The Sixth Man
Sean.
    “I let the evidence lead me wherever it goes,” replied Murdock.
    “They already checked my gun,” said Michelle. “And we both passed a GSR test.”
    “I don’t care,” retorted Murdock.
    Sean said, “We were retained by Bergin. We certainly had no reason to kill the guy.”
    “Well, right now we only have your word for it that you two were working for him. We’ll need to check that out.”
    “Okay. And after you’ve taken your samples from us tonight?”
    “You head on to where you’re staying. But you are not to leave the area without my permission.”
    “Can you do that?” asked Michelle. “We haven’t been charged with anything.”
    “Material witness.”
    “We saw nothing that you haven’t seen,” countered Sean.
    “Don’t get in a pissing contest with me over this,” said Murdock. “You’ll lose. I know Chuck thinks you guys are great stuff, but I always thought he made up his mind too fast. So the jury’s still out as far as I’m concerned.”
    “So much for professional courtesy,” groused Michelle.
    “This is a homicide investigation. It’s not a friendship contest. And the only courtesy I owe is to the dead guy over there.”
    He stalked off.
    “I really think he’s lost the love for us,” said Michelle.
    “Can’t blame him. We were on the scene. He doesn’t know us. And he’s under pressure. A lot of it. And he’s right. It’s his job to find the killer, not make friends.”
    “On a pair of wings in minutes. All the way from Boston. They got here so fast I’m thinking chopper instead of a plane. Pretty high priority tag on Edgar Roy.”
    “And I’m wondering why.”
    As they were getting back in their car after being processed by a pair of field techs the lieutenant sidled over to them. “My guytold me he was the source for you about the FBI. Appreciate you covering for him,” he said. “That could’ve really dinged his career.”
    “No problem,” said Michelle. “What’s your name?”
    “Eric Dobkin.”
    “Well, Eric,” said Sean, “it looks like the FBI is throwing its typical eight-hundred-pound-gorilla act, so the rest of us have to help each other out.”
    “Help how?”
    “We find out stuff we bring it to you.”
    “You think that’s wise? I mean they
are
the FBI.”
    “I think it’s wise until it turns out not to be.”
    Michelle said, “But it’s a two-way street. We help you, you help us.”
    “But it’s a federal investigation now, ma’am.”
    “So the Maine State Police just turns tail and runs. Is that your motto?”
    He stiffened. “No, ma’am. Our motto is—”
    “
Semper Aequus
. Always Just.” She added, “I looked it up.”
    “Also Integrity, Fairness, Compassion, and Excellence,” Dobkin said. “That’s our set of core values. I don’t know how it works in D.C., but we stick to them up here.”
    “All the more reason for us to work together.”
    “But what’s there to work on? You were retained by a guy who’s now dead.”
    “And now we have to find out who killed him.”
    “Why?”
    “He was a friend of mine.” Sean leaned in closer to the officer. “And I don’t how
you
do things in Maine. But where I’m from, we don’t abandon our friends because someone killed them.”
    Dobkin took a step back. “No sir.”
    Michelle smiled. “Then I’m sure we’ll be seeing you. In the meantime.” She handed him one of their business cards. “Enough phone numbers on there to find us,” she added.
    Michelle started the car and punched the gas, and the Ford hurtled off.

CHAPTER

5
    T HEY BOTH SLEPT.
    In separate rooms.
    The proprietress was a seventy-three-year-old woman named Mrs. Burke who possessed an old-fashioned idea about sleeping arrangements, in which a wedding band was required for cohabitation on the premises.
    Michelle slept heavily. Sean did not. After only two fitful hours tossing in the sack, he rose and stared out the window. To the north and even closer to the coast sat Eastport. The

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