Mike stopped knocking and turned toward the doctor. "What?"
Lenny had been busy, trying to clean the ink smudges from his hand with the discarded newspapers in the sack. When Mike looked over, he had parts of several front pages spread on the floor and was emptying the bag, searching for more folios. "Well, the typewriter ribbon…"
Mike rolled his eyes, "Lenny, not the old typewriter ribbon bit. This isn't a Miss Marple story."
"That's not why I got your attention, look at this." Mike walked back over to the landing. "Articles have been clipped from all of these. I remember reading the stories. Unless I miss my guess, they were all Da Vinci related."
"Are you sure?"
"Not 100 percent, but it would be easy enough to check."
"OK, say you're right. You're the doc, what does that mean?"
"At the very least, he had more than a passing interest in the case. I'm assuming nobody's home?"
"Correct."
"Where does that leave us?"
"Good question, let's gather up this stuff and see what we can find out."
Lenny folded the papers and laid them on top of the bag. He picked it up and followed Mike down the stairs.
Mike stopped at apartment 1A and gently rapped on the door.
"Was that you making all that noise up there? You trying to wake the dead? Couldn't even hear my stories. I was getting ready to call the cops."
Mike flashed his shield. The housecoat clad woman softened her tone.
"If you're looking for Jeff, he isn't here. He blew out of here about 8:15. Even left his trash on the landing. I'll have to get on him when he gets back. He was all dressed up, not what he usually wears to that Art School he goes to."
"Mrs.?"
"Mahoney."
"Mrs. Mahoney, is this your house?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, we'd really like to get a look at Jeff's apartment."
"Don't you need a warrant or something? I watch Adam-12 you know."
Mike thought about his answer. The law was very murky about who could grant permission to enter an apartment. He really didn't want to have his actions invalidated by legal minutia. "Technically, yes, unless it's an emergency."
"I don't see any emergency."
"Well…" The old I smell gas dodge ran through his mind.
"Why, what'd the kid do? You know he's a quiet one, always keeps to himself. Not like some of those other crazy kids I've rented to over the years. Never had any problems with drugs or girls or anything."
"We just need someone to get a peek at his place. If you don't mind, how about you go up and look around a bit and tell us what you see, then…"
"So much for a right to privacy." Lenny said under his breath.
Mike responded in an equally low tone. "We can discuss the constitution another time. I have a bad feeling about this."
Mrs. Mahoney piped up. "I don't think that's right. On Owen Marshall* they said…"
Mike knew he was sunk and ultimately she was right. Despite the fact that the woman's police and legal education came from TV, she knew just enough to cause a problem if this ever came up in court.**
"Thank you anyhow Mrs. Mahoney, we will certainly get a warrant before we come back. One more thing, do you know what kind of car Mr. Powers drives?"
"Doesn't have a car, although he told me he borrowed his brother's to go somewhere today, although I can't recall where."
"Do you know what kind of car it was?"
"Oh yeah, it was a pretty blue one."
Mike shook his head and thanked Mrs. Mahoney for her time.
"Now what?" Lenny asked as they walked to the car.
"Now we have to figure out how we can get a warrant out of a trash bag filled with newspaper clippings. The easiest way would be to find a print in common with the unidentified ones we already have. Then we need to talk to Jeff Powers."
"Seems like a tall order."
"Maybe, maybe not."
00000
"Hey, wait a minute, I forgot my purse. It's under the front seat of your car, Steve." Lizzy said as Jeff started the engine.
"It's ok, I'll get it." Steve got out and jogged over to the Porsche. He opened the passenger side door and grabbed the bag. Several items dropped out as he dragged it across the floorboard. He shoved what he saw into the bag and hoisted it out of the car. The weight surprised him. What the hell do women put in these things anyhow, he thought to himself as he returned to the Torino. No wonder she didn't want to haul it up the steps into church. Hung over like that, I'm surprised she could lift it.
Steve got back into the car and slammed the door as Jeff shifted into drive. He lifted the bag over the front bench and dropped it in between Jeff and Lizzy.
Lizzy looked over the seat and thanked him with her eyes. Jeff focused forward to avoid seeing any interaction between the two other car occupants and slid into the line of cars bound for the cemetery. The remainder of the journey was made in silence, save for soft snores from Lizzy after she dozed off.
