Alt awoke stiff and sore. He’d fallen asleep in his easy chair and had overslept. He wanted to be into the office by 8:30 a.m. That was the time he woke up. A hurried shower, shave, and change of clothes put him downtown by 9:15 a.m.
He walked into the operations center, and Bouchard and Hennessey were waiting for him. Alt saw it immediately-they were agitated. “What’s up?”
“At the front desk at Channel 6 we found a log book, the receptionist completes it. We missed it the other times we were in.” Hennessey said.
“How?”
“It’s usually in a locked cabinet. For some reason, it was left out last night.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It records packages dropped off and for whom. There’s one for a CD, October 26th, a large package from an outfit called Flash Local Delivery. Note indicated it was a large box. The signature looks like Daniels’.”
“Have we checked this Flash whatever’s records?”
“Hagen’s giving it a shot right now,” Bouchard responded and led them to the computer whiz.
“What did you get?” Alt asked.
Hagen looked up at them through pop-bottle glasses, “They don’t have any sort of system that I can crack into. They don’t exist in cyberspace.” If Hagen couldn’t crack them, they didn’t have a system, or at least one that was tapped into the outside world.
“Where are they located?”
“Over in South Minneapolis. Address puts them in a residential neighborhood.”
Alt thought quickly, and then said to Hansen and Hennessey, “Take the big van. You might need some tools. We have to know if that’s our package.”
Mac slept soundly, well after his normal waking time. He rolled over to find Sally standing at the end of the bed, dressed, with wet hair. “You making breakfast, big boy?”
Mac smiled, “After a shower.” A quick shower, some jeans and a black mock turtleneck, and Mac was downstairs firing up the coffee and mixing some quick eggs. The TV was on, and he had it on the Golf Channel of all things as Sally walked into the kitchen, her hair now dry and styled. She looked like a million bucks in blue jeans and a white turtleneck with her shoulder-length red hair. She walked over and gave him a warm kiss, and looked at what he was mixing. “Scrambled eggs, yummy. Did you find the cheese and ham?”
“All ready shredded and chopped,” he replied, pointing to the center island.
“Looks great.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to watch TV. “What’s with the Golf Channel?”
“I like it. This is one of those segments where the pro teaches an amateur. I learn a few things watching these.”
“I understand, but we’re going skiing.”
“This isn’t Colorado. We don’t have a ski channel. Besides, you like golf. You might learn something.”
Sally watched as the golf professional showed video of the amateur’s golf swing at a driving range. Then they cut back to the studio where the pro, amateur, and host were standing on some fake grass with a net, ready to do some sort of live demonstration. The host asked the softball question about the value of video. The pro responded, “There isn’t anything you can’t improve through the use of video.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Sally said.
“What’s that?” Mac asked.
“Pro says there isn’t anything that can’t be improved by video.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“I mean video tells you everything,” Sally said. “Don’t you remember in law school, when they videoed us making oral arguments?”
“Vaguely.” Mac said as he poured the eggs into the pan, adding the ham and cheese.
“I sure do. I learned a ton about myself watching that. I keep some of those lessons with me today.”
“I know what you’re saying. I remember in college we watched tons of video of our games and of the opposing teams. Learned a ton about myself, picked up tendencies of the other side. So, yeah it helps,” he replied. “You know who else was a fanatic about video?”
“Who?”
“Claire Daniels.” Mac said as he moved the scrambled eggs around the pan.
Sally shot him a disapproving look. “Aren’t we done with that, yet?”
“I’m just saying. When we went through her place, she had DVD copies of all of her reporting, videos of herself working out and playing golf, just like this guy on TV. She was anal about it. I remember the sports guy at Channel 6, saying she was a total perfectionist, super hard on herself, vain in that respect. She critiqued every report she did. It’s why she was so good, I guess.”
“I imagine so,” Sally said. “We’re not going to talk about that case all weekend are we?”
“No. I promise.”
