Mac put the key into the deadbolt and pushed in the front door to Claire Daniels’ place. It felt like an eternity since he’d been here last, although it had only been five weeks. The condo was cold and musty, a product of vacancy. He noticed a thin coating of dust on the once shiny coffee table. Claire would have disapproved. All the furniture and other furnishings remained in place, white sheets draped over most of them. There was a for sale sign out front, and the realtor told Mac a sale was imminent.
Lich, Rock, and Riley followed him in, all clapping their hands or making some other movement to shake off the cold outside air. “So, what are we looking for Sherlock?” Rock asked.
“Don’t know exactly,” Mac replied. “Let’s go through the place, see what we find.”
They didn’t really know what they were looking for, although Mac had outlined his thoughts at breakfast. Going at PTA at the moment didn’t make sense, even if the chief would have allowed it. They didn’t know what they were looking for, and PTA most likely would have eliminated any trace of anything that was within their control. What wasn’t in their control was whatever Jones and Daniels might have been talking about. They might have left something behind. Mac figured they had to find that, and then they would have something to go after PTA with. Problem was, they had no idea what Jones and Daniels shared. Mac and the others agreed that it was likely Jones found something she wasn’t supposed to and told Daniels about it. It might have been something financial, since Jones was the CFO, but they really didn’t know. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but not having any idea what the needle looked like. But they were all at the window, ready to place their bets.
Everyone took their coats off and threw them over the railing to the staircase and headed in different directions.
“Surprised they went back to Daniels’ place?” Bouchard asked.
“Nope. Nothing there though. We went through that place, what, four times?” Alt replied. They were sitting on Summit Avenue, looking from the north down St. Albans at the front of Daniels’ condo. Another van was parked on Grand to the south.
“Yeah.”
“And we knew what we were looking for,” Alt added.
“Pointless exercise in other words?”
“That’s my thought.”
“They don’t know that.”
“No, they don’t.”
“They’re cops. Pretty smart ones from what I’ve seen.”
“I’m not suggesting they aren’t. We’re here watching them after all,” Alt replied. “I just don’t think those documents are at Daniels’ place.”
“Where are they?”
“Heck if I know. We’ve looked everyplace I can think of. Hell, we’re still looking.”
“My worry is somebody’s going to stumble onto them,” Bouchard said, frowning.
“I have the same worry. So does Lindsay,” Alt replied. “You ready to bail on a moment’s notice?”
“Everything’s in place. You?”
“Definitely.”
They sat in silence, the wind gusts lightly rocking the van and MPR softly coming through the radio.
Bouchard sighed. “Going to be a long day watching these guys.”
Mac and Lich searched the upstairs while Riley and Rock took the main level, basement, and garage. They all pulled out drawers, sifted through papers, looked at pictures, went through boxes, searched closets and cabinets, pulled plates and dishes out of cupboards, looking for anything about Jones or PTA.
Mac found nothing. He went through every file on her computer. Nothing about PTA. He went through all of her filing cabinets, checked the hallway buffet cabinet, sifted through her closet, pulled clothes out of drawers and off shelves, went through all of her personal belongings. He even looked under her bed. Nothing about PTA. Nothing about Jones. He pulled a chair up in front of the cabinet that held the television. He stared at the columns of DVDs. He’d remembered her voluminous collection. There had to be over one hundred movies including lots of romantic comedies, but some steamy movies as well. Basic Instinct, 9? Weeks, Body Heat, even some of those steamy B-movies that found their way to Skinamax late at night. There were videos and DVDs of her news reporting. He remembered the sports reporter at Channel 6, Joe Elliott, talking about Daniels’s perfectionism. She even videotaped her golf lessons, he said. She was a total perfectionist. While an interesting little side note, the perfectionism didn’t seem to help here.
Everyone else crapped out as well. “Mac, we’ve been through the whole downstairs, storage, garage, everything,” Riley said. Nothing had been found.
Mac looked at his watch-12:30 p.m. “Let’s get some lunch.”
They went to Bobby’s Bar, along Grand Avenue, six blocks to the west of Daniels’s place. On the way, Mac took another look at the Daniels file. Over burgers, they discussed the case.
“So what’s next?” Lich asked.
