They discussed her theories about how Hisle might handle their interview with the senator. Lich snorted, “In other words, she acted like a typical lawyer and didn’t really answer your question.”
Mac had to chuckle. Given his divorce terms, Lich had caskets of animosity stored up for attorneys. “She was a little evasive. Yes, but that’s because we don’t know what Hisle’s going to do anymore than he knows what we’ll do.”
“So,” Lich said, grinning, “how evasive was she?”
“Evasive?”
“Listen, son, you put the wood to her or what?”
“Jesus,” said Mac, giving Lich a disbelieving look.
“Sheesh, you really are out of practice.”
“Well, how’d you do with Dot?”
“A hell of a lot better than you did,” Lich said with a big shit-eating grin.
Mac winced, suddenly developing a bad mental picture of bald old Lich and big-breasted Dot flopping around. “Spare me the details.”
Mac exited 35E, onto Highway 36 for the drive east to Stillwater. The drive would have been a lot prettier three weeks earlier when the leaves were orange, red and yellow at the peak of the fall colors. Now, the ride out towards Stillwater was strewn with leaves blowing across the highway, the trees barren, waiting for the coming cold and snow of a Minnesota winter.
Stillwater, a burgeoning suburb twenty miles east of St. Paul, was located on the St. Croix River, which also served as the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin. Up on top of the bluff overlooking the St. Croix was “new” Stillwater, with big-box retailers and various other suburban amenities. The amenities were surrounded by suburban homes with large yards and three-car garages. The part of Stillwater sitting two hundred feet below the bluff and right on the St. Croix was the quaint old downtown. A lumber town, Stillwater had morphed into an elegant tourist trap of old red-brick and stone buildings full of little antique stores, restaurants and marinas for river boats.
Lyman lived just north of Stillwater, with a place on a little cliff overlooking the river. Once off the road, Mac took a long driveway that might have been a hundred yards long that circled in front of the house. The house itself was a sprawling prairie-style rambler, the back of which overlooked the river. Lyman undoubtedly had a groundskeeper of some sort in the summer, as there were flower beds and trimmed bushes appropriately scattered over the grounds. The flowers were now in hibernation, but the bushes were all in well-trimmed condition, rounded and squared appropriately. It was impressive.
“Representing criminals pays, don’t it, Mac?” Lich commented.
“Yeah, but Lyman’s a good guy.”
“Maybe I should have hired him for my divorce.”
They dropped the Explorer just past the front door. As they approached the house, Lich asked Mac, “Just thought I’d ask, you know so we’re prepared and all, how are you going to handle this?”
“My guess is the senator isn’t going to be so impressed with a young buck detective running things. If so, you look at me when we start, my look will let you know. Let’s play on that and see if we can’t get him riled up.”
“Good cop. Bad cop?” Lich said.
“Exactly.”
Lich smiled and moved to push the doorbell. Before he could, Hisle opened the door. “Good afternoon, detectives. Please come in.”
They entered into a large open foyer. “I thought we’d head into the library,” Lyman said, pointing down a hallway to their right.
The library was exactly that. There were windows that looked out over the river. The rest of the walls were built-in bookshelves, with an impressive collection of works. Mac saw an old collection of Charles Dickens tales. There were a few shelves with old legal treatises. Lyman also liked more modern fare, with many bestsellers.
In the middle of the library was a long conference table with four highbacked leather chairs on either side and one on each end. The floor was wood, but a large Persian rug sat in the center under the conference table. As they entered the library, Mason Johnson stood looking out the window. Casually dressed in tan slacks, he also wore a navy blue sweater and white button down collar shirt. Handshakes were exchanged, coffee poured, and they moved to the conference table. Johnson shook Mac’s hand, held it briefly, gave him a long look and smirked just slightly as they sat down. Inside, Mac smiled.
Lyman opened. “Marion, how should we proceed?”
“It’s McRyan’s case.” Peters said, nodding towards Mac.
Lyman looked at Mac and asked, “Well?”
Mac, pleasant to start, said, “I appreciate your and the senator’s willingness to meet with us. We were hoping the senator might be able to clear up a few things for us.”
“Like what, Michael?” Lyman asked.
“For example, was he at Ms. Daniels’ place the night she was killed?”
The senator looked at Lyman, who nodded. “You know I was.”
“What time did you leave?” Mac asked.
“Around 1:30 a.m.”
“Why were you there?”
“I was seeing Claire.”
“Describe ‘seeing,’ senator,” Lich asked.
“Claire and I were… involved.” Senator Johnson responded evasively.
“In other words, you were having sex with her,” Mac said bluntly. It was a statement, not a question, intended to push.
“Yes,” Johnson replied tersely.
“Did you use a condom?”
“No.” That made DNA less of an issue.
“How long had you and Ms. Daniels been sleeping together?” Mac asked.
“A couple of months.”
“How did you meet?” Lich inquired pleasantly. The senator spent fifteen minutes detailing his relationship with Daniels, where they had met and how the relationship had grown over time.
Mac thought about asking whether the senator’s wife knew about Daniels, but because Sally had said Hisle would likely shut that down, he decided to wait. Instead he asked, “Were you there two nights before Claire was killed?”
“Yes, I was.”
Mac, gratuitously, trying to push just a little, “Getting a little action that night as well?”
“I’m not sure it’s any of your business.” The senator replied sharply. Lyman grabbed his arm. Mac smiled. The senator didn’t like him.
Lich, good cop, jumped in all calm and respectful, “What time did you leave that night?”
“Similar time, around 1:30 a.m.”
“I was wondering… how did you get in the last night at Daniels’ place?” Lich asked.
“Claire let me in.”
Lich, conversational, “Was that always the case? How about the other nights, how did you get in those times?”
“Claire would let me in or I’d use a key she left under the front door mat.”
The senator relaxed a bit, so Mac decided to push a little again, “How’d Claire like it?”
Senator Johnson stared at him. “Like what?”
“Having sex. A little rough perhaps? Kinky?” Mac asked.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Johnson growled.
Lyman jumped in. “My client isn’t going to answer that.”
“Fine, Lyman,” Mac replied, then turned back to the senator, “Ms. Daniels seeing anyone else besides you?”
“No.”
“No?”