Flash Local Delivery was located in a residential neighborhood on Oakland Avenue in South Minneapolis. Quick research by Hagen found it had been incorporated six months earlier by an Everett Flash, hence the business name. A Yellow Page ad indicated same-day delivery, personal pickup, and confidential service with a personal touch. No kidding, it was being run out of the guy’s house. Hansen and Hennessey found Flash working in an office on the side of a detached garage. As they went in the door, Flash was on the phone, writing down some notes on a legal pad. A laptop was plugged into the wall, no phone line. No wonder Hagen couldn’t get in.
Flash hung up and asked, “What can I do for you gentlemen.”
“We want to see if you remember a package you picked up on October 26th and delivered to Channel 6,” Hansen said.
“Did you send it?”
“No, a friend of ours did.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I could help your friend,” Flash answered, “but I can’t tell you anything about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Hennessey replied, “but our friend was killed shortly after she sent the package. We’re trying to track some things down. It would really help if you could provide us with some information.”
“I protect the confidentiality of my clients,” Flash replied.
“Well,” a menacing look overtaking Hennessey’s six-foot, three-inch frame, “We would appreciate your cooperation on a voluntary basis. But I assure you, cooperation we will get.”
Flash gave Hennessey a look, and then one over to Hansen, equally big, who could give an intimidating look with the best of them. Flash was going to give them what they were looking for, whether he liked it or not. “So, you say your friend was killed?” Flash replied, having sized up the situation.
“That’s right,” Hennessey replied.
“Well, in that case, I guess they can’t complain can they?”
“No, they can’t,” Hansen replied, relaxed now, a pleasant grin replacing the menacing look.
Flash started through his records.
Mac and Sally jumped into the Explorer to start towards Lutsen. He turned onto Grand Avenue and drove east towards Snelling, where he would take a left and get to Interstate 35 to head up north. It was 10:00 a.m. and they would get to Lutsen by 5:00 p.m., with a few pit stops and lunch figured in. Sally was talking on Mac’s cell phone, checking in with work. She flipped it closed and handed it back, “Thanks.”
“What was that all about?”
“Oh, they have a new copier at work that does scanning now.”
“Scanning?”
“Yeah, it’s like a copier, except it scans the document into the system and saves it as a Word document. All part of an attempt to become a paperless office, which will be virtually impossible. However, it’ll allow me to put some documents on CDs to bring home and work on-”
“Wait a minute! Scanning? Could you scan the documents onto a disc, you know, a CD?”
“Sure.”
“The discs, now you would copy onto say a CD right?”
“Most likely.”
“And the CD, those disks also look a lot like a DVD right?”
“Yeah. Mac why are you suddenly so interested in this?”
“I wonder,” Mac mused, intrigued.
“Wonder what?”
“It’s probably nothing,” he mumbled, thinking.
“What?”
“Something you said just triggered something in my mind.”
“Which was what?”
“Something I saw when we were at PTA last week?”
“Which is?”
“They had a scanner like you were talking about in this copy room Pat and I were in.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sally replied. “But what is this triggering thing?”
“You mentioned putting documents on CDs right?”
“Sure, so I could take work home.”
“Daniels had a bunch of CDs and DVDs we never really looked at.”
“Fine. But I don’t see where you’re-”
“Going with this?” Mac finished. “It’s probably nothing. But we never looked at these CDs and DVDs because the station gave us every report she ever made. But now I’m wondering if Jones could have scanned the documents Stephens gave her onto a CD and given that to Daniels. I never thought of it until now. Maybe there’s something on those CDs and DVDs Daniels has.”
“But I thought you reviewed those Cross documents that Lindsay gave you guys last week.”
“We did,” Mac said, shaking his head. “But those documents were bullshit. They said this Cross place was an explosives factory with some warehouse where they destroyed surplus arms and weapons. They shut the place down in October 01. But what I think really happened was they got to Landy Stephens, and she told them what she told us. Banker’s box full of documents, with a ledger book. So, they trot out this banker’s box and ledger book, and we go home with our tails between our legs. But we have no real way of knowing those documents were real.”
