The St. Paul Conspiracy

advantage was that they knew what they were looking for, and McRyan didn’t. How long would that last?

Alt finished his beer. He pushed himself up out of his chair, walked back to the kitchen and grabbed another Heineken. He popped the top off and took a long drink, snorted lightly and shook his head. McRyan. Before he went to bed, Alt would go to his office, check on his money and move some of it. Twenty-four hours ago, he thought he was done. Now, more than ever, he realized he might have to run.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Cut him loose a little early, I guess.”

Mac put the key into the deadbolt and pushed in the front door to Claire Daniels’ place. It felt like an eternity since he’d been here last, although it had only been five weeks. The condo was cold and musty, a product of vacancy. He noticed a thin coating of dust on the once shiny coffee table. Claire would have disapproved. All the furniture and other furnishings remained in place, white sheets draped over most of them. There was a for sale sign out front, and the realtor told Mac a sale was imminent.

Lich, Rock, and Riley followed him in, all clapping their hands or making some other movement to shake off the cold outside air. “So, what are we looking for Sherlock?” Rock asked.

“Don’t know exactly,” Mac replied. “Let’s go through the place, see what we find.”

They didn’t really know what they were looking for, although Mac had outlined his thoughts at breakfast. Going at PTA at the moment didn’t make sense, even if the chief would have allowed it. They didn’t know what they were looking for, and PTA most likely would have eliminated any trace of anything that was within their control. What wasn’t in their control was whatever Jones and Daniels might have been talking about. They might have left something behind. Mac figured they had to find that, and then they would have something to go after PTA with. Problem was, they had no idea what Jones and Daniels shared. Mac and the others agreed that it was likely Jones found something she wasn’t supposed to and told Daniels about it. It might have been something financial, since Jones was the CFO, but they really didn’t know. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but not having any idea what the needle looked like. But they were all at the window, ready to place their bets.

Everyone took their coats off and threw them over the railing to the staircase and headed in different directions.

“Surprised they went back to Daniels’ place?” Bouchard asked.

“Nope. Nothing there though. We went through that place, what, four times?” Alt replied. They were sitting on Summit Avenue, looking from the north down St. Albans at the front of Daniels’ condo. Another van was parked on Grand to the south.

“Yeah.”

“And we knew what we were looking for,” Alt added.

“Pointless exercise in other words?”

“That’s my thought.”

“They don’t know that.”

“No, they don’t.”

“They’re cops. Pretty smart ones from what I’ve seen.”

“I’m not suggesting they aren’t. We’re here watching them after all,” Alt replied. “I just don’t think those documents are at Daniels’ place.”

“Where are they?”

“Heck if I know. We’ve looked everyplace I can think of. Hell, we’re still looking.”

“My worry is somebody’s going to stumble onto them,” Bouchard said, frowning.

“I have the same worry. So does Lindsay,” Alt replied. “You ready to bail on a moment’s notice?”

“Everything’s in place. You?”

“Definitely.”

They sat in silence, the wind gusts lightly rocking the van and MPR softly coming through the radio.

Bouchard sighed. “Going to be a long day watching these guys.”

Mac and Lich searched the upstairs while Riley and Rock took the main level, basement, and garage. They all pulled out drawers, sifted through papers, looked at pictures, went through boxes, searched closets and cabinets, pulled plates and dishes out of cupboards, looking for anything about Jones or PTA.

Mac found nothing. He went through every file on her computer. Nothing about PTA. He went through all of her filing cabinets, checked the hallway buffet cabinet, sifted through her closet, pulled clothes out of drawers and off shelves, went through all of her personal belongings. He even looked under her bed. Nothing about PTA. Nothing about Jones. He pulled a chair up in front of the cabinet that held the television. He stared at the columns of DVDs. He’d remembered her voluminous collection. There had to be over one hundred movies including lots of romantic comedies, but some steamy movies as well. Basic Instinct, 9? Weeks, Body Heat, even some of those steamy B-movies that found their way to Skinamax late at night. There were videos and DVDs of her news reporting. He remembered the sports reporter at Channel 6, Joe Elliott, talking about Daniels’s perfectionism. She even videotaped her golf lessons, he said. She was a total perfectionist. While an interesting little side note, the perfectionism didn’t seem to help here.

Everyone else crapped out as well. “Mac, we’ve been through the whole downstairs, storage, garage, everything,” Riley said. Nothing had been found.

Mac looked at his watch-12:30 p.m. “Let’s get some lunch.”

They went to Bobby’s Bar, along Grand Avenue, six blocks to the west of Daniels’s place. On the way, Mac took another look at the Daniels file. Over burgers, they discussed the case.

“So what’s next?” Lich asked.

“We go back and re-interview people in the neighborhood,” Mac answered. “I called Paul Blomberg, that guy who saw someone in the alley. Lich and I are going to talk to him again, run through what he saw. Maybe talking through it again will bring something.” Then to Riley and Rock, “I want you guys to go back and talk to her neighbors. In particular, talk to John Chase. He was next door and saw the senator leaving Claire’s place one night. Also, go across the street. Talk to this guy.”

“Who’s this?”

“Our eyeball witness who saw the senator leaving Daniels’ place the night of the murder, one Juan Hernandez.”

“Why are we talking to him again?”

“He was pretty observant and Johnny-on-the-spot the night Daniels was killed. I want to know if he saw anyone else hanging around. I’m not sure we asked because he gave us the senator, and we moved on that.”

Bouchard and Alt were in the Persian Rug store parking lot east of Bobby’s Bar, watching out the back of the van. Bouchard bought a couple of cold sandwiches and cups of coffee from the deli across the street. Hansen and Berg were in the other van parked on Victoria to the south, watching the front of Bobby’s.

Alt was reading the paper when Bouchard said, “Here they come.”

Fat Lich and McRyan got into the Explorer, while Riley and big Rockford jumped into a Ford pickup. McRyan turned into the Kozlak Foodmart lot, while Riley kept going east on Grand. Alt ordered the other van to follow Riley and Rockford. He and Bouchard would stay with McRyan.

“Deja vu all over again,” Bouchard quipped.

Blomberg didn’t have anything more for Mac and Lich. He gave his story again, almost word for word what he gave Mac a month earlier. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the alley that night or any other night.