"You're still digging into Darrell Murphy, eh?"
Mike's quiet question pulled him out of his deep state of concentration and Steve couldn't hide a slight twitch as he looked up in time to see his best friend sit down on the corner of his desk.
Without as much as an image included in the file he'd so intently studied, he frowned, visibly confused.
"How'd you know?"
Smiling warmly, Mike reached over to nudge his arm.
"You covered the file when Olsen walked by. That's what gave it away."
They both shared a much-needed chuckle, releasing some of the pent-up tension from earlier in the day. In the end, it was Mike who pointed at the file.
"Finding anything else on him?"
"Nothing.", Steve admitted and leaned back in his chair, before crossing his hands behind his head, "He's as clean as they come. His alibi checked out even after the third time I looked into it. But I…I guess I can't shake the feeling that his growing up in Mississippi business might still have something to do with Joe's case. Like…how would he pick a random stranger out of a crowd and that person…just by chance…is from Mississippi?"
"Yeah, I can see that. Any relatives that might tie into our case?"
"Mother is diseased, his father works at the same boatyard. They tell me that it's a poor family so the guy can't afford to retire. I ran a jacket on him too, but he doesn't even have any priors, no violent tendencies, no connections to the Oxford protests, nothing. Unless we somehow produce a warrant for their bank records in hopes of finding a pay-off amount, we're running into a dead end fast."
"Which we won't get.", Mike added, causing his partner to nod.
"Right. I even looked into his ex-girlfriend, the one he's got the kid with. She's clean too, works at a local flower shop. I'll tell you though, Mike, that family needs money, all of them. What better way than having somebody like Warren Thompson funnel the money to them, let them do the dirty work so he can sit back and drive Joe crazy, all from the comforts of his home? I mean, it's as perfect as it gets."
"Evidence, Inspector. You need evidence and you ain't got it. Until we have something tangible, we don't have the slightest chance to pursue this further; no more…no more untraceable phone calls and sightings of a supposed suspect. We can't keep calling up some retiree in Mississippi and tie a charge on him because Joe is convinced that the man has a bone to pick with him years after the fact. Nothing we have gathered so far sums up to a single piece of evidence.", Mike countered cantankerously, visibly frustrated with the case, "I don't know about you, but I am all but sick and tired of chasing ghosts for Joe Joplin."
Huffing in agitation, Mike reached up to wipe the blood off the side of this face where the bandaid was failing to do the job, never even wincing from what must be a painful injury.
Steve stayed quiet, knowing that in this heightened state of frustration it would be impossible to talk any sense into Mike, to gently coax him into pursuing this case just a little bit longer for the sake of humanity.
Instead, he waited until their eyes met again, woefully aware of the bullpen behind them having quieted down significantly.
Several tense seconds passed before Mike's expression softened, his jaws a little less tight as he folded up his handkerchief neatly, then tucking it back into the breast pocket of his grey dress coat.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be sore, buddy boy.", he eventually said, his voice quivering before he drew in a deep breath, "I think Rudy is right and we should call it a day for today. Sometimes it's best to…start over again the next day."
With a slight nod, Steve straightened back out in his chair, taking another sip of cold coffee before answering.
"I'll drive you home."
"What about you? You're the one gimping around. I was talking about both of us calling it a day."
Sensing the hint of suspicion in Mike's words, Steve smiled broadly, hoping to deflect those detective senses when he needed it the most.
"I am going to gimp my way home right after I drop you off, Lieutenant."