They'd spent most of the morning making phone calls, hoping to track down the eccentric stoolie Mike had known for almost as long as Steve had been alive. And it was all those years out on the streets that made Cappy near impossible to find; that was, unless he wanted to be found.
They had divided up the load of potential contacts that might know his whereabouts, or, if nothing else, could pass on the word that two desperate SFPD Detectives were looking for him.
Shortly before noon, Steve was on his last phone call, knowing early on it wasn't going to yield much, but going through the motions regardless. His gut instinct may have misled him before, but due diligence never did.
"Yeah Scott, that would be fantastic. Please tell him we just need to bounce a couple questions off him. Yes, it's pretty urgent…"
Standing at his desk and leaning forward on his elbows as he finished his call, Steve hesitated when he sensed somebody by his side. Much to his surprise, it wasn't one of the guys, but a burly woman in her mid-forties, staring at him intently.
"Listen ehm…Scott, I gotta go. When you see Cappy, please tell him we really need to talk to him. Absolutely, thank you so much! You too. See ya!"
Straightening back out, Steve smiled faintly, as he greeted the lady who stood half a head taller than he was, and probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds.
Average looking, her short sandy curls were unkempt, almost greasy and carelessly brushed back. She wore a beige felt coat that reached down to her knees, a pair of worn out jeans below and dirty sneakers not matching her outfit at all.
And yet, there was a distinctive tension radiating from her, as her brown eyes scanned the young Inspector top to bottom.
"Can I help you, Ma'am?"
"Yeah…", she answered in a calculated, almost disparaging voice, "I am looking for the detectives handling the Roy Sullenger murder case. The guards downstairs told me I might find them here."
"That would be my partner and I.", Steve said pleasantly and pointed his chin at Mike's office, where he saw the Lieutenant still deeply engrossed in a phone conversation, "My name is Inspector Stephen Keller. How can I help you today?"
He could hear the lady draw in a deep breath, her full lips curved downward condescendingly, as she cleared her throat.
"I have some information that might help you find his killer."
Deeply intrigued, Steve nodded eagerly, torn between surprise and disbelief that a potential lead would just walk itself right into his arms.
"We'd love to hear it. Let me just get a pen and paper and we can get started."
Bending over his desk as he reached for the yellow notepad in the far corner by the phone, Steve heard the lady's coat shuffle, as if she was looking for something. He didn't think anything of it until he was dragged rearward and onto her broad upper body, one arm tightly curled around his chest, the other one shoving something cold against his throat.
Gasping in surprise, Steve froze in his spot when her shaking hand caused the sharp blade to cut into the side of his neck, uncomfortably close to his carotid, quickly causing warm blood to trickle off the knife handle and drip onto his dress shirt and tie.
Paralyzed by fear, he was left to meet the tortured and surprised eyes of the rest of the bullpen, and worst of all, his partner.