uneasy feeling he’d stumbled onto something he didn’t want to consider.
Sergeant Yvonne Zuni sat in her office in the back of the Land That Time Forgot. She still hadn’t had time to hang some photos and certificates. Her favorite photo showed the governor handing her a medal for stopping a bank robbery in downtown Jacksonville. She’d been a little embarrassed by the accolades because all she’d been doing was cashing her check at lunchtime when a man walked up next to her and stuck a gun in the teller’s face. She simply stepped back to her left and pulled her Glock from her purse, stuck it in the man’s ear, and said, “Police, don’t move.”
The newspapers had said that her quick action had saved countless lives. In reality the robber’s gun was a C02 pellet pistol that wasn’t even loaded. The captain of narcotics, the unit she worked in at the time, told her if she tried to correct anyone who said she was a hero he’d make sure he loaded his real pistol before he dealt with her. His rationale was narcotics agents get no credit for most of the hard work they do and that she, and the unit, would benefit from some positive media attention.
Now she was going over some schedules and overtime budgets, figuring out which cases merited closer investigation and which cases needed to be pushed to the side. She’d been in the office since seven and hadn’t stopped staring at either a computer screen or paperwork in the three and half hours since. God did she miss working the streets.
A gentle rap on her open door frame made her look up to see Patty Levine and John Stallings standing there.
She said, “Whatcha got?”
Patty stepped in, laying three photographs on her desk. “These are the spring break deaths from Daytona last year.”
She studied the three pretty blond girls and said, “So?”
Patty said, “All three of them had X in their system.”
The sergeant said, “There could be a connection, but it seems like a real long shot to me. Still, we might want to figure out where the suspects were during spring break last year.”
Now Stallings said, “Already working on it. We have a subpoena for Chad Palmer’s credit card records. I’m headed down to personnel to check on when Lauer took vacations over the last couple of years.”
The sergeant nodded, appreciating self-starters like this. A motivated detective could get a lot done, even in times of cutbacks like this. She noticed how tired Stallings looked even after the day off and wondered if his home life had taken an even worse turn. After only a week in the unit, Yvonne wasn’t sure it was her place to ask him any questions as long as the work was getting done, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t concerned. Instead the sergeant looked up at them. She handed back the photos and said, “You two really don’t need much supervision, do you?”
She appreciated the smiles she got back from both the detectives.
It was almost eleven o’clock when he woke up, and he still felt a little tired. He got out of bed, washed his face, slipped on the same clothes he wore the night before, and ventured out to the kitchen. A note on the refrigerator said his sister had taken his nephew to the doctor and would be back around one.
He didn’t mind a little quiet time in the empty house. It gave him a chance to reflect on his wild night. He had lingering images of Lisa wrapping her legs around him, lying still on his floor, curled up in the back of the Mazda, and the stoner helping him push the car into the water. It made for an interesting life. And he still had time left to hunt.
He’d find a way to casually run into Ann and start back on his slow, methodical stalking. Surprises were great, but the idea of circling the prey gave him something to look forward to.
He had the stoner’s name and had managed to copy down his license plate in case he needed to deal with