They followed the funeral procession at a snail's pace through the city until they got to route 1. Once on the highway, the rhythmic rumble of tires on concrete made it hard for Steve to keep his eyes open as well. After this case was wrapped up, he figured he'd need a couple day off to recoup lost sleep. Just as his chin touched his chest he was shaken awake by a sudden application of the breaks. They had arrived at the cemetery.
Jeff leaned over to rouse Lizzy. She smiled at him as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Steve got out of the car and opened the door for the young woman. She exited and took Steve's hand, walking toward the burial plot, with Jeff trailing behind.
00000
Mike and Lenny parted ways when they returned to Bryant Street. Before going up to his office, Mike detoured to the crime lab. When Charlie saw him, he held up his right palm in a stop sign. "Give me a break, the prints aren't ready yet.
Mike dropped the bag on the counter, "Not why I'm here." He took out his handkerchief and pulled the typewriter ribbon out of the bag. "Can you see if you can pull any prints off of this?"
While Charlie dusted the spool, Mike spread the newspapers out on the counter. There were indeed articles excised from the papers. Even without checking, Mike knew Lenny was probably correct in his assessment. All of the missing article were above the fold on the front page and the dates corresponded with the discovery of the victims.
"Charlie, you got a newspaper around here." The scientist looked up from his work.
"Must be nice to have time to read the paper," he replied sarcastically.
"Not to read, I need to check something."
"Sure you do. There are usually a couple over by the coffee pot."
Mike retrieved a stack of unread newspapers. Matching up the dates, the missing articles were indeed related to the murders and all bore Joe Randolph's byline. Mike smacked his hand down on the table. Finally something lined up, now he needed a print.
He walked over to where Charlie was pulling a tape off the spool and leaned in over the scientist's shoulder. "Anything?"
"Yep, got a good thumb. You have anything to match it to?"
"No, but you do. Pull the prints from the drop cloth and van and let's see what we have."
00000
I guess I owe Lenny more than lunch, Mike thought as he carried a hastily typed report into Rudy's outer office. "Olsen in?" He asked the secretary as he walked by and knocked on the door, opening it before she even had a chance to respond. Rudy glanced up and knew by the look on Mike's face he had something important.
"We need a warrant and we need it yesterday."
"And that's because?" Rudy put down his pen. Mike laid out the fingerprint match and explained how it came about. "Are you sure the trash came from his apartment?"
"Landlord said so, but does it matter? We can just ask for paper on all the apartments in the building, can't we. Our mystery man was definitely in there at some point."
Rudy picked up the phone and spoke to his secretary, "Get me Judge Liverman's office."
Mike had to wait until 3:30 to meet the judge. He jogged up to his office and was surprised when he glanced at the clock. It was already after 2:00. He looked around, finding Norm Haseejian at his desk.
"Norm, has Steve called in?"
"Not that I know, although I think there are a couple of messages on your desk. Wasn't he going to the Woodward girl's funeral today?"
"Yeah, but he should be here by now. What are you up to?"
"Just cleaning up some paperwork, whadda you need?"
"A needle in a haystack. Call the DMV. I'm looking for a car."
"Make, model?"
Mike chuckled a bit, "No idea, belongs to someone, last name of Powers. I'm gonna assume it's local."
"First name?"
"Don't have a clue?"
Norm raised an eyebrow, "Ah Mike, what do you know?"
"Blue, the car is blue."
"So let me get this straight, you want a list of blue cars owned by anybody with the last name of Powers in the greater San Francisco area. Gonna be a long list."
"Any male."
"Oh, yeah, that helps a lot. Is it important?"
"Would I ask if it wasn't?"
Mike went into his office and looked at his messages, dropping them back on his desk. Steve hadn't called in. He picked up the phone and dialed Steve's apartment, thinking maybe the young man had gone home to change after the service. Receiving no answer, he went out to Steve's desk and found Lizzy Grisko's home number, dialing it on Steve's desk phone. Again the call went unanswered. He looked over at Norm, who appeared to be on hold.
He walked to the detective's desk. "I'm going to the courthouse to try and get a warrant. If Steve calls in, tell him we might finally have a break on this one. He needs to bring the Grisko girl in as soon as he can." Mike was going to continue, but Norm started to speak into the phone, giving him a thumbs up on the message. The rest would have to wait.