“But Mac, you guys never found the documents either, in all that searching you did.”
“That’s true,” Mac replied, “But maybe we were looking for the wrong thing. Perhaps the documents were put onto a CD or DVD or something.”
“Of course, to check this out, you would have to go ask the chief.”
They sat in silence for thirty seconds. Mac skipped the turn onto Snelling to get to the freeway and cocked an eyebrow, “Maybe I don’t.”
“Huh?”
“I still have a key.”
“To Daniels’ place?” Sally replied in disbelief.
“Yup,” Mac replied smiling.
“How?”
“Never turned it in,” Mac answered. “Sooo… the chief doesn’t need to know.”
“Then let’s go,” Sally quickly replied, smiling.
“Really?”
“Yeah. There’s probably nothing to this. But I know that if we don’t go look now, you’ll just be distracted all weekend.”
“Probably.”
“Well,” Sally said, smiling seductively, “I don’t want you distracted. I want your focus on me. Completely on me. I’ll have that once we don’t find anything.”
Mac turned left onto St. Albans and pulled up in front of the condo. He hopped out and fished his laptop out of the back compartment. The whole thing was a long shot, but for his own sanity, he wanted to check it out.
They made their way up to the second level. Mac set his laptop down on Daniels’ desk and picked the first CD out of the tower. Sally started walking in the DVDs from the cabinet in the sitting room across the hall.
Flash found the record. “I remember this one now.”
“How come?” Hansen asked, fearful of the answer.
“Big order, and I was dropping it off at Channel 6. It was a banker’s box, heavy. She wanted it boxed up, wrapped and delivered same day. Which we do all the time.”
So, Daniels had it. But where? Hansen stepped outside and placed a call to Alt.
“Is this the last one?” Mac asked disappointedly.
“Yup,” Sally replied.
Mac shook his head, the disappointment obvious. He hit file, open and tried to open the last disk as a document. Nothing. He moved it to the DVD drive, opened it up and it was a recent news report from in front of the Minnesota State Capitol. “Shit,” he said quietly under his breath, lightly shaking his head.
Mac sat with his hands in his face. The whole thing had been a wild goose chase. He looked up to find Sally so he could apologize. She was in the other room, flipping through the movie DVDs. She pulled one out and was looking at it. It wasn’t like the others, colored, with movie graphics. It was blank. “What you lookin’ at?” Mac asked.
“Just looking through the movie cases here and ran across this one inside the Basic Instinct box. It’s blank on the front, which is odd.”
“Let me take a look.” She handed it to him. Looked like all the other CD and DVD disks he’d been looking at. He handed it back to her.
“What? You’re not going to look?”
“Are you trying to add insult to injury here?”
“No, asshole, I’m trying to help. It seems odd this blank-fronted one is in this case. Check it out.”
Mac sighed, “Okay.” He opened the CD drive, popped it in. He hit file and tried to open it as a Word document. The operation failed. He clicked to video. He figured it was just another movie or news report. It wasn’t.
“What the heck?” Sally said, peering over Mac’s shoulder.
The video was of a man and woman having sex. The woman was on top and leaning into the male, who was obscured due to the high angle of the camera. The woman looked to be Claire Daniels. “What? Daniels liked videotaping herself having sex?” Sally said.
“I guess,” Mac replied. He looked at the date in the lower right hand corner: 10.29. He then looked up, and the video showed the woman leaning up and arching her back now. It definitely was Claire Daniels, and the male was now identifiable. Mason Johnson. They were on Daniels’ bed, and the camera was looking down on the right side.
“What was Daniels doing with this?” Sally asked.
“I don’t know,” Mac replied, getting up and walking to the bedroom, leaving the video to play.
“I mean, I can’t believe the senator would allow her to do this. Was he that stupid?”
“I don’t think he knew,” Mac yelled from the bedroom.
Sally left the video and followed him, “What do you mean, he didn’t know? How could he not know?”
