"I'm pretty good with locks, especially if I have tools for that purpose with me. Alas..." Joey says, pantomiming turning-out empty pockets. "I do have a pocket knife, though, so I might be able to do something with that, or if anyone can find a small paperclip or similar sized piece of wire lying around."
"Yeah, patience is needed when you can take your time.
But we do have a bit of a deadline of less then 48 hours,
so if Murphy's law has a stream of people going by.
We'll need to think of something to redirect people away."
Leona pulls out two paper clips out of one of her pockets and adds
"I keep a few as they can be useful for a few things other then picking locks."
"Sounds good, Ms. Law has you covered Joey. Mr. Jericho? Let's take a walk around the perimeter and when we get back the four of us can secure the residence." Dana says checking his firearm before exiting the vehicle then waiting for Joshua to join him.
"Always keep a buddy in sight." once ready, he walks slowly around the building, keeping an eye out for anything unusual, especially around the windows of the subject's apartment, and the ground beneath those windows.
"Hand me the apartment key," Joey says. "Some places use the same key for the mailbox and apartment door. Even if it isn't, I can have the key on me, and give the appearance of putting a key in the mailbox lock while I'm picking it."
He then turns to Leona and says, "Would you mind completing the illusion, standing nearby, obscuring me from the street, while looking bored waiting for me to check the mail? You can also give me the heads-up if someone seems suspicious."
Joshua nods to Dana "Sounds like a good idea. Also be good to know if there is a back way out. Let's go." Joshua gets out of the car and starts heading out.
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The apartment key does, indeed fit the mail box. Other than a few local flyers, the mailbox is empty. Joshua and Dana check the of the building and it does have a rear door, but upon checking it is locked.
The volume of people has, once again, declined to being only a young man walking his dog and a middle-aged woman pulling her grocery cart. An occasional vehicle passes as well.
Joey takes a moment to assess the passersby for any evidence of being something other than what they seem.
Spotters? Tails? Hitters? he wonders to himself, as he watches each of them out of the corner of his eye.
"We're good, Joey whispers. "Let's head inside.
He opens the front door and enters the building.
Once inside the building, Joey takes on a natural, casual posture, as if he lives there. Seeing no elevator, he makes his way up the stairs to the third floor.
After the brief tour with Mr. Jericho around the perimeter, Dana joins Joey and Ms. Law and follows them up the stairs. He frowns as they climb the stairs and thinks about how many eyeballs could be on them, and would have been on the principal, at a time. Everyone has a peephole, and the sounds of shoes on stairs can echo in the stairwells and landings, drawing attention easily.
He shakes his head and at the door to the apartment, pulls a pair of rubber gloves their dispenser in his evidence collection bag. He considers booties, but knows this isn't that sort of investigation. No defense attorneys are arguing against the evidence he analyzes in court for this one.
He scans the door and frame for any signs of damage and takes note about the state of the doormat, if any.
Leona walks casually with her normal gait that sways her hips as she walks. Climbing the stairs is easy for her, and she gets to the 3rd floor no problem.
Once the group has met-up outside the apartment door, Joey put the key in the lock and unlocks the door.
"Anyone want to do the honors, or shall I go in first?" he asks.
Leona quips "Ladies first, right?"
She opens and enters first.
Joey follows Leona into the apartment, and immediately begins assessing the layout.
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The interior of Baughman’s small apartment is Spartan and grim. Aside from a patina of cigarette smoke, there is scant evidence that anyone actually lived there.
A well-worn couch faces an archaic, squat television that offers only basic cable. On the adjacent coffee table are a stack of mostly completed crossword puzzle books, issues of Sports Illustrated and Reader’s Digest, and a box of unhealthily artificial donuts (powdered sugar), now crumbling and dry. The adjoining kitchen is mostly bare, with a smattering of cans, pans, and boxes. Just inside the door, a ring of keys hangs from a hook. The only human touch is a crudely drawn human figure entitled “Granpa” (signed “Cassie” and bearing two gold stars from the teacher) hanging on the refrigerator.
Down the hall are a linen closet and a small bathroom. The bathroom is in a disturbed state: a broken towel rack, a cracked shower door, and a few fragments of a broken ceramic toothbrush-holder swept into a corner. There also persist faint traces of the smell of a corpse.
One of the two bedrooms at the end of the hall holds a queen-sized bed and a dresser on top of which rest photographs of Clyde and his late wife, Marlene, high school graduation pictures of his two children, a few photos of a grandchild, and a ceramic paperweight of a child’s handprint with the name “Cassie, age 4” crudely painted on it.
The other bedroom is used as an office and for storage. There is a file cabinet and desk, along with several banker boxes filled with files.
"Well, seems he was a family man, one that lost his wife. As for his children, not sure though we might find out as we look around. From a quick a look, Cassie might of been an emotional anchor for him to weather some of the stress, but it might of not been enough. That smell of death in the bathroom, well it could of been where he either met his end, or he was cleaning something up...."