“We go back and re-interview people in the neighborhood,” Mac answered. “I called Paul Blomberg, that guy who saw someone in the alley. Lich and I are going to talk to him again, run through what he saw. Maybe talking through it again will bring something.” Then to Riley and Rock, “I want you guys to go back and talk to her neighbors. In particular, talk to John Chase. He was next door and saw the senator leaving Claire’s place one night. Also, go across the street. Talk to this guy.”
“Who’s this?”
“Our eyeball witness who saw the senator leaving Daniels’ place the night of the murder, one Juan Hernandez.”
“Why are we talking to him again?”
“He was pretty observant and Johnny-on-the-spot the night Daniels was killed. I want to know if he saw anyone else hanging around. I’m not sure we asked because he gave us the senator, and we moved on that.”
Bouchard and Alt were in the Persian Rug store parking lot east of Bobby’s Bar, watching out the back of the van. Bouchard bought a couple of cold sandwiches and cups of coffee from the deli across the street. Hansen and Berg were in the other van parked on Victoria to the south, watching the front of Bobby’s.
Alt was reading the paper when Bouchard said, “Here they come.”
Fat Lich and McRyan got into the Explorer, while Riley and big Rockford jumped into a Ford pickup. McRyan turned into the Kozlak Foodmart lot, while Riley kept going east on Grand. Alt ordered the other van to follow Riley and Rockford. He and Bouchard would stay with McRyan.
“Deja vu all over again,” Bouchard quipped.
Blomberg didn’t have anything more for Mac and Lich. He gave his story again, almost word for word what he gave Mac a month earlier. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the alley that night or any other night.
“Anything come into your mind since I was here last?”
“No. Nothing. Like I said, I just saw the guy get in the van. He was dressed in dark clothing. I never saw his face or anything. It happened really fast.”
Lich showed him a picture of Jamie Jones. “Ever see her around here?”
Blomberg shook his head. “No. Not that I recall.”
They ran through it again, but Blomberg simply had nothing more to give. The detectives turned to leave when Mac’s cell went off.
Alt saw McRyan come out of the apartment building, talking on his cell phone.
“They didn’t spend much time inside,” Bouchard remarked.
Before Alt could respond, his phone chimed, it was Hansen. “Yeah?”
“We have a problem.”
* * * * *
Mac and Lich pulled up in front of Hernandez’s apartment building. Riley and Rock were standing in the entryway with another man. “He’s gone?” Mac asked.
“Yeah,” replied Riley. “This is the apartment manager, John Higgins.”
“When did he leave?”
“Three weeks ago,” Higgins replied.
“What about his lease? Didn’t he have a one-year lease?” Mac asked.
“Normally he would, but he offered to pay two-months worth up front and then was willing to live month to month. Anyone I would find to take a one-year lease probably wouldn’t take possession for a month or two anyway, so it seemed like a good deal to me. Guy kept to himself, caused no problems.”
“Did he tell you where he was going?” Lich asked.
“No. Never heard from him personally. Just found the keys in my mailbox one day. No note or anything.”
“Have you rented the unit out as of yet?”
“As of the first-of-the-year I have. Right now I have his stuff boxed up in case he calls for it.”
They went up to the unit and looked around. It had been sparsely furnished to begin with and now there were just a few boxes lying in the middle of the floor. There were some clothes, a few dishes, and some papers.
Mac looked back at Higgins. “No forwarding address?”
“No. Like I said. One day he was here, the next he was gone. Didn’t say good-bye or anything.”
“Anyone come looking for him?” Riley asked.
“Nobody that I know of.”
“Was he friendly with any of the other tenants?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And he paid the two months in full up front?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Cash.”
“As in check?” Mac asked.
“Nope. Cash.”
“Mr. Higgins, didn’t that strike you as odd?” Mac asked, since it certainly struck him as odd.
“A little perhaps.” Higgins shrugged, tilted his head and lazily raised his eyebrows. “Guy offers cash, wants two months. What’s the big deal?”
Mac snorted and shook his head.
They looked through the boxes. They found nothing to give them a hint of where he went. The only paper of any use was a check stub from Dynastar, his employer.
“Cut him loose a little early I guess,” Alt remarked.
“Where did he go?” Bouchard asked.