“I mean, I don’t think she asked his permission.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The camera angle on the video.”
“What about it?”
Mac was looking at the dresser now, “It’s too steep to have been sitting on the dresser here or on a tripod or anything. It’s almost as if it’s an overhead shot.”
“But from where then?”
Mac surveyed the ceiling above the right side of the bed. All he saw was a smoke detector. Then he looked further to his right and saw another detector in the ceiling just over the French Doors leading into the bedroom. Now that was odd. “Can you tell me why someone would need two smoke detectors in one room?” Mac asked rhetorically as he grabbed a sitting chair and placed it under the detector to the right of the bed. He climbed onto the chair and pushed the button to check if the detector worked. Nothing. He pushed it again, no response. Hmpf. He put both hands up to it and started to twist it. It was like all other smoke detectors, hard to remove, but then he heard a hard click and it pulled free and there it was. “Lookey here.” Mac said, as he pulled on a cord, with a glass piece on the end.
“What’s that?” Sally asked, moving near Mac.
“A camera I’d say.” Mac replied. “Before we go any further, I’m going to make a call.”
“To who? For what?”
“Back-up. In case we find anything.” Mac placed a discreet call. Paddy was on patrol in the neighborhood and would know to keep the whole thing quiet if nothing panned out.
“What do you think all this proves?” Sally asked while they waited.
“Nothing yet, but…?”
“But what?”
“We never found any equipment like this when we were searching the place the other times.”
“So?”
“It’s concealed somewhere we didn’t know about. What else is in there besides the equipment?”
Sally shrugged her shoulders. Five minutes later, Paddy showed with his partner, Mike Remington. Mac gave them a quick run-down.
“So, what you going to do, cuz?” Paddy asked.
“Let’s find out where this camera leads too.” Mac replied as he pulled the chair into the closet and underneath the hatch to the crawl space in the ceiling. “Paddy, you might have to give me a boost.” Putting his right foot into Paddy’s cupped hands, he was pushed up into the attic. Mac called down, “Hand me your flashlight. And your gloves, I don’t want to touch the insulation.”
Paddy handed both items up. Mac pointed the flashlight towards where he thought the smoke detector was. He carefully walked on the joists and saw the black cabling for the camera, probably six or seven feet away. The cable had been run along a joist to a support post ten feet away, up the support post to the roof and then away from Mac and over towards what he thought was the hallway and perhaps the bathroom. He maneuvered his way over to where the cable came back down and went back into the ceiling, buried under the insulation. Pulling the insulation back, he pointed the flashlight down at the hole where the cabling went through, but he couldn’t see anything. He looked back to the opening to the attic. It was at a forty-five degree angle away from him. Carefully, he walked back across the joists to the opening and jumped down.
“What did you find?” Sally asked.
“It leads back that way.” Mac pointed in a forty-five degree angle to the hallway, towards the bathroom. Inside the bathroom Mac stood scratching his head. The bathroom was long and narrow. The vanity and toilet were along the left side, but that was the wrong angle he thought. To the right were the bathtub and a small narrow towel cabinet, which contained nothing but towels. He walked back into the hallway where there was a narrow built in wood buffet, which had shelving on the top, a middle drawer and a cabinet on the bottom. The cabinet held some extra towels and nothing else. The shelves had books, a picture and a wood Roman numeral X. Hmpf. “Has to be right in this area.” Mac said.
Mac walked back into the bathroom and looked at the tub. Then he looked back to the hall. He paced the length of the bathroom off, which was five yards or fifteen feet. The bathtub was six feet. The towel cabinet was maybe another foot. That was seven feet, where were the other eight? He went to the hall and looked at the built-in cabinet, it was maybe a foot deep. Looking around the edges of the built in, he noticed a small gap between the molding and the cabinet. “I wonder,” he said out loud.
“Wonder what?” Sally asked.
A smile creased Mac’s face. “Paddy, where have you seen a built-in buffet like this?”
“I don’t know, cuz.”
