By the time he returned to Mike's office, the Lieutenant had hung up the phone, a deep frown on his face, his eyes focused on some imaginary spot near his Scales of Justice.
"I take it they weren't a match?", Steve asked, having mentally prepared for the disappointment.
Surprisingly, Mike shook his head, as he looked up.
"Yes and no.", the Lieutenant answered cryptically and gestured for him to sit back down in the guest chair, "The dealership said they can fit a Skylark, but they're not the original keys."
"Not the original keys? What are you talking about?"
Raising his eyebrows, Steve slipped back into the chair and ran a nervous hand across his tie, eyes focused intently on his partner.
"Somebody had those keys re-made. The original ones are still missing. So is the car."
"That doesn't make the least bit of sense. Once you steal the car, you have the keys…"
Both detectives fell silent for a few moments, trying to come to terms with the latest puzzle piece thrown into their lap. Eventually, it was Mike who drew in a deep breath, before clearing his throat again.
"Maybe it does make sense…"
Reaching for his coffee cup for a quick sip of black goodness, Mike got up from his chair and began to pace the small confines of his office, as if it would help him think. With one hand in the pocket of his gray dress slacks, he used the other one to nervously fidget with the buttons on his red vest.
"Think about it, Buddyboy. We couldn't find the car because whoever has the original keys could have still been driving it, getting it out of the area, while we're chasing our guy down in the park."
Steve's green eyes clouded over with confusion, as the young Inspector slowly shook his head.
"Why the charade? Why throw the second set into the water?"
"I can't seem to shake the idea that it was some sort of show put on for us. Whatever this...this apothecary is doing; I think he's trying to create a cloud of dust to throw us off course."
"That's pretty elaborate, don't you think?", Steve countered skeptically and leaned back in the guest chair, "You mean to tell me this guy, who supposedly lives way out east, travels all the way to San Francisco to try to mislead us in our investigation? He could have done the same thing on his home turf- without the hassle of rush hour traffic."
Mike bit his lip for a second, that amazingly brilliant mind of his going a million miles per hour, when he finally glanced back down at his partner.
"Not if he still was in the city after murdering Sarah. Maybe he was busy getting rid of evidence all over town, when we caught up with him. Whatever he was doing in that park today, at least there's one thing we have established now."
"And what's that?"
Sitting down at the edge of his desk, Mike reached forward to tap his partner's temple, hoping to nudge him to follow his logic, but the young Inspector remained quiet.
"Think about it, Buddyboy. The car, two sets of keys, seeing our suspect in the park…that means that he isn't working alone."
