Fred shrugged as he paced up and down the room. "Twopoint-eight million! Maybe it takes that long to count it! This guy's got the answer to every little kid's what-would-you-do-ifyou-had-a-million-bucks question. Only he really has it. Unmarked and no one could tie it to him in a hundred years! What a scenario, huh?"
"So, what does he do?" prompted Dean.
"He looks around for a place to stash the dough and start a new identity. He rents an address, not too close to Parkside but not too far away, like maybe Scranton!"
Dean thought a minute. "Scranton is close to where he grabbed the dough. If it were me, I'd go in the opposite direction."
Fred considered. "He'd need a place where he was supposed to go frequently, so's no one would get suspicious. Maybe Scranton was the best spot to fill the bill. It's the closest city with a World Wide branch to Parkside. Bingo! Mr. J. Cleary is born!" He smiled from ear to ear. "So, do you buy it?"
"Not for a minute-but it's a great story."
"Tell me what's wrong?" Fred asked, a bit peeved.
"It's total speculation. There isn't a lick of evidence to put Byrne anywhere near that dough. If I went to Leland Anderson with this I'd be back directing traffic-if Jonathan Winston didn't nail me first for not following his orders."
"What about J. Cleary and the newspaper?"
"What about it? That's a total stretch. If you're Byrne, why order the Parkside paper way back in April? Byrne could read his own copy for at least another month. After he's gone missing, I can buy wanting to know what's going on back home but a month before he skips is too soon. I'll bet Cleary is a legitimate customer."
"One way to find out," Fred said with a smug smile. "Tomorrow you've got a comp day off. Let's you and me take a little drive to Scranton and meet Mr. Cleary."
"It would be a wasted day," Dean answered but his voice lacked conviction and he couldn't think of a good excuse.
"You've got to admit it answers a bunch of questions. I think it deserves a look-see, right?" Fred prodded. Then he added, "I'll take care of lunch."
That was a first-Fred volunteering to buy. Just a short pleasure trip on his day off, Dean lied to himself. Maybe Scranton would provide the brick wall he was looking for and end this silly speculation. His curiosity won the argument. "Okay, Fred. You earned the trip, even though it's a waste of time."
Fred's reaction startled Mrs. Lincoln from the sofa. Dean smiled, gave a wave goodnight and climbed the stairs. There was no way he would admit it, but his personal scenario matched Fred O'Connor's to a tee, even though his practical side was embarrassed to even consider the possibility. Neither slept very well that night, and Dean was awake before the alarm, up fixing the morning coffee.