Chapter 39
BALLARD HAD CALLED ahead, and they were met by the chief of building security, a retired LAPD man named Mayfield.
At Ballard’s request, he had sealed the fourth-floor restroom and evacuated the branch office of the state department of parks and recreation.
Mayfield had a maintenance supervisor named Teed on hand as well.
They rode an elevator to the fourth floor and split up the search.
Laffont and Stilwell, along with Teed, took the restroom, while Ballard and Masser went with Mayfield to the parks office.
The restroom had four toilet stalls, four urinals, and four sinks.
There were two trash receptacles, one built into the wall next to the line of sinks and one an open can that was filled to the brim with crumpled paper towels, tissues, and other debris.
The room had a basic government-grade drop ceiling made of two-by-two mineral-fiber panels held in place by metal gridwork.
Laffont spoke to Teed as he pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves.
“Do you know when these trash cans were last emptied?” he asked.
“Since the state budget cuts, the cleaners do this floor only Tuesday and Thursday nights,” Teed said. “So Tuesday night.”
“Then we’re in luck,” Laffont said.
Stilwell was going down the line of stalls, checking in each.
“You got another set of gloves, Tom?” he said.
“Sure,” Laffont said.
He handed another set from his pocket to Stilwell.
“Peace offering,” he said.
“Accepted,” Stilwell said. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take the can.”
While Laffont went to the can by the door, Stilwell pointed to the in-wall receptacle.
“Is there a trick to opening this?” he asked.
“Any key works,” Teed said.
He walked over to the receptacle, pulling a key ring on a retractable chain off his belt. He stuck the key into a slot in the stainless-steel panel and opened it like a door, revealing a rectangular trash receptacle with a plastic bag liner.
“We’re also going to need a stepladder to check the ceiling,” Stilwell said.
“I’ll go get it,” Teed said.
“And a flashlight if you’ve got one,” Laffont said.
“Sure,” Teed said.
Teed left the restroom as Laffont turned the trash can over on the tile floor.
“Middleton wouldn’t have had a ladder,” he said. “If he used the ceiling, he probably stood on a toilet.”
“You’re right,” Stilwell said. “I just thought if we were going to search up there, we’d want the ladder.”
Laffont spoke while he used one foot to spread the debris from the can across the floor.
“You know, the way you put this together about Middleton dumping the evidence was pretty impressive,” he said.
“You mean if I turn out to be right,” Stilwell said.
Laffont said nothing, but it was another peace offering, Stilwell thought, as he pulled the trash liner out of the wall receptacle.
It was so light, he knew right away it was not where Middleton had gotten rid of the contents of his backpack.
Still, he put the bag down on the counter between two sinks and put a gloved hand into the bag to search through it.
He found only one solid object amid the paper towels and tissue: a toothbrush.
He wondered if Middleton brushed his teeth before going in for his interview.
“Middleton went in here before the interview, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, before,” Laffont said. “Why?”
“Found a toothbrush.”
“Even if it was his, we won’t need it. We can get DNA directly from him.”
“But then he’d know it.”
“Well, the only way you’d be able to say the toothbrush was his would be to take his swab.”
“True.”
Stilwell dropped the toothbrush back into the bag.
“There’s nothing here,” he said.
“And nothing here,” Laffont said.
He bent over and started gathering the debris spread on the floor and returning it to the trash can. Stilwell liked that he didn’t leave it for Teed to handle. He stepped over and helped clean up.
Teed came back with a stepladder and a flashlight.
Laffont said he’d do the honors. He set the ladder up in the center of the room, climbed three steps, and reached up to one of the mineral-fiber panels.
He pushed it up and over, creating a two-by-two opening in the ceiling.
Stilwell saw that there was about two feet of crawl space there, but it was crowded with piping from the building’s fire-suppression system and cables from its computer network.
Laffont climbed to the top step of the ladder and put his head and shoulders through the opening. Stilwell turned on the flashlight and handed it up to him, then used both hands to hold the ladder steady while Laffont swept the light around in the crawl space.
“Nothing,” he said. “No, wait, there’s something in the corner. Looks like a bag.”
He carefully climbed down and carried the ladder to the last stall. After positioning the ladder so its legs straddled the toilet, he climbed up again, removed the ceiling square, and reached into the opening. He retrieved a white plastic bag and handed it down to Stilwell.
Once Laffont was safely down off the ladder, they checked the bag’s contents together. It contained four well-thumbed editions of Hustler magazine.
“Nice,” Stilwell said.
“Looks like somebody’s been using the stall to polish the knob,” Laffont said. “That’s pretty old-school when you can get your porn free on the web. You want to keep ’em, Stil? You’re an old-school kind of guy.”
“Is that another peace offering? I appreciate it, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Laffont walked over and dropped the magazines into the trash can.
“Mr. Teed, thanks for your help,” he said. “Could you put the ceiling back together for us?”
“I’ll handle it,” Teed said.
“Thank you,” Stilwell said.
He and Laffont walked out into the hall.
“Well, that was a bust,” Laffont said. “Let’s see if Paul and Renée got lucky.”
They walked down the corridor to the state parks office and got there just as Ballard and Masser were coming out.
“Anything?” Laffont said.
“Nothing,” Ballard said. “We looked in every possible spot he had access to. There was nothing there.”
“What about the drop ceiling?” Stilwell asked.
“The thing is, he was never alone in there,” Ballard said. “I called the guy who interviewed him, and he said he was in reception and then in the interview room. So when would he have climbed up to the ceiling?”
Stilwell nodded. He felt the heat of failure on his scalp. He had been sure Middleton dumped the incriminating evidence somewhere along the way after leaving the boat.
“I think we’re going to have to get a warrant and check his hotel room after all,” Ballard said.
“I’ll write it,” Masser said.
It was a prime moment for Laffont to come down on Stilwell for the waste of time, but he said nothing.
They headed down the hall and got on the elevator. Mayfield kept offering names to Ballard, seeing who was still around from the old days when he was working cases.
As they descended, Stilwell tuned them out. A thought came to him.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Did Middleton take an elevator to or from his interview?”
“He did,” Masser said. “Both ways.”
“Was he alone?” Stilwell pressed.
“We didn’t ride with him, obviously,” Laffont said. “But he got on by himself and went right to the fourth floor. We watched from the lobby.”
In unison, everyone looked up at the ceiling of the elevator. There was a two-by-two emergency escape panel.
“Do you remember which elevator he took?” Ballard asked.
“The other one,” Masser said. “Coming and going.”
While the others were still looking up, Stilwell looked down at the brushed-steel handrail that was on three walls of the elevator. Middleton could have used it as a foothold in climbing to the escape hatch.
“We need to get the stepladder back,” Laffont said.