First Deadly Conspiracy Box Set

by Roger Stelljes

  Sally passed on coffee, having brought a bottle of Aquafina with her. She sat down on the other end of the couch and greeted Mac. “Good morning, Detective.”

  “Mornin’, Counselor.”

  It was Lich’s turn to stifle a laugh and a grin. He could just hear Lich asking, “Seen her tits yet?” Not that Mac had tried, he barely knew Kennedy, although Lich’s reprimand about getting back in the game had him suddenly thinking about her. Her red hair was up again, and she had the stylish glasses back. She looked good in a form-fitting gray plaid skirt suit, white silk blouse, and heels.

  The chief hung up the phone and sauntered on over to the group, grabbing one of the leather chairs. His coat was already off, sleeves rolled up. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee. “Peters should be here in a minute. We’ll get started then.”

  The group engaged in some brief discussion about the upcoming Vikes game. Packer week would do that. Anderson, a Packer fan, was predicting a tough day for the Purple at Lambeau.

  After a couple of minutes, Peters came in and quickly grabbed the last chair and poured a cup of coffee.

  The chief looked at Mac, “So what’s the scoop?”

  Mac spent the next few minutes giving everyone the rundown on the autopsy report and discussions with forensics. The last topic discussed was the lack of any evidence of forced entry. It had everyone focusing on the senator.

  “Well that last phone call was with Lyman Hisle,” the chief stated. “Can anyone guess who his client might be?”

  Mac smiled. He knew Lyman well, knew he didn’t represent just anybody, “A certain US senator who just might be implicated in the death of a prominent local television reporter?”

  “I see that U of M education didn’t go to waste,” Flanagan replied, smiling.

  Sally jumped in, “So, what did he have to say?”

  “Oh, that his client, the esteemed senior senator from the state of Minnesota, is guilty. So, in an effort to avoid inconveniencing anyone and wasting hard-earned tax dollars he was elected to protect, what would be the best time for him to turn himself in and save us all the time and effort of a lengthy drawn out jury trial?” Lich replied wryly, causing everyone to have a good laugh.

  “No, Dick, although, Lord knows, we could use it,” said the chief, still chuckling.

  Anderson got everyone back on track. “So, what did he have to say?”

  “He said his client had some information. That, since we might run across him as part of the investigation, he thought it’d be a good idea to get together,” the chief replied.

  “When?” asked Mac.

  “They’d like to do it tomorrow afternoon, 1:00 p.m., at Lyman’s house in Stillwater.”

  “Why out there?” asked Anderson.

  “My guess,” replied Sally, “is that he wants to keep a low profile. No media attention. If the senator shows down here at the Public Safety Building, the media’ll see him and wonder why he’s here.”

  “Seems to make sense,” Peters piped in.

  “Yeah, not to mention, if he’s trying to keep it from his wife, better if it’s not at a hotel, the airport, or even at this condo, where it might look odd if the police showed up to meet with him,” said Mac.

  “Exactly,” said Flanagan.

  “Will we grant their request?” Sally inquired.

  “Yes,” replied the chief. “We play this one close to the vest for now.”

  “Agreed,” replied Anderson, surprising everyone. “We keep it quiet. We don’t want to compromise the prosecution.”

  “Good,” Flanagan replied. “We’re all on the same page. Mac and Dick, I want you guys to work with Ms. Kennedy to prep for tomorrow’s interview with the senator. She may give you some insight as to what Lyman will do. He’s apt to have a trick or two up his sleeve, and we may only get one shot at the senator before Lyman intercedes and says, ‘Prove it.’ So let’s be ready,” Flanagan said sternly. “And I want the prep work done outside the building, preferably after hours. I don’t want any attention drawn to this.” Chief Flanagan looked at Anderson, “Helen, I assume that’s okay with you?”

  Anderson nodded her agreement. The chief continued, “You guys figure it out, but I don’t want you seen meeting around here. People’ll talk, think we have something solid. I told Hisle we’d keep the meeting quiet, at least for the time being. So, nobody in this room talks about this with the media or anyone else.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “Mac? Green and Clark—do they know about the senator?” the chief asked Mac.

