Lich jumped in. “Did you touch the body, anything like that?” Dix put his hands up and shook his head. “No. No. No. Figured that killer was at it again. They say he dumps the bodies in vacant lots.” Dix waved his left arm towards the lot, “This shithole qualifies. I ran back to the truck and called it in.”
They went back over it again. Time of arrival, did he notice anything out of the ordinary, any vans in the area, anyone else walking through the lot? Dix had nothing to add. The two other guys on his crew were of no help. As they were walking away, Mac asked one last question, “You guys start today?”
“Naw, man,” Dix replied. “Noon yesterday.”
Mac and Lich stayed with Riley and continued on with the canvas. It was painful watching him work it. You could see it in his eyes as the day went along. House after house, witness after witness, nobody saw anything. The case was beating down on Riley, and the despair showed on his face, as they developed nothing other than their seventh dead body. Mac overheard a couple of conversations Riles had with the chief. It wasn’t pretty.
Mid-day they learned that the victim’s name was Charlene Murphy. She worked at the Hole-in-the-Wall, a diner that wasn’t but five blocks away. She left work at 11:00 p.m. the night before, and the diner’s morning workers found her car in the back of the parking lot, with her keys lying underneath. The strangler likely attacked her there, dragging her back into the alley and to the van they assumed he had. A canvas had been started behind the restaurant, but it was unlikely anyone saw anything. A ten-foot-high fence ran most of the length of the alley. Not only couldn’t anyone see anything, but the fence also created an excellent sound barrier.
At 4:00 p.m., Riles ordered everyone downtown, leaving two men behind to catch people as they came home. Mac and Lich headed for their car. When Mac got into the car and turned the key, he noticed the gas gauge was nearly empty. Lich saw it too. “Let’s hit the GasUp on the corner.”
Mac pulled up to the line of pumps closest to Hampden Avenue, got out and started filling the tank. “I’m chilled to the bone, man. Grab some coffee.”
“Will do,” Lich answered as he headed inside.
As the tank filled, Mac looked out onto University and watched the traffic pass by. Not much going on other than normal traffic for this part of town, delivery trucks and vans, beat up cars of working-class folks, the occasional cab. Not much pedestrian traffic, especially on such a cold and ugly day.
He looked back inside and could see Lich at the coffee pots. The GasUp station was big for the neighborhood, with four islands of gas pumps, four pumps per island. A large canopy with the big orange GasUp sign on it rested overhead. Mac looked up and noticed the surveillance cameras looking straight down on each set of islands. He looked up at the one for his island and it was bent, pointing out towards the corner of Hampden and University.
Hearing the pump pop, Mac looked inside and waved. Lich paid for the gas and the coffee.
Mac got back in the car, and Lich was there a minute later, with a steaming hot twenty-ounce coffee.
“Mucho gracias.”
“I’d have gotten you a cerveza,” Lich cracked, “But we’re on the clock.”
Mac took a drink and immediately felt better, the Styrofoam cup warmed his cold hands, and the coffee quickly heated his insides. Taking another sip, he looked up at the camera one more time and wondered. He started the car and instead of taking a right onto Hampden to go to University, he took a left, back towards the dump site.
“Where the hell are you going?” Lich asked.
“To check something out.” Mac drove back to the construction site, where the crew was still working, minus Dix, who’d gone downtown to give a statement. The road was dug up completely from side to side and into the yards on either side. The hole was down nearly ten feet where they were repairing a sewer line. It blocked the entire street.
Mac got out and approached the crew. “I was talking to Dix earlier, and he said you guys started yesterday, round noon right?”
A short guy with a wind-reddened, pock-marked face named Borowicz responded, “Yup, uh huh, that’s right. Started right after lunch.”
“How late did you work?”
“We were off the clock at 4:30.”
“How big a hole did you have going at that point?”
“Pretty good size.” Borowicz said.
“What’s pretty good size?”
“Oh, we had the street dug up good, you know, you couldn’t go past. We had the road-closed sign up on the other side so people on Cromwell wouldn’t turn in. She was big and deep.”
“You’re saying no way anyone could get by.”
“Nah, unless they were drunk and wanted to drive through the yards and stuff. Why would anyone want to try that?”
Exactly, thought Mac. “Thanks guy. Stay warm.”
“I fuckin’ wish,” replied Borowicz, heading back to work.
They walked back to the car. “What the heck was that all about?” Lich inquired.
“I’ll show you.” Mac backed up and turned back towards the GasUp station. “This morning I was looking at the big map of the city where they plotted out all the locations where the victims were found, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Rock and I were looking at it, and he made the comment that the guy always leaves himself multiple routes out. He goes in one way and probably out another.”
“So?”
“With Myrtle closed like that, the only way in and out of here is Hampden. We take Hampden in, one block it’s a dead end, and you can only go right on Myrtle. Now, if Myrtle isn’t closed…”
“He can go any number of ways.”
“Right. He can go straight ahead on Myrtle then right or left on Cromwell.”
“But, as far as I know, Riley had the gas station canvassed.”
“Right. And there was nothing,” Mac replied. “But let me show you something.”
Mac pulled back into the GasUp station, this time in front. They got out, and Mac said, “Look at that.” He pointed up at the camera he had been looking at earlier, under the canopy, pointing right out to the corner of Hampden and University. There was a large street light on the corner.
Lich, seeing it, turned to look at Mac with a little grin, “Long shot.”
“Humor me.”
The store manager was taking inventory in one of the aisles, making notes on his clipboard. His name was Harold, a short, curly-brown-haired guy dressed in a white shirt, orange tie, and khaki’s that had seen better days. He wore glasses with large, round, clear, plastic frames ten years out of style. Mac imagined the job didn’t pay enough for new ones. Mac and Lich identified themselves.
“A couple of your guys were in earlier. I gave them the names of our people who worked last night.”
“So, the store’s open twenty-four hours, right?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.”
“Are the security cameras always running?”
“Yeah, far as I know,” Harold replied.
“Did our guys ask about those?”
“No.”
“How come the one on the far left out there, underneath the overhead, is pointing out to the street like that?” Mac asked.
“Ohh, is that what this is about?” Harold replied, shaking his head, exasperated. “Guy who changes the gas pricing numbers hit it with a ladder the other day. I’ve warned him about that before, that he could hit it and sure ’nuff, he did.” Harold stated, satisfied that he’d predicted it right. “I have a call in to get it fixed, but it might be a day or two.”
“Is it still operating?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Mind if we take a look?”
Harold waved them to the back of the store. “Would I have a choice?”
“No, but it’s all right for us to let you think you have one,” Lich quipped.
Harold took them into the security room. After a store clerk in northern Minnesota had been abducted and murdered a few years back, convenience stores started putting in more cameras, and GasUp had gone the whole nine yards. Two monitors that showed eight cameras, four inside and the four outside. “Here’s the one you’re looking for.” Harold said, pointing to the upper left-hand corner of the right screen.