“I do,” Willy countered pleasantly. “I read ’em to you.” He crossed to the other side of the small table and sat down.

“What you did was totally illegal. It was entrapment and a violation of my civil rights, and profiling, too.”

“Let’s talk about Don Kalfus,” Willy started as if Corey hadn’t uttered a word.

Browne blinked once. “What?”

“How do you know him?”

Browne proved amenable. “Kalfus?” he asked, his string of objections forgotten. “Around. You know. Just one of those guys.”

Willy was gaining confidence that Corey hadn’t heard of Don’s death. “Friend of yours?”

“Not particularly.”

“When did you last see him?”

A small bulb lit up Corey’s brain. “Why you wanna know?”

“He’s part of a case we’re running. You ever have any dealings with him?”

“What’s it to you?”

Here it comes, Willy thought, suppressing another sigh. He placed his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. “I think I ought to tell you something,” he said. “Just between us.”

“I don’t have to help you just ’cause,” Corey said.

“That’s true,” Willy agreed. “But keep in mind that all I wanted to do in the first place was have a conversation. Instead, you’re now chained to the wall facing a federal weapons charge, a parole violation, and a drug rap, among other things, all because you made like a rabbit. You might want to consider who’s got the upper hand here.”

Corey considered that before asking, “We talking about a deal?”

Willy scratched his forehead. “Do you know what I do nowadays?’

“I heard you moved up. Not with the PD anymore.”

“Correct. I only chase things like homicides. In fact, right now, I’m working as a Fed, with all the powers and penalties that suggests.”

Corey was mocking. “Oooh. Way cool. That how you impress the girls?”

“What’s cool is how federal jail time differs from what you’re used to in Vermont.”

Browne’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you sayin’? I haven’t done nothin’ against the Feds.”

“That’s not how it works, Corey. If it suits me, they get involved. You don’t get a vote. Unless…,” he added as an afterthought.

That worked. “What d’you mean?”

“Not to sound like a broken record, but tell me about Don Kalfus.”

“A broken what?”

“Just tell me.”

As Willy had hoped, Corey finally recognized the offer being tendered, although no deal had been articulated.

“Sure. What the fuck. What d’ya wanna know?”

“What’re your dealings with him?”

“He’s a go-to guy. You need somethin’ like a car or a computer, maybe a gun. Hell, damn near anything, come to think of it. He even has things you don’t know you want.”

“Give me an example.”

Corey leaned forward, his wrist still dangling from the wall. “Well, since this is just between you and me, I’ve sold pills and shit now and then, right?”

“Okay.”

“Well, that’s how it worked. Guys like me need a supply. Normally, that’s a pipeline from New York or Holyoke or someplace, but those get interrupted sometimes. I ask people like Don to keep an eye open for rainy-day situations—for Oxys or shit like that. Other times, he’ll reach out and let me know he has something and would I be interested?”