Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Everyone had a drink, except the chief, who had at least two. Mac could understand why. Flanagan looked like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That feeling would be short-lived of course. With the serial killer still at large, the headaches would start up again first thing Monday morning. But that was Monday, and it was Friday-time to celebrate.

After having finished their drink, Mac looked at Lich, who nodded, time to go. They shook hands with everyone on the way out. Flanagan walked them through his door out to the waiting area, obviously happy, “Off to the Pub for you, boys?”

“At least for me,” Mac replied.

“What about you, Dick?”

Mac jumped in, “Well, Chief, I think ole Dicky boy here has a hot date with Dot.”

Lich gave him a dirty look. The chief was amused. “Haven’t learned your lesson yet?” Lich’s messy divorces were the subject of many a humorous story, usually told by Dick himself.

Lich shrugged his shoulders, “Chief, I’ve found that women are the one mistake continually worth making. Something my partner should realize.”

Flanagan laughed, a happy laugh, and put his arm around Mac’s shoulder, “I’m sure our young friend here will get around to Ms. Kennedy sooner or later.”

Even the chief knew about this, good grief. Mac stared at Lich who had another one of his shit-eatin’ grins on his face. Pay back was a bitch, boyo. Mac decided to cut his losses and turned to leave, “Come on, Dick Lick, give me a ride to the Pub.”

The chief laughed again, patted them both on the back, “You guys have a good time tonight. You’ve both earned it.”

They left Flanagan behind and jumped in Lich’s little purple Dodge Neon. Mac laughed every time he saw the heavyset Lich get behind the wheel. He made the Neon look like a toy car. Mac looked in the backseat. It looked as if half of Dick’s closet was in the backseat. “Geez, you living in the car?”

Lich smiled and said, “I haven’t been home much this week.”

“Does the backseat maybe turn into a Murphy Wallbed?”

Lich laughed, “I’ll mention that to Dodge. Maybe that could be an upgrade in this thing.” Lich dropped him off in front of McRyan’s Pub, “Have a good one, Mac.”

“You, too.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, boyo.”

Mac closed the car door and Lich was off. He walked in the front door and took in the crowd. Friday night was always a good night for the Pub. Cops always stopped off for a beer before heading home. Beers were cheap for any cop on Friday night, a never-ending happy hour. But this night was different. There were cops everywhere, double-maybe triple-the normal crowd. Mac could tell immediately that a cloud had lifted over the department. Everyone was in a good mood. Mac tried to reach the bar unnoticed. No dice. Once he was spotted, the place erupted.

As expected, Uncle Shamus made a spectacle of his nephew. There were backslaps all around, and Mac knew he wouldn’t have to pay for a drink all night. Of course, there was plenty of good-natured ribbing for being on television. Bonnie Schmidt, who had been at Daniels’s the morning they found her body, was in a happy mood. “You looked great on television.”

“Thanks, Bonnie, although I’d just as soon avoid the attention.”

“That ain’t gonna happen.”

Mac winced. He didn’t want to be some billboard for the department. He shoved that aside; it was Friday night, time to celebrate.

He soaked it up and enjoyed the next hour.

The boss took the news calmly. The operation on Daniels had been planned in three days. They only had that amount of time to conduct surveillance and form a plan. They were lucky that the senator was involved. It had created great cover. But with that narrow of a window, any number of things could go wrong. McRyan checking out their pick up point was one of those things. The unearthing of their pick up spot had not stopped the hearing from going forward. Viper seriously doubted that finding it would have caused that. However, McRyan would make a report of what he had learned, and it would be disclosed to counsel for the senator as part of defense discovery. The defense would obviously investigate other scenarios. Once they started looking, what else might they find?

“You’re concerned about this?” the boss asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you really think this would be enough to create any sort of reasonable doubt on the case?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer. But once they start looking-”

“Who knows what they will find,” the boss finished it for him and took a sip of coffee. No drinks. This wasn’t a happy hour. “I think it’s obvious what we need to do.”

Mac had a few beers and enjoyed himself thoroughly. Backslaps and thanks came one after another. He wanted to advance on merit as a cop. He wanted to live up to his father’s name. On this night, he felt like he’d done that. A couple of veteran detectives came up and gave him the, “Your dad would have been proud today,” made the night that much sweeter. Any doubts he had about the case had been washed away by the last couple of hours. People a lot more experienced than he were happy, so why shouldn’t he? The beers had given him a little buzz, and he was feeling good.

He was standing in the back when he saw Sally come in the front. She’d dropped her hair down, and her glasses were gone. Nonetheless, she was immediately recognized and swarmed once inside, taking in some of the good cheer from the crowd. She’d said nice things about the police on TV. Any prosecutor who did that would earn goodwill, and tonight, free drinks.

They made eye contact, and she slowly worked her way back to him. She looked at his beer. “Buy me one of those?” Mac looked at the bartender, holding up his beer. Another one appeared immediately. She took a long drink.

“A pretty happy group in here.”

“I’d say so.” Mac took a quick look around. Lots of people were looking his way.

“You look happy too,” Sally said.

“I am. It’s been a good day.”

They both took a drink. He took a long look at her. She was attractive. She was interested, and he had pretty much admitted the same. Enough screwing around, it was time. “Everyone seems to think you and I are an item.”

“So I hear,” she replied with a little smile and put her beer up to her lips.

“Well then, why don’t we act like it?"

She dropped her beer from her lips and gave him a serious look.

“I’m parked out back.”

She nodded and put her beer on the bar. At this point, neither of them cared if anyone saw them leave. They walked down the back hallway, and Mac said, “My place?”

“Okay.”

Mac held the back door open, and she walked through. Mac followed, and she stopped, turned around and kissed him, deeply, a long, slow, soft, wet kiss. Months of hurt and frustration were released. They stopped and looked in each other’s eyes. He lightly took her hand and led her over to the Explorer, opening the passenger door for her to get in. He went around and got in, and they embraced again.

“We better go,” she said after a few minutes.

He pulled out of the lot and made his way over to Ramsey Avenue and across the I-35E bridge and up the hill towards Summit. She leaned over and kissed him on the neck and nibbled on his ear as he drove, sending a shiver down his spine. Turning right onto Summit, he accelerated the two blocks to his place. Once the Explorer was inside the garage, he undid his seatbelt and pulled her to him.

“Take me inside,” she whispered breathlessly, her mouth a centimeter from his.

They got out and walked briskly arm in arm to the back door. They made it halfway up the backstairs before they embraced again. Carefully he moved up her skirt and picked her up so she was straddling him, carrying her up the rest of the steps, while she nibbled, breathing heavily in his ear. He dug in his pocket for his keys while she kissed him on the neck. The door opened, and Mac dropped the keys on the table, shutting the door with a back kick. Quickly they moved to the bedroom, where they feverishly took off each other’s clothes and fell into bed.