Still Life With Crows

something I’m not aware of, my hands are tied.”

Perfect,thought Hazen. He feigned surprise. “Oh, but Jim, that’s just it. We’re already getting help from the FBI. Right from the beginning. You didn’t know?”

Jim Paulson’s smile froze on his features. After a moment, he shifted position. “Right. Of course. Now that you mention it.”

“That’s what I’m here about. This Special Agent Pendergast of the FBI. He’s been on the case since day one. You know all about him, right?”

Paulson shifted again, a little uneasily. “I have to tell you I wasn’t fully aware of this man’s activities.”

“You weren’t? He says he’s out of the New Orleans office. I thought he’d liaised with you. Isn’t that the usual courtesy?”

He paused. Paulson was silent.

“Anyway, Jim, I’m sorry. I justassumed . . . ” he let his voice trail off.

Paulson picked up the phone. “Darlene? Pull me the jacket on a Special Agent Pendergast, New Orleans office. That’s right,Pendergast. ” He hung up.

“Anyway, the reason I’m here is that, with all due respect, I wanted to ask the FBI to withdraw him from the case.”

Paulson tilted his eye at him. “Is that so?” A reddish blush was creeping up his well-shaven neck.

“I told you that Medicine Creek can use all the help it can get. And, normally, that’s true. Now, I know I’m just a small-town Kansas sheriff, but we’ve got help from the Dodge forensic unit and the state police, and—well, to tell you the truth, Special Agent Pendergast has been . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he was reluctant to criticize one agent to another.

“Has been what?”

“Just a little heavy-handed. And not respectful of local law enforcement.”

“I see.” Paulson was looking more pissed by the minute.

Hazen leaned toward the desk, lowered his voice confidentially. “To tell you God’s own truth, Jim, he goes around in expensive suits and handmade English shoes quoting poetry.”

Paulson nodded. “Right.”

The phone buzzed and Paulson picked it up with alacrity. “Darlene? Great. Bring it in.”

A moment later the secretary came in, a long computer printout trailing from one hand. She gave it to Jim, who touched her hand lightly in response.

Secretary’s dream,revised Hazen, his eye falling on the picture on the desk of Paulson with his wife and kids. Cute wife, too. Nice to have two of them.

Paulson was scrutinizing the printout. A low whistle escaped his lips.

“Quite a guy, this Pendergast. First name Al—Al . . . Christ, I can’t even pronounce it. FBI All-National Pistol- Shooting, First Place, 2002; FBI Bronze Cluster for Distinguished Service, 2001; Gold Eagle for Valor, 2000 and 1999; Distinguished Service Cluster, ’98; another Gold Eagle in ’97; four Purple Heart Ribbons for injuries received in the line of duty. It goes on. Done a lot of casework in New York City—figures—and there’s a bunch of earlier, classified assignments in here, with classified decorations to boot. Military, by the look of them. Who the hellis this guy?”

“That’s what I was wondering,” Hazen said.

Jim Paulson was really mad now. “And who the hell does he think he is, coming into Kansas like some kind of hot shot? The case isn’t even FBI purview.”

Hazen sat tight, saying nothing.

Paulson slapped down the printout. “Nobody in this office authorized him. He didn’t even have the courtesy to stop by and present credentials.” He picked up the phone. “Darlene, get me Talmadge in K.C.”

“Yes, Mr. Paulson.”

A moment later the telephone rang. Paulson picked it up. He glanced at Hazen. “Sheriff, if you wouldn’t mind waiting in the outer office?”

Hazen passed the time in the outer office getting a better look at Miss Cat’s Eyes. Behind those silly glasses was a pert little face; below them was a nice twitchy figure. It wasn’t a long wait. Within five minutes, Paulson emerged. He was calm again, smiling. The dimples were back.

“Sheriff?” he said. “Leave your fax number with my secretary.”

“Sure thing.”

“In a day or two we’ll be faxing you a cease-and-desist order, which you will be asked to serve on Special Agent Pendergast. Nobody in the New Orleans office knows what he’s up to. All the New York office would say is that he’s supposed to be on vacation. He has peace officer status here, of course, but that’s it. It doesn’t appear he’s actually broken any rules, but this is highly irregular, and these days we have to be exceptionally careful.”

Hazen tried to maintain the look of grave concern on his face, although he could hardly keep himself from shouting for joy.

“This guy has got some big-time friends in the Bureau, but it seems he also has some big-time enemies. So just wait for the order, say nothing, and deliver it with courtesy when it comes in. That’s all. Any problems, here’s my card.”

Hazen pocketed the card. “I understand.”

Paulson nodded. “Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Sheriff Hazen.”