The Perfect Death by James Andrus Read Free Book Online Page B

Stall. Looking for runaways?”
    Stallings let the scared little man see his smile and said, “Why would you run from me? I thought we were friends.”
    â€œFriends don’t break other friends’ arms.”
    â€œAnd friends don’t sell drugs to other friends’ wives.”
    Peep gave him a slight bow and said, “Touché. We’ve established we’re not friends and therefore it should be obvious I ran from you because I’m afraid.”
    â€œAfraid of me?”
    â€œEveryone’s afraid of you, Stall. Maybe the runaways and hookers like you, but none of the rest of us who make a living off them have ever had a particularly pleasant encounter with you.”
    â€œPeep, you sound a lot more articulate. You been going to school?”
    â€œMostly I haven’t taken my own shit. I haven’t had any prescription pills in six weeks and I’m down to only smoking pot on the weekends”
    â€œHow’s that working out for you?”
    The smaller man shrugged. “Aside from being a little smarter and saving some money, I’m not sure it’s worth the hassle.”
    â€œYou heard about the girl’s body found in the Dumpster this afternoon?”
    Peep nodded. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny throat.
    Stallings showed him the photo Leah Tischler’s parents had provided. He studied Peep’s face and realized the dope dealer recognized her.
    Peep said, “She’s dead?”
    â€œNo, but she’s connected to the body in the Dumpster.”
    Peep nervously fumbled with his hair.
    â€œGive it up, Peep. What’d you know about her?”
    â€œI, er, I might’ve seen her.”
    â€œWhere?” He placed a hand on Peep’s grubby T-shirt.
    â€œC’mon, Stall, I don’t remember. There’s a flood of scared girls rolling through here. Some leaving home for good and some just throwing a scare into their parents so they can use the Navigator more often or stay out on weeknights.”
    â€œIs that all you know about her?”
    â€œSeems like I saw her right around here, but I can’t remember.”
    â€œWhen?” He twisted the shirt in his grip and pulled Peep closer to him. The familiar anger bubbling up inside of him
    Sweat beaded on Peep’s forehead.
    â€œI don’t know. Her face is familiar.”
    Now Stallings had the man on his tiptoes and he thought about how Peep made a living on others’ sorrows. He thought about the value of scaring punks like this to get information and Jeanie’s cold trail and the slight possibility of reviving it if Leah Tischler had met the same fate.
    A woman’s voice broke his trance.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?”
    Stallings released Peep and turned to see a woman with dark hair in jeans and a Florida State sweatshirt.
    She locked her eyes with Stallings, not backing down.
    Stallings faced her and said, “It’s all right, ma’am. I’m a police officer.” She had a pretty face and beautiful, oval eyes. She was in her mid-thirties and wore her dark hair in a ponytail.
    â€œIs this how a JSO officer is supposed to act?”
    He thought for a moment and wondered if she was right. He let his emotions get the better of him.
    Peep blurted out, “I’ll keep my ears open and let you know what I hear.”
    Stallings hardly noticed him scamper past the woman and around the corner.
    The woman nodded good-bye and was gone as quickly. Stallings wanted to know who the hell she was.
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    Buddy arranged the photos on the dreary brown wall of his apartment above his shop. He appreciated art in whatever form it took. In this case it was a photographer who, like him, had an eye for beautiful women. The photographer, named Petter Hegre, shot them in black and white, or as they said in the new millennium, monochrome. He missed simple phrases he’d grown up with. He missed the fact that