The Perfect Death

TWENTY-TWO

He stood facing away from Mary with the cord in his hand when he smelled an odd odor. He turned quickly to see Mary puffing on a marijuana cigarette. He stared at her, shocked, and watched as she held her breath and offered the joint to him.

He shook his head as she let out a long exhalation and smoke filled the room.

Mary said, “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Come take a hit.” When he didn’t move she turned on the sofa, her pants still unbuttoned, patted the cushion next to her, and said, “Come over here and relax, take a toke, while I give you the best blow job you ever had.”

He felt the muscles in his arm tighten as he pulled the cord once more. But did he really want to infect his work of art with something short of perfection? Did he want to taint it with a drug like marijuana throughout eternity? This was a turn of events he never would’ve imagined. He hadn’t even realized there were women who could look like Mary and act the way she was acting. This was no angel. As he stood there trying to decide what course of action to take, he heard something. It took him a second to recognize the familiar sound. He froze and felt his stomach turn as he realized someone was coming up the rickety wooden stairs leading to his front door.

Mazzetti tried to stay calm in the face of the threat. The last thing he wanted to do was have to arrest some of these assholes for obstruction. He really did just want to talk. An arrest had not been in the front of his mind. He didn’t want to divulge where he’d gotten Kozer’s name. He’d promised Joey Big Balls he wouldn’t give him up and he intended to keep that promise.

Mazzetti said in a low voice, trying to avoid any sort of menacing tone, “Let me go right now and there won’t be an issue. I’m a detective with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. I want to ask you some questions.” He couldn’t help adding, “You fucking dipshit.”

“You got a warrant?” asked Kozer.

“I don’t need a warrant to come and talk to someone, and that’s all I was trying to do.”

“Looks like you’re trying to do more than talk. You see, I just appealed my case to my friends and we are going to decide what sort of verdict to give you. How do you like that kind of crazy change?”

Mazzetti could tell no one had taken his gun from its holster. They weren’t that stupid. But he did know he was about to suffer some sort of unpleasantness. He made one quick struggle to get free of the men holding his arms, but they were too strong. Kozer stepped closer to him, slapping his fist into his open palm. Mazzetti looked around and determined there were five men total: two holding his arms, Kozer, and two more standing to the left of Kozer. There was no way to overcome them physically, and no one seemed to want to hear him explain himself. As he was about to bring up the issue of assault on a police officer, he saw movement out of the corner of his right eye. At almost the same time he heard a loud noise and felt the man holding his right arm relax his grip.

He could see the look on Kozer’s face and heard him say, “What the fuck?”

Suddenly someone stepped from behind him and struck the redneck in the leg with a nightstick-like weapon.

After that it was all movement and screams.

He ignored the jabbering Mary and walked directly to the front door in an effort to intercept whoever was coming up the steps. He opened the door, slipped out onto the landing, and closed the door behind him in time to see Cheryl stop right in front of him.

Cheryl said, “There’s no way I’m going to let you stay here and screw up our chance to make some real money. I can’t have my sister mooning over you either.”

He could’ve gotten angry, but he knew that in the very near future Cheryl wouldn’t be causing him any more problems. If Mary hadn’t been in the apartment already he might’ve handled this issue right now. Instead he looked at her and said, “I’ve already told you I like it here. If you keep coming here and harassing me I’m going to get a restraining order.”

Then she surprised him. Over the years she’d been many things-nasty, shrill, degrading, sarcastic, and vicious-but she’d never been surprising. In fact, she was one of the most predictable people he’d ever met. That’s why he knew it was better to kill her than expect her to change her tune and leave him in peace. But now, standing two steps below him, she surprised him by pulling out a small revolver. She held it in her right hand and pointed it directly at his face. The black hole in the center of the barrel mesmerized him, but he could also see she was shaking badly by the way it darted left and right, then up and down.

He couldn’t help himself when he said, “You picked this up at the Sports Authority, didn’t you?”

That shocked her. “How the hell did you know that?”

He gave her a smirk and said, “You have no idea how much I know. Put the gun back in your purse and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

He wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting-seeing her finger tighten on the trigger, watching the barrel veer wildly in her shaking hand, hearing the deafening sound of the gun being fired, or seeing a blinding flash as the gun erupted a few feet in front of his nose.

John Stallings pulled into the driveway of his former home, still concerned about the whereabouts of his father. There was nothing else he could do right now. There was nothing unusual about his father’s absence from the rooming house, and his history of being a street person would not spur the sheriff’s office into action. The chances were James Stallings was running errands or helping out at some soup kitchen. He decided to give it a couple hours before he ran by the rooming house to check on him again.

Now he readjusted his mind to dealing with the family he’d raised instead of the man who had raised him. As he crossed the yard a soccer ball popped out from over the rear fence and Stallings was able to use his head to knock it back into the air.

