The Perfect Woman

by James Andrus

  Thirty-five

  William Dremmel felt as if he might be a little paranoid when he saw a man in a black Impala give his van a good long look as he pulled away from the intersection. But there was no reason to believe anyone suspected him of any crime. Even with the news stories and volunteers, no one was looking in Grove Park or anywhere close by.

  His stomach growled as he headed for the pharmacy. He rarely ate as well as he wanted while at home feeding two separate but disabled women. His mother had been quiet the last few days, and he was pleased with Stacey’s health too. She’d settled into the long periods of rest and didn’t seem to be having any immediate health issues. His notes reflected that she had maintained her weight and had regular bowel movements, and her attitude, while still defiant, signified that she was not suffering strong psychological effects of the drugs.

  He’d been very careful allowing her to move around since the night when she attacked him. He let her see the stun gun and once had even hit the trigger to see her flinch at the dreadful electronic chatter. Fear was a wonderful motivator.

  He pulled into a Denny’s for some good old-fashioned protein and fat. This Denny’s generally serviced the string of independent hotels along U.S. 1 and out to the Interstate. He stopped, because all Denny’s food was the same and there were no cars in the parking lot.

  He hurried inside, sat at the counter, and was ready to order from memory when he was surprised by the pretty waitress who gave him a bright smile. She had clear, healthy skin and dark eyes that showed an open innocence that completely disarmed Dremmel.

  “Hi, want some coffee?” She kept her perfect smile.

  He eased onto the stool and shook his head. “Grand Slam, scrambled with O.J.” He didn’t take his eyes off her. She made him forget his worries about Lori, his issues with his mom, and even his status with Stacey.

  The waitress said, “Need anything else?”

  He glanced to each side of the empty counter and noticed the cook was busy on the far side of the kitchen.

  Dremmel gave her his own smile. “Could you answer a question?”

  “Sure, what’s that?”

  “How tall are you?”

  Her smile stayed firm as she said, “Five feet even.”

  William Dremmel’s mind started to race.

  Patty Levine had been swept up in the concern for the missing girl like everyone on the task force. The main difference was that she didn’t want to waste time on leads or investigative activities with little chance of success. She watched as other detectives rushed out the door to question random street people, surfers who might have been at the beach, even a sampling of sexual predators who lived on the east side of the county. These were all long shots to find the missing young woman. Patty intended to follow a deliberate investigative plan to catch the Bag Man. That way she would make her best effort to find Stacey Hines while she tried to identify the killer.

  Today she had started a comprehensive canvass of pharmacies to see if any had been missing Oxy and if there were any insights pharmacists could give her. It was a duplicate of a quick check completed the first week of the investigation, but now the lieutenant wanted detectives checking out the whole pharmacy from employees to records. She had the southwest section of the city, and three other detectives were handling the other sections.

  As she entered the fifth store of the day, feeling confident as a cop and as a woman for the first time in quite a while, she noted the traffic in the store. It looked like they catered to the free clinic and Medicare clients.

  She’d already developed a shorthand for which pharmacies ran a tight ship and which ones didn’t care what inventory looked like. If the manager was also the pharmacist and had to watch the cashiers up front too, the drug records were shitty. If the store hired a separate manager and had the pharmacist only worried about running the pharmacy section, then things were usually in order. The chain stores had a handle on things like this. It was the family-run stores that scared her.

  Now she was in a family-run store that had several locations.

  She identified herself and spoke to a cute thirty-year-old pharmacist who tried to make it clear this little store was just a blip on his career path.

  He invited her back behind the counter, then into a small room with a TV, and scooted two chairs so they faced each other.

  She eased into one chair as he plopped into another directly across from her. “When I graduated from UF, I had a lot of offers with the big chemical firms, but I wanted some experience in a neighborhood pharmacy like this.”

  Patty went right into her questions: Missing any Oxy? Ever hear anyone talk about mixing drugs? Ever overhear a customer talk about a source for Oxy outside the pharmacy? All the usual stuff.

  The young pharmacist offered some professional advice. “From what you’ve explained to me and the type of drugs used by the killer, I’d say the Bag Man has a professional knowledge of drug interactions. He’d have to be someone trained in the area or else some kind of genius who can learn things on the fly.”

  Patty took notes furiously until the pharmacist said, “I bet you have some kind of big, badass cop husband.” He smiled to show he was only half serious.

  Patty shook her head. “No, I have a big badass cop boyfriend.”

  “And he could probably beat the shit out of me.”

  Patty let out a little laugh and said, “Honey, I could beat the shit out of you.”

  Twenty minutes later Patty was looking over records in the rear of the pharmacy amid discarded magazines and other trash.

  She made a few notes; there didn’t appear to be any problems with the inventory. The Florida Department of Business Regulation had been inside doing an audit in the last two months, but she didn’t want that pharmacist to think she was just breezing through asking a few superficial questions.

