Aaron Harris' office hadn't been hard to find at all.
As a matter of fact, Jameson had been right about that one so far. A large yellow metal sign was affixed above the entrance door to the multi-story building, a mixture of commercial and residential space divided up in three levels.
'Harris Notary and PI Services' it read in bold letters, a magnifying glass off to the left accentuating the words.
Carefully following his partner up the three stairs and through the main door; Steve let his eyes drift over the tenants listed off the left, an odd mix of massage services, hypnosis, tax accountants and a magazine headquarters.
"That's quite the combination. This Harris guy must fit right in.", Mike added and slowed down to give him time to catch up.
Thankfully, Harris's office was on the main floor, at the end of a sparsely lit corridor, the old carpeting down below wore out from overuse.
Ignoring the musty smell coming from a building that had seen many tenants come and go over the past few decades, but hardly any maintenance men; Steve watched as Mike stopped at the door in question, then knocked.
There was a small sign with the hours of operation posted on it, indicating that Harris was available 9am-6pm throughout the week. At 1:30pm, he should be in the office, and yet, the stubborn silence from the other side of the door said otherwise.
"Long lunch?", Steve asked, causing Mike to shrug.
"Or a phone call warning him we're coming…"
Mike knocked once again, more out of due diligence than any hope that Harris was in there. Then, when nothing happened, he slowly turned back around, the disappointment visible in his weary features.
"What do you want to do? Wait on him or…?"
"No."
With a determined headshake, the lieutenant slowly walked back toward the main door, stopping after a few steps to face his partner.
"Let's pull a jacket on this…this Harris guy so we know who we are looking for and have Tanner wait out there in an unmarked unit. He's gonna have to show up sooner rather than-"
He was disrupted by the creaking of another door closer to the main entrance, where a middle-aged man with disheveled hair looked at them sheepishly.
"Are you the couriers?", he asked, trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice with feign skepticism.
"I beg your pardon?", Mike replied and approached the man sternly, "Couriers for whom?"
"Ah, good point. Thanks for being so thorough.", the man corrected himself and stepped out of his apartment, before closing the door behind his back.
Steve had a hard time holding back a smile at the sight of his pink boxer shorts and wore-out shirt and glanced over at his partner who was having the same problem.
"Are you the couriers for Aaron Harris?", the man asked again, then nervously straightened out the wrinkles in his shirt, keeping his left hand over a food stain on his chest.
"We might be.", Mike replied cryptically, thoroughly enjoying the peculiar situation, "Can you tell me what we are bringing over so that we can make sure you are a trustworthy person? And what is your name?"
"Oh sure. Sam Edmunds, my pleasure.", he replied and reached forward to shake hands with Mike, "I am here to take in the payment you are to bring for Aaron. It's for the Mississippi case."
The sheer mentioning made both detectives snap wide awake and Steve shared another glance with Mike, the lieutenant's expression that of utter curiosity.
"Thank you so much for clarifying. I just wanted to make sure we have the right person.", Mike replied, then reached for his badge in the breast pocket of his dress coat, "Lieutenant Michael Stone, San Francisco Police. What else do you know about this case?"
The other man froze in place, his terror-stricken eyes moving back and forth between both detectives, a gasp escaping his opened lips as though he was taking his last breath.
"Not…much.", he finally stammered, the hand on his chest clasping the dirty fabric relentlessly.
When neither detective made a notion to reply, Edmunds swallowed hard, then pointed at Harris's closed door.
"I only know what he told me, which is that two couriers were supposed to bring money for the Mississippi case. It would be $5000. He had a late night, so he paid me twenty bucks to keep an eye on his office and take the money when they came."
Pursing his lips, Mike drew in a deep breath, contemplating his next move.
"When did he say those couriers were supposed to come by?"
"Sometime today. That's all I know. You see, he was going to take the morning off and be back in the afternoon so that's why he wanted me to stay around."
There was another pause and Steve could see his partner wager his options in the surprising twist. Eventually, Mike smiled warmly, and put a calming hand on the other man's bare shoulder.
"Good news, Mister Edmunds, one of my inspectors will take over for you for the rest of the day. May I please use your phone?"