  “Yes. They interviewed the neighbor John Chase first.”

  “This comes from me—they don’t talk.”

  “I’ll convey that message, sir.” Mac didn’t need to worry about those two, and the chief knew it, but he was covering all the bases.

  “Dick?”

  With his hands up, Lich replied, “I know, I know.”

  “Okay then. You two and Ms. Kennedy here figure out what you’re going to do. And, Mac, you and Lich let me or Peters know if anything develops today.”

  With that, the meeting ended. Mac, Lich, and Sally walked to the elevator.

  “So, how do you guys want to do this?” Sally asked.

  “My place is up on Summit, close to downtown,” Mac said. “Let’s all meet there at 7:00 p.m. I’ll order pizza.” Lich knew where Mac lived, but Kennedy needed directions.

  “Sounds good,” replied Kennedy, “I’ll see you guys then.”

  Mac and Lich got off on the second floor, heading to their desks. Kennedy continued onto the main level. Her office at the Ramsey County Courthouse was a five-block walk away.

  After they got off the elevator, Lich let out a disappointing sigh.

  “What’s up?” asked Mac.

  “Tonight.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I gotta date with Dot. You know, that waitress with the major-league cantaloupes.”

  Mac smiled, “Dicky boy, Dicky boy, what time?”

  “Seven.”

  Mac thought for a moment. He wasn’t even sure they really needed to meet with Sally yet, although she likely would have some insight on dealing with a shark like Lyman. The interview wouldn’t be much different than any other, and Lich was actually pretty good on interviews. Lich didn’t need to be there. “Look, we’re going out to Hisle’s place tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll have time to talk in the morning, so go ahead.”

  “You sure?” asked Lich.

  “Yeah, but I reserve the right to ask for details, at least about Dot. I can do without details about you.”

  Lich chuckled. “Thanks, man.”

  Mac took another look at Lich. He was wearing a brown suit, beat-up black lace-ups, and a faded yellow shirt with a brown-and-tan striped tie. It was not an impressive ensemble. “What’re you wearing tonight?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Promise me it’s not what you have on now?”

  “What’s wrong with this?” Lich said, looking down at himself nonplused.

  Mac rolled his eyes, shook his head, and kept walking, leaving Lich behind to examine his reflection in an office window.

  Chapter Nine

  “Will Hisle let his client talk?”

  Lich was getting anxious. He was nervously tapping his pen on the desk, checking his watch every thirty seconds. Mac took a look at his watch, 4:45 p.m. “So, Dick. What do you and Dot have planned?”

  “We’re meeting at the Grand Filet.”

  The Grand Filet was, naturally, on Grand Avenue, not far from Daniels’s place. It was a small restaurant that would seem more in place two hours to the north of St. Paul. The Filet had a real Northwoods feel, with cedar-planked walls and the best walleye in town. It was perfect for them.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah, the Filet, man. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  Mac laughed and thought of Dot’s rather impressive rack, “Dick, that is not the feast you’ve been thinking about all day.”
>
  Dick grinned. “Fuck you.”

  “Look, go ahead and bail. We’re not accomplishing anything right now.” They had been back for a half hour. In the morning they interviewed two people that Channel 6 station manager Mary Carpenter found for them. The two had individually threatened Daniels after investigative reports. Mac and Lich ran both men through the drill, but both had good alibis. Neither felt right. After the interviews, the two detectives spent the rest of the afternoon on follow-up canvassing the neighborhood around Daniels’s place. It was fruitless. Neighbors hadn’t seen anything on the night of the murder or anything unusual in the days leading up to it. A few people still weren’t home, and Mac left his card behind with a request that they contact him. The one big piece of news from the day was that the district attorney’s office obtained the senator’s prints, which had now been matched to the key.

  “Have fun with Dot.”

  Lich gave him a knowing smile, stood up, put on his coat, and headed out with a distinct spring in his step.

