Terminal 9 (24 page)

“That's it, man. Maybe I've got more of a problem than I think. You know, a few bad checks and the like.To be honest, that's why I missed our appointment the other day. I was a little stressed from the whole thing—talking to the cops again just wasn't on my wish list, you know. I went to the tavern and started playing, the hours and the drinks just started to add up. I ended up losing a few bucks and got into it with the old lady again. I knew I was blowing you guys off but . . . anyway, I didn't do anything wrong so I figured you guys would just go away.”

“I can live with that.” Mac tapped his pen against his hand. “Tell us about your interaction with Clay Mullins. How do you explain your fingerprints being on his chair?”

“Like I told you, Mullins was a big pain in the neck, but I wouldn't kill the old buzzard. Sure he would show up every day and count deadheads along the rail line and give his report to management.” Mason held up fingers in the quote sign when he said the word
report.
“Mullins was a legend at the terminal, and I actually respected the guy. He held a similar position to my own, back before we had shifts. In his day he was actually responsible for the work three of us do now. I don't know how he did it.”

“How did that make you feel, having your work criticized?” Mac asked.

“How do you think? I had great production numbers, but I just happen to work the morning shift—that's when the old geezer would come over. The swing and graveyard shift guys didn't have to put up with him because Mullins was home by then. The old guy was always getting in the way in addition to making my life miserable by giving these reports to management. I've got bills you know. I didn't need this guy running flak for me with the brass.”

“What do you mean by ‘getting in the way'—you mean for a promotion or what?”

“I mean physically in the way, he was like having a kid on the terminal property. I don't know why management tolerated him. He was always getting stuck with that scooter of his.”

“The scooter we recovered the night he was killed?”

“Yeah. He would high center that thing all the time. I bet I jerked him back on the footpath a dozen times when he got in a jam.”

Convenient excuse for the fingerprint on the handlebars,
Mac thought. “Why do you think management tolerated Mullins on the terminal grounds? Wasn't he a liability for the company?”

“Thank you, someone finally agrees with me. There was a rumor going around that the old coot was leaving some or all of his estate to the terminal. I thought that was bunk—I mean who leaves property to the railroad? But that's the only reason I could think of for the brass letting the old-timer hang around. He wanted the terminal to build a railroad museum and fill it up with his collection. I suppose all that got lost in the fire. Too bad. I heard he had some cool stuff.”

“Speaking of the fire,” Mac said, “can you give us the names of people who can put you at the bar—confirm your alibi the night of the fire?”

“You bet. My wife and the bartender.”

Mac jotted down a few notes. “That's about all I have right now. Detective Bennett?” Mac turned the interview over to Dana.

“Just a few things, Mr. Mason. Did you know either of Clay's children?”

Mason shook his head. “I never met his family. Heard he had a daughter living in Portland. She came to see him sometimes.”

“He also had a son, named Jacob Mullins.”

“Never heard that. Anyhow, I didn't know either of them. Alls I can say is that I saw a fancy white BMW outside the old guy's house once in a while. That was about the only time he didn't come over to the terminal. We'd know his daughter was visiting. The only other car I ever saw on a regular basis was the maid, but she drove a Ford Escort.”

“Sounds like you paid attention to what went on at his place.”

“Not really. Guess I would notice when he didn't show up. We all got a little worried on those days. You couldn't help but look out for the old guy. My own father died about ten years ago. I guess I did respect Mullins even if I couldn't stand the sight of him. Everyone kinda looked out for old Clay; nobody here would have wanted anything bad to happen to him. Nobody hated him enough to kill him, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Would you be willing to take a polygraph examination to verify the things you told us today?” Dana asked.

“If it would help get me uninvolved in this thing, sure. What do I do?”

“We'll drive you back over to the tavern and make some calls on the way. I'm pretty sure we can get someone to come out here to do the test in the next day or two.”

“Bring it on.”

