“Yahtzee.”
Mac cut the crime scene tape covering the door to Oliver’s apartment and he and Lich walked in. Mac carefully dropped a backpack containing a picture camera and video camera on the floor. They both pulled on rubber gloves.
“So what are we looking for?” Dick queried, his arms folded across his chest, looking around the apartment.
“We’ll know it when we see it,” Mac answered as he walked down the back hallway to the bedroom. When they’d been to Oliver’s place the day before, Mac had given only a cursory look to the bedroom. Now he wanted to take a longer look. If Oliver had something to hide, perhaps he’d have hidden it at home and, in the absence of a home office, the most likely place to hide it would be in his bedroom. Mac stood in the doorway, hands on hips, surveying the landscape.
The bedroom was square in shape, probably twelve-by-twelve, with a long walk-in closet in the far right corner, wrapping behind the bathroom in the hallway. The room itself contained a queen-sized bed, walk-in closet and small Ikea three drawer dresser and nightstand. Mac started with the nightstand, which had a drawer resting over two shelves. The drawer contained a box of condoms, a spare watch, two pens and the remote for the small television sitting on top of the dresser. Next he moved to the dresser. The top drawer was the sock drawer, half athletic socks and the other dress socks. Underwear occupied the middle drawer and white t-shirts in the bottom drawer. He searched through all the drawers but all they contained were socks, underwear and t-shirts.
Next was the closet. While dress codes had relaxed at law firms over the years, litigators still needed to be ready to go to court at a moments notice. Gordon Oliver was clearly ready if that were the case. The man was a suit horse. Mac had recently bought five suits for work to go with the five he already owned. He figured he’d use the suits and sport coats he had to have enough variety in clothes for the job. Oliver had him waxed.
There were eighteen suits, ten sport coats, twenty-five dress shirts and ten pair of shoes. The guy worked long hours, made good money and was unmarried. He spent a good chunk of his disposable income on clothes.
Mac checked the pockets on the suits, coats and pants and didn’t find anything of interest. There were three storage boxes on the shelves above the hanger rod. He pulled them down and searched them. One had athletic equipment, spikes, a softball glove, softballs and two baseball hats. Another box contained what looked like law school papers, two appellate briefs for moot court competitions, a series of Oliver’s resumes and cover letters.
Mac opened another folder and chuckled. It contained form rejection letters from law firms. It was a right of passage in law school. Mac and his law school buddies used to hang the rejection letters up on the wall. They all said the same thing. We thank you for your application, your credentials are extremely impressive and you will do well in your legal career- just not at this law firm. He put the letters back and moved to the third box which contained personal effects, some photographs and financial information on his law school loans. As he looked through it, Mac didn’t find anything of interest.
Mac checked the bathroom quick, looking under the vanity. Other than a box of condoms, spare towels and extra bathroom supplies, there was nothing of interest. Walking back towards the living area, Mac opened the hallway coat closet. Inside he found two trench coats, a ski coat and a brown leather jacket. There were tennis shoes and some additional casual shoes on the floor. A box on the top shelf contained a collection of winter gloves and hats. Leaning in the back corner were his golf clubs and a softball bat. Otherwise there was nothing of interest in the closet.
Lich was looking through the kitchen cabinets when Mac walked back in and sat at the kitchen table. “I didn’t find anything in the living room obviously,” Dick said. “The kitchen doesn’t have anything either. Heck, half the cupboards are empty. Oliver didn’t have much in the way plates, glasses, things of that nature.”
“Single guy who works all the time, not a surprise,” Mac said, looking under the kitchen table. “He didn’t care much about how his place looked, smelled or was organized. I mean, he’s got this dirty toolbox sitting under the table. I mean, what’s he even… need… a toolbox… for?” Mac stared at the box. “Could it be that simple?”
“What?” Lich said, seeing the look on Mac’s face.
“You have to use all the tools in the toolbox,” Mac mumbled as he flipped the metal clasps loose and opened the toolbox. A dusty tray sat in the top with a few screw drivers, wrenches, tape measure and hammer. Mac pulled the tray out and looked into the box itself. “Huh.”
“What?”
Mac pulled out a yellow folder that was clasped closed. “Grab the camera out of my backpack.”
Lich walked back to the door into the apartment and grabbed the backpack Mac brought along. Dick pulled out the camera and snapped three photos of the envelope. Mac then opened the top and slid the contents out onto the table. There was a computer flash drive and copies of a death certificate, driver’s license and other various papers. Mac read through the documents and a smile crept across his face.
“What do you have?” Lich asked.
“Yahtzee.”