"We got a tip." Marty said hanging up the phone. His partner looked up from his pile of papers.
"Yeah?" His eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"Some guy named Jeffrey Stott rented thirty-three 18 wheelers for one day and gave an address of an abandoned warehouse out in the Tenderloin. I'm not sure if it fits with the homicides but it's certainly interesting. Considering the number of missing persons and murders lately there may be a whole lot of cleaning up to do and a lot of trucks in one day means an organization is hard at work. It may be a dead end but we should talk to this guy."
"Sure, but the address he gave is an abandoned warehouse, you said. How do we find him? Does he have a sheet?"
Marty tapped the screen of his terminal with a sly smile.
" A long one. He was picked up most recently three years ago as a suspect in a satanic killing but was ruled out later. It doesn't say why but it does have a last known address. Let's go."
`
The car eased to a stop with a small squeal of the brakes. Mike was first out of the car.
"Hold on!" called Marty. "Let's not run up on this guy. I want to take all this in and see his possible escape routes if he's a runner. I want to take him by surprise so he doesn't get the chance to run."
"Which one is he?" asked Mike as he looked over the dilapidated building.
"Second floor is all it says. It must be loft space, it's a big building."
"Okay, I'll check this side and around back. Meet you on that side for a game plan in a few." and Mike was on the move. He ducked through a hole in a broken part of the old, splintered wood fence near where an older hole was replaced with part of a rusty chain link fence and disappeared around the corner.
Marty walked slowly to the other side of the building looking at the fire escape. It was rusty and unkempt. I wonder if that would even hold the weight of a person? he thought scanning the building.
Mike came around the back corner. "Okay, there is a back door but it's padlocked from the outside. The only ways I see in or out are the front door and that fire escape."
"I'm going in." Marty said "You keep an eye on the fire escape." and he headed for the front door. It opened when he pushed and he was greeted by the stench of stale beer, grease, shame and homelessness. He looked at the freight elevator in front of him and contemplated the stairs. May as well take the stairs, I'm not sure I want to be on that elevator and it'll be quieter.
He climbed the stairs with one hand on his piece. He didn't know what to expect as he rounded the corners. After three twists and landings he was face to face with a busted in door. Someone big kicked it in. It was a heavy metal door and it was broken off at the hinges as well as the jamb. He ventured in slowly with his pistol drawn and flashlight in hand.
"SFPD" he called out "Come out with your hands up or you will be fired upon."
He surveyed the scene. The place was in shambles. And it didn't look like it was in much order before it was ransacked , but it was definitely ransacked. A filthy couch stood vertically against the far wall with big cuts in the fabric, the stuffing cast everywhere. Adjacent to the 'living room' was a small kitchenette with but one chair and it, and the table, were both overturned. The kitchen proper had every cabinet standing open and dishes haphazardly strewn about, broken, crusted with forgotten meals. The contents of the cabinets littered the floor.
He moved carefully toward the only doorway. He stepped in flashing his light to each corner. The bed was askew, the mattress overturned. In one corner there was some kind of satanic shrine filled with candles and upside down pentacles. A closet door stood open. Clothes strewn about may, or may not, have been in the closet and a few stained cardboard boxes stood in a crooked pile.
Satisfied that the place was empty he went to the window and opened it.
"Mike, nobody home but the door is kicked in. Come on up." He turned and surveyed the calamity of an apartment before him. Is there anything to find here? And, if so, how do we dig it out of the mess?
Mike came strolling in casually and stopped when he saw the scene before him.
"Geez, someone wanted something from this guy pretty bad, huh? This place is a mess!"
"Yeah I don't know what we will find here but there has to be something here because it doesn't look like they found what they were looking for. If they did, I have a feeling we would be looking at the body of Jeffrey Stott in the middle of this mess."
"Well, I'll call the lab and have them send over a team. If we're lucky we will find a fingerprint or something that doesn't belong to Stott. I'll check upstairs to see if anyone heard or saw anything strange." He turned and left Marty staring at the disarray around him. It's going to take days, weeks, for the team to find anything here. By then the trail will be cold. It's already cold. I need something to go on now. he was thinking as he tested the strength of the fire escape. It held firm when he put his weight on it. He yanked the mechanism to drop the ladder and was surprised that it squealed reluctantly into rusty action dropping with a loud steel bang on the concrete below.
When whoever kicked in the door showed up I'd bet that Stott used this to get away or he would be in that apartment decomposing.
He climbed down the ladder and started looking around not knowing what he was looking for.
Trash littered the street which was occupied by nothing but commercial and loft space. Warehouses and former warehouses turned into illegal loft apartments. He rooted around in the overgrowth by the bottom of the ladder and found a matchbook that looked new. Too new to be there.
Charlie's Tavern. It's something. He picked it up with his handkerchief. I'll have the lab dust it to see if Stott handled it. He went back around and up the stairs to the disheveled apartment finding Mike looking for him.
"There you are. The third floor is abandoned space and the first floor is empty loft space. It looks like Stott was the only tenant in this hovel. No help there. What do you got?" he gestured toward the matchbook clutched in the handkerchief in Marty's hand.
"Matchbook from Charlie's Tavern. It looks new, not like the old trash littering the street. I'll have the boys try to lift a print. It's not much but it's the closest thing we have to a clue about this guy. I say we go over there while we wait for the lab boys to sort out this catastrophe."