Shannon peered around the room looking for other places money could be hidden, then gave Daniels a halfhearted shrug. “I guess I’m done,” he said.
Their moods were both subdued leaving the apartment. Shannon put the padlock back in place while Daniels stood still, almost like a marble statue, as he peered off into the distance. “That was a good call looking for a stash of money,” he admitted. “Too bad it didn’t pan out.” He paused as his hard granite exterior softened for a moment, then said. “This damn thing is going to send me to an early grave. Any idea what you’re going to try next?”
Shannon smiled sardonically. “I’m seeing a psychic.”
Daniels laughed at that. “Yeah, why not? That makes as much sense as anything else with this case. Seriously, you have any other ideas?”
“I’m being completely serious.”
Daniels gave Shannon an odd look as he considered him. “Yeah, sure you are…” He let the sentence hang, stopping when the door to the neighboring condo opened. Maguire, looking half-asleep, stuck his head out. His skin color had a dead-fish quality to it, his reddish hair matted and pulled in different directions-almost like a clown’s wig. He blinked several times while his eyes focused on Shannon. “Bill, my good buddy from Cambridge. I thought I heard you out here-”. He noticed Daniels then and smiled apologetically. “Ah, jeeze, sorry if I interrupted anything.”
“No problem,” Daniels muttered. “I was just leaving.” He nodded curtly to Shannon, told him to call him if he found anything, and left through the vestibule door.
Maguire waited until Daniels was out of sight before apologizing again for interrupting them. “That guy’s a cop, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“He looked familiar. I think he was one of the cops who came around asking me and my wife questions after the murders.” Curiosity shined in his bloodshot eyes as he nodded towards the other apartment. “You two were in there, weren’t you? Come on, what was it like in there?” he asked.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you,” Shannon said. Maguire stood barefooted in his condo entranceway wearing a stained tee shirt and a baggy pair of basketball shorts that went down past his knees. From three feet away he smelled like an open keg of beer. “You doing okay?” Shannon asked.
“Yeah, I’m doing just peachy. Lost my job, wife’s gone, and I’m stuck in this godforsaken town with a condo I can’t sell.” He forced a weak smile. “But on a positive note, I don’t have to go to a shitty job anymore that was sucking the life-force out of me, my wife’s gone, and the Sox won yesterday.”
“Your wife being gone’s a positive?”
“In her case…” He let the sentence die. “I was hoping to catch you today. I found a phone number for my wife if you still want to talk to her. Also I’ve been thinking more about doing PI work. I’m serious about it and am hoping you give me a shot. Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll make some coffee and we can talk about it. And I’ll give you Nancy’s phone number.”
Shannon gave Maguire a hard look before nodding. As they walked up the staircase to his living room, Maguire mentioned how he had gotten blitzed during the Sox game the other night. “I’m sure I look worse than I feel,” he added. His apartment had the stale, unhealthy smell of a sick room. The blinds were shut, but even so there was enough light filtering through to show the newspapers, beer bottles and pizza boxes strewn across the living room carpet. Maguire kicked them aside as he made his way to the kitchen.
Dirty dishes and food containers covered the kitchen countertop and filled the sink. More empty pizza boxes were stacked up on the floor. From the corner of his eye Shannon thought he saw a mouse scurry behind the stove. Maguire seemed oblivious to it as he moved some of the clutter aside to make room for a coffeemaker.
“Your wife left only a couple of days ago?” Shannon asked.
Maguire’s lips compressed as he stared at the mess in the kitchen. “Hard to believe, huh?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“What can I tell you? Nancy was never the most conscientious housekeeper. Last couple of months she stopped caring altogether. With the hours I was putting in at work, I didn’t have the energy to pick up the slack. I guess now that I’ve got the time I should clean up this mess.”
“I think I saw a mouse run behind your stove.”
“Nah, I’m sure you imagined it.” Maguire squinted hard as he measured the water for the coffeemaker. Shannon opened a milk container that was on the countertop, sniffed it and poured the contents down the sink.
“I guess you’ll be drinking your coffee black then,” Maguire said.
“I think I’ll skip it.”
“This is good stuff.” He held up a bag of coffee that he had taken from the refrigerator. “Sumatra. And I’ve got a package of cups somewhere so I don’t have to clean anything from the sink if that’s what you’re afraid of. Damn, though, I didn’t think you PIs were so picky.”
Maguire started brewing the coffee. “Let me get Nancy’s number for you.” He started rummaging through a stack of papers. It took him a while before he pulled one out, then after squinting hard at it, he handed the paper to Shannon. “She’s staying with one of her friends back home in Medford,” he said. Shannon programmed the number into his cell phone and handed him back the paper.
The coffee finished brewing. Maguire opened a couple of cabinets before finding a package of cardboard cups, then poured coffee for the two of them. He let out a sigh as he drank his. “Man, I need this badly,” he said, a little color coming back to his face. “So what about it? You’re going to let me do some free PI work for you?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“I’m sober if that’s what you’re wondering. A couple of cups of this stuff and I’ll be as good as new.”
Shannon thought about it and shook his head.
“Come on,” Maguire pleaded. “I’ll go nuts if I don’t get out of here and do something. Shit, there’s got to be some errand I can help you with. Just give me a chance, okay? If I do a good job, then give me something else. Come on, man, what do you have to lose?”
“I’m not sure I’m taking any cases after this one,” Shannon said.
“Really?” Maguire said. Then smiling broadly, he added, “At least this would be a start. And with you out of the business I’ll have less competition.”
Shannon relented. “Do you have a camera?”
“Sure do, boss. Top of the line digital.”
“Okay. Good. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Shannon left the condo, went back to his car, found the Vishna Yoga brochure and brought it back to Maguire. “They have a class today from one-thirty to three,” Shannon said, reading the schedule on the back of the brochure. “What I’d like you to do is to get there twenty minutes before, find an inconspicuous spot and take pictures of everyone going into the yoga studio. When the class is over, take pictures of everyone leaving. Give it at least thirty minutes for the class to clear out.”
“Sure, I can do that.” More color had come back to Maguire’s face. “But what’s the point of taking pictures of them coming and going?”
“In case you miss someone the first time around.” Shannon felt a sharp twinge where his missing fingers should’ve been. He reached down towards the pain, stopped himself. His reason for wanting Maguire there was to make sure that if Susan went back to the yoga studio someone would be keeping an eye out. He went on, “It will also let me know whether everyone who goes in there leaves, at least by the front door. This is serious business. If you see anything suspicious call me and the police. If anyone approaches you, go into the nearest store, call the police and wait until they show up.” He described the two Russians to Maguire. “If you see anyone resembling those two call me immediately.”