happy.”
Mac replied, rather lamely, he thought, “I wasn’t aware I was unhappy.”
Lich rolled his eyes. “You’re joking right?”
Mac shook his head. The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and they walked out. He’d thought they avoided the media, but he was wrong. Sylvia Miller and the chief were conducting a press conference, and they got dragged in. In front of the cameras, Mac and Lich received the appreciation of the chief and the entire department for so quickly making an arrest. Thankfully, they weren’t required to answer any questions before Miller and the chief brought it to a close.
Mac was already taking a lot of shit because of Sally; it would only double now. He could just hear it at the bar tonight, his Uncle Shamus would undoubtedly be leading the ribbing, “Ladies and gentlemen I bring you the savior of the St. Paul Police Department, a fine Irish lad, Michael McKenzie McRyan.” Before Mac and Lich left, Chief Flanagan wanted them to stop by his office. Mac knew happy hour would be getting an early Friday start.
As they walked back to the station, Lich asked, “So what happened this afternoon?”
Mac related what he’d learned from Blomberg. Lich was unmoved.
“It’s probably nothing, but you better let Kennedy know.”
“I imagine I’ll get the chance at some point,” replied Mac. “And I’m sure our conversation will appear in the gossip column the next day.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mac and Lich spent a happy hour with the chief, Captain Peters, and Sylvia Miller in Flanagan’s office. They watched the replays of the evening news, laughed and applauded about what everyone had said on camera. Helen Anderson and Sally had been effusive in their praise of the police department, of Lich and Mac in particular. The cadre hooted at the TV when the senator and Hisle declared innocence, confident that when the evidence was presented, Johnson would be found innocent. Lich was his usual humorous self. “He’s guiltier than my second wife.”
Everyone had a drink, except the chief, who had at least two. Mac could understand why. Flanagan looked like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That feeling would be short-lived of course. With the serial killer still at large, the headaches would start up again first thing Monday morning. But that was Monday, and it was Friday-time to celebrate.
After having finished their drink, Mac looked at Lich, who nodded, time to go. They shook hands with everyone on the way out. Flanagan walked them through his door out to the waiting area, obviously happy, “Off to the Pub for you, boys?”
“At least for me,” Mac replied.
“What about you, Dick?”
Mac jumped in, “Well, Chief, I think ole Dicky boy here has a hot date with Dot.”
Lich gave him a dirty look. The chief was amused. “Haven’t learned your lesson yet?” Lich’s messy divorces were the subject of many a humorous story, usually told by Dick himself.
Lich shrugged his shoulders, “Chief, I’ve found that women are the one mistake continually worth making. Something my partner should realize.”
Flanagan laughed, a happy laugh, and put his arm around Mac’s shoulder, “I’m sure our young friend here will get around to Ms. Kennedy sooner or later.”
Even the chief knew about this, good grief. Mac stared at Lich who had another one of his shit-eatin’ grins on his face. Pay back was a bitch, boyo. Mac decided to cut his losses and turned to leave, “Come on, Dick Lick, give me a ride to the Pub.”
The chief laughed again, patted them both on the back, “You guys have a good time tonight. You’ve both earned it.”
They left Flanagan behind and jumped in Lich’s little purple Dodge Neon. Mac laughed every time he saw the heavyset Lich get behind the wheel. He made the Neon look like a toy car. Mac looked in the backseat. It looked as if half of Dick’s closet was in the backseat. “Geez, you living in the car?”
Lich smiled and said, “I haven’t been home much this week.”
“Does the backseat maybe turn into a Murphy Wallbed?”
Lich laughed, “I’ll mention that to Dodge. Maybe that could be an upgrade in this thing.” Lich dropped him off in front of McRyan’s Pub, “Have a good one, Mac.”
“You, too.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, boyo.”
Mac closed the car door and Lich was off. He walked in the front door and took in the crowd. Friday night was always a good night for the Pub. Cops always stopped off for a beer before heading home. Beers were cheap for any cop on Friday night, a never-ending happy hour. But this night was different. There were cops everywhere, double-maybe triple-the normal crowd. Mac could tell immediately that a cloud had lifted over the department. Everyone was in a good mood. Mac tried to reach the bar unnoticed. No dice. Once he was spotted, the place erupted.
As expected, Uncle Shamus made a spectacle of his nephew. There were backslaps all around, and Mac knew he wouldn’t have to pay for a drink all night. Of course, there was plenty of good-natured ribbing for being on television. Bonnie Schmidt, who had been at Daniels’s the morning they found her body, was in a happy mood. “You looked great on television.”
“Thanks, Bonnie, although I’d just as soon avoid the attention.”
“That ain’t gonna happen.”
Mac winced. He didn’t want to be some billboard for the department. He shoved that aside; it was Friday night, time to celebrate.
He soaked it up and enjoyed the next hour.
The boss took the news calmly. The operation on Daniels had been planned in three days. They only had that amount of time to conduct surveillance and form a plan. They were lucky that the senator was involved. It had created great cover. But with that narrow of a window, any number of things could go wrong. McRyan checking out their pick up point was one of those things. The unearthing of their pick up spot had not stopped the hearing from going forward. Viper seriously doubted that finding it would have caused that. However, McRyan would make a report of what he had learned, and it would be disclosed to counsel for the senator as part of defense discovery. The defense would obviously investigate other scenarios. Once they started looking, what else might they find?
“You’re concerned about this?” the boss asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you really think this would be enough to create any sort of reasonable doubt on the case?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer. But once they start looking-”
“Who knows what they will find,” the boss finished it for him and took a sip of coffee. No drinks. This wasn’t a happy hour. “I think it’s obvious what we need to do.”
Mac had a few beers and enjoyed himself thoroughly. Backslaps and thanks came one after another. He wanted to advance on merit as a cop. He wanted to live up to his father’s name. On this night, he felt like he’d done that. A couple of veteran detectives came up and gave him the, “Your dad would have been proud today,” made the night that much sweeter. Any doubts he had about the case had been washed away by the last couple of hours. People a lot more experienced than he were happy, so why shouldn’t he? The beers had given him a little buzz, and he was feeling good.