  Mac smiled to think that Lich looked forward to a date at his age. Good for him. Well, if Lich wasn’t coming tonight, he’d better let Kennedy know. He picked up the phone, dialed, and heard, “Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Sally Kennedy. I’m either on my phone or away from my desk …” He hit POUND and left her a message. It was 5:00 p.m., enough time to get a workout in before getting home to meet with Sally.

  • • • • •

  Sally pecked away at a motion on her computer, a light-rock station playing quietly in the background. She wanted to polish the motion a bit more before finishing. It would be ready to file in the morning. She took a sip of her Diet Pepsi, when there was a knock on the door and she turned to find Helen standing in her doorway. Sally hit the DND on her phone, and Helen shut the door.

  “So, with Johnson’s prints, he’s the prime suspect in the Daniels case, don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “Are you all set with McRyan and Lich tonight?

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think of them?” asked Anderson, a touch of skepticism in her voice.

  Sally gave it some thought before responding. “I don’t know yet. Lich’s been around, although it sounds as if he’ll occasionally talk out of school to the media.”

  “What about McRyan?” Helen pushed.

  “I haven’t seen him in action. The chief and Peters obviously think highly of him. I sense you have your doubts?”

  “He strikes me as a lightweight,” Anderson replied. “I want you to call me tonight after you’re done to let me know. I can always press Charlie to make a change.”

  Sally had to stifle a laugh. Helen Anderson would have absolutely no ability whatsoever to get Chief Charles Flanagan to change a detective on a case. Sally had seen first hand in the past two days—Flanagan ran his department his way, politics be damned. She rather liked it, too—doing the right thing as opposed to the politically expedient one. If the chief thought McRyan was right for the case, so be it. Nonetheless, she needed to keep her boss informed. “I assume I can reach you at home tonight.”

  “No,” Helen answered. “Call me on my cell.”

  “What, a hot date?”

  “No,” Anderson replied coolly. “Fundraiser.”

  • • • • •

  Mac was late. He’d stopped for a workout at a buddy’s gym. He finished by 6:30 p.m., but then his buddy, Joe Ball, went into his stand-up routine. Joe was a classic, ten jokes at the drop of a hat. Mac couldn’t tell a joke to save his life. Joe’s stand-up routine caused Mac to lose track of time and suddenly it was 6:50. Mac rushed out of the club, got in the Explorer, and raced for his place. He pulled in right at 7:00 p.m. and ran up to his third-floor apartment. He got in and threw his gym bag in the spare bedroom when the doorbell rang. Sally.

  Mac hit the buzzer to let her up. He needed to take a quick shower. But first he ran into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers, Grain Belts. As he was walking back in with the beers, there was a knock on the door. He opened it up. Whoa.

  • • • • •

  Since Lich was not going to be at the meeting, Sally had decided a quick shower and a change of clothes would be in order. She was attracted to McRyan and thought maybe it was time he saw her in something a little different than her business suits.

  After her shower, she took a look in her closet and tried on a few different ensembles, settling on a pair of tight tan suede pants and a body-forming white-ribbed turtleneck. The outfit would allow appreciation of her figure. She let her fiery red hair down to its regular shoulder length, and put a little curl in it so it fell just over her right eye. Leaving her glasses behind, she popped in her contacts. The outfit was completed with some silver hoop earrings, soft red lipstick, and makeup, a bit more than she normally put on. Her mirror confirmed it—she looked good.

  McRyan apparently thought so as well.

  • • • • •

  Mac’s heart skipped a beat, and he did a double take. He almost didn’t recognize her. She looked fantastic. “Come in,” he said, trying to be cool.

  Sally gave him a little smile and walked by him and took off her coat. Mac finally remembered to speak. “I’m sorry. I went to work out. I just got home. I need to hop in the shower quick.”

  “No problem,” replied Sally.

  “Before I do that, I should order. Pizza okay?”

  “Yeah, great.”

  Mac asked, “Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, what do you like?”

