Authors: Marion Faith Carol J.; Laird Lenora; Post Worth
Tags: #Fluffer Nutter, #dpgroup.org
After several clicks of the mouse, pages began to spill into the printer.
Lexi continued, “How long has he worked for All-Pure?”
“Since September. So about seven months. Moved here from out of state.”
“Have any of his customers ever complained about him?”
“A couple of times.”
“What kind of complaints?”
Buddy laughed. “He's a salesman. Some people think he comes off a little too...high pressure. But I can't argue with his sales figures. He's good at what he does.”
“Where can we find him?”
“He's off today and tomorrow. Won't be back in until Saturday.”
Anne removed the small stack of pages from the printer and handed them to Lexi.
“Do you think Martin might be at home?”
“He might be. I'll have Anne get the address for you. It's new, as of about a month ago. I think he's living with a lady friend.”
By the time they got back into Lexi's cruiser, she had added an Auburndale address to the pages of customer appointments. She handed Alan the list and began to program the address into the GPS.
“See if you can find any of the victims' names on those lists.”
He picked up the file between the seatsâLexi's notes, duplicates of the information she needed quick and easy access to. While she drove, he read through the names Buddy Jacobs had provided. Halfway down the second page, anticipation surged through him. One name matched.
“In early November, he had an appointment with a Stephanie Wilson in Winter Haven.”
“She was the third victim, killed about two months ago. What address?”
“Cypress Gardens Road.”
Lexi frowned. “The victim lived in the Inwood area.”
“Maybe she moved.” He continued to search for the other names, scanning the single-spaced pages. This guy saw a lot of people.
Finally he slid the sheets into Lexi's folder. “That's it. Just Stephanie and Kayla. The others aren't here.”
Lexi nodded. “If it's the same Stephanie Wilson, that's two out of five. There's definitely enough of a lead to follow up on. He may have even deleted the other three names. I mean, if you were killing your customers, would you leave that kind of a paper trail?”
“You've got a point. If he had access to the computer.”
She turned into an upscale neighborhood and moved slowly down the road until she reached the number she sought. If the grand, two-story Colonial at the end of the driveway was any indication, Jeffries's lady friend had some bucks.
Chimes followed the ringing of the bell, then faded to silence. Apparently no one was home.
Lexi turned to head back to the car. “I'll try again this evening.”
Alan shook his head as anxiety spiked through him. “Let me do it.”
“I live about a mile that way.” She pointed over his shoulder. “It doesn't make sense for you to drive over here from Harmony Grove.”
“You shouldn't come here alone.”
She reached the patrol car and nailed him with a withering glare over its top. “This is my case. I know we're working together, but I'm the lead detective.”
It wasn't going to do any good to take a stubborn stance with her. When it came to stubbornness, Lexi took the prize. She hadn't always been that way. She had been happy and agreeable and perpetually optimistic. But life's knocks had stamped out most of that youthful innocence and left her with a hard edge. And something told him he had unwittingly contributed to it.
“Look, Lexi, you fit the profile of the victims.”
“That's a pretty broad profile.”
“Still, you fit it. I don't mind the drive. Let me come back with you.”
She hesitated for a moment longer then sighed. “All right. Meet me at my house at eight.”
Within moments of turning onto Berkley Road, a gold Lexus moved toward them in the opposite lane, slowing as it approached. A male driver sat at the wheel. As near as Alan could tell, he was the only one in the car. Lexi slowed, casting several glances in her rearview mirror.
“He just turned into Somerset. You think that's our Mr. Jeffries?” She was already turning around as she posed the question.
When they pulled into the driveway, the driver of the car was bent at the waist, removing shopping bags from the front passenger seat. He straightened and spun to face them. His eyes widened. A split second later he dropped the bags in the driveway and shot off toward the right side of the house at a full run, disappearing through a wrought iron gate.
Alan jumped from the cruiser and ran toward the break in the wall. Jeffries was guilty of something. If it was murder, they just might end this thing a lot more quickly than he had anticipated.
If they could catch him.
Alan came to a sudden halt, Lexi next to him. The lavishly landscaped backyard offered numerous places to hide. And Jeffries was nowhere to be seen.
He cocked his head to the left. Lexi gave a slight nod and moved across the back of the house with sure, silent steps. She would make a good partner.
But he didn't spare her more than a brief glance. He moved deeper into the yard, hand on his revolver, eyes peeled for the slightest movement. Manicured hedges wrapped curved walks and a figure of some Greek goddess stood framed on three sides by walls of vine-covered lattice. Somewhere nearby, the gurgle of a fountain masked the sound of their steps.
