Electing To Murder by Roger Stelljes Page B

and I know his uncle Seamus McRyan real well. Both detectives, both good and in Simon McRyan’s case, exceptional. As for Mac, the apple has not fallen far from the tree. In time, he will be better than both of them.”
    “How good, Judge?”
    “Google McRyan and you’ll see. In my book, he’s right there with you. Hang on a second.” There were muffled sounds on the other end of the line and then the Judge came back on: “The governor just finished and we’re making our way out to the motorcade. I have to run for now. I will call Sebastian and update him. I will call you after we talk to McRyan.” The Judge hung up.
    Wire put the cell phone for the Judge back in her pocket and her regular cell started buzzing; it was Esposito. “Dara, you’re good to go. The detective in charge on scene is Carl Court, in his early fifties, shaved head, probably in a blue sport jacket, tan slacks and light blue dress shirt. That’s kind of his uniform. He’ll be coming down to meet you.”
    “Thanks, Alex.”
    Wire jumped out of her Land Rover and walked up to the crime scene tape and waited. She assessed the scene and wondered why, with no dead body inside, were county crime scene people present. Something was going on inside and she was glad she would be able to get a look. Just then the glass front door of the condo opened and Detective Court, dressed as described, walked out the front door, stopped, looked around and then walked right up to Wire.
    “The chief said look for a pretty brunette with her hair in a ponytail wearing blue jeans and sunglasses. Ms. Wire, I presume.”
    Wire smiled at Alex’s perfect description of her. “Yes.” The two shook hands. “Thank you for letting me in to have a look, Detective Court.”
    “Call me Carl. Perhaps you can make sense of all this,” Court said as he opened the door for Wire.
    “Not sure I can, Detective. But let me ask, if there is no dead body, why are the crime scene techs here?”
    “Good question.” Court led Wire into the elevator and pressed three and then answered. “Mr. Stroudt is of interest to someone, because his condo has been completely ransacked.”
    The two stepped off the elevator onto the third floor, turned left and walked thirty feet to the front door of Stroudt’s condo. Once inside, Wire understood what Detective Court was talking about. There was debris lying everywhere. To her left was the main living area which opened into a kitchen with a center island. To her right was a hallway that led to a bedroom, an office and the bathroom. A cursory look down the hall showed each room ripped apart.
    She started with the main living area which had a matched burgundy sofa, love seat and chair combination, with an antique trunk coffee table all facing a wall of built-in shelves formed around an opening for a flat-screen television. The shelves, once full of books, knickknacks and photos, were now thrown about the room. It looked as if whoever ransacked the room went through every CD case and video box. Magazines were scattered over the entire room and everything had been emptied from the cabinets from the lower part of the built-in entertainment unit. Wire gave it all a cursory glance and moved through the eating area and into the kitchen where all the plates, glasses, silverware and the like had been emptied from the cupboards.
    Wire moved back down the hall to the bedroom. All of the clothes were pulled out of the dresser and closet. The shoes were tossed about, as were the sheets and blankets from the bed. The master bathroom was equally disheveled, all drawers emptied and the toiletries lying in the bathtub.
    She next moved to her primary target, the office. Most people figured if you hide things in places like the kitchen or bathroom, nobody will find them when in fact, for someone who is looking for something that is hidden, they would go there first. Wire always did in her prior life and most cops would as well. However, what happened in Kentucky