Tax records in Hudson revealed he and his mother owned his home. They’d originally owned forty acres but recently sold thirty-five of them to a developer. Soon, a housing development would start around their five-acre plot. They’d come out well on the sale of the land.
“I wonder why the guy even continues to work?” mused Rockford.
“Mother probably kept it all. Fucking women,” Lich growled.
Mac and Lich had Saturday off, but were back on the tail Sunday. Most of the day was spent in the van, watching Knapp’s place from the housing development. Even with a day off, the tedium of a stakeout gets to one after a while. Fast food, bags of chips, coffee, sodas, nothing healthy to eat. He was cooped up in a van most of the day with the weather turning cold. There were only so many magazines and newspapers he could read. Only so many radio shows he could listen to. Only so many conversations he could have with Lich, especially when he started to talk about what he and Dot were doing.
“Dick, spare me the details.”
“Hell. I’m just hoping you’ll tell me what a fine piece of ass that Sally Kennedy is.”
Mac just rolled his eyes. “I don’t talk.”
Lich snorted, “You’re a cop. Cops talk. Let’s have it.”
Mac was going to reply when he saw Knapp walk out of the house and get into his car “Our boy’s on the move,” and not a second too soon. Knapp pulled down the driveway in the Grand Am. They still hadn’t seen the van.
“It’s Sunday night, he’s probably just going for milk or something,” Lich thought.
Mac grabbed the radio. Riley and Rockford were down the road at the Italian restaurant. “Riles, Knapp’s on the move.”
Lich jumped behind the wheel, and they followed him. He wasn’t just going for milk. He was heading west, back towards the Twin Cities, to Dick’s Bar. Knapp pulled into the parking lot behind the bar and went in the backdoor.
They pulled the van into the Dairy Queen parking lot kitty corner from Dick’s on the south side of University Avenue. Everyone else spread out, finding different parking places along the way.
Mac jumped on the radio, “Riles, what is this, four out of five night’s at Dick’s?”
“Yup.”
“Who’s going in?”
“Rockford.”
“Copy that.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mac’s cell phone went off, it was Rockford. “What’s up?”
“My dick! You weren’t kidding about the little bartender chick in here. She’s the shit.”
Mac had to laugh. Rockford’s wife wasn’t much to look at. Of course neither was Rock.
“Our boy isn’t focusing on her is he?”
“No. He’s all over the bar back.”
Knapp went home at 12:30 a.m., followed by the second shift of followers from the St. Paul Police Department. Mac, Riley, and the rest of them met at the Gas amp; Shop again. Mac and Lich were waiting when Riley’s van pulled up. As Riley got out of the van, Mac said, “I’ll bet you the $100 I won in pull tabs in there last week that the bar back is the one he’s after.
“No bet.”
“Anyone disagree?” Mac asked. Nobody did.
They knew for sure Monday night. After Knapp finished his Monday shift he went to dinner at Applebee’s. After his dinner he went to Dick’s, arriving at 8:00 p.m.
Riles got on the radio, “Mac, you go back in tonight.”
“Okay.” Mac slipped on an old softball jacket and stocking cap. His razor stubble and glasses topped off the ensemble.
Mac got on his cell phone and called Riley.
“Where’s our boy?” Riley asked.
“Sitting in the middle of the bar again.”
“Where are you?”
“End of the bar, by the entrance.”
“How’s our boy look?”
“Fine. Focusing alternately on the TV and on the bar back. I can’t imagine how he doesn’t get distracted by the bartender. I am,” Mac said, admiring Sheila again.
Knapp left the bar at 11:30 a.m. Once he jumped in his car, he didn’t drive away. Rather, he sat and watched from the back parking lot, well down from the back door of the bar. He watched well past the 2:00 a.m. closing time. At 2:10, the cute bartender came out and got into her little sports car. A couple of lights remained on. At 2:45 the lights inside went out, and the bar back, Linda, came out the back door, by herself. She walked thirty feet to her Chevy Trailblazer, jumped in and drove away.
Mac, Lich, Riley, and Rock kept watching as well. They weren’t leaving until Knapp did, which was at 3:00 a.m., slowly driving by the back of the bar, stopping briefly to scan the backdoor area. Then he left for home, with the second shift falling in behind him three blocks east on University, as he headed back to Hudson. Knapp had marked his prey.
Viper, Bouchard, and the rest of their merry band had been following Knapp as well. Viper, disguised with a beard and ball cap had followed McRyan into Dick’s. This was the third time he had gone in following Knapp, a different look each time. One time he had a mustache. Another time he wore out-of style dark-rimmed glasses and false teeth. He never went in with the same look. This time, he sat in a booth with a good view of Knapp.
The bartender came over to serve him. She was an attractive little thing. Viper ordered a Budweiser. When she left him, he whispered into his sleeve, “Come on in. I’m in a booth.”
Bouchard appeared five minutes later and sat down. Sheila came around again and took his order. Knapp didn’t follow, and Viper wondered how he couldn’t. Instead, he kept his eye on the less-attractive woman behind the bar. To the trained eye one could see the hunger in Knapp’s eyes. She was the one.
Viper watched as Knapp got up from his stool and headed down the back hallway. He always hit the can once a trip, good cover to check out the back hallway.
The bartender and bar back, as it turned out, were the co-owners. Dick had been their dad, and they’d taken over when he died. They both ran the bar and worked the late nights. They were making a boatload, a good six figures a year, according to tax records. They kept the overhead low, working most nights by themselves, with one guy working the kitchen. That was it. A cleaning company came each day. There were no other workers or staff. They would probably work it for a few more years, then sell and leave for better environs, Viper thought.
The bartender, Sheila, came from behind the bar again to serve Bouchard his Bud Light. As she walked back to the bar, Knapp came back down the hallway and retook his stool. Viper looked down the hallway for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”
The men’s bathroom was all the way down the back hallway on the right. Viper pushed the door in and found himself in a small hallway that after five or six feet turned left, down a longer hallway, a little more than ten feet that ran into a wall that contained the sink and mirror. To the immediate left was the toilet stall. Wrapped around behind the stall was a wall with two urinals. Viper took a piss and listened. He couldn’t even hear the sounds of the bar. It was as if the bathroom was soundproofed. It had potential.
When Knapp left at 11:30, McRyan followed a few minutes later. Viper and Bouchard waited an additional fifteen minutes to leave. They got into a van and left the area, then switched vans and worked their way back towards Dick’s. They knew where the four police vehicles were located and steered clear. From their perch well east and behind the bar, they could see Knapp’s car, him in it and the back of the bar.
“You know, he’s getting the hunger to go for her. He’s doing the recon on her now. It’s not gonna be but two or three nights more, and he’ll go for her,” Bouchard mused.
“You’re right, and there are cops all over the place out here.”
“They’re on him day and night.”
“You have Kraft evaluate going after him at the farm house?” Viper asked.
