His face was as bland as ever, but he was truly irritated. He was also correct. While a Vermont cop is a cop anywhere in the state, regardless ofjurisdiction, I had been acting more by instinct than with good manners. The worst part was, I hadn’t given it a second thought until now. “I did contact you about cordoning off the crime scene.” It sounded lame as I said it.
“True, but you didn’t tell me you’d treated my trooper like a doormat or that you’d wandered straight into the middle of the crime scene.
We looked at each other for a moment. I was at a loss for words.
agonizing the local State Police head of the BCI had not been my nt. He was a man who could make things very difficult for me down line, when time came for his people and the State’s Attorney’s office oordinate the building of a case.
But a slow half smile crossed his face. “Thanks for the crime scene ch, by the way, and for locking the area up. It was a good call.” That was a relief, and deserved a reciprocal peace offering. “I’m y about Wirt.”
“Well, he can be a pain in the ass, but he knows his job. So, what you call me for?” I explained about the envelope, the Diazepam bottle, and the fact Ellie was under Greta’s care down the hall, ripe for further quesing.
Hamilton nodded and turned on his heel. “I brought along a pIe of people I want you to meet before we do any more interviewHe led the way down to the lobby. There, admiring his surroundas if he were at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, stood a tall, der man with glasses, straight blond hair, and the angular grace of raffe. He gave us a demonic, ear-to-ear grin and stuck a thin, bony d out to me. “Joe Gunther, right? I hear you’re the one who planted ‘hurry-up-and-wait’ order in the lieutenant’s ear here.” Hamilton allowed a tight smile, more reminiscent of the man I’d yesterday at the barracks. It made me think suddenly that his stiff eanor was a conscious attempt to create precision and order in the St of those people who relied on their guts for guidance. “This is ective Sergeant Lester Spinney. He’s under my command in the St. nsbury BCI; he’s also one of the four members of our new Major mes Squad.” “Hello,” I said, and shook his hand, wondering if his opening line e him for me or against me.
Spinney laughed. “Come on, you’re faking it. You don’t really w what MCS is, do you?” He had me there. “I’m a little behind on reading the mail I get you guys.” He smiled and looked at Hamilton. “And you wonder why I’m h a great detective. We’re supposed to be the A-Team-Don Johndriving Fords.” “Supposed to be?” I asked.
He smiled apologetically. “Well, that’s the way it would be in the vies.” Hamilton sighed. Spinney, all fresh-faced and boyish, didn’t look like he’d been away from home that many years. It was difficult imagining him as the elite of anything outside an intramural basketball league.
“How long you been with the State Police?” “Twelve years.” I was impressed.
“Gotcha, right? Everyone always thinks they screwed up the paperwork.”
“It did occur to me.” He shoved his long, thin hands deep into his pockets. The gesture seemed to calm him. His voice was abruptly quieter, his sentences more measured. Still, an almost juvenile enthusiasm remained in his eyes.
“No, I’ve been at this awhile. Being made a member of MCS has been the high point of my career.” “You still haven’t told me what it is.” He laughed and shook his head. “Right, right. Sorry. They also call us the Homicide Unit. Any time there’s a crime like this, they call the four of us in to support the local barracks BCI team. That way, we get a lot of experience and become the homicide experts within BCI.” “Sounds reasonable. How long has MCS been around?” “About six months.” I glanced over at Hamilton. “MCS is not in control; they are purely support. The local barracks Bureau of Criminal Investigation crew still supplies the case officer and heads the investigation; MCS does what the case officer tells them to do. Of course, their advice is appreciated.”
I’d always been a little slow to follow the ins and outs of the State Police command structure-it seemed so much larger than the number of people within it. “I thought you said he was from your barracks.” “He is, but he’s still in a support mode as a Major Crimes Squad member.
Crofter Smith, one of our regular BCI, will be the case officer on this one.” He looked at Spinney. “Where is Smith, by the way?” My spirits sagged at the mention of the name. I knew nothing about the man, and I had obviously misjudged Hamilton at first glance, but the impression Smith had made when we’d “met” inside the burned building had been less than overwhelming. I did recall, though, that Jonathon Michael had rated him a good cop. I tried to hang some hope on that thought.
“He’s outside-the local decor was getting to him, classic as it is.
We have different tastes.” I decided to ask the question foremost in my mind before Smith crossed the threshold. “Where do I stand in all this? I don’t want to ung out between you and Potter on this thing. I’d like to know how people see me.” “As an asset.” Spinney answered immediately, which came as a ial relief.
Hamilton was slower and more diplomatic, and a whole lot more mfortable.
“We’re talking apples and oranges. It’s not up to me ace you anywhere in our structure. Technically, you’re an indepenwith whom we share what we find. Plus,” he added more sternly, ‘ve been a bit of a loose cannon so far.” “Come on, Lieutenant, put him in with me under Smith. God he’d be a good buffer between us.” Hamilton looked like he was being forced to eat something disful. “This is inappropriate; it’s not the way it works.” “If I’m a freelance, so to speak, couldn’t I just keep Spinney here pany, as his sort-of guest?” Hamilton shook his head. “That’s between you two and Smith. On r, it’s an unstructured relationship. You guys do what you want; make it work and don’t step on people’s toes anymore.” He wandered toward the front door, as if for some fresher, less lsive air, although I knew it was to fetch Smith. “So, you and Smith need a buffer?” Spinney shrugged as an answer and changed the subject. “I’m a an of yours.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I followed that Ski Mask case you handled down in Bratt0 very
‘damn-the-rules-full-speed-ahead.’… Balls.” I followed his look.
Crofter Smith had entered the building and oming toward us with the studied expression of the serious official. “What’s his problem?” I muttered.
“I used to be, but from what I’ve been hearing about you, I think oing to be both of us now.
Smith stopped in front of us and nodded his head curtly at Spin”Les.”
Spinney aped the gesture with a small smile. “Croft.” I had taken stant and instinctive liking to Spinney, but it occurred to me that ever ended up on his bad side, as Smith obviously had, Spinney’s y humor could be used to peck you to death. It evoked in me a quiver of sympathy for Smith that I hoped I could nourish. Smith stared at him for a couple of seconds, his expression blank, e turning to me. “So you’re Potter’s man.” His voice had the same chromatic quality I’d noticed earlier.
“Among other things.” “I’m Crofter Smith. I’ve been put in charge of this investigation.” He didn’t offer his hand. “Is this yours?” He handed me the sketch I’d made of the scene.
“Yup.” “What do you think we have over there?” His monotone reminded me of a bad l950s science-fiction movie. “Don’t know. That’s why I suggested the lab go in there first; there’re a lot of footprints.”
“There’s also a lot of time being wasted.” “Maybe.” “Hamilton didn’t argue the point.” It struck me as I said it that shoving his boss down his throat was not the way to get on Smith’s best side. It was possible I had nothing to lose, but I didn’t know that yet and instantly regretted the comment. Smith gave me a baleful look.