He heard his son, Charlie, say, “Cool.” The seven-year-old tried to do the same thing; instead the ball bounced off his forehead and struck Stallings right in the face. The boy said, “Sorry, Dad.”

Stallings waved him off to assure the boy there was no problem, in fact, considering the conversation he was probably going to have with Maria, the ball in the face might be the most pleasant thing that happened to him during the entire visit.

After he recovered from the blow and kicked the ball with Charlie for a few minutes he wandered into the house. Instead of being confronted by Maria he found his daughter Lauren sitting on the couch in the living room reading one of the Twilight books.

He said, “What’s up?” He knew better than to try to seem cool or make some crack about vampires.

Lauren looked over the edge of the book, her dark eyes refocusing on her father, and surprised him by smiling and saying, “Nothing, Dad. I told Mom I’d watch Charlie for a couple of hours.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“I don’t ask where she goes, I just try to help out around here. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to do?”

He nodded. “I appreciate it. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept track of your mother for me too. You know the issues she’s had in the past.”

“I don’t think she’s at any meetings. She seems to be doing pretty well. But there’s something going on in town she wanted to go see, so I’m hanging out with Charlie.”

Stallings was content to sit across from her in his old chair and just look at his daughter for a few minutes before he ventured back out in the world. He couldn’t believe how much he missed this place.

As soon as his right arm was free, Tony Mazzetti swung his whole body and drove his right elbow into the face of the guy holding his left arm. Once he was free all he saw were the other four men on the ground moaning with Patty Levine standing in the middle of the group. The ASP was in her right hand and it didn’t look like she was even breathing hard.

Mazzetti stared at his beautiful girlfriend, who made a quick scan of the men lying around her to ensure no one was a threat, kneeled down, and slammed the top of the ASP into the hard ground to close it. Just like they had been taught in defensive tactics class.

Mazzetti said, “How’d you know where I was?”

She casually looked at him and said, “You told me you were coming down to some construction sites and Deerwood Park isn’t that big. I was running early and came by to see if I could speed things along. And I guess I did.” She winked at him.

Mazzetti thought about the benefits of charging these guys with obstruction and assault. He considered the time it’d take away from his homicide investigations to give a statement and follow up with court testimony. Each man grasped a damaged extremity. Mazzetti made the assessment this was punishment enough, but he didn’t let them know that. Instead, he walked over and grabbed Kozer by his right ear and pulled until he sprang to his feet. He gave Patty a quick look to make sure she realized he wanted her to watch the other, injured men.

Once back inside the building and alone, Mazzetti said, “You want to be charged with assault on a police officer?”

Kozer had to stand with his left leg in the air to relieve the pressure where Patty had struck him in the thigh. He shook his head, wiping the sweat pouring from his forehead.

“Why’d you run from me, you little shit?” Mazzetti raised his hand as if he was going to slap him. He wanted to but restrained himself.

“I, um, I don’t know. You spooked me.”

“Where were you Monday afternoon and evening?”

“What?”

“You fucking heard me.”

“I was here. I work Monday through Friday three to eleven.”

“Any witnesses?”

“There are four of them lying on the ground back there.”

Mazzetti believed him but would check before he left. As he thought about his next question, Kozer said, “I ain’t done nothin’ illegal in a few years. Whoever you’re looking for it ain’t me.”

Mazzetti said, “There’s one way you and your buddies can avoid a lengthy and costly criminal record for the shit you pulled back there.”

“What do I gotta do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Mazzetti had the man just where he wanted him. “I’m looking into a girl’s death. The killer might be a construction guy. I need eyes and ears at the sites looking around.”

“Looking for what?”

“Anyone acting strange. Anyone who has issues with women. Anything odd. We need a break.”

Kozer kept staring at Mazzetti as the larger cop released him. He said, “I been wonderin’ who I could talk to about a guy who works at a few different sites. He’s not a construction worker, he’s a finisher.”

“What’s a finisher?”

“Guys who lay in decorative floors, or crown molding or windows or special doors. They don’t build nothin’, just make it prettier.”

“Why’d you want to talk about this guy?

“He came in late one day, all hungover and wearing makeup. I mean eye shadow and stuff.”

“That doesn’t make him a killer.”

“You said something odd. That was way odd. Then we caught him watching women through a bathroom window that was supposed to be covered. He uncovered it and hid to watch.”

Mazzetti was interested now. “Where was he doin’ this?”

“A couple of months ago over by the new health building for the university nursing center.”

That made Mazzetti snap his head up and stare at the greasy redneck with more intensity.

“What’s the guy’s name?”

“Daniel Byrd.”

That was a name Joey Big Balls had given him too.

Mazzetti wrote down the limited information Kozer had on Daniel Byrd.

Kozer said, “I know you said you won’t charge us, but do you have to tell anyone what happened?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want it getting around that a cute little girl like that kicked our asses.”