With over an hour until he could meet with the judge, Mike decide to drive down to Grisko's apartment, hoping to catch Steve and the young woman as they came back from the funeral. Pulling up at the corner of Chestnut and Mason, he looked around for Steve's car. When he didn't spot it, he parked the LTD and went into the deli. Vince was behind the counter.
"What do you want now, Stone?"
"Mr. Molinaro, always a pleasure, may I speak to your mother?"
"She's over at the house, all broken up about the funeral of that bimbo who lived upstairs."
"You took her to the service?"
"Who the hell else would? She never learned to drive."
"Did you happen to see Inspector Keller and Miss Grisko at the church?"
"Yeah, I saw em. So what?"
"Did they drive out to the cemetery as well?"
"They were there but he didn't drive. Fancy sports car wouldn't start. That's what he gets for not buying an American car. They caught a ride with one of those long haired friends of hers."
"Do you know his name?"
"How the hell should I know? Little fag has hair longer than most chicks, wears it in a ponytail."
Mike felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
00000
Steve was leaning against the passenger side of the car, waiting for the pump to stop running. He'd offered to pick up the tab for the gas. His student days weren't that long ago and he easily remembered how limited his finances were back then. Lizzy was in the restroom freshening up, Jeff had walked across the street to pick up a couple of cokes.
The day had turned warm. He took of his suit coat, loosened his tie and tossed both in the back seat. He was already tired, but knew there was a lot left to do when he got back to town. Lizzy walked over to the car and leaned next to Steve. She still looked a little green, but was in much better shape than she had been earlier in the day, particularly now that the funeral was over.
"Where's Jeff?"
"He went to get us something to drink. How are you doing?"
"Better, thanks. I am so ready for things to get back to normal. Do I really need to go back to the station?"
"Fraid so. We'll have Jeff drop us off and then Lt. Stone will take you home after we're done at Bryant Street." Steve hadn't told her why she need to come to the station. He didn't have the heart to tell her this wasn't over yet.
"What are you going to do about your car?"
"I can check it later, more than likely it'll have to go in the shop."
"Sorry. That's a real bummer."
"Nothing for you to be sorry about."
The clip on the handle popped. Steve removed the hose from the car and screwed on the gas cap as Jeff was crossing the street. He handed Lizzy her drink. She unwrapped the straw and pushed through the plastic lid on the cup, taking a long drink. "I could kiss you." She crooned, relishing the cool relief. Jeff smiled.
"Thanks for the gas, man." Jeff said as he handed Steve a soda.
"No sweat, least I could do for giving us a lift. Sure you don't want me to drive?"
"No I'm good."
Steve decided he was a little too parched for the straw and took the lid off the cup, downing the soda in one. He crushed the cup, dropped it in the can by the pump and walked into the station to pay for the fill up. Jeff stood with Lizzy, sipping their sodas until Steve returned.
"We ready?" Steve asked.
Jeff dropped his cup in the trash before he answered. "Almost. Let me hit the little boy's room before we head out."
The young man took his time in the restroom. Jeff knew the Quaaludes he'd dissolved in the cop's drink would take about 20 minutes to work. He wanted Steve to be out before they even got close to the highway. Once he was under, Jeff could count on at least 4 hours to put his plan into action.
Lizzy had slid back into the front seat. Steve was still standing by the pump when Jeff exited the building, patting his pockets.
"Shit!" he swore loudly as he got back to the car. "I must have left my keys on the counter across the street." He took off at a jog. Jeff looked at his watch and waited once he entered the store. After several minutes had elapsed, he turned and exited. It won't be long now, he thought as he strolled back to the car.
*Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law, US television legal drama, 1971-1974. The show dealt with more compassion, justice and civil liberty issues than Perry Mason style shows. It was typical of post 1960's legal dramas in the US.
**The Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution guarantees a right to privacy and covers laws pertaining to search and seizure. The laws have become very convoluted over the years. I have interpreted it as best I can for the time period, but I'm not a lawyer. While Mrs. Mahoney owned the building, which up until 1960's was enough to permit police access, by 1970 she did not have the right to let police into the apartment, unless it was an emergency situation like fire, gas leak, sounds of a violent confrontation or a police pursuit of a dangerous individual. There is a loop hole, however: If a landlord permits a search and is unaware that he or she doesn't have the right to do so. Police forces have argued successfully that ignorance of the law makes a search legal. Easy, huh?