He had almost reached the back boundary of the yard when Lexi's shout caught his attention. Jeffries had climbed a tree in the corner and was shimmying along a lower branch. Lexi wasn't far behind. She hoisted herself up as Jeffries dropped down to disappear behind the wall.
Alan ran along the back perimeter, heart pounding in his chest. Jeffries had had too much of a head start. And Lexi was confronting him alone.
When he dropped to the ground, Jeffries was limping toward the front of the adjoining yard. He had evidently sprained his left ankle, which was giving Lexi a distinct advantage. She was only about fifteen feet behind.
Suddenly, Jeffries skidded to a stop, and so did Lexi. Alan moved cautiously closer. Only then did he hear the low growl. It increased in volume, then erupted into angry barking.
A Doberman sprang toward Jeffries and Lexi, then stopped, the three forming a wary triangle. The dog alternated between barks and growls, razor-sharp teeth glistening in the afternoon sunlight.
Jeffries crept backward, feeling for the side fence. “Good dog,” he crooned. But all he managed to do was to attract the Doberman's full attention. The stance grew more threatening, the growls deeper. The dog inched closer, muscles coiled, ready to spring at any moment.
In a sudden burst of panic, Jeffries spun and lunged for the fence. He was half over when those lethal teeth sank into one calf. Alan cringed at Jeffries's agonized shriek. When the dog pulled, Jeffries lost his grip and fell to the ground in a wail of fear-tinged pain.
“Boomer, heel!”
The command rang out with undeniable authority. The dog froze but didn't relax his posture.
“Thank you.” Lexi reached behind her to unhook a set of handcuffs from her belt. “Is it okay to cuff the suspect?”
The homeowner smiled. “Absolutely. Boomer, come.”
Boomer obeyed the order, albeit reluctantly, and Lexi stepped forward to restrain Jeffries. He still lay rocking back and forth on the ground, knee pulled up, clutching his lower leg.
Once Lexi had cuffed him and read him his rights, she straightened and looked at Alan. “How about if you keep an eye on him while I bring the car around. I don't think he's going to be climbing any fences anytime soon.” She cast a disdainful glance at the man still writhing on the ground. “And I suppose I'd better call an ambulance.”
Alan watched her turn away from Jeffries with a coldness in her eyes that shocked him. He was half surprised she didn't kick him first.
Of course, if Jeffries had killed Kayla, he would do it himself.
He dropped his gaze to their suspect. He seemed to be settling down. Maybe he was going into shock. They would get him some medical treatment. Then they would try to interrogate him.
Maybe by then he would be ready to talk.
FOUR
L
exi braked to a stop at the Lakeland Regional Medical Center emergency entrance. Ahead of them, two paramedics lifted a gurney from the back of the ambulance and wheeled it toward the automatic glass doors.
Calling for an ambulance was probably a good idea. By the time the paramedics arrived, Martin Jeffries had grown pasty white and begun to shiver. In his early forties, he wasn't a prime candidate for a heart attack, but one never knew.
She slanted a glance at Alan. “I'm leaving you to make sure our illustrious Mr. Jeffries doesn't take off.”
Alan raised his brows. “Where are you going?”
“I'm going to sit out here and see what I can find out about this Stephanie Wilson. If Jeffries decides to start talking before I get back inside, take good notes.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He lifted his hand in a salute and stepped from the car.
As soon as the ambulance pulled away, Lexi circled around and chose a parking space. She opened her laptop and, within a few minutes, found five listings for Stephanie Wilson. None of the addresses matched the one on All-Pure's paperwork.
When she did a search on the address of All-Pure's Stephanie, the property appraiser listed a Lamar Deeson as the owner. The mailing address was different from the site address, so he apparently didn't live there. Stephanie was probably his tenant.
Since she had hit a dead end looking for Stephanie's contact information, she tried Lamar's. Apparently there was only one Lamar Deeson in all of Winter Haven. And the address matched the mailing address on the property appraiser's website.
He answered on the third ring.
“This is Detective Alexis Simmons with the Polk County Sheriff's Office. I'm looking for Stephanie Wilson. I understand she's a tenant of yours?”
“
Used
to be a tenant of mine.”
Lexi's pulse picked up. “Used to be? What happened to her?”
“She left. She and her boyfriend broke up, and she moved out. Then he did, too. Stuck me for two months worth of rent.”
“When was this? When did she move out?”
“It would have been in January.”
January. A month before Stephanie Wilson was found murdered. Now, as for whether it was the same Stephanie Wilson...
“Do you know where she went?”
“I have no idea.”
“How about a phone number?”
“I had a cell phone. Hold on.” A minute or two later he came back on the line. “I don't know if it's any good. It just has one of those generic messages, and since I was hounding her for the rent, she never bothered to call me back.”
