The Marble Mask Read Online Free Page B

which is no doubt why they’d remained such perennial loners so far.
    There was an additional influence working on me, of course, more personal and elusive. My own years-long relationship with Gail Zigman was undergoing some adjustment, ever since we’d decided to go back to living apart and she’d taken a job in Montpelier for half of each year. We’d shared a house only briefly—and then only because she’d needed to rebuild herself after a harrowing sexual assault—but I’d grown used to the domesticity and was by nature less driven than she to climb a career ladder.
    Which made nurturing Sam and Willy’s odd romance all the more instinctive.
    “Willy’s definitely an acquired taste,” I explained to Bill, “but he’s a dog with a bone on something like this, and I’m used to working with him.”
    Allard slid behind his desk. “So who else do you want?”
    I watched him carefully. “That’s a little risky, isn’t it? Given Stanton’s marching orders.”
    He allowed a thin smile, revealing a bit of what had made him so successful within the ranks of the state police. “Stanton’s a good guy—savvy at paddling his chosen waters.” He paused and then added, “But he’s not Bureau chief.”
    “Nevertheless,” I said, “I don’t want to be too obvious. He did say to pick someone from outside Windham County. How ’bout Lester Spinney?”
    Sammie Martens immediately laughed, reminded of Spinney’s famous sense of humor. “I didn’t know he’d joined up. I thought he was happy investigating for the Attorney General.”
    “He was happy working for Kathy Bartlett,” I emphasized, “but when the AG made her VBI special prosecutor, he figured he’d tag along.”
    But Bill shook his head. “Maybe later, if things start heating up, but even I know you’ve worked with Spinney before. Stanton’s bound to smell a rat. We need some relative stranger we think’ll fit your style.”
    I was stumped. I knew quite a few of the approximately one thousand full-time cops in the state, but only a handful had risked joining the Bureau so far. A conservative bunch by nature, police officers were inclined to sit back and watch when politics were in motion.
    “You know Paul Spraiger?” Allard asked.
    “I know his boss,” I answered, “assuming he’s the Spraiger from the Burlington PD.”
    “One and the same. A twelve-year veteran. He was about to be rotated back into uniform when he decided he’d gotten used to plainclothes. He’s a quiet guy, a good interrogator—has a way of making people feel comfortable. Incredibly smart but keeps it to himself. He also speaks French, which might come in handy.”
    I nodded. “Sounds good. What about the BCI intern?”
    This time, Allard didn’t hesitate. “Tom Shanklin. He’s in the Middlesex barracks right now—a good people person, easy to get along with, popular with the troops, and a gung-ho Green-and-Gold type, but not obnoxious. If we can turn him around to what we’re up to, he’d be a great ambassador.”
    “He been with BCI long?” Sammie asked, obviously mistrustful of all the strategizing.
    Bill tried putting her at ease. “Oh yeah, years. He’s worked several major cases on his own. He’ll be an asset.”
    I’d heard only good of Tom Shanklin, although we’d never met. I rose to my feet. “Okay by me, and unless you feel otherwise, we might as well keep it at five total for the moment, till we know what we’re facing. You want to meet with us once we’re all assembled?”
    Allard’s smile suggested otherwise. “Give you all a rousing speech? I don’t think so. You’re the field man, Joe. Run things as you see fit. Just keep me informed and let me know when you need help.”
    He escorted us four feet to his door and shook us both by the hand. “It looks like a good case to start with—custom-made for what we can offer. Maybe the governor wasn’t so crazy after all.”
    Sammie merely smiled politely, no doubt wondering what