Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Riley snorted, elbowing Mac in the ribs. “So, you’re recognizable?”

“Guess I’ll need a publicist.”

Alt led them past the reception desk, towards a set of double doors that led into a plush conference room. There was a cherry wood conference table with ten high-backed leather chairs on either side. Fine crystal glassware sat on a silver tray in the middle of the table. A large credenza on one end of the conference room held coffee and soft drinks. Built-in cabinets on the other end probably concealed a television and projection screen of some sort, Mac thought, based on the configuration of the cabinet doors.

As impressive as the conference room was, the view was even better. From the twentieth floor, the windows looked west out of downtown. Mac walked over to the window, which ran from floor to ceiling. He could see the Xcel Energy Center’s large red letters and message board flashing coming events. The height of the building also allowed Mac to look levelly at the St. Paul Cathedral, up on the bluff overlooking the city to the west. It was beautiful, the white stone of the magnificent church illuminated by ground lights, contrasting against the dark-blue, cold, winter sky.

As Mac took in the view, he heard the doors open. He turned to see Alt walking back in with Ted Lindsay and another man, whom he assumed was the attorney. Introductions were made all around. Lindsay skipped Alt, and introduced his lawyer, Larry Zimmer. Mac had heard of him, although he didn’t know him. A Prominent lawyer with a big firm, the name of which Mac couldn’t remember.

The chief introduced his troops. When Flanagan introduced Mac, Lindsay walked over. “Detective McRyan, you have been busy lately, haven’t you?” he said, shaking Mac’s hand, looking him closely in the eye.

“As have you,” Mac replied stoically, not backing down.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Lindsay replied evenly. “But why don’t we sit down, and you can tell us why Landy Stephens called me so upset last night.”

Mac took a seat at the conference table, opposite Lindsay. The lawyer sat to Lindsay’s right. Alt, the security guy, stood behind Lindsay, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

Mac began. “It’s funny you should say that Ms. Stephens was so upset.”

“Oh, why would that be?”

“Well, Pat,” Mac said glancing over at Riley, “she didn’t seem too upset when we were invited into her home, did she?”

“No, she didn’t,” Riley replied.

“No. In fact she served coffee and invited us into the living room of her home.”

Lindsay smiled. “Landy is a very nice lady. But when four officers show up on her doorstep, I’m sure she was taken aback. I’m sure she felt that if she was pleasant and nice, you’d leave much sooner.”

“Perhaps,” Mac replied. “Of course, we didn’t just show up at her place. We did call and ask if we could stop by. Did she mention that?”

Lindsay didn’t reply.

Mac forged on. “Because she couldn’t have been more pleasant. So you can imagine our surprise to find out that she was so upset that we’d been to her home and that we were harassing her.”

“Detective, I can only convey to you the phone call I received from Landy,” Lindsay replied calmly. “Her late husband was a dear friend. I feel a responsibility to look after her. When she called upset, well… I felt it necessary to investigate.” Lindsay leaned forward, elbows on the table, “Especially, when she mentioned all of the questions you were asking about Jamie Jones.”

“Mr. Lindsay, I can say that we did not harass Ms. Stephens,” Mac replied. “You know it’s funny though. It didn’t take long for us to get called on the carpet about going to her house.”

“Detective, I’m a man accustomed to getting quick results.”

“I’m sure you’ve gotten to where you are because of that,” Mac replied, “But it was so quick, I mean almost as if someone saw us leaving her place.” Mac didn’t know if that was the case, but Lyman said he wouldn’t be surprised if PTA had been watching them. He threw it out there to see if Lindsay would react. He didn’t. The lawyer jumped in.

“Detective, why don’t you get to the reason you were visiting Mrs. Stephens.”

“Good idea, Counselor.” Mac replied flippantly, opening his notebook, “Mr. Lindsay, I’m going to tell you a little story, and then I’ll have some questions. Sound fair?”

Lindsay nodded.

“As you know, we recently arrested a serial killer named Dirk Knapp. He’s alleged to have killed seven women in the area around University Avenue. We captured him last week, as I’m sure you recall.”

“Yes, I do, Detective.” Lindsay replied. “As I recall, you were the officer who apprehended him. To that we owe you many thanks, since the bastard killed our Jamie.”

“Yeah, we thought he killed her, too.”

“But… you don’t think so?” Lindsay asked, his brow furrowed.

Mac shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe not. As we all know, Knapp was assassinated the next day. Looked like a pro job. So, we never got the chance to ask him about the killings.”

“Unfortunate for you guys,” Zimmer replied, “But I don’t see how this has anything to do with my client.”

“Patience, Counselor,” Mac replied dismissively, waving Zimmer off while keeping his gaze on Lindsay. “So, anyway. The morning after we caught Knapp, I went out to his place in Hudson. In the basement he had been keeping his clippings in great detail about all his handiwork. He had a display for all of his victims, except one. Who do you suppose that was?”

Lindsay sat back in his chair, folded his arms but didn’t reply.

Mac kept going. “Jamie Jones. Now we thought it odd that she’d be missing. We would’ve asked Knapp about that, but low and behold…”

“He’s dead,” Riley finished.

“Guess you should have done a better job protecting him,” Lindsay replied, pushing back just a little, but his face remaining neutral.

“No doubt about that,” Mac replied. “But I’m still curious about Jones missing from Knapp’s collection. I mean he took all the time to cut all the clippings about the other victims and to tape the news shows, but he completely ignored Jones. Well, we thought it was odd. So, I took a look at our file on Jones and noticed some differences between her and the other victims.”

“Such as?”

“Knapp’s victims were blue-collar, working women. Jones was not.”

“So what?” Lindsay replied.

“Serial killers pick out one kind of victim and stick with that,” Mac answered. “They don’t stray.”

Riles picked up the thread. “So, we took another look at Jones and found some things that caused us to look in the direction of PTA.”

“What would that be, detective?” Lindsay asked evenly, unrattled.

“While we were looking through her apartment, and we noticed Ms. Stephens’ name on a calendar on the refrigerator. She met with Ms. Jones six days before she died on Halloween.”

“That’s hardly unusual, detective. It’s no secret that James and Landy were good friends with Jamie.”

“As Ms. Stephens told us. They got together for coffee, apparently something they did every once in a while. Of course on this occasion, Ms. Stephens gave Jones something.”

“Which was?” Lindsay asked.

“A banker’s box full of PTA documents for something called…” Mac looked at Riles.

“Cross,” Riles finished.

“Is that what this is about, Detective McRyan?” Lindsay asked, “I can assure you-”

Mac cut him off, “There’s more than that, I assure you,” an intentional taunt in his voice, pushing at Lindsay. “We also know that after she met with Ms. Stephens, Jones met with Claire Daniels.” They hadn’t been able to confirm exactly when that meeting took place, but they were pretty sure it had.