"Let's start with the obvious," Joey says, going over to the file cabinet and opening the top drawer.
After completing the walk around Joshua heads into the apartment and makes his way through it. Seeing Joey starting in the office he says "That office is the most likely place to find something we need to remove. I'm going to start in the less likely places where you might hide something." He then starts in the kitchen searching the drawers and checking under them as well and false bottoms in the cabinets. Any air vent covers are removed and checked behind as well.
Dana knows where he is needed the moment the signs of struggle are spotted in the bathroom. Without another word he sets his evidence kit down just outside the door and gathers his tools to conduct a thorough examination of the scene.
Leona gives a hand in the documents
Joey sighs in frustration as he skims the contents of each folder.
"Couldn't he've done us a favor'n alphabetized his files?" he mutters in frustration.
"Not much to go on in the bathroom. A previous law enforcement agency has already processed the scene. I can confirm a corpse was present for a significant period of time, but I'm afraid that's it."
Dana glances about the office. "I'm not much of a paperwork guy, more the biology and chemistry. Have any of you turned up anything important? Has anyone checked the bedroom yet?"
"The Comptroller said to clean the site of the information. She never said anything about having to leave it as we found it. Let's stop looking through the files for the moment and search for anything hidden. We can always grab the files and throw them in the back of the car, and go through them back at headquarters."
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As the group is shuffling papers and looking for any hidden cubbies and drops within the apartment, a light, almost tentative knock on the door can be heard. Moving to look out the peephole in the door, the investigators see an old woman with what looks like some sort of wiry rat-like dog on a leash standing in the hallway. She knocks a little louder this time and seems to be waiting for someone to respond.
Yup. There is always a nosy neighbor, Dana thinks to himself. He looks around at the others wondering how to expert interrogator is. He whispers to them, "She's guaranteed to have useful information, it never fails. The trick is keeping her from getting extra grist for the rumor mill. We have to play it close to the vest."
"Keep working. I'll see if I can allay her suspicions," Joey says, removing his jacket and shoulder rig, removing his tie, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, and rolling up his sleeves. He sets the jacket flat on the dining room table, with his gun and holster just underneath where the sleeves stack.
"Stay out of sight of the door, but don't be silent, talk about whatever, but make sure you are heard packing and moving things.
He walks to the door and opens it. He looks down at the older woman, and says, "Oh, hello there, m'am. Can I help you?"
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The old woman seems a little startled by Joey's sudden appearance, but she soon rallies.
"I am Mrs. Railey from across the hall. Are you with the police? Is there any new news on Mr. Baughman’s death? Did they tell you that it was me who found him? Placed smelled horrible...had to get the landlord to come and open it up...the police and fire department would not come and do it...like they did not have the time, or had more important things to do! Let me tell you, I knew something was wrong months before he passed. Since his wife died, he always seemed so sad and tired...like he was just going through the motions...well, except for about a year ago..."
She keeps trying to look around you into the room, and her little dog sniffs your legs and whines and gives little 'yips' as the old woman speaks.
Figuring Joey's play was to pretend they were distant relatives packing up the apartment, Dana stands near the kitchen and casually asks no one in particular, "Can you hand me that newspaper? I need to wrap these dishes." He then works to control his breathing and listen to Joey work the neighborhood gossip.
”We’re family, at least what’s left of it. The cops haven’t told us anything, although it seems like there was no foul play. Anyway, we’re just trying to get his affairs in order. So, you said old Clyde was acting odd in the last few months? Like what? Unfortunately, none of us were in regular contact with him. We were only just recently notified of his passing, and like I said, the police didn’t really tell us anything.” Joey’s tone is conversational, with a touch of everyday friendliness toward the woman, and a bit of frustration when mentioning the police.
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"Oh well, if that's the case then.... don't remember Clyde speaking much about other family, but that's just fine."
She continues to look around you into the room, but answers your questions.
"Hmmm...oh, yes. He was acting a little strange. Suddenly, he was very happy, and it seemed that the gloom that had been hanging over him since his wife left was finally lifting. Then he seemed to crawl back into himself...even worse than before. Seemed always to be looking over his shoulder...like he expected someone to be there or something. Then he was away for several days, and when he got back, he had this hunted look in his eyes. Well, that's what it seemed to me anyway. Well, I suppose I should let you get on with your packing...Dottie here needs her walk!"
The old woman leaves, but keeps looking behind at you as she descends the stairs. In time, you hear the front door open and then close.
Joey smiles and waves goodbye to then ice old lady, closes the door and moves quickly. ”We need to hurry up. I’m not a hundred percent sure she bought it. She might be calling the cops as we speak.”
"Okay, well, dump everything we can in some boxes like we talked about, so we can pick over them later. If she's watching, it might keep her from making that call since we will look like we packed some things up."