Mike could tell his partner was surprised to see him walk into the bullpen shortly after eight that evening. Grasping the file underneath his arm a bit tighter and trying to ward off the growing chill running through his tired bones, he briefly nodded at Steve, before entering his office and stripping out of his wet overcoat and fedora.
"Any luck on your research?", Mike asked curiously and threw a nickel into the change jar before helping himself to some coffee.
"Yes and no…", the young Inspector mumbled and looked up sheepishly, before rubbing his eyes, "Reggie, he ehm…we went through the whole tape but he swears up and down he didn't see our guy on it. But then I remembered a serial killer case we briefly touched on during my last year at the Police Academy. Los Angeles, 1962, three males were killed, strangled with a wire garroted around their necks, the killings being seemingly arbitrary. They never found the killer. So I decided to do some more research while I am waiting for LAPD to Teledex what information they have. Not sure if that will be today yet or tomorrow morning."
"Good job…"
Mike's quiet compliment made his partner look up briefly, flashing the faintest of smiles before he glanced back down at the text he was reading.
"I was running out of time before they'd all close for the night but I checked about ten pharmacies on the north side, gave them a copy of our suspect sketch. With a little bit of luck, one of their employees might remember him."
Steve nodded before leaning back in his chair, running a hand across his two-day stubble deep in thought.
"Something Lenny said still has me wondering…you know how he mentioned that our suspect is acting out of some compulsion? And that the acts are becoming more sophisticated, more heinous and well planned out?"
"You think he's your average married trying to step things up the romance department? Looking for an affair on the side? If he's a…a cross-dresser like Lenny said, that could be quite the awakening for some unsuspecting guy who was looking for a romantic night. Maybe insults were thrown at his face, enough to set him off…"
"It's possible…", Steve said absent-mindedly and pursed his lips, before leaning forward and making some notes on his stationary paper, "I will get with Lieutenant Hawkins tomorrow morning, see if they've gotten any calls for Domestic Violence in the last six weeks, just to cover that end. I know he has a special unit assigned for these cases and they may have come across our guy. If he's the same one responsible for these killings in L.A. in '62, he's fairly new to this area. It might just be that he's violent both, his regular life, and his alter ego. We got nothing to lose at this point."
"Good idea. I have a friend down with LAPD, I'll give him a call tomorrow to speed things up on this case file and pick his brain a bit. If I know Fred, he's had his nose in that case before."
A tense silence spread between the two detectives as Mike sat down in the guest chair by Steve's desk, both hands tightly wrapped around his coffee cup in hopes of warming up a bit. Glancing around the otherwise empty bullpen, he drew in a deep breath, before forcing a smile in hopes of calming both of their minds a bit.
"Those were some tasty cookies Laura made…"
Momentarily thrown off guard, Steve frowned, before the meaning of the Lieutenant's words made sense.
"Yeah, she eh…she's made a couple different batches for me. Definitely missed her calling as a cook and baker."
"You got that right…"
When nothing else was said and the room turned painfully silent once again, Mike shifted uncomfortably, taking another sip of coffee before pointing his chin at the exit door.
"Well, let's head home for a little bit. We both have to catch up on some sleep. See what we find out tomorrow morning. I can drop you off on my way."