by James Andrus
Thirty-nine
John Stallings looked over his Sprite at Charlie and Lauren as they debated the virtues of PlayStation versus Wii game system. Next to them in the booth at Chili’s were Maria and Helen, staring across at each other with the wall to their sides. Stallings intentionally jammed his wife against the wall, away from any possible egress. It was a risk bringing her along at all. His intention was to keep the kids’ minds off the family problems, but Helen suggested they make it a family adventure and now he saw she was right. The kids liked as many adults around as possible and responded well to it. He wondered if it was a safety issue in the back of their minds.
He’d been very quiet, pretending to listen to the children. In fact, his mind kept playing out the events of the day and then back to that stupid phone bill and the call to the TV station. He’d done a little of his own checking and there was no doubt that a call to the station was made on his phone. That’s what stumped him. He had no real recourse to appeal the decision because, as usual, Rita Hester had tried to take care of him. He hadn’t been suspended or even technically punished. Just moved off a case. A case that was his lifeline, his chance to restore something inside himself. He couldn’t explain exactly what had been pushing him so hard, but now that he could no longer work the case he felt the void even more acutely.
But the kids helped him. The tall waiter, who looked as if he lifted weights more hours a day than he slept, squeezed in next to the booth. Stallings had noticed Lauren stare at the handsome young man’s smile, and he flashed it again.
He looked across at Helen and Maria and said, “Could I bring the ladies a couple of strawberry margaritas? They’re two for one.”
Helen shook her head and said, “No, thank you.”
“C’mon, they’re pretty good.”
Helen shook her head again as Maria stared straight ahead, chanting some silent mantra.
“What if I bring out a little sample?”
Stallings tapped the man’s arm, then motioned him to lean down. He whispered, “If you bring out a sampler I’ll break that pretty nose of yours. She said no twice.” He smiled and winked to disguise the threat from the kids. The waiter scrambled back to the kitchen on some unknown quest.
Stallings looked up as the kids resumed their game console debate and Helen stared at him with a look of horror. She knew him too well.
All he could do was shrug. Maybe Patty was right; he was a little on the aggressive side. He’d work on reining it in.
His phone rang and his first impulse was to just ignore it. Everyone in the world that he wanted to talk to was with him right now. That thought comforted and calmed him down. But the years of being tied to the phone forced him to at least look down to see who was calling. No number showed on the screen. Someone was calling from a blocked phone. He wanted to just shut it but he had to flip the phone open and see who it was.
The restaurant’s thick roof and heavy walls blocked most of the signal.
“John Stallings,” he answered in a professional tone. All he got was static with little bits of a man’s voice.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”
More static and maybe someone calling out a name.
Stallings listened intently, blocking out the kids, terrified waiter, sullen wife, and spooky sister. Then he thought someone said “Ernie,” but he wasn’t sure as the line went dead.
He’d worry about it tomorrow when he tried to restart his life with his family and see if he really could walk away from the Bag Man.
William Dremmel still felt alert even after all this time without sleep. He cut out of work an hour early, but that had nothing to do with exhaustion. Now, as he slowly circled the neighborhood where Detective Patty Levine lived, looking for surveillance or security cameras, a parked police cruiser, or just an abnormal number of people on the street, he felt the excitement shoot through him. He’d had an erection since six o’clock thinking about the cute detective, but he guessed she had that effect on every man.
This was one of the few times he had no real plan and intended to make it up as opportunities presented themselves. He didn’t have enough of her schedule to intercept her on the way to an appointment. But here, where she might be off guard, he thought he had a chance at surprise. He looked down at his container of homemade chloroform. That would do the trick if he could just get close enough.
Her condo was set off the road. Four stories high with three units on each floor. She had the bottom corner, which, with all the extra windows, he figured to be one of the nicer units. Her parking space was next to the walkway that led to her front door. A Jeep Wrangler, parked an aisle back, was her personal vehicle. He’d found it on a Web site site listing vehicles in Florida. It was backed into the slot, like a cop would do it, and covered by a corrugated aluminum roof that ran in each direction over the second parking space for each unit.
Just as he turned the corner again to drive past her building, Dremmel saw her unmarked police SUV pull into the spot in front of the condo.
She got out, walked around, and pulled bags of groceries from the passenger side, leaving the door open for her next trip back.
Dremmel beamed at the setup. This was just perfect.
Patty Levine struggled with just under half of the grocery bags in the car, tilting her small frame back to balance the load as her house key dangled from her right hand. She knew she should’ve given Tony Mazzetti a firm time of when to show up so she wouldn’t rush like this, but she liked the thrill of just being surprised.
She’d given up trying to reach John Stallings. That was just like him, ignoring anyone who was concerned about him. In a way she was happy he had some time to see his family. She knew that tomorrow they’d have a long talk and work out whatever was going on with his supposed contact with the TV station. Tonight was about getting her own life on track.