Lexi jotted down the number. “One more thing. Do you get a date of birth or social security number on your tenants?”
“No, I don't bother with all that. I'm not some big property manager. This is my only one. I couldn't sell the place, so I decided to rent it.”
“How old would you say Stephanie is?”
“Young. Mid-twenties, maybe.”
Her pulse beat faster. “Hair color? Height and weight?”
“Light brown or dark blond. Average height and weight.”
“Where did she work?”
“I think she worked part-time at a restaurant. But she was a student.”
“What school?”
“I don't know that.”
Her heart was pounding in earnest now. Everything fit, right down to her size and hair color. But there was only one way to find out. “I'd like to show you a couple of pictures, see if it's the Stephanie you know. Can I meet with you later this evening or tomorrow?”
“I'm headed out of town in about thirty minutes. But I can meet you when I get back next week.” He hesitated. “Did something happen to her? I mean, I'm not identifying a dead body, am I?” He forced an uneasy laugh.
“We're not sure. A Stephanie Wilson was found murdered, but we don't know if it's
your
Stephanie Wilson.”
“Oh.” The single word was heavy with concern. “She stiffed me for the rent, but I sure don't want to see her dead.”
Lexi ended the call with a promise to meet after he returned on Wednesday. Then she tried the cell number Deeson had given her, without success. It was no longer a working number.
When she got inside, Alan was standing in the hall next to one of the triage rooms. An easy smile climbed up his cheeks the moment he saw her, creating an unexpected flutter in her stomach, one she promptly tamped down. He used to have that effect on her, but not anymore. All the butterflies died a quick and sure death six years ago.
She returned his smile with a casual one of her own. “How's Jeffries?”
“The doctor's working on his leg now. Our friend Boomer did quite a number on it.”
“Yeah, I gathered as much.” Especially with the amount of blood that had soaked through his torn pant leg.
“So what did you find out?”
“She's not there anymore, but I talked to her former landlord. Everything matches victim number three. I'm going to have him look at the photos and tell me if it's the same Stephanie.”
Alan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “What about the other three victims?”
“Maybe Jeffries knew them some other way. If we take his picture around to their friends and family members, someone might recognize him.”
“Good thinking. We could split the list. You take half and I'll take half.”
Before she could respond, a doctor stepped from the triage room and addressed Alan. “Okay, Officer, he's all yours. He'll need to have the stitches removed in another week or so, and he'll have to go through a course of antibiotics. After that, he should be fine.”
Alan thanked him and walked into the room.
“Looks like you dropped into the wrong yard.” He approached the bed that held a disgruntled Martin Jeffries.
Jeffries responded with a deep scowl.
Alan continued, “We just wanted to ask you some questions. Why'd you run?”
“I didn't know what you wanted.”
“It doesn't matter what we wanted. Honest, law-abiding citizens don't run from the police.”
“Well, you can't arrest me. I didn't do anything wrong.”
Lexi stepped forward. “Actually, we can. It's called attempting to elude a law-enforcement officer. It happens to be a second-degree felony.”
He shrugged off her threat, his attitude growing cockier by the minute. “Whatever. I know how the system works. I won't end up doing more than ninety days, if that.”
Alan circled around to the other side of the bed, putting Jeffries between them. “We're doing a murder investigation, and you're looking guiltier by the minute.”
The cockiness ratcheted back several degrees and fear flashed in Jeffries's dark eyes. He held up his hands and shook his head. “No way, man. I didn't kill anybody.”
Lexi nailed him with an accusing stare. “Then why did you run?”
“Because I thought...I thought Tanya accused me of taking her money.”
“We haven't talked to Tanya. Maybe we'll do that later.”
Jeffries's gaze narrowed and a muscle tightened in his jaw. He was probably kicking himself for even mentioning it. But he had more to worry about than some pilfered cash.
She leaned closer. “Did you try to sell a water-filtration system to a Kayla Douglas in Harmony Grove?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“When did you last see her?”
“About two weeks ago.” A flash of annoyance shot across his features. “What's that got to do with anything?”
Alan provided the answer. “A lot, considering she was found murdered a week ago.”
Jeffries shook his head. “You can't pin that on me, man.”
“How many times have you been to her house?”
Lexi's question hung in the air for several moments. Then Jeffries pinched his mouth shut. “I'm not saying any more without talking to a lawyer.”
“Don't worry. You'll get one.” She backed away from the hospital bed. “We'll find out what you're up to with or without your assistance.”
A nurse rolled a wheelchair into the room. “Well, Mr. Jeffries, it looks like you're free to go.”
“Not exactly free,” Lexi interrupted. She watched Jeffries struggle into the chair, then stepped behind it to grip the handles. “You get to come with us.”
