The St. Paul Conspiracy

level of the Vincent Ramp, right?”

“That’s right,” Rock replied.

“Surveillance cameras show nobody up there. In fact, nobody on any of the ramp levels.”

“Bad surveillance system?” Lich asked.

“I asked. It’s okay, nothing special,” Mac replied. “But there’s another thing.”

“Which is?”

“Ballistics. The bullet was for a Russian sniper rifle,” Mac let it hang in the air.

“They’re sure?” Lich asked quietly.

“They are,” Mac answered, then to Rock and Riley, “Anybody with any of the families from Russia, have Russian or Soviet military background, have access to a Russian sniper rifle, have a background indicating they would be good with a sniper rifle? Oh, and then have that rifle available when there’s two hours notice of when we’re walking Knapp into court and then be able to get away without a trace, not be picked by surveillance cameras?”

Both just shook their heads.

But Lich wasn’t buying it-at least not yet. “So, fine, Mac,” Lich asked, “You think something is amiss with Jones. But what about Daniels? I was with you when we interviewed the senator. He admitted everything we needed. Frankly, he came off as guilty to me, and to Peters too. So, now you’re saying the senator didn’t kill Daniels?”

“I’m saying it’s possible. Dick, I know this sounds like revisionist history, but I never completely believed the senator did Daniels. It didn’t make sense.” Mac shrugged, “On the evidence we had, we did what we had to do. But the case always bothered me.”

“Why?” Rock asked.

“Politicians, especially ones like Senator Johnson, leave themselves a way out of every situation. Escapability, deniability-it’s in their DNA. They don’t put themselves in a position like the senator did-if he did. Murder? There’s just no escape from that. Even the suggestion of it is a career killer, just ask Gary Condit. Even if Daniels threatened to expose their little affair to his wife or someone else, that’s a manageable situation, happens to politicians all the time. It’s not a situation to kill over, certainly not with all the evidence left behind pointing at him.”

“But if the senator didn’t do it, who did?” Riles asked. “On that case, you had no forced entry and a witness having Johnson leaving around the time of estimated death. I mean that’s pretty solid. What evidence do you have that someone else did this?”

“One thing that never came out was a witness I found about the time of the senator’s hearing. I got a call from a guy named Paul Blomberg.” Mac related the story of the alley pick up behind Daniels’ place the night of her murder.

“This is news to me. Why didn’t it ever came out?” Rock asked.

“We never had to disclose it because the prosecution never went any further. It would have been an issue at trial.”

“So, the senator doesn’t kill Daniels. We prosecuted the wrong man, and he commits suicide over it! Shit, shit, shit!” Lich said, shaking his head, disturbed over the thought. He kicked a chair. “Damn it.”

“If he did commit suicide, Dick,” Sally said. “Maybe he didn’t.”

Lich, skepticism in his voice, “What? Now you’re saying the senator didn’t commit suicide? I mean I was out there. I saw what you saw.”

“Dick, do you know what the senator’s blood alcohol was at the time of his death?” Mac asked.

“No, I don’t, but I suppose your going to tell me.”

“This afternoon, when I was working all of this out, I spoke with Rick Hansen, the Wright County Sheriff. Remember him?”

Lich nodded.

Mac continued. “Hansen told me the senator’s blood alcohol was.32 percent at the time of death.”

“Whoa,” Riley blurted.

“Exactly,” Mac replied, “At the senator’s weight.32 and you’re smoked, passed out, not getting up on any stool to hang yourself.”

“Not impossible either, Mac,” Rock added with a laugh, a little levity. “I mean, there were a couple of guys in here last night that might have pushed to that level, and they were still standing.”

“Could they have climbed a barstool?” Mac asked, not laughing.

“I doubt it.” Rock answered quietly.

“Exactly. I bet ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a person that loaded passes out long before doing anything, let alone hanging yourself. Besides, if you proclaim your innocence as strongly as the senator and Lyman Hisle did, do you commit suicide that same night? Before going to trial?”

“So, somebody killed the senator? Made it look like a suicide?” Lich asked.

“Possibly,” Mac replied. “Follow it all the way out, Dick. If you have the ability to take out Daniels and Jones in the same night, what’s taking out the senator a few nights later? It’s November, and there are few if any people at the lake. Not to mention the fact that his cabin was isolated and hidden, thick pine trees everywhere. Remember?”

Lich nodded, starting to buy it.

“It was the perfect place to stage a suicide.” Mac finished and slammed his beer. He’d shot his wad. But it was comforting to him that an uncomfortable silence overtook the room. The boys were thinking about it. What he’d just told them made some sense.

Riley spoke first, lightly shaking his head, pinching the top of his nose, “Christ, Mac.”

“What can I say?”

“You sold me,” Riley replied.

“Yeah?” Mac was a little surprised. “What about everyone else?”

Rock and Lich nodded as well.

“I don’t suppose you have a suspect in mind,” Rock inquired.

“I do, but it’s total speculation at this point.”

“As if this whole thing isn’t?” Rock replied with a rueful chuckle. “Hell, you’ve gone this far, boy. Don’t stop now.”

What the hell, Mac thought. “This is not one person acting alone here. Not possible. Whoever did this, if you assume I’m right, had to have money, resources, and people to do this.”

“Agreed,” Riles said. “If you’re right, this is some sort of coordinated effort, and there are some very skilled people-professionals-at work here.”

“So, cut to the chase, Mac. Who do you think it is?” Lich asked.

“I don’t have a person.”

“Mac?” Lich was getting impatient.

“PTA.”

Jaws went agape.

“Holy shit, Mac,” Riley finally replied, shaking his head. Rock let out a slow whistle.

“What makes you think that?” Lich asked.

“This is where it gets a little thin.”

“Ohhhhhh, this is where it gets thin,” Riley said, a huge smile on his face, causing them all to laugh.

Mac smiled and kept going. “Jones was the CFO at PTA. She took over for a guy who died last year. Stephens was his name. He’d been there a long time, died in a car accident on Shepard Road. Nothing hinky about that. I talked to one of the patrol guys on the scene. It was a one-car accident that happened in a snow storm around the time of the state hockey tournament.”

Everyone nodded at that, remembering the storm-over a foot of snow.

Mac moved on. “I don’t know. Maybe Jones stumbles across some financial issue that Stephens had managed to bury. PTA naturally wants her to keep it quiet, continue to cover it up. She balks.”

“Yeah,” Sally added. “She has nasty visions of Enron. She’s the next incarnation of Sharon Watkins.”

“And she knows Claire Daniels,” Riles said, finishing and picking up on the train of thought.