Secret Prey

good?’’ Lucas asked.
    The sheriff thought for a minute and then said, ‘‘Ralph couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel.’’
    Sloan asked, ‘‘So how come . . . ?’’
    ‘‘I try to keep him out of the way, but he was at the office and answered the phone this morning.’’
    ‘‘Did he collect all the guns?’’ Lucas asked.
    ‘‘No, but I did,’’ Krause said. ‘‘Two of them had been fired—both people had deer to show for it. The others look clean.’’
    ‘‘I saw the deer hanging down by the cabin . . .’’ Lucas said. Then: ‘‘Get your crime scene guys to check their hands and faces for powder traces. And count shells—find out what they claim to have fired, and do a count.’’
    ‘‘I’m doing all that, except for the shells,’’ Krause said. He looked up at Lucas. ‘‘I’m going by the book. The whole book. My problem is more along the lines of interrogation and so on. Expertise.’’
    Lucas tipped his head at Sloan: ‘‘Sloan is the best interrogator in the state.’’
    Sloan grinned at the sheriff and said, ‘‘That’s true.’’
    ‘‘Then we’d like to borrow you for a while,’’ Krause said. ‘‘If you got the time.’’
    ‘‘Fine with me,’’ Sloan said. ‘‘Overtime is overtime.’’
    ‘‘Is there any possibility that you could do some running around Minneapolis for me?’’ Krause asked.
    Sloan looked at Lucas. ‘‘I’ve got a couple of things going
. . . Sherrill is doing research on that Shack thing, but she’s not getting much. Maybe she could do some running around.’’
    Lucas nodded. ‘‘I’ll call her this afternoon, on my way back. Anything you break out of these guys, call it down to her. I’ll have her talk to Kresge’s wife, check for girlfriends . . .’’
    ‘‘Or boyfriends,’’ Sloan said.
    ‘‘Or boyfriends. And I’ll have her start talking to people in his office—secretaries and so on.’’ Lucas looked at Krause. ‘‘I don’t want to take over your investigation . . .’’
    ‘‘No-no-no, don’t worry about that,’’ Krause said hastily.
    ‘‘The more you can do, the better. My best guys are busier’n two-dick dogs in a breeding kennel . . . And my other guys would have a hard time finding Minneapolis, much less anybody in it.’’
    ‘‘Sounds like you have some problems,’’ Sloan said. ‘‘First Arne, then Ralph . . .’’
    ‘‘We’re going through a transitional period,’’ Krause said grimly. Then: ‘‘Look, I’m the new guy up here. I was with the highway patrol for twenty-five years, and then last fall I got myself elected sheriff. The office is about fifty years out of date, full of deadwood, and all the deadwood is related to somebody. I’m cutting it down, but it takes time. I’ll take any help I can get.’’
    ‘‘Whatever we can do,’’ Lucas said.
    Krause nodded. ‘‘Thanks.’’ He’d been prepared to dislike the Minneapolis guys, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Actually, he sort of liked them, for city people. Sloan especially, but even Davenport, with his shoe tassels and expensive clothes. He glanced at Davenport again, quickly. From a little bit of a distance you might think pussy . You didn’t think that when you got closer to him. Not after you’d seen his smile.
    He added, ‘‘I don’t think I’m gonna get too far up here. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’m going to get anywhere— everything about this shooting was set up in the Cities.’’
    They were coming up to the porch, and Sloan said, quietly, ‘‘So let’s go jack up these city folks. See if anybody gets nervous.’’

THREE

    THE FOUR SURVIVING HUNTERS SAT ON THE PORCH in the afternoon sunlight, in rustic wooden chairs with peeling bark and waterproof plastic seat cushions. They all had cups of microwaved coffee: Wilson McDonald’s was fortified with two ounces of brandy. James T. Bone sat politely downwind of the others, smoking a cheroot.
    The sheriff’s investigator perched on a stool at the other end of the porch, like the class dummy, looking away from them. If one of the bankers suddenly broke for the woods, what was he supposed to do? Shoot him? But the sheriff had told him to keep an eye on them. What’d that mean?
    And the bankers were annoyed, and their annoyance was not something his worn nerves could deal with. He could handle trailer-home fights and farm kids hustling toot, but people who’d gone to Harvard, who