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Disconnecting the Rover’s Bluetooth, he pulled his phone from his pocket, placed the call and held the phone to his ear.
“Yo, boss,” Benny said, instantly answering the call.
“Benny, you ran a check on Steadman. How old is he?”
“Sixty-five.”
“As soon as we go into his building, you and Joe take his apartment, I’ll take his office. Look for cameras—a darkroom—filing cabinets with photographs. If you find anything text me right away.”
“Sure, boss.”
“He’s old school. Look for secret hiding places under the floorboards, or a false back to a medicine cabinet,” Marco continued, recalling how his father would stash money and documents in their home.
“What if he’s there?”
“I hope to God he is,” Marco replied gruffly. “You can search while Joe and I do the talking. How close are we?”
“At the end of this block we turn right. His digs are halfway down the street.”
“Is it a push button entry?”
“Yeah, but Joe checked out the lock when we were here before. It’s a piece of cake.”
“I’ll wait for you to get in, then I’ll follow.”
“Okay, boss.”
Abruptly ending the call, Marco impatiently tapped the steering wheel, but turning the corner and driving down Steadman’s block, he automatically began studying the parked cars. Seeing nothing to cause concern, he backed into a parking space a short distance from the Subaru.
Watching Benny and Joe stride purposefully across the street, he was surprised when they reached the door and simply pulled it open. Reaching into the center console compartment and picking up his thin leather gloves, he slipped them on as he climbed from the Rover and jogged across the street.
As he walked in, Joe pointed to a weathered sign on a nearby door that readMax Steadman. Private Detective. Licensed and Bonded.While Benny walked quietly up the stairs in search of apartment 302B, Joe attempted to pick the lock, but stopped, stared at Marco, then turned the handle. It hadn’t been bolted. Sharing a quick glance, Joe cautiously peered inside, then pushed it open and entered.
“Damn…” he muttered. “Our bird has flown the coop.”
“His apartment will be the same,” Marco quietly remarked. “Join Benny and search it anyway.”
As Joe left, Marco quietly closed the door behind him and wandered around the small, empty office. Three tall metal cabinets sat side by side, open and void of any files. The dented tin wastebasket had been emptied, and sitting behind the old, battered oak desk, Marco found the drawers had been cleaned out.
But shouting its presence in the barren room, an ashtray with a book of matches sat in the middle of the leather inlay.
Picking up the nondescript packet, he flipped up the cover.
He found nothing.
Yet he sensed the matches and ashtray were purposeful.
Not knowing what to make of the mysterious items, he dropped the packet in his pocket, then noticing what he assumed would be a bathroom or closet, he rose to his feet and walked across the room.
Opening the door, he caught his breath.
He was staring into an empty darkroom.
“You must have been scared shitless,” he muttered, flicking the light switch and flooding the space in red light.
Spotting a cabinet against the back wall, he stepped quickly forward and opened it. He wasn’t surprised there was nothing in it, but as he studied the depth of the shelves he realized they didn’t match the width of the sides.
He grinned.