  Her metal notebook case sat on a stack of diaper boxes in the corner as she looked over the volume of inventory reports. She’d been on the move so much she had already left it at one pharmacy and had to return for it.

  A blond man walked in the room, saw her, and froze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  Patty knew the look of someone trying to ask who she was without actually asking.

  She smiled and said, “I’m Detective Levine from JSO.” She held out her hand, asking his name without really asking.

  He took it and shook it briefly, keeping eye contact with her.

  She had to say, “And you are?”

  “Oh, sorry, William. William Dremmel.”

  “And what’s your job around here?”

  “I’m a stock…I do a little of everything. If you have any questions I can probably answer them.”

  “Notice any Oxycontin or other narcotics missing?”

  “Not really.”

  “Anyone suspicious hanging around or asking questions about drug interactions.”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “Have you seen the photo of the missing girl on TV, Stacey Hines?”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Have you seen her in here before?”

  “I’ll have to look at her photo again.”

  There was something about this guy that set off an alarm deep in Patty’s head. It wasn’t his answers so much as his demeanor. He looked like a nervous guy trying to act cool. She’d make a note of him and his name later.

  The man said, “I have to get a few things in here, then head back out to the floor. Do you need anything else?”

  She shook her head and purposely returned her attention to the inventory sheets. She didn’t want to telegraph that he had caught her professional interest. He rummaged around on the side of the room, grabbed a box of diapers, and left without another word.

  She finished up, talked to the pharmacist for a moment, got on her phone to the office, then headed back out to her car. The clerk had just jumped onto her radar. She’d check him out and see if anything moved him up the ladder
to a real “person of interest.” Right now it was just a creepy feeling he gave her.

  She didn’t even have to write down his name. It was lodged in her memory: William Dremmel.

  William Dremmel was as excited as he’d ever been in his entire life. He’d set up a second bed in his lab. Stacey’s eyes followed him, but she never said a word as he laid a single mattress on the floor opposite her in the small room. He hastily installed eyebolts in studs in each wall, just like Stacey’s restraints. He had a second set of cuffs in his own bedroom. He gave her a smile and wink but no explanation as he left the room.

  At his computer in his bedroom he looked up everything he could on the little Denny’s waitress who had said her name was Maggie Gilson. He found a Margaret Gilson with a criminal record, entered a hacker’s site, and discovered Little Miss Innocent had a past for shoplifting, but all three cases had been dismissed. Retailers never followed through if the thief paid off the bill. She was twenty years old but didn’t have any utilities in her name. He’d make her his next project. Just the idea of having someone new to learn about excited him. His erection threatened to rip his pants as he found little nuggets of information about the cute girl.

  When he had searched databases enough he swiveled in his seat and picked up the three sheets of paper he had managed to slip from the battered gray metal case that Detective Patricia Levine had carried into the pharmacy. This was so easy he didn’t need to look in the computer. Her schedule, in great detail, was on one page and phone numbers and notes on the others. An envelope with an unpaid water bill was stuck to the last page. It listed her address. Sweet.

  Although he didn’t have to dig too deep for information on Detective Patricia Levine, it was still exciting to learn about her without her knowledge. He’d noticed her look at him in a certain way that could mean problems. He had so much to do he wondered what to do first. Clearly he had to act if she started to investigate him. But Lori and her knowledge of Stacey Hines gave him a different worry. Either way he liked these kinds of challenges and knew he could stay one step ahead of the cops on this.

  Thirty-six

  John Stallings took several seconds to ease the front door of his home shut. The lock clicking sounded like a cymbal in the silent house. He didn’t want to wake anyone, and he was so tired that just standing still at the door almost caused him to doze off. Not only was he exhausted by a day of following up leads and ideas that Peep Morans and Ernie had given him about narcotics dealers who specialized in prescription drugs, but he had a raging headache from lack of food and he was just too tired to eat.

  He turned to head straight to his bedroom and noticed Charlie sound asleep on the living room couch. He snored lightly with his body twisted in an odd position that only a kid could sleep in.

  Stallings felt a smile wash over his face despite his exhaustion as he bent to pick up the boy and carry him to his room. As he bent down he heard Lauren entering the living room from the kitchen.

  “Hey Dad. Where’ve you been?”

  “Work.”

  “I tried to call.”

  “My phone ran out of juice before me. Why? What’s wrong?” He no longer had time to be eased into bad news.

  “Just worried, that’s all. Aunt Helen is here.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?” It was a question he had asked too often.

  “She came by and hung out this evening.” Lauren looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen as if to prove she wasn’t hallucinating about his sister visiting. Then she said, “Dad, you look really beat. Is the case going okay?”

