The Perfect Death

FIFTY-SIX

Buddy eased out of the office into the alleyway. He liked the fact that the hotel manager had no idea he was approaching her from behind. Her dark hair swayed from side to side as she shook out another small rug. She had a much curvier body than most of his subjects and he appreciated the shape of her hips in her tight-fitting jeans.

He carefully took one small step after another so as not to alert her. As he crept closer he considered the logistics of using the cord and grabbing the small glass jar at the critical moment. This was such a spur-of-the-moment action he hated to spoil it by planning it out so carefully. He stuffed the jar into his belt line so he could reach it quickly as he closed the distance.

The thrill of completing his artwork almost made him dizzy as Buddy took the two ends of the cord in each hand.

As Patty Levine pulled directly in front of the hotel, she saw a patrolman rolling up from the opposite direction. They stopped their cars on each side of the empty street and she hurried across to meet him.

Climbing out of his cruiser, the muscular thirty-year-old cop said, “Hey, Patty, you know what this shit is about?”

“We’re checking on the hotel manager here and detaining any male workers until Stallings and Mazzetti can come over. Should only be a few minutes.”

The uniformed cop said, “This has to do with a homicide?”

Patty nodded. She looked past the cop and saw the white van. The patrolman followed her toward the front door. She looked through the front window and saw a worker kneeling in the lobby.

Patty said, “This might be the guy they want to detain. I don’t know what he looks like. It all happened really fast.”

Patty burst through the front door of the hotel with the uniformed cop right behind her.

Liz Dubeck was distracted by all the things she could do to the hotel with her generous federal grant. She knew she was focusing on minor issues like buying new throw rugs or medicine-cabinet mirrors, but there was so much to do it was a little overwhelming.

Right now she stood in the alley behind the hotel assessing about thirty throw rugs from the hotel’s bathrooms. She didn’t mind the physical activity under the bright, North Florida sun. It was a beautiful day. Even stuck between two crumbling buildings, she liked being outside.

Liz had to admit that fixing the hotel wasn’t the only thing on her mind. She wondered what John Stallings was doing. She worried about the handsome detective and knew he was having a hard time in his personal life. Liz didn’t want to seem like a vulture, waiting to pick him off when his wife kicked him to the curb permanently, which is what Liz thought would happen. She didn’t know why, it was just the feeling. He was such a good guy, and it really did seem like good guys got treated like dirt by women.

Liz realized she should be back inside at the counter, but things were slow right now and she had two employees running other errands. As she shook out a rug that was in pretty good shape, she thought she heard a sound behind her.

As Patty and the patrolman rushed into the lobby, the man looked over his shoulder, then sprang to his feet. Before Patty could say anything the man said, “What do you cops want?”

The patrolman, whom Patty had worked with and knew was a badass on the street, took a step toward the man as Patty said, “What’s your name?”

Without the patrolman even touching him, the man started screaming, “Police brutality, police brutality!”

Patty looked at him and said, “What are you talking about, you moron?”

The man said, “I know how you cops work. I want witnesses before I get hurt.”

“Is that your van out front?”

The man screamed again, “Help, police brutality!”

The patrolman hovered a few feet away and said to Patty without taking his eyes off the man, “What do you want me to do? Should I make this a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

Patty said, “Stay here with this idiot. I’ll find the manager.” Patty hustled across the lobby past the counter and into the office. It was empty.

She had a bad feeling.