  “I love garbage pizzas.”

  Mac grinned. A woman after his own heart. “I’m on it. By the way, I grabbed a couple of Grain Belts out of the fridge.”

  “Great. I could use a beer.”

  “I’m … ah … going to hit the shower,” he waved his arm around his apartment. “What’s mine is yours.”

  • • • • •

  Sally walked around while Mac showered. She was pleased her outfit seemed to have the desired effect. Of course, this was a strictly professional meeting, and they needed to prepare for the senator. Nonetheless, she was having some fun again.

  Mac had the whole third floor of the Summit Avenue mansion. It was a large space. She was a bit surprised that it was tastefully appointed with a large black leather couch with a matching love seat and two chairs. A big, weathered, antique trunk served as the coffee table. She perused a bookshelf. He had a collection of mystery and military thrillers and was obviously a fan of John Sandford and Vince Flynn. Next to the bookshelf were two large, framed, autographed posters. One was of Kirby Puckett, pumping his fist, having just hit the winning homer in the eleventh inning of Game Six of the 1991 World Series. The other was Bruce Springsteen, the best ever.

  At the end of the living room on the right was the kitchen. It was small, had an old gas stove, a small fridge and microwave, but not much else. There was barely room for the sink and cupboards. What caught her attention, however, was the door out to a small deck.

  The deck made whatever Mac was paying for the place worth it. The view was panoramic. To the right she had a view over the Mississippi River and the High Bridge. Straight ahead was downtown St. Paul, a perfect view of the skyline, as well as the Xcel Energy Center and Science Museum. To the left was the State Capitol, brightly lit. She imagined McRyan spent summer nights sitting on the deck, having a beer and surveying the city.

  She could still hear the water running when she walked back in and sat down on the couch and started thumbing through a Sports Illustrated.

  • • • • •

  Mac took a quick shower, put on a pair of jeans, and threw on a black mock turtleneck. Sally had stunned him. She was not unattractive at work. In talking with her at the Pub the night before, he realized that underneath the professional veneer was a very attractive woman. But it was clear how much she dressed professionally and was all business while at work.

  He stopped in his office and grabbed his notepad and then walked back out into the living room to
find Sally sitting on the black leather couch. Mac grabbed his beer and sat down in one of the black leather chairs. “Pizza should be here in a few. Should we get started?”

  “Yeah. Other than Senator Johnson’s prints, anything new today?”

  “No.” Mac mentioned that the remaining neighbors didn’t seen anything, and that the few people who’d threatened Daniels because of her work did not look good.

  “Anyone else you haven’t talked to?”

  “A few people in Daniels’s neighborhood haven’t been home when we’ve knocked. They might be out of town. I left my card. I’m sure we’ll hear from them eventually, although at this point, I’d be stunned if anything came from it.”

  “So, it looks like the senator’s the guy?”

  “Looks that way,” replied Mac, grabbing his notepad and pen. “So, when we meet with the senator tomorrow, do you think Hisle will let him talk?”

  Just as Sally opened her mouth to answer, the doorbell buzzed.

  The pizza was a Classic Supreme with everything on it but anchovies and black olives from Classic Italian Pizza. Mac grabbed a cutting board from the kitchen on which to set the pizza. Plates, forks, and napkins were grabbed as well, along with two more beers. The spicy aroma of hot pizza made both of them realize it was getting late and they hadn’t eaten. The pizza didn’t stand a chance. Once it was devoured, they got back to business.

  Mac started pretty much where they left off. “So, when we meet Johnson tomorrow, do you think he’ll talk or be a mute?”

  That was the $50,000 question. Would Hisle let his client talk? “Were this a run-of-the-mill murder case, probably not,” Sally said.

  “But this isn’t your run-of-the-mill murder case, is it?”

  Shaking her head, “No, it’s not.”

  Mac took a pull from his beer, leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “So, in this case, you think he’ll talk?”

  “Some.” She said this thoughtfully.

  He lowered his head and looked straight at her, “How much is some?”