Known Dead by Donald Harstad

continued for about thirty minutes, with DEA telling us how hard they were going to work. I’d expected that, as they just hate it when a cop gets killed, just like we all do. But they double hate it when he’s killed working narcotics. That’s their bailiwick, and they don’t let anybody screw with that.
    When the meeting broke up, I realized I’d had no rolls. I was working my way toward the food table when I saw Al and Hester going up the stairs. I’d call her later. I imagined she was a little leery about this business too, but that she’d had no real choice in the matter either. I knew that we both realized we would need the Feds.
    Much to my surprise, Volont flagged me down just as I got to the doughnuts.
    ‘‘Carl, isn’t it?’’ he asked, extending his hand. We shook.
    ‘‘Carl it is.’’
    ‘‘I’m Steve.’’
    ‘‘Okay, Steve.’’
    ‘‘You’re probably not too comfortable about this.’’
    ‘‘Well, you’re right about that.’’
    ‘‘I’ll tell you the truth . . . if we find an international suspect who’s behind all this, you’ll probably never hear about it. You know that, don’t you?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’ I grabbed a doughnut.
    ‘‘But the good news is, if we do, I’m just about certain that whoever did the shooting was not foreign. They wouldn’t do that. They use local talent. They pass so much more easily than, oh, South American nationals, for example. Less attention. So you’ll probably get your perp, even if they’re foreign-paid.’’
    ‘‘That’s good.’’
    ‘‘Just didn’t want you to worry.’’
    ‘‘I worry a lot.’’ I smiled. ‘‘We don’t have a hell of a lot of a case here. Not a lot at all. You read our reports yet?’’
    ‘‘Not yet. The people from the AG’s office have. They think you don’t have much either. That’s the problem.’’
    ‘‘Yeah. We should, given what happened.’’
    ‘‘Yes, we should. That’s what makes us think there’s something else involved here.’’
    ‘‘Well,’’ I said, ‘‘you sure could be right. Anyway, I appreciate your honesty.’’
    ‘‘Look, you’re doing as much as you can with this. It just may be something you can’t find because you don’t have the jurisdiction to look in the right place.’’
    He was right about that. Generally, the Feds aren’t that much brighter than any other investigative unit. Their advantage was resources; in the case of the FBI, massive resources. But they had a tendency to simply throw resources at the problem, trying to make up for what they lacked. Mostly, what they lacked was knowledge of the local area, and I don’t just mean the geography. And sometimes, what they lacked was expertise in some areas. By the very nature of their jurisdiction there wasn’t a ‘‘beat cop’’ among ’em. Most Feds had virtually no homicide experience. They only had jurisdiction over murders that occurred on federal property. Most agents had never been there, never done that. Only, sometimes, it really would have helped if they had.
    Then, again, I’d never refused their help. I might be a little offended, but I’m not stupid. Those of us who have virtually no resources have virtually no scruples about using theirs. It works, and all of us know it. The Feds count on our greed. Resource envy.
    ‘‘I understand you know George Pollard from our Cedar Rapids office?’’
    I certainly did. One of the resident FBI agents. We not only knew him; we liked him enough to refer to him as ‘‘George of the Bureau.’’
    ‘‘Oh, I know George. Good man.’’
    ‘‘He’s on vacation now, but he’ll be assigned as soon as he returns. Just wanted you to know that.’’
    Well, that was good news. I was sure he’d arranged to have George assigned so we would be more comfortable with the situation.
    ‘‘Hey, I’m sorry about the raincoat. I just forgot about it in all the fuss.’’
    I shouldn’t have brought it up again. I knew that as soon as I said