  He looked at his thirteen-year-old in a new light. In that moment, this beautiful young girl had done everything she could to assume many of Maria’s roles. She showed interest in his life outside the house, she helped her brother with his homework, gave pep talks to Stallings, often cleaned the house, and always made sure she knew where everyone in the family was. The last thing Stallings wanted was to have another daughter robbed of her childhood. The simple question about the Bag Man case made him hesitate. He didn’t want to suck his daughter into his obsession with this killer. He didn’t even want her to know how far outside the law he’d already gone to gain any information possible. What the hell was he doing in homicide anyway when he had these wonderful kids at home worried about him? Then he thought about Lee Ann Moffit, Tawny Wallace, Trina Ester, and now Stacey Hines and knew why he was on the case. Jeanie. He blew it with his own daughter, but knew he might be able to help someone else’s daughter or at least avenge them. That wasn’t why he started police work, but he was wondering if that was how he’d end his career.

  He stepped across the room without answering Lauren and scooped her up in a tight hug. Her spindly, awkward teenage arms wrapped around him as well. As he stood there holding his surprisingly tall daughter, Helen stepped into the room from the kitchen.

  Stallings released Lauren. “What’s up, Helen?”

  “Just wanted to see the kids. Is that okay?”

  His years on the street taught him to read people even though he tried not to use his unique abilities on his own family. Now the sense that there was more to his sister’s visit was overwhelming.

  He smiled to put her at ease, then said, “It’s fine with me. Did you get to see Maria, too?”

  The hesitation in his sister, her pretty face frozen as she formulated an answer, told him everything he needed to know. He turned abruptly and started quick-stepping for the master bedroom. Behind him he heard Helen call out, “Wait, Johnnie.”

  But he was on a mission to find out the truth, and as soon as he opened the bedroom door and Maria sluggishly turned in bed and gave him that familiar grin and sleepy-eyed look he knew what had happened to draw Helen to his house, where she had felt unwelcome since Jeanie disappeared.

  Maria gave a breezy, “Well, hello there,” as he moved to the bed and immediately noticed her dilated pupils even with the bright bed stand lamps both burning brightly.

  He didn’t need another complication in his life right now.

  William Dremmel felt as if he was handling his business better than ever before. Instead of indecisiveness he was taking action, instead of quiet loneliness he was making efforts to never be alone again, and instead of fear he felt confidence. He knocked on the door lightly, knowing it was late and Lori would be the only one awake at this hour. She’d told him many times of her insomnia and habit of watching movies in the living room after her father and brothers went to bed.

  Dremmel had a few things to say to Lori, but he also needed to gauge the threat she was to him and his experiments. Would she really continue to harp on his relationship with Stacey Hines, or was it a passing comment? He couldn’t risk it. He also wanted to tell her how he really felt about her.

  He tapped the door again and heard someone pad across the wooden floor of the slightly elevated house wedged in the neighborhood known as Durkeeville. Predominantly African American, the area had seen a renaissance in recent years, and Lori’s family had always kept the little house and yard neat. He’d driven her home several times over the years and knew his way around the streets.

  The old wooden door creaked open and Lori stood alone wearing simple shorts and a T-shirt. Her natural beauty didn’t need cosmetics to make her stand out, but she usually wore them at work anyway. Now in the soft light from inside she looked like the girl next door if the girl was a modern dancer with dark smooth skin and a bone structure any Venetian artist would kill to paint.

  “Billy, what are you doing here at this hour?”

  He smiled and said, “I wanted to talk to you away from work. Is it too late?”

  She looked over her shoulder into the house and shook her head. “No, my daddy’s asleep.” She stepped onto the wooden porch and shut the door quietly. “Now, what’re you doin’ over here at this time of night, Billy?”

  He placed a hand on her arm and leaned in close. “I needed to talk to you.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “About
how I feel. I don’t want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable.”

  Her eyes reflected the streetlight, but he could also see her interest. She leaned in to kiss him.

  He stepped back and said, “I really do think you’re great. I care about you.” That was absolutely true.

  She stepped toward him again ready to show how she felt.

  He said, “Let’s walk around the side of the house so no one gets the wrong idea right out here on your porch.” He turned and took the three wooden stairs to the ground and immediately turned down the potholed, cracked cement driveway. He didn’t want to risk kissing her and then changing his mind over what had to happen.

  She followed him eagerly in her simple bedroom ensemble and bare feet.

  He stepped into the shadow of the house and kept moving, making Lori follow him without time to think.

  Dremmel carefully stepped around a puddle of water in the deepest part of the shadow, quickly added two more steps to get farther away, then turned to face Lori and watch the spectacle he’d spent an hour setting up quietly earlier in the evening.

  Lori didn’t notice the puddle, which was really a pothole with more than six inches of water. She stepped into the small pool of water and froze, then convulsed onto the hard cement driveway, still shaking as her left leg dipped into the water.

  Dremmel was fascinated by any form of death and this was a new challenge. He’d set an electric cord running from an outdoor socket into the water. He had jammed open the automatic GFI breaker in the utility room attached to the open carport. The juice running through her was just a powerful shock except that he allowed the shock to continue while she lay there for what was termed “low-level electrocution.” This was more spectacular than the stun gun. The little device had given him the idea for this stunt. The current essentially caused her heart to drop into arrhythmia.