“What about across the street?” Mac asked.
Clark answered. “We missed four units in the one right across the street. That was one of the first places we went, so the people may be back by now.”
“Okay. Lich and I can run over there quick before we have to head back downtown. Which units?”
Clark gave them the numbers, and Mac and Lich headed across the street. The three-story brown-brick apartment building rested on the southeast corner of Summit. It was one of many desirable red-and-brown-brick apartment buildings between Summit and Grand.
At the first apartment, there was still no answer. They would have to come back. Mac jotted a note on the back of his business card and slipped it under the door. At the second unit, Mac and Lich found a couple of women in their mid-twenties just home from work having a beer. One was a heavier-set brunette still wearing her blue business suit. The other was an attractive, petite blonde, wearing a tight T-shirt that showed her midriff and blue jeans. She made eyes at Mac immediately, which he tried to ignore, although it was difficult. Her name was Carrie. She said that she and her roommate had been at the Halloween party at Mardi Gras the night before. They left the bar around 12:30 a.m. and had walked home along St. Albans and came in the back door along the alley. They hadn’t seen anything and might not have even if they were looking as both admitted they had a really good time at Mardi Gras. It looked like they were ready to get a good start today, as there were a couple of empty bottles sitting on the coffee table. After five minutes, it was apparent that they knew nothing. Yet, every time Mac got up to leave, Lich kept the conversation going.
As they finally left, Mac asked. “How come you kept that going?”
“Just trying to get you laid. She was attractive as hell and ready to be had,” Lich said, smiling. “Hell, she was throwing herself at you. They know nothing about the case. You should stop back and get yourself a little.”
Mac appreciated Lich’s concern. He wasn’t the first one to make the comment in the last few months. It had been awhile. His buddies kept telling him he needed to “Get back on the horse.”
In the next unit, they found a couple of William Mitchell law students. They had ignored Halloween altogether, having studied until 10:00 p.m. at the law school. Then they came home, had a beer and hit the rack around 11:45, after watching Letterman. They hadn’t seen anything and didn’t even know that Daniels lived so close.
Lich and Mac moved onto the last unit, which was on the third floor along the front of the building. They knocked on the door a couple of times. No answer. Mac slipped a business card under the door with a note to please call him. He and Lich turned to leave, were ten feet down the hall when they heard the chain unhook and the deadbolt turn open. They turned to walk back as a Hispanic man who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties opened the door. “What can I do for you?”
“St. Paul detectives,” Mac replied as he and Lich flashed their identifications. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Juan Hernandez. What’s going on?”
“There was a murder in the neighborhood, and we’re wondering if you knew anything about it?”
“No kidding? Where?”
“It was across the street, in one of the condos on St. Albans. The victim was Claire Daniels-you know, the reporter from Channel 6. We’re asking everyone who lives in the neighborhood if they saw anything,” said Lich. “And by the way, can we step inside?”
“Oh, sure.”
Mac, Lich, and Hernandez stepped inside his apartment into the living room, which was sparsely furnished with a couch, chair, coffee table, and TV. There were few if any personal furnishings displayed. Lich, looking around, asked, “Just move in?”
“Yeah, just a few days ago,” Hernandez replied. “When did it happen, the murder?”
“We think last night?”
“Oh, my.” Hernandez replied, putting his hand to his chest. “What time?”
“We’re not sure,” Lich lied.
“Hmpf.” Hernandez walked over towards the porch looking out onto Summit Avenue. “Is her place the last condo on the end?”
The way he said it caused Mac and Lich to share a look. This guy was leading somewhere. “Yes. Why do you ask?” Mac inquired.
“Well. I was having trouble sleeping last night, so I went out for a walk around 12:30 a.m. Thought maybe the fresh air would clear my head. So, anyway, I was walking up St. Albans and ran into someone in the street.”
“Who was that?” Mac asked neutrally.
Hernandez hesitated. “You guys probably won’t believe this.”
“Give it a shot,” Lich said.
“Mason Johnson,” Hernandez blurted.
That got their attention. “What? Mason Johnson? Senator Mason Johnson?” Mac replied, disbelieving, his heart skipping a beat.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Hernandez replied confidently.
Mac shared a quick look with Lich that said,
“It was 1:30.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes. I thought it odd to see him so late like that on the street, so I looked at my watch. It was 1:30.”
“Where did you see him on the street?” Lich asked.
“He was coming down the steps of the condo, and he turned and walked right by me on the sidewalk. I even said hello to him, and he said hi back,” Hernandez said, remaining self-assured. “I don’t think he expected to see anyone on the street at that hour. He kind of ducked his head when he saw me coming. But he said hello, walked by me and got into his car.”
“What kind of car?” Lich asked.
“Lexus, I think, white. He’d parked it down the street a ways. I kind of turned to watch him after he went past me. He got in the car and drove away. I remember thinking it was the darndest thing to have seen him on the street like that.”
“Mr. Hernandez, you’re sure?” Lich asked, a little unbelieving.
“Oh, yes. It was him. He’s on TV a lot. You couldn’t help but recognize him. I mean, he’s a pretty recognizable guy. You say Claire Daniels lived in that condo huh?”
“Yes, sir.” Mac replied.
“Kinda late to be leaving there.” Hernandez stopped for a second and put his finger to his mouth, and then quietly said, “Hmmm. I thought the senator was married.”
Mac was thinking the same thing and gave Lich another quick look, “Mr. Hernandez, we need you to come downtown and give us a statement.” Viper was parked on the north side of Summit Avenue, across the street from McRyan’s Explorer. That had been mere serendipity, as they were parked there when McRyan arrived in the late afternoon. They tried to move the van around all day, never parking in the same spot for too long. They had even changed vans around noon, from the dark blue one to white. It wasn’t unheard of that a murderer would be watching the police work at the crime scene and get noticed. Viper wanted none of that, so they changed vans and locations throughout the day.
Viper wanted to make sure the crime scene developed as planned. If the police investigated properly, they would find what Viper wanted them to find. He’d checked on McRyan, and the word was he was a good young cop. So far, so good, as the young detective and his tubby partner were following the trail of breadcrumbs he had left behind.
As he rubbed his eyes and yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time, he heard one of his crew exclaim, “
“Well that didn’t take long,” remarked Viper, a smile creasing his tired face.
