Mazzetti thought about the benefits of charging these guys with obstruction and assault. He considered the time it’d take away from his homicide investigations to give a statement and follow up with court testimony. Each man grasped a damaged extremity. Mazzetti made the assessment this was punishment enough, but he didn’t let them know that. Instead, he walked over and grabbed Kozer by his right ear and pulled until he sprang to his feet. He gave Patty a quick look to make sure she realized he wanted her to watch the other, injured men.
Once back inside the building and alone, Mazzetti said, “You want to be charged with assault on a police officer?”
Kozer had to stand with his left leg in the air to relieve the pressure where Patty had struck him in the thigh. He shook his head, wiping the sweat pouring from his forehead.
“Why’d you run from me, you little shit?” Mazzetti raised his hand as if he was going to slap him. He wanted to but restrained himself.
“I, um, I don’t know. You spooked me.”
“Where were you Monday afternoon and evening?”
“What?”
“You fucking heard me.”
“I was here. I work Monday through Friday three to eleven.”
“Any witnesses?”
“There are four of them lying on the ground back there.”
Mazzetti believed him but would check before he left. As he thought about his next question, Kozer said, “I ain’t done nothin’ illegal in a few years. Whoever you’re looking for it ain’t me.”
Mazzetti said, “There’s one way you and your buddies can avoid a lengthy and costly criminal record for the shit you pulled back there.”
“What do I gotta do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Mazzetti had the man just where he wanted him. “I’m looking into a girl’s death. The killer might be a construction guy. I need eyes and ears at the sites looking around.”
“Looking for what?”
“Anyone acting strange. Anyone who has issues with women. Anything odd. We need a break.”
Kozer kept staring at Mazzetti as the larger cop released him. He said, “I been wonderin’ who I could talk to about a guy who works at a few different sites. He’s not a construction worker, he’s a finisher.”
“What’s a finisher?”
“Guys who lay in decorative floors, or crown molding or windows or special doors. They don’t build nothin’, just make it prettier.”
“Why’d you want to talk about this guy?
“He came in late one day, all hungover and wearing makeup. I mean eye shadow and stuff.”
“That doesn’t make him a killer.”
“You said something odd. That was way odd. Then we caught him watching women through a bathroom window that was supposed to be covered. He uncovered it and hid to watch.”
Mazzetti was interested now. “Where was he doin’ this?”
“A couple of months ago over by the new health building for the university nursing center.”
That made Mazzetti snap his head up and stare at the greasy redneck with more intensity.
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“Daniel Byrd.”
That was a name Joey Big Balls had given him too.
Mazzetti wrote down the limited information Kozer had on Daniel Byrd.
Kozer said, “I know you said you won’t charge us, but do you have to tell anyone what happened?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want it getting around that a cute little girl like that kicked our asses.”
TWENTY-THREE
The shock of the gun exploding right in front of his face caused him to fall back hard against the door. He desperately reached with his right hand and felt for the knob, twisting it and causing the door to burst open and him to flop onto the floor. He took only a second to check his face but felt no blood. The gun had jumped. He looked up and noticed a hole in the door. But now was not the time to rejoice at not being shot because Cheryl was regaining her composure and still had the gun in her hand.
He was vaguely aware Mary was screaming from the couch and had jumped to her feet. He scrambled backwards, turning so he could spring to his feet and dive into the kitchen. But Cheryl had come into the apartment right behind him with the gun in her hand.
He crouched behind the cabinets in the kitchen, trying to think what he should do; then Cheryl screamed at Mary to shut up. He pulled one of the drawers hard off its track and dumped all the utensils on the floor. He quickly grabbed the first knife he could find and was surprised to see it was one of the heaviest butcher knives he owned. He wrapped his right hand around the plastic laminate handle and crouched at the edge of the cabinets waiting for his chance to spring.
As soon as he saw Cheryl’s foot slide onto the kitchen’s new tile floor he sprang up, swinging wildly with his left hand in a wide arc to knock the gun away. Once again the gun boomed as Cheryl jerked the trigger. This time he didn’t wait and threw his entire body into her, driving the knife hard into her solar plexus. The force of his body behind the thrust of the knife drove it even farther into her torso and he turned his wrist to make sure the blade worked deeper under her rib cage. He felt the blade bounce off bones and sinew on its path to her beating heart. He kept his left hand on her right arm to hold the gun away from him when it went off for a third time. The deafening sound of the gunshot had closed his eardrums.
Now he took a moment to look into Cheryl’s face. He could see the shocked expression in the way her eyes wouldn’t focus. Considering the force of his knife attack he was surprised she was even breathing. But he clearly felt the power running out of her legs and arm as she dropped the pistol and slowly started to sink to the tile floor. He released his grip on the knife, took a step back, watching in fascination as she slipped onto the floor and rolled to one side. Blood gushed out of the wound below her chest and a red puddle formed around her face with her blond hair sticking to it.
Once again he checked his face and his chest for any wounds. He was shocked she’d fired the pistol three times inside his tiny apartment and had failed to hit him. He was just as shocked his knife attack hadn’t immediately stopped her. He had a lot to learn about everyday violence.
Already he started to think how he could explain this to Mary or if it would be easier to go ahead and kill her but not use her for his work of art. Neither of these women were worthy of eternity. He stepped over Cheryl’s body as he scanned the living room to see where Mary had ended up.
It only took him one step to see Mary had never made it past the couch as she lay on the carpet staring directly at his ceiling with a bullet hole an inch to the left of her pretty nose.
This was one mess that was going to take a while to clean up.
Patty enjoyed the position she found herself in. She’d been lecturing Tony Mazzetti about his immature stupidity in coming to the construction site without any backup. To his credit, he took full responsibility and admitted he’d made a mistake. Then he said something that truly surprised her.
Mazzetti said, “You saved my ass. You’re the best girlfriend anyone ever had.”
She wanted to hug him and give him a big kiss, but she was enjoying her position of power and thought she’d make it last longer. It was the closest she had felt to him in a month. She’d parked her car in a lot down the street and climbed into his Crown Vic. She let him sit there and sulk for a few minutes as she occasionally lobbed another recrimination at him, but, in fact, she wasn’t really upset. He’d done what many men could never do: he’d accepted responsibility. And the fact that he’d acknowledged she’d saved him and didn’t try to make up some story about having the construction workers right where he wanted them had been icing on the cake.
Now Patty said, “You really think this Daniel Byrd could be our killer?”