“Well, good luck to you. But one thing,” Lyman asked.
“What’s that?”
“If you do find anything that harms the company, you let me know. That’s the quid pro quo I want for speaking with you tonight,” Lyman stated. “I want to know. There are thousands of employees at PTA. If you’re right, Lindsay ordered it. That could literally kill the company. So, I need to know so I can inform those who remain on the board. I may be gone from there, but I care about the company. Its health is important to this city.”
“Fair enough.”
“Mac, why don’t you get back to the bar?” Uncle Shamus suggested.
“Yeah, okay. Shamus, I need to use Patrick’s Room.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need to get going as well,” Lyman added and gave Mac one last look. “I’ll hear from you?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck,” Lyman said as he shook Mac’s hand. Shamus opened the door and patted Mac on the back as he walked out. Lyman would wait a few minutes and leave on his own down the back steps.
Kraft had loitered thirty or so feet away from the door to the office. With his back to the wall, he alternately watched the door, a couple of attractive thirtyish women sitting at the bar, and a Wolves game up on the TV.
As he put his beer up to his lips, the door opened and McRyan came out, with his uncle closing the door behind him. But he also noted legs sitting in a chair. Kraft decided not to follow and waited to see who the other person was. Five minutes later, Lyman Hisle exited the office.
Mac came back down to find Sally listening to Riley, Rock, and Lich talk about Sheila Bradley and her two big assets.
“I’m telling you, they were the size of cantaloupes,” Riley was saying, cupping his hands in front of his chest. Obviously the drinks were feeling good as Riles was revving up. “Mac, am I lying?”
Mac looked at Sally, who just smiled. “No, you aren’t. I want all you guys to join me in the basement for a minute, I want to show you something.”
“What’s that?” Rock asked.
“Just come down. Rounds on me,” Mac replied neutrally. He grabbed five beers off the bar and turned for the backstairs, joined by everyone. In the basement was the Pub game room with dartboards, pool tables and a few video games. A couple of big screens added a sports flavor, the Wild game playing in the background. Behind the stairs was a hallway. In the hallway was a built in cabinet in the wall. Mac slid open the middle drawer, reached under the ledge and popped a latch. The cabinet, a remnant from the bygone era of prohibition, was the hidden door to Patrick’s Room.
Patrick’s Room was a conference room, that during prohibition was a place one could get a drink and socialize without fear of trouble with the authorities, as the place was owned by the authorities. Despite its legendary history, Patrick’s room was now simply a well-furnished conference room with a white board, conference table, couch, and a TV/DVD, which was used for bartender and waitress training for dram shop liability. Shamus often made it available for cop poker games and Texas Hold’em tournaments. Once inside, everyone grabbed a seat at the conference table.
“So, what’s this all about?” Lich asked.
“I want you guys to hear me out on something.”
“Which is?” Rock asked suspiciously, noting Mac’s tone.
“You ever hear of Bristol, Ohio?”
Riley furrowed his brow, “No. Should I?”
“Hometown of Jamie Jones. She graduated from high school there, 1987.”
“I appreciate the local color. So what?”
“Let me ask another question. Who was killed the same night as Jones?”
“Claire Daniels,” Riles replied. “But Mac, what does that have to do with-”
“She graduated from Bristol, Ohio, high school in 1987.”
The room went quiet. Mac suddenly had everyone’s attention.
“How big a town is Bristol?” Lich asked after a minute.
“Oh, about 1,214 people. Pretty steady for the last twenty or so years,” Mac replied. “The graduating class for Daniels and Jones was forty-two students.”
“How’d you come up with this?” asked Rock.
Mac related how he came to the discovery, Jones missing on the wall at Knapp’s place, looking at Jones’s file, finding the yearbook at Daniels’s, making a couple of phone calls.
“So, you’re suggesting that the senator didn’t kill Daniels?” Lich asked. “Are you suggesting that we didn’t have that right? That we rung up an innocent man.” Lich was concerned.
“I’m suggesting it’s possible.”
“Counselor, you buying the stuff your boy’s selling?” Lich queried, still in disbelief.
“Yeah,” said Kennedy. “I wish he was wrong, and you guys are the detectives, but I think he’s onto something.”
“Come on, Mac, isn’t it possible that all we have here is a coincidence,” Riles pleaded. “I mean you’re talking about your signature case. You’re going to tear that down on nothing more than a couple of facts that might fit together sideways. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll grant you that it’s a little out there,” said Mac, “but Knapp was keeping his headlines. He was taping the news programs. He builds this monument to his work. Everything’s there, except this one thing-”
“-Jones.” Riley finished, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Exactly. Nothing about Jones.” Mac pushed further. “Don’t you find that odd? Aren’t you the least bit curious about that?”
“So, he didn’t keep clippings of one murder. Maybe it was all part of his grand plan. Guy was crazier than a shit-house mouse, Mac,” Rock snarled. “You read the file. Wouldn’t you agree that the details of all the murders, including Jones, match up perfectly?”
“Yeah, with the exception of one thing.”
“Which is?”
“Jones! She doesn’t fit with the other victims,” Mac asserted. “Think about it, Rock. In all the time we were following Knapp, did he ever once, just once, go downtown?”
“Nope.”
“That’s right. He kept to the University Avenue area. How would he have run into Jones?”
“Who knows. Maybe she bumped into him at some bar or restaurant. We weren’t on him then. He stalks her, takes her down-a new experience or something,” Rock argued, his conviction waning.
“She doesn’t fit the profile, Rock,” Mac kept on. “If I’m right, if you wanted to cover the reason to kill Jones, what better way than to make her death look just like another serial killing. We look in the direction of the serial killer because that’s where the evidence points.” Mac crossed his arms. “If I’m right, whoever did this got exactly what they wanted.”
“But, Mac, few, if any, of the details about what Knapp was doing to the women leaked. We managed that. The only thing the media had solid was the balloon.” Riley added, a skeptical tone remaining in his voice. “So, how do they get all the details right?”
“Come on,” Mac growled. “It didn’t leak to the media, fine. But it could easily leak to someone else, intentionally or by accident. We aren’t the damned CIA around here. Shit leaks all the fuckin’ time. Point being, it’s entirely possible somebody could have copied the murders.” Mac sipped his beer, and tacked in another direction. “Of course, we could have tried to ask Knapp about this. We could have asked him about Jones and watched him go blank, deny it, but we can’t do that now, can we? That’s kind of convenient, don’t you think?”
Riley, catching Mac’s drift, said, “You think Knapp’s assassination yesterday had something to do with this?”
“Possibly,” Mac replied. “I checked in with the guys looking at that. The theory is the shooter was on the third
