Thursday, May 27th 7:30 A.M.
The annoying little details of the Byrne case were still squirming around in the morning, and in an effort to put one of them to bed Dean stopped by the Parkside Sentinel on his way to work. Monica Cutler looked up from her desk, a broad smile spreading across her face, brightening up the bleakness of the cloudy day.
"Hi, cop-guy! Twice in one month!" He bent down and kissed her on the forehead as he pulled up a chair to her desk.
"I'm still chasing the same ghost," he said.
"I'm glad you caught me," she said. "Tomorrow's my last day." He started to say something but she waved her hand. "Just some more treatments. I'll be back in a few weeks." Neither believed her cheery pronouncement. She quickly changed the subject. After chatting about common friends she asked, "What can I do for you?"
Dean explained he was still interested in the J. Cleary who had ordered the Sentinel from a Scranton address. She checked her records and returned. The subscription remained open. The listed delivery location was still 157 Bascomb Place, Apartment C.
"If it isn't being returned, isn't being forwarded and isn't accumulating at the Scranton address, what the hell is happening to it?" He asked the question as much of himself as Monica.
"You're the detective," she replied with a smile.
As he started to leave, he turned to the frail woman who was rolling a piece of paper into her typewriter. "Monica, I took your advice. I found a good woman."
"Terrific!" she exclaimed.
"Now all I have to do is catch her," he answered as he left the busy newspaper for police headquarters.
Before Dean finished hanging up his coat, pouring a cup of over-brewed coffee and settling in his chair, Rita Angeltoni dropped a pile of telephone messages on his desk. The top one, marked urgent, was from Ethel Rosewater. Dean silently hoped the call wasn't some convoluted effort to restore their relationship, which to his mind was thankfully finished.
"That bastard Arthur skipped out on me!" Ethel yelled into the phone, loud enough for Tom DeLeo to hear at the next desk. "And he ripped off $28,000 from the escrow account! The son-ofa-bitch! First you dump me, now Arthur's gone...." She began to cry.
"Calm down, Ethel. Start at the beginning. What happened?" DeLeo was all ears now and even Harrigan wandered over in Dean's direction. Dean moved behind a post, trying to get what little privacy the squad room and the length of his phone cord allowed.
"He left a note-a damn note after 12 stinking years! He said he needs some time to straighten out his head. If I find him he'll need more than time, the son-of-a-bitch! He never even mentioned taking the money!"