The early morning in the office had proven to be a godsend.
Steve had spent a significant amount of time with Vice to get some much-needed answers, even managing to secure the search warrant for Glenn's apartment well before noon. After talking to the landlord earlier, he didn't put a lot of hope into finding major clues, but he was going to try his luck regardless.
Frankie Donovan, owner, manager and your-guy-friday of the apartment complex, had told him that Glenn was rarely ever home and most definitely seemed to be a loner. So far, their victim fit the profile Steve had worked up on him.
Antisocial around strangers, with a lack of maternal and paternal role models, deeply withdrawn into his own world, seeking emotional ties outside his dysfunctional family structure, burdened with anxiety over his sexual preferences, borderline depressed.
Taking a right off Irving onto 14th Avenue, he quickly located the complex in question a few yards down the road. The sign for Spring Creek Apartments was older, with the k hanging askew from a few broken rods. Pulling the Galaxy into a parking spot across the street, Steve looked around to locate the rental office, eventually noticing the small door off to the right
Sighing wearily, he stole a glance over at the empty spot on the bench next to him.
Mike was busy with court appearances this morning, making the young Inspector feel somewhat insecure. After working together for several months, he came to miss his partner each time he ran a solo assignment. There was just something profoundly calming about Mike's presence. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, his partnership and friendship with the seasoned Lieutenant had made him a better person. Maybe even a calmer one.
Exiting the tan sedan, Steve crossed the street and entered the small office door adjacent to the apartment complex. Old cigars smell and dated furniture were his greeting, as he looked around to locate the landlord. A large desk in the back corner seemed to be his best bet, judging by the rows of file cabinets behind and next to it.
"Hello? Is anybody here?", Steve tried when a short man appeared from behind the desk. Wearing only a white stained tank top, the bald man was puffing on a cigar as he eyed the young Inspector suspiciously.
"Are you the one who called about the two-bedroom apartment? I told you it won't be ready till April."
Clearing his throat, Steve reached for his badge.
"Mister Donovan, I am Inspector Steve Keller from San Francisco PD. We talked on the phone earlier."
"Ah yes.", the man's features brightened noticeably, and he reached out his hand, leaving the cigar dangling in his mouth, "Pleased to meet you. I am always happy to help our friends from the police."
Steve shook the sweaty hand and forced a smile, when the insincerity of the man's words began to gnaw on his nerves.
"Good. I…eh…I have a search warrant here for Glenn Malcolm's apartment. Would you mind showing me where it is?"
"Oh yes, yes of course, follow me young man.", the owner offered and walked around the desk towards the front of the office, leaving behind a cloud of blue smoke enveloped by the unmistakable scent of strong body odor.
They got back out on the street for some much-needed fresh air, before Donovan led him upstairs through a large, concreted entryway. The apartment building seemed out of date in some places, but still pleasingly well maintained in others. The few sad faces he crossed led Steve to assume it was a haven for loners or other societal misfits.
"Here you go, Inspector." Donovan said as they reached the third floor, "Let me unlock this for you. Do you want me to hang around and help? The other day I watched a cop show and this cop was attacked by the murderer still hiding in the apartment and-"
Steve cut him off with the best smile he could muster.
"I don't think that will be necessary Mister Donovan. I am…er…I am armed.", theatrically patting his service revolver, he waited until the door was unlocked before taking a bigger step away from the reeking man, "But I will be sure to call for you, if I need any backup!"
"You do that, Inspector! I'll be ready.", Donovan said before strolling away, whistling a tune he couldn't quite place.
Relieved, Steve cleared his thoughts before looking around. As he'd expected from Glenn, the apartment was sparsely furnished and immaculately clean. A recliner, small table and TV were the only pieces in his living room. Carefully entering the bedroom overlooking the street below, Steve noted that the bed was made. A small dresser and wooden chair were the only additional items in the otherwise small room.
Frowning, Steve slid his long fingers over the dresser. It had a small amount of dust on it, enough to build up in the two weeks since Glenn's departure.
All in all, the apartment looked like its owner had left for an extended vacation.
Carefully opening each drawer, Steve dug through piles of clothes, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Perhaps Malcolm had hidden clues regarding his whereabouts somewhere in there. After combing through the sock and underwear drawer, Steve came across an assortment of envelopes and empty stationary paper.
Kneeling down by the last drawer, he looked at the items one by one. Pencils, books of stamps and lots of envelopes led him to assume that Glenn enjoyed writing letters. Was there another family member they had missed? Somebody Glenn may have been able to open up to? Reaching for the blocks of stationary paper, he traced his fingers across the pages but couldn't feel an indentation of previous notes written over top of them. None of the envelopes were pre-addressed either.
Leaning back on his heels, Steve frowned and let the new information sink in.
Suppose that Glenn had a pen pal of sorts. Maybe somebody who shared his feelings of inferiority and angst. Why go through the trouble of hiding his pencils and stamps when there was a perfectly good table to use nearby? Why use a hard surface between pages to hide any traces of an ongoing conversation? And most importantly, why hadn't he come across any response letters?