The St. Paul Conspiracy by Roger Stelljes Page A

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 Grand Filet.”
    The Grand Filet was, naturally, on Grand Avenue, not far from Daniels’ 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 had interviewed two people that Channel 6 station manager Mary Carpenter had found for them. The two had individually threatened Daniels after investigative reports. Mac and Lich had run 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 of the neighborhood around Daniels’ place. It had been 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 had gotten a hold of 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 voicemail 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