Ann. He needed her to pose for a decent photograph, preferably in a skimpy bikini. This might be so phenomenal he’d rearrange the photographs with the lovely girl from Central Georgia at the center.
He opened his souvenir box sitting on the desk. Nothing matched in style or metal, but he knew the story behind each piece. He’d find a prize on Ann’s body somewhere, even if it had to be just a simple earring.
He closed the box and clapped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth as if he was trying to get warm, but in fact he was trying to dissipate some of the energy building in him. Clearly he couldn’t hunt back here for a couple years now that there was so much interest in Allie Marsh’s death.
He didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t keep doing it other places.
John Stallings stared at the sergeant, shook his head, and said, “You mean he suckered me into the confrontation just to get me off the investigation?”
“Looks that way.”
Stallings shook his head, amazed at how he had underestimated Gary Lauer and how this kind of ploy had reinforced his growing belief the motorcycle cop had not only provided Ecstasy to college girls, but may have been systematically murdering them. The whole idea turned his stomach.
Sergeant Zuni said, “This doesn’t excuse your behavior. You got some temper issues, and you and I have to deal with them. But right now I need you to do whatever needs to be done on the Allie Marsh case.”
Stallings nodded. “I know I let you guys down like I let down Diane Marsh. I also know you went out on a limb for me, and I appreciate it.”
“While you’re handing out thank-yous, you might want to give one to Ronald Bell. He bent the rules quite a bit to avoid having you suspended like he should’ve in both incidents.”
“You’re kidding me. Ron Bell helped me? I’m not sure if that’s better than being suspended, but I’ll make sure I say something the next time I see him.”
Patty Levine appeared at the sergeant’s doorway and said, “We need to talk.”
They sat around a small conference table in the room next to Sergeant Zuni’s office, and Patty explained what she had learned from the medical examiner. The missing jewelry might not be a big issue, but the fact that the two girls looked so similar, had Ecstasy in their systems, had had sex using Durex condoms, and had died within a week of each other made her think a deliberate, cunning killer was another commonality between the girls.
Sergeant Zuni said, “I wonder how common missing jewelry on the corpse is. I’ve never really considered the issue before.”
Patty said, “Funny you should ask, because I checked with the medical examiner last night and he said it was one of those things they always check but wasn’t too common. The scary thing is there’s a homicide victim in the morgue right now who’s missing a nose stud. She’s also blond with blue eyes.”
Sergeant Zuni said, “Is that the body they found over in the parking garage who’d been stabbed through the chin into her brainpan?”
Patty just nodded.
Stallings said, “We need to focus on the two girls we’ve linked. The photos and information from Daytona and Panama City may be interesting and may even be of use later, but right now they’re only distractions. We need to put a full-court press on Gary Lauer.”
The sergeant said, “What if he’s not the killer?”
“He’s the only decent suspect we have left. We have narcotics talking to ex-dealers, and we’ve been looking for Jason Ferrell ourselves. It may be a long shot, but it also would set his mother’s mind at ease. I didn’t want to call her until I’ve actually talked to her son.”
The sergeant stood, nodded, and said, “Get to work.”
Forty-six
Tony Mazzetti turned to his partner, Christina Hogrebe, and said, “For a little fat guy, Pudge can be hard to find on the street. I just want to make sure he’s still okay and see if he could be clearer on his tip.”
Christina said, “He said to look closer rather than farther. Why don’t we go by the scene of the shooting and check around the house itself?”
“Good call. It’s not like we have a ton of other leads to follow up right now. I don’t want to be around the office anyway. Not with all the shit Stallings has stirred up. We probably have IA detectives all over the place.”
“Patty told me he’s all clear and back in the office.”
“What? He unloads on the wrong suspect and hits a cop and gets a pass on the whole thing? That’s craziness.”
“You sound like you’re disappointed.”
“I like Stall and everything, but there are certain rules we should all have to follow. That guy steps out of bounds more than a white NBA player, but he skates on any possible punishment. It’s more an issue of fairness with me.”
“You mean like how overtime is divided fairly as long as you get twice as much as anyone else? Where you get to choose most of your assignments? That kind of fairness?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. It makes you seem petty.”
Christina Hogrebe was still laughing when they pulled in the driveway of the house near Market Street.
John Stallings was an interviewer. Every detective had strengths and weaknesses, and clearly his strength was talking to people. All those CSI TV shows had convinced the general public forensics solved all the problems. That was bullshit. Witnesses talked, and detectives still had to interpret results out of the crime lab. So sitting here in the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office crime lab, listening to one of the techs who specialized in chemical analysis, went against Stallings’s nature. Thank God he had Patty with him to interpret everything this geek said. It also seemed to him as if the young scientist had a fairly obvious crush on his partner.
The young man, in his late twenties, had a lean build and thick glasses. The glasses didn’t help any attempt the young tech made at looking cool. Right now he seemed like one of a dozen other crime lab techs wanting to show off how smart they were.
The tech said, “There has been a lot of X run through the lab recently. The one pill from the suicide victim, Kathleen Harding, matches exactly the three pills you submitted.”
Stallings nodded-this comfirmed his suspicion Jason Ferrell had made the Ecstasy Kathleen Harding used and the three pills the redneck meth manufacturer, Leonard Walsh, had provided Stallings. So far he could follow the young crime lab tech easily.
“All four of these pills were from the same batch. Chemically, they matched perfectly and were made by someone with some skill and training.”
Patty said, “Does the marking J2A mean anything to you?”
“I’ve done some research, and it appeared on a number of X tabs, but it has no chemical or pharmacological significance.” The young man flipped several pages on a clipboard. “The Ecstasy pill Detective Mazzetti submitted looks exactly like these on the outside, but chemically it’s much different.”
There was silence as Stallings and Patty stared at one another. Patty slowly turned to the crime tech and said, “What pill did Mazzetti submit?”
“The other day Detective Mazzetti turned in an Ecstasy tab under the case number for his triple shooting. I assumed you were all working together on it.”
“Do you know where Detective Mazzetti found the pill?” He had to work hard to steady his voice. So many years of dealing with the wily detective had made him skeptical of any coincidences.
The lab tech shook his head.
“How is it different chemically from the other pills?”
“It has about one tenth the potency of the other pills. Still has the same marking and colorations. It’s just very weak.”
Stallings turned toward his partner and said, “We need to talk to Mazzetti right now.”
Tony Mazzetti stood in the backyard of the house where the triple shooting had occurred the week before. A typical tiny backyard, bordered by a rotting wooden fence and fruit trees that hadn’t been pruned in years. He was trying to get a feel for the yard and where someone would stash drugs or other contraband if they had to. His