“If there was a plaque here on the right side, then would you recognize it?”
Paddy studied the buffet for a minute then also smiled, “In the basement at the Pub.”
“Yeah and down there it’s-”
“-the door to Patrick’s Room.” Paddy finished.
Mac opened the middle drawer and reached under the lip. He felt with his hand, and he hit it, a small metal latch. He pulled on it and heard a click and felt the cabinet push in.
“What the hell, a secret room?” Sally asked.
Mac shook his head, smiling. “Kind of. People had these types of builtins put in during Prohibition-a good place to hide booze. You’ve seen the one down at the Pub. It leads into Patrick’s Room down there.”
Pushing the cabinet in, Mac saw two things, a small television with a DVD recorder and a banker’s box with Cross handwritten on the side, resting on the floor. “I guess X does mark the spot,” he said as he walked into the hidden room and pulled rubber gloves onto his hands. Mac flipped the top off the box and started looking through the documents. Having studied what Lindsay had given them a week earlier, he immediately recognized that these documents were different. There was a ledger book, which he flipped open. There were entries with names and dollar amounts handwritten in red and black ink. He started running down the names with his finger when Sally spoke up.
“Mac, take a look at this.”
Mac stood up and went to the shelf where the television and DVD recorder sat. There was also a rack of DVDs with just dates on them. He went to it and hit the open/close button. There was a DVD inside.
“Paddy and Mike, start writing all this down.”
Mac looked at the DVD and then at the rack, and the generic DVD cases all had sporadic dates on them going back what looked like a couple years. There was one unlabeled DVD case, which was empty. He looked back to the one in the machine. Seeing a remote, Mac picked it up and pushed play. He turned on the little television.
The video starts and the view is from the right side of the bed. Daniels and the senator come into view on the left-hand side of the screen, embracing one another, kissing and undressing. There must be some switch that she hit to start it. They fell onto the bed. The video and sound were clear.
“Look at the date?” Sally said.
“Holy shit, October 31st.” Mac grabbed the remote and did what most men in this situation wouldn’t do, he advanced the video forward. When it stopped they were to the point in time where the senator had his back to the camera, now clothed, working his tie. Daniels was lying on the bed, naked, smiling and talking. It lasted for a few minutes, some casual talk. Then, finally dressed, the senator leaned down, kissed her and walked out of the room. Daniels rolled over and had her back to the camera, the nightstand light still on. She lay still, looking as if she had fallen asleep.
Then he came from the left, a black streak. He was dressed in all black a ski mask over his head. He jumped on the bed and was on top of her in an instant, strangling her.
“Oh, my God,” Sally croaked, putting her hands to her own throat.
Daniels flailed away at the killer, hitting him in the face, the arms, kicking with her legs, but he was too strong, never releasing the grip. After a minute, the flailing slowed down, less strong, the life slowly leaking out of her body. Finally, the arms slowly fell down to the bed, and Daniels was gone. The man in black checked her pulse, nothing.
“Who are you?” Mac uttered in a hushed voice, putting his face close to the screen.
The man in black got off her and stood on the far side of the bed and rubbed his jaw through the mask. Then he took off his gloves and pulled the mask from over his head.
“I fuckin’ knew it!” Mac yelled.
“You know who that is?” Sally asked.
“Yeah. Webb Alt.”
“Who’s he?”
“Vice-president of Security at PT fuckin’ A. I knew it. I knew it!” Mac yelled, a wave of satisfaction rushing over him.
He pulled his cellphone out and started dialing, and looked over to Paddy, “You guys get all this down. You’re key witnesses now.” They both nodded, furiously scribbling into their notebooks. The chief’s secretary answered, “This is McRyan. I need to speak to the chief.”
“Mac, he’s in a meeting, I can take a message.”
“Charlene, put me through on this. When I tell him what I have, he won’t care.”
He waited and then a minute later Flanagan got on the line, agitated, “Mac, what the hell.”
“Chief, we got ’em.”