“Far away, and they won’t find him. He’s not in the country. He’s not living under the name of Juan Hernandez. He won’t be found unless we need him to be found.”
“Don’t you think it’ll look odd that he bailed?”
“A little. They might even suspect we did it. And of course, they’d be right,” Alt said lightly shaking his head, a bit perturbed. All things being equal, he thought, this was a hiccup he would have preferred to avoid. Hernandez’s disappearance only served to heighten their suspicion. Of course, had the police bothered to remain in touch with Hernandez, Alt would have kept him around. Once they killed the senator, the Daniels case was over. Once he was certain of that, he cut Hernandez loose. Alt lightly sighed, shook his head and said, “They won’t be able to find him.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Bouchard asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Mac and Lich went over to Dynastar and spoke with the Human Resources manager. Hernandez left without notice and hadn’t picked up his last paycheck. He had left no forwarding address for sending the check, and they hadn’t heard from him. When hired, he’d completed a W-4 and immigration I-9 Form. For the I-9, he provided a Minnesota driver’s license and Social Security card to verify identity and ability to work in the United States. Dynastar did not make copies of the documents, although some employers did, even though it wasn’t technically required. Lich called the license and Social Security number information to Riley and Rock, so they could check it downtown.
Mac and Lich interviewed people in the production area that worked with Hernandez. He wasn’t at Dynastar long. He had been pleasant enough but kept to himself. He didn’t mention where he was going and everyone was surprised when he just stopped showing up for work.
It was dark as they walked out of Dynastar, having found nothing helpful about Hernandez. Riley called. While there were plenty of Juan Hernandezes, they couldn’t find any with the Minnesota driver’s license and Social Security numbers this Juan gave to Dynastar.
At the Pub, Sally joined them, and they went down to Patrick’s Room.
“Not much today,” Rock said.
“Hernandez is missing. That’s something.” Lich replied.
“Guy was probably an illegal. People get a fake driver’s license or state ID card, along with false Social Security number and work as long as they can. If the employer sniffs something is up, they bail and go to the next unsuspecting employer,” Sally said. “I have some friends who do employment law and they said their clients run into this all the time.”
“His absence seems awfully convenient,” Mac replied, not buying it.
“You suggesting PTA had something to do with it?” Riles asked, a smile on his face.
“Hell if I know,” Mac replied. “It seems as if he skipped town after it became clear that the Daniels investigation was over.”
“It is convenient,” Riles said agreeably. “But that’s about it. If PTA did take care of him, he’s either dead or paid off, drinking an umbrella drink in a foreign land.”
“So what’s next?” Sally asked.
“Tomorrow we go over to the Jones place,” Mac said. “See what we find there.”
“And what if we don’t find anything?” Rock asked.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Mac replied.
Mac turned off the bathroom light and went over to his side of the bed, turned off the nightstand light, rolled over and kissed Sally.
“So, not much today, huh?” She said, snuggling up to Mac.
“Just that Hernandez thing,” Mac said, lightly scratching her back. “Daniels’ place was the same as I remembered it.” Something odd about her place though. I just can’t put my finger on it. It’s like I’m missing something.”
“What?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. I’ve looked at something there that’s important, but I don’t know why yet. I haven’t put it together.”
“So tomorrow you’re going to look at Jones’?” she said, running her fingers through Mac’s chest hair.
“Yeah, see if we find anything.”
“What’ll you look for?”
“You know, anything that ties Jones and Daniels together. Something that tells us why PTA might have killed them. Like Justice Stewart once said, ‘I’ll know it when I see it.’”
“It was ‘I know it when I see it,’” Sally replied, “and he was talking about pornography.”
“Speaking of which.” Mac replied, sliding her panties down.
“Men are animals,” Sally replied, not the least bit disappointed.
“Do we take them out?” Bouchard said, having heard the conversation through the headphones.
“All of them? Including Riley, Lich, and that Rockford?” Alt replied, shaking his head. “No way. You’d have to throw in Hisle and probably that uncle of McRyan’s, as well.”
“So? Take some time, a few more resources, but it could be done. It might have to be done.”
Alt sighed. “You might be right. Start making plans, but only just in case. The idea of being at war with the St. Paul Police Department is not my first choice.” He grabbed his cell phone. Lindsay needed to be updated.