Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Knapp sat in the middle of the bar, looking up at the TV that hung over the far end of the bar. A hoops game was on ESPN. Mac looked up in time to see Shaq nearly pull the basket down to the floor with a massive dunk, which caused someone to yell, “Jesus Christ!”

Mac picked an empty stool at the corner of the bar, next to the pull-tabs, just inside the front door. He could sit and look straight down the bar at Knapp. The bartender turned towards him to serve a customer between Knapp and Mac. She took his order, looked towards Mac and flashed him a smile.

The bartender was not what you’d expect to find at a place like Dick’s. She was attractive as hell. She was a petite blonde wearing a tight white Dick’s T-shirt, no bra, and her nipples were in full bloom. The dirty old boys in here must love it. She had short, kinky hair, kind of spiked on top and a hundred-watt smile that she flashed constantly. No wonder there were a few folks in here. Mac wondered what the heck she was doing here. She could be working a lot of other places.

She sauntered on over to Mac, flashed him a bright-white smile, “What can I get ya, hun?”

“I’ll take a bottle of High Life and a book of matches.”

“Sure thing,” she replied with the smile, heading back to get the beer. Along with the tight shirt, she was wearing snug jeans that hugged her slender legs and little ass. Steady boy, Mac said to himself. He checked out Knapp, who was eyeing up the bartender as well, making a little conversation with her while she reached in the cooler for Mac’s beer. She flashed Knapp a smile as well and then wandered back to Mac. “$3.25.”

Mac handed her a twenty. “I’ll take fifteen on the pull-tabs. Keep the rest.”

She grabbed a basket, put the pull-tabs in and wandered off to wait on the rest of the customers. Mac took a pull off his beer and winced a little at the taste. He wasn’t a real High Life fan, but it was a working-man’s beer, and he was in a working-man’s bar. He lit his cigar and started to slowly work his pull-tabs, a uniquely Minnesota form of gambling. Pull-tabs were small cards, smaller then playing cards with three tabs. You pulled away the tabs, and if you had a match all the way across on any of the three tabs, you were a winner. On the fourteenth card, Mac hit $100 with a line through three cherries, his lucky night. He caught the bartender’s eye, holding up the winner.

She walked back over casually, flashed him another little smile, “Lucky you.” She went to the cash drawer for the pull-tabs and came back with his winnings. “Here you go.”

“Keep twenty for yourself.”

“Thanks.” Another smile. She was cute, in a dirty girl sort of way. She pocketed the money.

Mac took another look at Knapp, who was staring in a different direction. At the far end of the bar was another woman. She was more ordinary looking. She too was small and petite. But whereas the bartender was attractive as hell, this one was less so. She had long, straight, black hair, which she pushed behind her ears to keep it out of her face. The bartender had her face done up; this one was a plain Jane. She had slender legs, but you couldn’t see her ass. It was hidden by an oversized Dick’s Bar sweatshirt. The bartender was the epitome of “Hey, look at me,” but this one was the “Don’t notice me” type. She approached Mac with a crate of glasses and proceeded to stack them under the bar, near the ice bin. She wasn’t unattractive, Mac thought. If she worked a little, she could probably do pretty well. She just seemed more shy and reserved. And Knapp was checking her out. Mac made a little small talk.

“Could you grab me a glass of ice water?”

She looked up at him quizzically. “Don’t get a lot of requests for that in here.”

“I don’t imagine you do. Just a little parched.”

“Sure.” She filled the glass up with ice and squirted some water in from the gun. He casually looked beyond her to see Knapp locked in on her. “Here you go,” she said as she put the glass in front of him.

“Thanks. What’s your name?

“Linda.”

“Thanks, Linda.”

“No problem.” She sauntered back down the bar and past Knapp, who eyed her all the way. He was sly about it, but he was looking.

“Hmpf,” Mac thought. He looked at his watch, 11:30 p.m.

For the next half hour, Mac kept his eye alternately on Knapp, Linda, and whatever was on the TV. Knapp watched Linda intently as she came and went. He hardly paid attention to the cute bartender, which made him entirely different from everyone else, including Mac. Linda came in and out of the bar area. She delivered food, took care of the various supplies and mixed an occasional drink. She was a combo bar back and bartender. The hot bartender just worked the patrons.

Knapp watched Linda the entire time. Mac gave him credit. He had some skill. No way did Linda know she was being scoped.

The hoops game ended at midnight, and Knapp settled up, leaving a nice tip behind. Mac imagined that the hot bartender made nice tips, especially if she dressed like that every night. He would have to get her name as some point, so he did not keep thinking of her as the hot chick. The crusty guys in Dick’s weren’t going home to anything like her.

Mac watched Knapp head out the back, bumping into Linda on the way out. Wonder if that was intentional? There was some small talk, and Knapp continued out the back door. Mac pulled out his phone and buzzed Riles. “He’s on the way out the back.”

“Got him. We’re meeting in the Gas amp; Shop lot in five minutes. The second shift will put Knapp to bed.” Riley clicked off.

Mac took the last drink of his beer. The bartender saw him and wandered back down to him.

“Can I get you one more, hun?”

“No thanks. That’ll do me for tonight. But let me ask you, what’s your name?”

“Sheila.”

“Well Sheila, my first time in, and I appreciated the service.”

She flashed him the 100-watt smile and said, “Well, you come back now.”

Mac smiled. He had a feeling he would.

They met in the parking lot. Riley started things off. “So what do we think?”

“He don’t look much like a serial killer,” Dan Patrick said.

“True enough,” replied Rockford.

“It’s not like he’s going to have a sign hanging on him-‘Hello, I’m your neighborhood serial killer,’” quipped Lich.

“I know, Dick,” replied Patrick, “It’s just that usually those guys have a look about them. This guy looks normal.”

“Ted Bundy was normal looking,” Rockford replied. “Hell, he was good looking, woman were drawn to him.”

Riles looked at Mac. “What do you think?”

“I think he knows University Avenue and the surrounding neighborhoods like the back of his hand. He was up and down it all day long, in and out of all of those businesses. Then after work, he’s at Applebee’s and three bars, all on University. He’s in and out of all those streets. And these guys are right, he’s normal looking, so he isn’t likely to draw suspicion.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Riley replied. “Looks like he works hard for his employer, I mean there was no dickin’ around on those routes today. He was in and out of all those places quick.”

“Yeah. Hard-working guy,” Mac replied. “We go around asking people where the victims worked, anyone suspicious hanging around. Everyone says no. If it’s this guy, he’s doing nothing to raise suspicion. He’s in and out. I suppose he might throw a little line of bullshit at the ladies. I watched him do that at Dick’s Bar just now with the bartender. But she was a hot little thing so that’s pretty normal.”

Lich jumped in. “He’s strong too. He’s got that lean body you can tell is strong.”