Jeffries didn't respond. She didn't expect him to. He was done talking. But she wasn't finished with him. Not by a long shot. First she would have him fingerprinted. Then she would see if there were any outstanding warrants for him. And hopefully she could come up with a valid reason to keep him.
Maybe he hadn't killed Kayla.
But he was guilty of something.
* * *
Lexi turned off the ignition and frowned over at Alan. “I hope this isn't as much of a bust as our other efforts.”
He hoped the same. Over the past several days they had shown Jeffries's photo to at least sixty people. And no one could say they had ever seen him. If Martin Jeffries was the killer, he had managed to keep his relationships with his victims secret from even their closest friends and family members.
Now they were sitting in front of Lamar Deeson's house armed with four photos. The last one they probably wouldn't use. They weren't going for shock value. The first three were plenty sufficient for identification.
Alan stepped from the car and followed Lexi to the door. It was late; the sun had set some time ago. The shades at the windows were drawn, but the glow of the porch light welcomed them up the front walk.
A burly man with hair graying at the temples answered the door.
Lexi stepped forward. “Lamar Deeson?”
At his nod, she continued, “Alexis Simmons. And this is Alan White. Thanks for being willing to do this.”
She removed the small stack of photos from a manila envelope and handed him the top one. “Can you tell me if this is the Stephanie Wilson you know?”
The woman in the photo lay on her right side, a bed of decaying leaves beneath her. Her arms were bound behind her and a piece of duct tape covered her mouth. Tangled dishwater-blond hair flowed over her shoulder.
“IâI'm not sure. Looking at her from the side like this, I can't tell.”
Lexi handed him another photo. In that one, she sat upright, the trunk of a pine tree supporting her. An angry red splotch marked one cheek, the remnants of an open-handed blow. Above the tape, fear-filled eyes pleaded for mercy.
Deeson shook his head and turned away, mouth set in a grim line. “No, that's definitely not her.”
Lexi took the photo from him. “You're sure?”
“Positive.” He shook his head again. “I'm sorry. I have a daughter that age. She even looks a little like the girl in the picture.” He met their eyes, his own earnest. “I hope you catch the guy who did this.”
Alan nodded. “Believe me, we're trying our hardest.” He wished he could promise him more.
He walked with Lexi to the car, glad to be heading home. It was draining, talking to person after person. Or maybe it was the fact that they just didn't seem to be getting anywhere. At any rate, it was different from his usual activities: patrolling Harmony Grove, taking old George Randall home when he had had a little too much to drink, getting the occasional kitten out of a tree.
Lexi had just cranked the car when her cell phone rang. After a quick glance at the screen, she put the phone to her ear. Almost immediately she stiffened with anticipation.
“Hold on, Sarge. I'm putting you on speakerphone....Yeah, I'm with Alan. It'll save me having to repeat this.”
She plugged in the phone and a male voice came through the car's speaker system.
“As I was saying, the prints came back. Martin Jeffries is an alias. He's actually got several of them. His real name is Victor Moore.”
Lexi pulled away from the curb. “So what can you tell us about good ol' Vick?”
“He's not a very nice guy. But he doesn't appear to be a killer. More of a con artist. He gets with women who have money and before they even know what hit them, he's got their bank accounts drained dry and has changed his name and headed off for greener pastures. He's got several warrants out on him for forgery and fraud.”
“What about the woman he's been living with?”
“We talked to her, and she did some checking. He's forged a couple of her checks, but hasn't had a chance yet to do too much damage.”
Lexi's grip on the wheel tightened. “Good. I'm glad we caught him. Now we know why he ran when he saw us. He figured his latest escapades had come to light. We were lucky on that one.”
“Yeah, so was his latest victim. So what have you two learned?”
“We just left Deeson's house, and his former renter is a different Stephanie Wilson. And no one we've talked to has ever seen Jeffries. The only link he has to any of the victims is that he tried to sell Kayla a water-filtration system. So we're back to square one. Five dead girls and not a single lead.”
Alan watched her disconnect the call, then ease to a stop at a traffic light. She heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging.
“After five months of searching for this guy, I thought we had him.”
The disappointment in her voice sent a pang of tenderness shooting through him. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “We'll catch him. Eventually we'll get a break. He'll get careless and make a mistake, and we'll nab him.”
She turned tired eyes on him. “And how many girls will die in the meantime?”
He dropped his hand. She was right. They had exhausted the only lead they'd had. No mistakes were likely to happen unless he struck again. Their “break” would mean another young woman lost her life.
When she pulled into her driveway twenty minutes later, she turned off the ignition but didn't immediately get out. Since he was in no hurry to leave her, he didn't, either. His Mustang sat next to them, where he had left it early that morning.