Patty said, “Who was involved from the fraternity?”
“There were a whole bunch of us. Some of the guys were from other chapters but had all worked with Zach distributing the pot. The guys from Gainesville depended on him as part of their income.”
“Do you know if anyone ever talked about this?”
Bobby shook his head. “I know no one ever talked to the police. I doubt they ever said anything to anyone else either.”
“But you can see that someone has been killing your fraternity brothers.”
“I can now.”
At least Patty didn’t think they were chasing shadows anymore.
It wasn’t even eight in the morning and John Stallings felt like he was accomplishing something. He should have been exhausted but spent the night ensuring Bobby Hollis packed a few things and went to visit his aunt in Kentucky. Stallings hadn’t allowed the boy to speak to any friends or fraternity brothers. After Patty and he had shown the terrified fraternity member what had really been happening, he was able to say that there were no obvious victims left in the fraternity house. Some had graduated and moved away, and, of course, several were dead. They had briefed Sergeant Zuni and Lieutenant Hester so they could make the best decision about how to inform the fraternity. In the meantime, a JSO patrolman had been assigned to sit at the fraternity house. If that didn’t send a message, nothing would.
Stallings walked into the seedy International House of Pancakes off J. Turner Butler Boulevard and smiled. The lean, weary-looking man in the booth did not seem to be in such a good humor.
Stallings said, “I appreciate you meeting me.”
“We do things on a slightly different schedule at the DEA.” Ed Wiley took another sip of coffee, then wiped his face with his hand. “I don’t mind getting up early, but gathering all of this information in one evening kinda wore me out.” He slid a manila envelope with Stallings’s name written in Magic Marker across the front. “You swear you’ll only use this information on your homicide case?”
Stallings raised his right hand, suppressing a smile. “On my honor as a certified law enforcement officer in the state of Florida, I will use any information you provide me for the sole purpose of a homicide investigation. I will eat the paper the information is printed on before I allow anyone in narcotics to see it.”
Wiley chuckled. “You have no idea how competitive the world of narcotics investigations can be.”
“My experience is that all law enforcement is competitive. Narcotics is one of the few areas that’s easy to measure. Arrests or seized narcotics. Both play well in the news.”
“And thank God for it. If we didn’t get decent airplay now and then the FBI would steal every penny of funding we have coming our way.”
Stallings started to get up, saying, “I appreciate this. I have a meeting in less than an hour and this information will be vital.”
Wiley smiled. “If Ronald Bell says you’re a hard ass, you’re okay with me. If you were a little younger we could use you.”
“I’m happy where I am.” He stood and paused by the table, looking down at the DEA agent. “You don’t think Josh Hickam’s father is responsible for these deaths? I know we talked about it and you said he didn’t have it in him. I just don’t want to miss something.”
Wiley shook his head. “No way. You gave me the dates and places of the deaths and I checked all of them against our surveillance. He was at home. He’s hardly left that house for two years. We’ve got cameras, trackers, and the occasional live surveillance. Plus our intelligence from informants says the old man’s all done. His son’s death just took it out of him.”
“But you’re still going after him on a case?”
“Have to. He was a boss. He brought in a lot of product. You’ll see in the packet I gave you a list of associates. It’s long. A dozen of them have already been to jail. We can’t pick on the little guys without going after the kingpin once in a while.”
Stallings held out his hand and said, “You’re okay.”
Wiley took his hand and shook it, saying, “The DEA doesn’t hear that much. Thanks.”
Tony Mazzetti bristled every time someone else brought up a piece of information that supported the serial killer theory in the Tau Upsilon case. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the goddamn theory. It just felt like they were rubbing it in his face. Sitting around a big conference room table with everyone remotely involved in the case staring at him, he felt like a jackass. Somehow the only thing that mattered to him right now was that Patty Levine didn’t think he was a jackass.
That asshole John Stallings had provided a list of associates related to the pot smuggler whose son appeared to be the first victim in these lines of deaths. The victim, Josh Hickam, died of alcohol poisoning. Even Mazzetti’s current girlfriend, Lisa Kurtz, had confirmed that assessment. But now they were all pushing the angle that the deaths were somehow related to the pot business being run out of the fraternity.
Mazzetti picked up the list of more than forty names and said to Stallings, “What the fuck do you want me to do with this?”
Stallings stayed very calm and said, “First, check it against the list of Suburban owners whose license plates start with the letter A. We might get lucky and find the driver of the truck that ran down Zach Halston on the list. It’s just another group of suspects.”
Mazzetti was frustrated, but what Stallings was saying made sense. He still had to say, “Why not look at old man Hickam?”
“The DEA is all over him. I gave them a list of dates corresponding with the deaths of different Tau Upsilon members and he was at the house every single time. In fact, they say he very rarely leaves the house.”
Mazzetti shook his head and took a quick second to look at the face of each person at the table. Then he turned and handed the list to his partner, Sparky Taylor. Sparky had been quietly taking in the different conversations but had yet to say a word.
Mazzetti said, “Can you look through this bullshit, then use your computer brain to make sense of it?”
Sparky looked absolutely delighted.
Mazzetti realized this was a good assignment for his odd partner. He didn’t have to interact with anyone or anything other than a computer. It was perfect for him.
In an effort to kick-start the investigation, each pair of detectives took a list of names developed from owners of Suburbans that had license plates starting with the letter A. The entire effort made Stallings a little nervous; he hoped his eyesight was sharp enough that he had picked up the right letter on the license tag.
Sparky was still sorting out many of the names and intended to run them against the list of Hickam associates the DEA had provided. For now, Patty and Stallings had drawn eight names in the central part of the county. They were going to do simple knock and talks. They’d find the owner of the vehicle, knock on the door, and hope the person confessed or, more realistically, refuse to speak to with the police. That would earn them a spot on the suspect list. Another set of detectives was visiting local body shops hoping to find someone who had repaired front-end damage to a blue Suburban. The Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles didn’t accurately list the color of vehicles. Detectives had found that often vehicles were repainted in different colors or simply listed with the wrong color at the date of registration. In a case as important as this, they couldn’t rely on the simple designation on a vehicle registration.
Just as Stallings was about to exit the D-bureau he saw Lonnie Freed, the detective from the intelligence division whom he had asked to find out anything he could on someone named Gator. It seemed like an eternity since he had approached the detective and asked for help. He’d never told Lonnie the help had to do with finding his missing daughter, Jeanie.