She felt herself smiling, just thinking about the break from work and the chance to start a new romance. This was always the best time of a relationship. You had an idea where it was going, were attracted to the person, and you hadn’t spent enough time with them for their little quirks to annoy the crap out of you. She wished she could freeze a moment like this. Simple, fun, and perfect.
Patty hurried back out to her Freestyle, grabbed the remaining bags, then started her awkward tilted walk back toward her condo’s open door. It was cool enough out that she wasn’t worried about mosquitoes or other flying pests invading the condo in the thirty seconds she left the door open.
She had made it though the doorway, kicked the heavy wooden door shut with her foot, and started toward the kitchen when she thought she heard something move behind her. Before she turned to see if it was her cat Cornelia, she noticed the plump feline on her regular perch next to her TV.
Then she froze as she felt someone step up behind her. Her heart skipped a beat as she prepared for Tony Mazzetti’s muscular arms to envelop her. She didn’t move to set down the bags as she briefly saw a hand reach around from behind her, then clamp down over her mouth and nose.
Instinctively she dropped the groceries and struggled to turn and face the person behind her, but her vision faded quickly as she became light-headed and unsteady. She vaguely heard a man say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” as everything faded to black.
Forty
John Stallings’s head pounded as soon as he opened his eyes to the rising sun peeping through the window nearest his side of the bed. Out of habit he reached over to feel Maria next to him. His hand brushed her naked thigh and a smile crept across his face not only because she was safe in bed with him but because she had the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen, and touching them was a thrill he didn’t take for granted.
He had almost thirty minutes before getting the kids up and making breakfast. It was the rare quiet moments like this that he’d avoided over the last few years. Time to think about what he had lost and how he had staggered to this place in his life. Time to reason out how to protect Lauren and
Charlie from the devastation of addiction. He had considered divorce, not because he didn’t love Maria—he did—but for the sake of the kids and their sanity. Every family has hard choices to make at some point, but his seemed harder than most. Maybe his father did play a larger role in his life than he wanted to admit.
For now his quiet time was spent thinking about the Bag Man and what he could’ve done differently to stop him. This line of reflection also encompassed his transfer back to missing persons. His stomach turned at the thought of Ronald Bell. The I.A. weasel wouldn’t fabricate evidence, so that left him back where he started until it hit him all at once: his friend Rick Ellis used his phone that day, purportedly to call his captain.
Stallings now knew his first task for the day.
Tony Mazzetti blinked hard a couple of times at the harsh light hitting him in the face and waking him up. Instantly he remembered Patty and sat up straight. How long had he been dozing? He looked over at his clock and saw it wasn’t even eight yet. Plenty of time. He relaxed, surprised at how stiff he was from a ten-minute nap on the side of his bed. Then he realized what the light that had awakened him was—the sun. He grabbed the small alarm clock and looked closely. It was eight in the fucking morning. Oh shit.
He jumped up and rushed to the bathroom, brushing his teeth while he used the toilet. Then he washed his face furiously before he slowed his pace and then just stopped, staring down into the sink’s basin. He was twelve hours late. She didn’t want to see him now.
He padded back to his bedroom and checked his phone. No one had called since Lieutenant Hester the night before. He’d blown it, and he knew it. The condoms mocked him from the dresser.
He thought about calling her but didn’t know what he’d say. He did know saying something was better than saying nothing. He listened as her phone rang, imagining her looking at the number, shaking her head, and throwing her phone across the room.
Then Patty’s prerecorded sweet voice came on, telling him to leave a message.
“Hey, it’s, um, me. Call me when you get this. I’m sorry. It was just a mistake. I’ll explain when we talk.” He cut off the call and plopped back onto the bed. For a guy who just slept twelve hours he didn’t feel rested at all.
Patty felt her eyes open, but her vision wasn’t clear. It felt as if she was wearing someone else’s glasses and nothing was in focus. She had no idea what had happened. Maybe she fainted, or the exhaustion caught up with her.
When she tried to move she couldn’t. She wasn’t paralyzed. Someone had restrained her. Patty’s first thought was that she’d had a seizure and this was some special hospital unit. Turning her head she saw a figure across the room in a bed, but her vision was still burry.
Panic rose in her throat as she considered how scared her mom must be or if anyone had even notified her yet. She tested the restraints and wiggled under the cover. She was naked, that much she could tell. The restraints were like handcuffs and her hands were suspended above her head. That wasn’t like a hospital. Something was terribly wrong.
Patty struggled harder and croaked out a scream from her dry throat. “Hey. Anyone.” She couldn’t manage much more than that.
The door creaked open, letting in natural light. She then realized one floor lamp had provided all the light in the room. A man’s figure waited at the door, looking at her. Then he said, “I’m not quite ready for you yet.”
“Ready for what? Who are you? Where am I?” She had more questions but lost them in the crackling dust of her throat.
