Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [104]
We left Howler with the option to be hidden by us, if he wanted to. I think he might have gone along with that, but Nan wouldn’t have been able to go, and Howler wanted sex a little more than safety. After all, Nan was here and now. Death was at least a lay away.
We got back to the Nation County Sheriff’s Department just in time to be handed a message from Volont. The Stritch family was being transferred to federal custody in Cedar Rapids regarding federal kidnapping charges.
That was not a particularly good development. The Stritch family was being effectively removed from our control and our reach. Interviews were now going to be out, unless we went to Cedar Rapids, filled out all the proper forms, and talked to them in an interview room under the control of the Feds.
‘‘Maybe,’’ I said, ‘‘if we explain that there really wasn’t a kidnapping . . .’’
George was just about to make a phone call to his boss, to see if he could reach Volont, when the ubiquitous SAC rolled into the parking lot.
‘‘Hey,’’ said Hester, looking out the window. ‘‘It’s Volont.’’
‘‘Oh, right,’’ said George, still on the phone with his office. It was hard to fool George twice in the same day. I noticed he’d removed his coat and tie, and was getting downright comfortable.
‘‘Wonder why he’s here,’’ I said idly. George didn’t even bother to look up.
‘‘Probably came to shoot George for bad driving,’’ said Hester.
‘‘Or me for my raincoat,’’ I said.
George, who had cradled the phone on his shoulder, now had one foot propped on the desk, and was busily jotting down notes in his leather-bound notepad, and chuckling to himself. ‘‘You guys really crack me up . . .’’
‘‘Comfortable, Agent Pollard?’’ asked an even, cool voice.
Volont, as it happened, had come up because the DEA had been contacted by Harry regarding the demise of Johnny Marks. They had contacted him. He had asked where George was, and was told that he was already at the scene across the Mississippi in Wisconsin. In the territory of the Madison field office. Before their cooperation had been requested. Before he knew it was Johnny Marks, and positively related to our investigation. I thought George was surely going to be done for, but it didn’t really seem to make any difference. Volont was extremely curious about the condition of the body, and George was a veritable fountain of information on that. I thought it probably saved him.
‘‘So, Deputy, what do you think?’’ asked Volont, after George had briefed him.
‘‘It doesn’t add up at all,’’ I said. ‘‘We all agree.’’
‘‘It might,’’ he said, and launched into an explanation. He incorporated the possibility that some of the people on the right wing might sell marijuana to dopers. He seemed to like the concept. He emphasized that Herman Stritch was broke and in dire need of cash. He indicated the proximity of the Stritch residence to the town where Johnny Marks lived. They could easily know each other. Maybe through one of the Stritch boys. Things were going wrong, and they decided to ambush the officers. Marks with them. Try to harvest the plants the same day, make a clean getaway. He could have been the one who fired the fatal shots, in that case. Our case could well be solved right now. At the same time, the market, a.k.a. the Living Dead, would have had their investment blown by the killing and resultant heat. Got even with Marks. They got Johnny Marks; we got the Stritch family. Tidy.
I let him finish. ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ I said. ‘‘I kind of wish it was, but I don’t think so.’’ I quickly reiterated the basic evidence. ‘‘And,’’ I said, ‘‘there’s absolutely no indication that Marks was in the woods at all.’’
‘‘Ah,’’ he said, ‘‘that’s true. Didn’t have to be. But there’s every indication that he paid a very high price for angering the people he was growing the dope for. I think he might have been in the woods that day. He and the Stritch family. Working in concert.’’
‘‘Ahh,’’ I said, ‘‘I just don’t think so.’’
‘‘Reasons?’’
‘‘Let me work on it for a while,’’ I answered. I noticed the relieved look