TWENTY-ONE

A
FTER DROPPING MASON OFF at Gussie's Tavern, Dana drove over to the gift shop. While she was there, Mac went into the café across the street and ordered a roast beef sandwich and coffee. A few minutes later, he brought it outside and sat down at the small round table. The chairs weren't the most comfortable things—those ornate metal jobs with round seats.

The day had surprised them with warmth and sunshine. Too nice to waste sitting inside. While he ate, he ran through the case— or cases—in his mind, occasionally checking his notes. It was a weird one for sure. He'd thought they had something going with Mason, but if the guy was telling the truth, he would soon be out of the loop as a suspect.

When Mac finished eating, he picked up his garbage and took it to the trash can beside the door. He then returned to his chair and placed a call to Kevin.

“Hey, partner. Do you have anything new for us?” Mac watched Dana emerge from the shop, bag in hand.

“Talked with Jacob Mullins's boss,” Kevin told him. “The same day he heard about his father, he took some time off. No one seems to know anything about him going to St. Helens though. We're still digging—so far nothing unusual.”

“Let us know.”

“Right. By the way, the subpoena's ready for you at the bank.”

“That was fast.” Mac pulled a pad out of his briefcase and jotted down the details.

“We aim to please.” Kevin chuckled. “It'll be ready when you are. You'll want to hook up with Clay's housekeeper too. Philly and Russ talked to her briefly. You knew her son and Cohen are friends. She thinks Tyler is a bad influence. Wants Philly to lock him up and throw away the key. At any rate, Russ and Philly are more interested in finding Tyler at this point, and she had a lead for them to follow. They don't think she had anything to do with the fire or Clay's death. Seems like a nice lady. Not taking her boss's death too well, I guess. Philly said she got pretty emotional so they figured the full interview could wait.” Kevin gave Mac the housekeeper's address and phone number.

“So they don't have Tyler yet?” Mac asked while he wrote.

“Nope, but it sounds like they're closing in.”

“Good.” Mac hesitated. “We sure miss you being out here with us, Kev.”

Kevin sighed. Mac visualized him with both elbows on his desk, running a hand over his bald head. “I wish I could be out there too, partner. But that isn't going to happen for a while. My doc tells me I'll be able to return to work full time once the chemo sessions are done and I get some strength back. I don't know, though. Seems like I keep getting weaker. Guess that's to be expected.”

Mac didn't know how to answer. “I'm betting you'll be back in no time. I doubt there's anything that can keep an old workhorse like you down for long.”

“I hope you're right. Say, did you get a chance to interview Clay's attorney?”

Mac gave him the details. Kevin listened intently then said, “Sounds like you two are doing great without me.”

“I don't know, partner. We're floundering here.”

“It'll all come together. Piece by piece.” Kevin really believed that. “Just look at the cases we've worked. Those first few days are the hardest. Once we gather all the evidence we'll figure it out.”

Mac smiled at the optimism. Dana would appreciate that.

“How's Dana doing?” Kevin asked.

“Great.” Mac raised a hand to greet the subject of their conversation as she placed a bag next to the empty chair across from Mac. “She just walked up—want to talk to her?”

“That's okay, just tell her I said hi.”

“Kevin says hi,” Mac told her.

“Hi back.” She waved and went inside to order.

“Oh, one more thing, Mac. Melissa Thomas will set up for a poly tomorrow on Mason and Rita. She can stay longer if you want anyone else in there. Hey, buddy, I gotta go; I'm getting another call. I'll let you know when I get anything else.”

“What's happening?” Dana slipped onto the chair and dropped a teabag into a pot of hot water.

Mac closed his phone and took a sip of his coffee before answering. “We got a subpoena for the safe-deposit box. I'm thinking we should hit the bank, then drop over to see Clay's housekeeper. Philly and Russ talked to her briefly and got a lead on Tyler Cohen.”

“Philly and Russ found the kid?” Dana asked.

“Not yet, but they will. Philly's like a bloodhound.”

“Did they interview Rita?” She swirled the bag and put the lid back on the hot water.

“Briefly.”

“Good. I'm glad for the opportunity to talk with her.”

