Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Lyman lived just north of Stillwater, with a place on a little cliff overlooking the river. Once off the road, Mac took a long driveway that might have been a hundred yards long that circled in front of the house. The house itself was a sprawling prairie-style rambler, the back of which overlooked the river. Lyman undoubtedly had a groundskeeper of some sort in the summer, as there were flower beds and trimmed bushes appropriately scattered over the grounds. The flowers were now in hibernation, but the bushes were all in well-trimmed condition, rounded and squared appropriately. It was impressive.

“Representing criminals pays, don’t it, Mac?” Lich commented.

“Yeah, but Lyman’s a good guy.”

“Maybe I should have hired him for my divorce.”

They dropped the Explorer just past the front door. As they approached the house, Lich asked Mac, “Just thought I’d ask, you know so we’re prepared and all, how are you going to handle this?”

“My guess is the senator isn’t going to be so impressed with a young buck detective running things. If so, you look at me when we start, my look will let you know. Let’s play on that and see if we can’t get him riled up.”

“Good cop. Bad cop?” Lich said.

“Exactly.”

Lich smiled and moved to push the doorbell. Before he could, Hisle opened the door. “Good afternoon, detectives. Please come in.”

They entered into a large open foyer. “I thought we’d head into the library,” Lyman said, pointing down a hallway to their right.

The library was exactly that. There were windows that looked out over the river. The rest of the walls were built-in bookshelves, with an impressive collection of works. Mac saw an old collection of Charles Dickens tales. There were a few shelves with old legal treatises. Lyman also liked more modern fare, with many bestsellers.

In the middle of the library was a long conference table with four highbacked leather chairs on either side and one on each end. The floor was wood, but a large Persian rug sat in the center under the conference table. As they entered the library, Mason Johnson stood looking out the window. Casually dressed in tan slacks, he also wore a navy blue sweater and white button down collar shirt. Handshakes were exchanged, coffee poured, and they moved to the conference table. Johnson shook Mac’s hand, held it briefly, gave him a long look and smirked just slightly as they sat down. Inside, Mac smiled. So, the senator isn’t exactly impressed with me . Mac sat down next to Lich, smiled slightly and nodded. Let’s go with the game plan .

Lyman opened. “Marion, how should we proceed?”

“It’s McRyan’s case.” Peters said, nodding towards Mac.

Lyman looked at Mac and asked, “Well?”

Mac, pleasant to start, said, “I appreciate your and the senator’s willingness to meet with us. We were hoping the senator might be able to clear up a few things for us.”

“Like what, Michael?” Lyman asked.

“For example, was he at Ms. Daniels’ place the night she was killed?”

The senator looked at Lyman, who nodded. “You know I was.”

“What time did you leave?” Mac asked.

“Around 1:30 a.m.”

“Why were you there?”

“I was seeing Claire.”

“Describe ‘seeing,’ senator,” Lich asked.

“Claire and I were… involved.” Senator Johnson responded evasively.

“In other words, you were having sex with her,” Mac said bluntly. It was a statement, not a question, intended to push.

“Yes,” Johnson replied tersely.

“Did you use a condom?”

“No.” That made DNA less of an issue.

“How long had you and Ms. Daniels been sleeping together?” Mac asked.

“A couple of months.”

“How did you meet?” Lich inquired pleasantly. The senator spent fifteen minutes detailing his relationship with Daniels, where they had met and how the relationship had grown over time.

Mac thought about asking whether the senator’s wife knew about Daniels, but because Sally had said Hisle would likely shut that down, he decided to wait. Instead he asked, “Were you there two nights before Claire was killed?”

“Yes, I was.”

Mac, gratuitously, trying to push just a little, “Getting a little action that night as well?”

“I’m not sure it’s any of your business.” The senator replied sharply. Lyman grabbed his arm. Mac smiled. The senator didn’t like him.

Lich, good cop, jumped in all calm and respectful, “What time did you leave that night?”

“Similar time, around 1:30 a.m.”

“I was wondering… how did you get in the last night at Daniels’ place?” Lich asked.

“Claire let me in.”

Lich, conversational, “Was that always the case? How about the other nights, how did you get in those times?”

“Claire would let me in or I’d use a key she left under the front door mat.”

The senator relaxed a bit, so Mac decided to push a little again, “How’d Claire like it?”

Senator Johnson stared at him. “Like what?”

“Having sex. A little rough perhaps? Kinky?” Mac asked.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Johnson growled.

Lyman jumped in. “My client isn’t going to answer that.”

“Fine, Lyman,” Mac replied, then turned back to the senator, “Ms. Daniels seeing anyone else besides you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Only me.”

“How can you be so sure? Did you ever ask her if she was sleeping around?”

“Yes, I did. She said I was it. I had no reason to doubt her.”

“She tell anyone she was sleeping with you?”

“No. She understood that it had to be kept quiet.”

That comported with what they’d learned about Daniels. Nonetheless, Mac kept the heat on, pushing, digging. “Yeah, because if word gets out about this, that could play havoc with your political career and the little misses at home.” Again, it was a statement more than a question. The senator glared at Mac but didn’t respond.

Lich, good cop, stepped in. “Did Daniels ever mention any problems she had with her neighbors, ex-boyfriends, people she reported on or with, anyone prowling around her place?”

The senator, turning away from Mac and towards Lich, replied, “Not that I recall.”

“You ever see anyone hanging around that didn’t look right? Anyone suspicious? Weird?”

“No, not at all.”

Mac took over. “And the night Daniels was killed, you left at 1:30 a.m.”

“Yes.”

“Anyone know you were at Claire’s that night?”

“No.”

They worked the facts for another half hour, working through the details, time of arrival, how the senator entered, the nature of the relationship, time of departure. Senator Johnson held tightly to his story, finishing with, “Like I said, I left at 1:30 a.m. and went home to my condo downtown.”

Mac paused, folded his arms and stared at the senator for a moment. He had been there that night, admitted leaving at the right time and didn’t force his way in, they’d cemented everything, including his departure at the time of death. So, how did Daniels die? Time to ask. “Senator, I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything.”

“What?” the senator snapped, disbelieving.

“You’re not telling me everything. You’re leaving things out.”

“Listen, detective, when I left Claire’s place, she was alive.”

“I don’t think so,” Mac replied, arms folded, rocking in his chair, a smirk on his face.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear, Detective McRyan,” Senator Johnson replied angrily. “She was alive when I left her place. I’m here to help you guys, and now you call me a liar.” He looked at Peters and pointed towards Mac. “This is the guy you having running the case?” Mac smiled inwardly.