Free The Perfect Woman by James Andrus

other time you kicked someone’s ass, you said or did something that kept it quiet. You’ve never had a serious complaint against you. You get results. That’s what we need on this case—results.”
    “So you want me to break the rules?”
    “I want you to find this killer. Talk to all your snitches, scare the street dealers, I don’t care. Mazzetti will do most of the investigative work, find where the luggage was bought, see if some pharmacy is missing Oxycontin, find forensic links between victims. But you’re going to be doing your thing too.”
    “What about following the book?”
    “We will follow the book. But John Stallings is going to be John Stallings no matter what any book says. That’s what I need.”
    Stallings wasn’t certain, but it felt like the first time anyone in command had ever told him it was time to kick ass and take names.

Seven
    By the time John Stallings marched into the homicide squad bay in the detective bureau, Patty had already grabbed her computer and the metal pad case where she stored everything. The dented and scratched case said a lot about Stallings’s partner; she was practical, didn’t care what others thought, and was tough as nails, just like the case. The back of it had the indentation of a smart-ass pimp’s forehead for suggesting Patty would be a good addition to his stable. Luckily the man didn’t want his reputation to suffer because a petite, pretty, female cop had knocked him unconscious, and he never said a word about it. But everyone knew after that not to smart off to the diminutive detective from Crimes/Persons.
    Stallings trudged down the hall nodding to several of the detectives already in place. Tony Mazzetti intercepted him at the doorway.
    “There’s a dress code here, Stall. This is homicide.” His smirk would’ve earned him a punch on the street. His trimmed mustache and perfect hair moved in unison as he broke into a full smile.
    Stallings gave him a smile as he shook his head. “A suit like you? Too hot outside.” He started to push past.
    “C’mon, Stall, we got an image. Your pullover and the whole exposed badge and gun on the belt thing doesn’t fit in.” He straightened Stallings’s collar. “Maybe just a shirt and tie would be okay.”
    Stallings stared at him. “Where do I sit, asshole?”
    Mazzetti just pointed to a desk stuffed all the way inside the old, unused holding cell that was a remnant of the building before the jail was built next door with booking areas and interview rooms. A gray computer monitor took up an entire side of the desk.
    He ignored the ancient, lingering urine smell and then scooted the desk out into the squad bay, careful to balance the gigantic monitor as he did. He didn’t look up to see who was laughing or who was in on the little joke. When he sat at the desk with his files on top, he noticed most of the detectives were watching him. There was another joke on its way. He opened the bottom drawer to put his files in order and saw it immediately. Sand. All the drawers were filled with fine, white sand. Someone had carted up bags of the stuff to dump in his desk.
    He knew how to play it off. He’d pulled the same prank on rookies coming in the bureau before. Stallings rolled back his chair, left the files where they were, and headed out the door.
    On his way he looked over at Mazzetti. “I got a lead on the case. I’ll call you if I make an arrest.” He knew the vague hint at a break in the case would eat at the lead detective.
    A smile crept across his face as he walked out of the D-bureau. Behind him he heard Mazzetti calling, but he kept walking right into the open elevator door. What timing!
     
    Patty Levine wasted no time grabbing the two thin case files on the previously unrelated deaths and started to do her thing. She was an organizer, a task-oriented, detailed, precise investigator who often found things in records that other detectives missed. She’d located more than one runaway by