“From what Kevin says, Rita is pretty shaken up about Mullins's death and the fire.”

“I imagine. She lost her boss and her job. Did they have anything to say about the interview?”

“Just that they didn't think she had anything to do with the fire. She'll be taking a poly. By the way, Kev's arranged to have Melissa Thomas come out tomorrow to run the polygraphs on Mason and Rita—Cohen if we can find him. I'd try to set up Addison, but I doubt he'll bite.”

“Doesn't hurt to ask.” Dana leaned back as the gal behind the counter brought her a green tortilla wrapped around something.

“Here's your fish taco,” the woman said. “Let me know how you like it.”

Mac watched the woman walk back inside. “A fish taco? I didn't see that on the menu.”

Dana examined it and nodded. “I know. I asked if they could put it together for me. Looks wonderful.”

Mac shrugged. “Hmm. About Addison. It's your call. Anyway, Rita did have some information on Tyler. The kid hangs out with her son sometimes. Guess she isn't too happy about that. Told Philly and Russ that she hopes they get the guy and put him away for good. He's a bad influence.”

“I'll bet.” She poured the tea into her cup. “I'm glad we'll have a chance to talk to her.”

“Me too.” Mac grimaced at the pea-green tea in his partner's cup. “What is that stuff?”

“Green tea. I'm really trying to take care of myself, so I've started to have at least one cup a day—for the antioxidants. It's good for you.”

“If you say so.” As much as Mac wanted to start eating healthier, he wasn't sure he wanted to follow Dana's lead. “Green tea and green tortillas, yuck.”

“It's actually quite good.” Dana paused to take a bite. “Do we have anything on Jacob yet?”

“Kevin is still trying to dig up more background on him. He took a couple of days off work—for his dad's funeral and such.”

“Bet he had no idea he'd be going to his own.”

“So far no one seems to know anything about his visit to St. Helens. I find it odd that no one knew he was there.”

“Yeah, especially since he had a key to the place. Maybe someone isn't being completely honest with us.”

“Like his sister?” Mac asked.

“Or Addison Shaw. We did find Shaw's card in Jacob's pocket.”

Mac waited while Dana finished off her fish taco, discarded her trash, and complimented the gal who'd made it for her. “All set?” she asked.

“I'm ready.”

Mac opened the driver side door and started to get in. Dana had pulled the seat forward, making the fit a little too tight. “Um—I thought I'd drive, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all.”

Mac hit the lever, sending the seat back into its farthest position.

Dana pulled out her notebook and scanned the pages. “Did Kevin say whether Russ and Philly asked Rita specifically about Jacob?”

“I don't think so.” Mac backed into the street. “Best thing to do is call them. No sense duplicating things.”

“Mmm. Sure would be nice to get some idea about who might have wanted him dead.”

“Just speculating again,” Mac said, “but the sister comes to mind. With her father and brother dead, she ends up with the entire estate.”

“Follow the money, huh?”

“Darn right. Then again, maybe Jacob found something incriminating and had to be eliminated.”

“My head is swimming, Mac. Even with writing everything down I feel like we're being bombarded on all sides.”

“I know what you mean. I'm not even sure which case we're working on. We're still trying to figure out what happened to Clay and all of a sudden we have a break-in, a fire, and a murder victim.”

“Not to mention the acting chief of police releasing the train car and sending our security officer on a bogus call the night Clay's place was torched. I'm still steamed about that.”

Mac agreed. “Yeah, but I doubt the guy has anything to do with our case. He's playing politics with the big guys at the terminal. You know, it's ‘you pat my back, and I'll pat yours.' ”

Mac pulled up in front of the U.S. bank. “Kevin says the district attorney has already issued subpoenas for Clay's safe-deposit box in St. Helens and his post office box. Darren was supposed to have faxed the subpoena to the bank manager, who's promised to release the property as soon as we get there.”

“Great.” Dana opened the car door. “Let's go in and take a look.”

Mac stopped at the door. “Care to make a wager? I'll bet the manager won't know what we're talking about.”