Henry glanced at the slip of paper in his hand then squinted at the house number. “This is it. Did Lutz tell them we’re coming?”
“I don’t think their phone number was with the report. Better to take them by surprise, anyway.”
Henry looked at Mills as he unfastened his seat belt. “Why, so they can’t concoct a story two years after the fact?”
Mills nodded as he grabbed the door handle.
Henry exited the passenger side and waited as Mills rounded the nose of the car. “They wouldn’t have a reason to make something up, would they?”
“Who knows? The family wasn’t interviewed. According to Jim’s testimony, somebody from Patrol informed the parents of the shooting, and that was that. Nobody has talked to them since. Finley said the family never came in asking for answers.”
“That seems odd.” Henry walked to the front door alongside Mills then pressed the bell.
Mills shrugged. “He was a drug dealer, Henry, and up to no good. His crew was selling meth to school kids. Bad shit happens when you decide to take on that kind of lifestyle.”
“I guess.”
The knob turned, and a man who looked to be pushing sixty stood on the other side of the door. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
Both men exposed the badges clipped to their belts and introduced themselves. Mills took the lead. “Sir, are you Mr. Daily?”
“I am. What is this about?”
“Do you have a few minutes? We have questions concerning Mason’s death.”
“A little late, aren’t you?”
“Who’s here, Norm?” A woman, drying her hands with a towel, came to the door. She looked at the badges. “What on earth?”
Henry spoke up. “I assume you’re Mrs. Daily.”
“You’d assume right, and the name is Irene. Has something happened to my son?”
Norm glanced at his wife. “They’re here to talk about Mason, dear.”
“Mason? Why now?”
“May we come in, ma’am? We have some questions that may help us with a current case we’re working on.”
She huffed. “I suppose, but we don’t have much to say. Norm is who you want to address.” She moved aside. “Let them in, honey. Better late than never.”
Henry raised an eyebrow at Mills then followed the couple into the living room.
The springs groaned as Mr. Daily took a seat in the recliner. He pointed at the couch. “Now what is this all about?”
Mills pulled out his notepad. “We have general questions about family members and acquaintances. Who did Mason hang out with?”
Norm smirked. “Nobody we knew, but I think you’re well aware of that considering what Mason did for a living. I wasn’t privy to his personal life or what he did with it and didn’t know anything about the meth lab until after the fact. I thought Mason had a real job.”
“Apparently that was his real job, sir,” Henry said. “He made a lot of money in a year’s time.”
“I wouldn’t know and only saw him on occasion.”
“Are there other siblings?”
“We were both married before and never had kids together,” Irene said. “Norm had a son, and I had a son and daughter. They were all on their own when we married twelve years ago.”
“Any longtime friends that Mason confided in, like a best friend from high school?”
Norm shook his head. “He lived with his mom during his high school years, so I wouldn’t know those kids, anyway.”
“What about someone who took him under his wing? We’re looking for the person who fronted Mason with the seed money to get that lab underway.”
Norm looked at Henry. “I have no idea. Why didn’t anybody come here two years ago and ask these questions? Everything we learned about Mason’s death came from Irene’s son.”
“How would Irene’s son have confidential police information? Sorry, but I’m not following,” Mills said.
“Officer Conrad is Irene’s son. He’s the only person from the police force who ever spoke to us about the shooting. He was at the scene when everything unfolded and came by here later that day and broke the news. He said Narcotics didn’t have any questions for us and that Internal Affairs would be in touch when the investigation into the shooting got underway—nobody ever called.”
Henry stared at Irene. “Officer Conrad works in what department?”
“Patrol and has for years. He and several other units were there as backup when the bust went down. He said he witnessed everything.”
“What is your son’s first name, Mrs. Daily?”
Frustration took over her face. “John—John Conrad. Are you saying you don’t know him? Isn’t every officer in the Chicago PD on a first-name basis?”
Mills stood and handed each of them a card. “Hardly, ma’am, since there are over ten thousand officers on the Chicago police force. We’re going to need John’s address.”
“All I know is that he lives on the north side in one of those month-to-month apartments. I don’t know the address, and I’ve never visited him there in the three years he’s called that place home. He usually just pops in here when he feels like visiting.”
Henry jerked his head toward Mills. “Lutz can pull it.” He shook the couple’s hands. “Thank you for your time.” Outside, he was on the phone before they cleared the sidewalk. “Boss, we have him. He’s a patrol officer named John Conrad. Turns out he was Mason Daily’s stepbrother. The mom didn’t have his address, but she said it was a month-to-month apartment on the north side. Yep, we’re on our way back.”
The drive took only fifteen minutes. Frank and Henry went directly to roll call after clearing the security door. The room was humming with detectives checking databases and making phone calls to learn more about John Conrad.
Lutz let out a frustrated slap to the podium. “John Conrad has his mother’s address listed in his file and on his driver’s license. I’m sure it’s his way of getting around the requirements of living within the city limits.”
Mills growled. “It sounds like he has several reasons not to list his real address in his file. He knows how to bullshit the system.”
Finley hung up the phone. “Truman is checking to see which car John was assigned to this morning. It should only take a few minutes before he calls back. Hopefully pinging that squad car’s location will tell us where he’s at.”
Lutz paced the room while Finley stared at the phone. It rang seconds later. “That has to be Truman.” All eyes were on him as he answered. He waved wildly while making a writing motion above his head. Henry grabbed paper and a pen and raced to Finley’s side. “Yep, I have it.” Finley scratched out the address on the paper. “We’re on it. Thanks, Truman.” He hung up and addressed the crowd. “The squad car is parked at an old warehouse on the south side. Truman has Patrol en route.”
Lutz pointed at his detectives. “Murray, Potter, Mills, and Johnson, head out. The rest of you keep looking for a different address for Conrad. Wherever he’s at is likely where we’ll find McCord and Pierce. Okay, let’s go.”