The man moved toward her with something in his hand. As he got closer her eyes focused and she realized she knew the man from somewhere. He bent down and placed a soft cloth over her face.
Patty tried to bite him but also recognized him. This was the guy from the pharmacy. She had specific questions, but before she could ask, everything turned blurry, then dark again.
John Stallings sat in his Impala near the intersection of Atlantic Boulevard and South University just east of the St. Johns River. He knew where there’d been increasing complaints of speeders and media reports of needless accidents. He listened carefully to his handheld radio as the traffic unit called out speeders to other patrolmen down the road. It was an efficient net to slow people down and cost a few drivers points on their license as well as increased insurance premiums.
His phone had been quiet this morning. Patty had apparently taken the hint and the others had enough class not to call him. That was fine. He didn’t want to talk to anyone until he had proof that he was owed an apology and got another chance to clear his conscience and catch the Bag Man.
Then he heard the call on the radio. This was his chance and they weren’t too far away. He pulled out of the convenience store he’d been sitting in and drove east down Atlantic Boulevard. After a couple of miles he saw the two cruisers parked on the shoulder of the road. The ancient rite of the patrolman passing off paperwork to his sergeant.
Stallings eased in behind them, making sure they realized it was an unmarked police car. He gave his blue lights mounted at the top of his windshield a quick flash until he saw each man wave from inside. It was a courtesy and would keep him from being shot if he surprised them.
He walked alongside the supervisor’s car as the door opened, then Stallings stopped near the trunk of the car.
Stallings said, “Rick, we gotta talk.”
Sergeant Rick Ellis smiled and said, “Sure, what do you want to talk about?”
Stallings looked down at the ground, gathering his thoughts, then up into the big man’s face. “First of all, we should talk about if you want me to kick your ass in front of your man. Then we’ll decide how our chat will go after that.”
Forty-one
John Stallings told himself to keep cool and not do anything stupid. There could be an explanation. Rick might not have anything to do with it, and this could be a waste of time. But something in the sergeant’s face told Stallings that was all bullshit. He had his man. He acted as if Stallings’s threat to kick his ass was just a joke.
Ellis stayed calm and casually strolled to the rear of the cruiser, cars on the road all slowing down as they approached, fearing a speed trap or rubbernecking to see the poor jerk who got stopped already. Once away from the road and between the cruisers, the big sergeant wrapped an arm around Stallings’s shoulder and said, “What can I do for you, pal?”
Stallings gave him every chance. “I got removed from the Bag Man case.”
“No shit? Why?”
“They claim I called Channel Eleven.” He kept his eyes on Ellis’s face, which didn’t let out any hints.
“That’s crazy, Stall. You wouldn’t do that.”
“I know that, and you know that, but they still believe it.”
“Why? What’s their evidence?”
“My cell phone. There’s a call to the station from my phone.” He noticed Ellis swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“That can be a mistake. Shit, the cell companies keep records as accurately as a terrorist smoking pot.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “They’re all riled up and clueless at the same time.”
Stallings intensified his stare. “Rick, the call was made the day Luis Martinez capped the pot grower.”
“There you go, it couldn’t have been you. You were on the scene all day.”
Stallings clenched his fist, ready to revert to his own ways of doing things. “Cut the shit, Rick.”
Ellis stared at him then said, “Whaddya mean?”
Just the stare from Stallings made the big uniformed man wince.
The sergeant took a step back and held up his hands. “Don’t rat me out, Stall, I’m in my last year.” Then he started to cry.
Stallings released his fist, and all he could do was shake his head.
“Why?”
Now Ellis couldn’t look at him. “It’s a job for retirement. The company that owns Channel Eleven needs a director of security and this was my ticket.”
S
tallings just shook his head and turned around.
He had to find Patty and explain it to her.
William Dremmel caught himself humming while he used an electric griddle to cook scrambled eggs, ham, and pancakes. Although it was early afternoon he knew his two houseguests would be waking up soon, and he wanted them to feel like it was morning. Plus the meal he was making had plenty of protein in it.
His mother had surprised him early by rolling out of her room, across the walkway, and into the main section of the house. She had clear eyes, and her complexion gave her a healthy look he’d not seen in almost a year. She wore a bright yellow blouse that showed off her cleavage and nice form for an older woman. As always, she wore a long dress to hide her battered and unused legs. Even he hadn’t seen her legs in a long time. Her smile and pleasant greeting made him feel a twinge of guilt for keeping her so heavily sedated. He’d thought she was fading and initially justified the heavy narcotics as a way to ease her pain, but that was rubbish. He needed his privacy, had thought about how his father had been pushed too far, and decided to take matters into his own hands. In his defense he had no plans to tranquilize her again today. She was safely down the steps in the family room watching the big-screen TV and enjoying the sun shining in through the rows of jalousie windows. Without his help she couldn’t wheel herself up into the living room, then past his bedroom all the way to his darkroom/lab.
