"What…what did you say the name was again?"
Mike rolled his eyes once more, having answered the same question twice before in the last half hour.
"Stone. Lieutenant Michael Stone.", he replied patiently, hoping to steer the conversation back to the actual reason of the call, "I work for San Francisco PD. Now, about those two thugs I was asking you about…"
"Oh yes. Well, you see, Lieutenant, like I said, we split up in lots of eight, you know, to …to corral those hooligans. And my squadron…I called them that…we stayed close to the library."
At those words, Mike glanced up at his partner, seeing Steve nod eagerly while the young inspector listened in on the spare phone.
"There must have been quite a few people at that library, eh?"
"Oh, quite a few for sure.", Thompson replied, then hesitated.
In the background, Mike could hear him fidget with something metal, before the retired cop spoke up again.
"Most of them were longhairs, just some…misguided hippies looking to cause trouble. We arrested a couple of them when they were causing trouble and not following our orders."
"Naturally.", Mike replied, feigning agreement, "Back then you never knew what they were up to. What did you order them to do? Just move out of the way?"
Hoping that the open-ended question would make the other man reveal more details of the event back in Mississippi, the Lieutenant waited patiently when Thompson drew in a deep breath, preparing for a long-winded reply.
"Well, mostly yes. We did some of that. The ruder ones we asked to get on their knees. But…Lieutenant, if you wouldn't mind, I am getting a little tired. Maybe we can have this discussion some other time."
Meeting his partner's green eyes instantly, Mike pursed his lips, fighting through the disappointment of a promising conversation that ended right before they got exactly what they needed.
Intentionally, that much he was sure of.
Muttering a few casual words of understanding, Mike felt a sting in the pit of is stomach when Thompson hung up before he could even say goodbye, the monotone beep on the other line serving as a nagging notion that there may be something to Joe Joplin's concerns after all.
"Can you say clam up?", Steve sighed after a long pause and watched him hang up the receiver, before leaning back in his chair.
"I can say a lot of things.", Mike began, his thoughts returning to the night of Joplin's desperate phone call, "But I think no matter what I say, it won't get our friend Thompson to talk about what really happened."
"He must have sensed where you were going with your questions."
"I know, buddy boy. The thing I still don't understand is why he would make that phone call after all these years? What triggered it?"
Drawing in a deep breath, Steve seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment, then shrugged dejectedly.
"I guess we'll have to wait until he makes another one to solve that puzzle. If we can record him making that call, it would give us a solid indictment. For what it's worth, I suppose if he is in Mississippi, he can't be over here trying to go after Joe or his family."
"He can't. But he could hire somebody which is what makes me nervous about this whole situation.", Mike argued and shook his head, "We don't have enough for a warrant to check his bank accounts for any large payments, so we're chasing a dangerous shadow…somebody who can just walk right up to Joe without him knowing the guy or sensing any kind of trouble. Somebody who can sit in the background and wait for the right opportunity to strike, looking for any holes in our surveillance."
Catching onto his logic, Steve nodded slightly, unable to wipe the deep grooves of concern off his features. It was the same worry Mike recalled seeing the first time that the name Joe Joplin made the rounds in the bullpen, causing an upheaval of unwelcome emotions that had clouded the young inspector's mind.
When Steve didn't reply at all, Mike fidgeted with the ballpoint pen on his desk, before clearing his throat again.
"At this point there's very little we can do unless something else comes along. Go ahead and distribute Thompson's picture with patrols but don't put out an APB yet. We don't have a single piece of evidence to support our theory.
When his somber words were greeted with nothing but tense silence, Mike checked his wristwatch, woefully realizing it was after 6pm already.
"It's getting late and you owe me a wonderful dinner, so why don't we get going, buddy boy? Hopefully tomorrow will bring more answers."