Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

As he walked inside the coffee shop, he had a smile on his face as he thought about the last two hours. Sally had indeed been refreshed. While she gave him the obligatory, “Men are animals,” when he jumped into her shower, they had quickly moved to the bed.

Later, as they dressed, Mac filled her in on Knapp.

“What are you guys going to do?

“We’ll follow him and see what develops. We can’t even be sure that this is the guy.” Mac took a bite of his toast and, with a half-full mouth, said, “But it feels right.”

Sally sipped her juice. “How come?”

“Just does. Instinct, intuition, gut. Whatever it is, this is the break the case needed.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sally said as she bit into her toast. “You guys thinking about a search warrant?”

“I’m thinking our case on this guy is a little thin. But I imagine we’ll be talking about it” Mac replied. “Before we get that far, we have to see the van first.” He took a sip of his juice. “Another thing that concerns me about going for a search at this point is that he’s been so good at leaving nothing behind for evidence. He probably has that van clean as a whistle. If we go for the warrant, find nothing, then where does that leave us?”

“I see your point,” Sally replied. “So you follow?”

“Yeah. If he sticks to his pattern, maybe we catch him in the act or something.”

Twenty minutes later, Mac pulled the door open to the Grand Brew and headed inside. He ordered his usual, paid his usual and headed out.

Sally got into her office just before 9:00 a.m., turned on her computer and picked up her phone to check voicemails. Only three messages, which was a pleasant surprise. She punched in her computer password and heard a knock on the door. Oh oh. She turned to see Helen.

“Good morning, Helen.”

“Good morning. A light day ahead of you?” The tone in her voice said it all. Sally was late. If Helen Anderson was a stickler for anything, it was being on time. She wanted the impression that her office was working hard, doing the people’s business and, by extension, her business. Therefore, she always wanted her people in early and working late. Of course, many in the office grumbled that they did all the work and Helen got all the glory. She did like to be on camera and quoted in the paper. The fact that she knew little, if anything, about criminal law didn’t help and pissed people off. But she was the boss, at least for now, a senate run in the offing.

“In fact, yes,” Sally replied.

“I see,” Anderson said, the tone of disapproval remaining.

Sally needed to change the subject, “I have what may be some good news, though.”

“What’s that?”

“The police may finally have a suspect in the University Avenue killings.”

That perked up Helen’s attention, “Really? Tell me.”

Sally could see Helen savoring the headlines.

Mac, Lich, Riley, and Rock, along with a few others, met briefly downtown with Chief Flanagan and Peters. Knapp had come home at 1:15 a.m. He was on the road again at 8:00 a.m., heading into work at Quick Cleaners.

Knapp’s Q Cleaners location was on the northwest corner of Lexington and University Avenue. He had appeared for work at 9:30 a.m. His MVR record from Wisconsin said he was employed as a driver. They figured he worked some sort of later 9:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. shift, which made some sense based on pick-ups and drop offs.

The building itself was on the corner, with a large parking lot full of vans to the west. Mac pulled his van into a shopping mall parking lot across the street with the back of the van facing the store. He and Lich could look out the tinted windows in the back. They each had binoculars, and a radio sat on the floor. The rest of the crew was spread out around the store, waiting for action.

At 10:15 a.m., the radio crackled with the voice of Dan Patrick, “I think our boy just came out the door.”

Mac responded, “Copy that.” He looked through his binoculars and saw a tall, lean, white male with short blond hair, almost a military cut. He was wearing a green full-body, zip-up uniform and had a clipboard. Mac noticed his boots, bright black, as if they had been spit-shined.

Knapp got into one of the white Q Cleaner vans and backed it up to a small loading dock where a couple of other men from inside started loading the van with white hangers full of plastic-covered shirts, suits, uniforms, and other clothing for delivery. In ten minutes the van was full. One of the other workers gave Knapp a few sheets of paper that he put on his clipboard. Knapp gave the guy a little wave, jumped in his van and pulled out of the parking lot, heading west along University.

The detail tailed Knapp all day as he made deliveries up and down University Avenue for nearly four hours, going as far west as the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, and back east along University, to within a few blocks of the State Capitol. Deliveries were made to homes, offices, factories, a motel, restaurants, and bars. The stops never ventured far north or south of University Avenue. At 3:00 p.m. he stopped at a McDonald’s for a late lunch. Mac watched through the binoculars as he wolfed down a super-sized meal.

After his lunch, he did his pickups, hitting all of the same kinds of establishments up and down University. At 5:45 p.m. he backed his van up to the loading dock area at Q-Cleaners, and a couple of workers came out and started unloading the van while Knapp headed inside.

At 6:00 p.m. sharp, Knapp walked, almost marched, out of the building and got into a red Pontiac Grand Am. He pulled out and drove west on University. Just past Snelling Avenue, he turned left into a parking ramp. A detail van followed Knapp in. Mac kept going west on University one block to a Burger King where he pulled in and stopped, waiting for a status on Knapp.

Five minutes later Riley popped on the radio, “Knapp’s inside Applebee’s. Looks like he’s going to order dinner. Everyone find a spot and sit tight.”

Mac and Lich both looked at the Burger King sign and Lich blurted, “You want fries with that?”

At 7:45 p.m., Knapp left Applebee’s. He didn’t head home. He stopped at three bars along University Avenue. At each stop, a member or two of the detail got out and went inside to observe. At each bar Knapp would stop in and have a beer or two, usually sitting at the bar. Most of the time he watched whatever game was on TV. At Murphy’s Bar, he watched the Wild and Red Wings game. At Pistol Pete’s, he engaged in idle chitchat with a group of men while watching the Wolves game.

His last stop was Dick’s Bar on the northeast corner of University and Arundel. It was 11:15 p.m. The radio chirped with Riles voice. “Mac, your turn.”

“Copy that,” Mac replied. He grabbed his leather jacket and his beat up old Twins baseball cap and opened the door. He stopped and quickly looked back at Lich, who was chewing on a cigar. “Got a spare?”

Dick’s was a classic dark hole-in-the-wall bar. On the left side was a long bar that ran forty feet to the back. Along the wall behind the bar were shelves with various unorganized bottles of liquor. Along the right side were booths, with red vinyl seats, hacked up from years of use and inattention. In the back was a narrow hallway with a backdoor to the parking lot. There were bathrooms along the right side and a small kitchen on the left.

Dick’s was a working man’s bar. No suits, no ties. Instead people wore shit-kickers, dirty pants, work coats, and ball caps. As Mac listened to the conversations, every other word was “shit,” “fuck,” “asshole,” or “cocksucker.” A smoky haze muted the dim light. Along with the bottles along the back wall one could get a pack of smokes, a cheap cigar or some beef jerky. A quick count told Mac there were twenty-five customers.