"I don't know, Mike, I really don't know. The only thing that's missing here is a toothbrush. But we knew that already…"
"Come on now, Smiley, try to focus, will ya?"
Mike glanced up from the end table in the sparsely furnished living room, sliding a hand across the chest of drawers to note the small amount of dust on the top.
The apartment on the third floor of a medium size high-rise on VanNess spoke of a man who'd lived alone for a large part of his life, shielding the outside world from the troubles of his burdensome past. No family pictures adorned the walls, no Christmas cards could be found in his mailbox, no voicemails indicating loved ones calling for the holidays on the machine by the nightstand.
It was, all in all, a sad sight.
"I don't know what else you want me to look for?", Steve asked, the pitch in his voice rising in agitation.
Mike knew well enough that the emotionally filled day had drained both of their batteries. But after speaking to Elvis, he couldn't rest and call it a night until he at least checked out Lewis' apartment in hopes of finding a clue.
"I want you to look for what's not there. And what should be there.", Mike answered cryptically and bent down to check the notepad by the phone. Running his hand across the paper, he could make out indentations from deeply imprinted handwriting, so he reached for a pen and scratched over the surface, until a phone number became obvious.
Having a fairly good idea that the number belonged to the latest girlfriend; Mike jotted it down in his notebook, before moving on to the bedroom.
"Well, I am finding all sorts of skin cream and lotions here. For not taking much care of his teeth, he sure knew what to use for his skin. This is some expensive stuff, Mike. Maybe he bought it wanting to show off for his new lady friend. It's a shame that's all going to end up in the dumpster now…"
"Try not to get any ideas…", the Lieutenant retorted dryly and checked the closets in the bedroom.
Everything hung orderly on metal hangers, the shirts even sorted by color, his socks and underwear neatly stashed away in a nearby dresser. The bed was made and everything looked as though Lewis had every intention of returning.
He was about to check a small safe hidden beneath a rack of suits, when Steve peeked his head around the corner.
"You know what? You just made the think of something, Mike."
"And what's that?"
Growing intrigued, the Lieutenant looked back up from his position near the closet, only to see a wily grin on his partner's features.
The same one that meant he thought of something important.
"The coroner filed Emily Smith's death as an accidental drowning and gave no detail to the organs missing. It only mentioned traumatic injuries related to the damage done by the boat prop…"
"Yes…?"
"Then how did the Intrepid find out about it to run their story?"