Both men watched as she backed around and returned to the road. Joe at that point produced a light of his own and shone it down onto the box again, echoing questioningly, “Don’t leave town?”

Willy laughed. “Always wanted to say that.”

He squatted down and pulled out the heavy silver ashtray. “This is old-fashioned. Who the hell gives these to anybody anymore?”

“It have an inscription?” Joe asked. “I thought I saw something.”

Willy flipped it over and revealed the following to the flashlight’s halo:

TO LUCY TRADITION SAYS THIS SHOULD BE CRYSTAL BUT YOU’LL ALWAYS DESERVE SILVER IN MY EYES HAPPY 15TH ANNIVERSARY LEMUEL

“Well, well,” Joe said. “Seems like we just fell over another connection between the Shaws and Don Kalfus.”

CHAPTER NINE

Much is made about the cooperation and networking among law enforcement agencies, as when Jim Collins had suggested Fred Houston to grease the wheels of the VBI’s investigation.

But as in most such situations, the truth often boiled down to not only who you knew, but in how they were approached, the nature of the request, the tone of voice used, and who else might be hovering just out of sight, in support or opposition.

That’s where Joe had several advantages. He was a veteran operator, well known and liked, he kept his ego in check, was quick to praise others, and always worked to avoid credit when it might better serve someone else.

He wanted to make an impression on Lemuel Shaw, beyond knocking on his door and confronting him with the growing inconsistencies between what the cops kept finding and his and Lucy’s avowed tale of innocence.

For that, Joe needed a show of force. From New Hampshire law enforcement. He began with Fred Houston.

As Joe had partially explained to Beverly earlier, New Hampshire law enforcement territories were clearly set out and observed. Municipalities tended to their own, sheriffs operated within their counties, even the state police had restrictions on where they could go and what powers they had. Pragmatism had been applied to smooth out obvious rough spots. Formal agreements, signed memoranda, verbal understandings had been reached here and there, allowing one agency to function inside the realm of another. But the process was tricky and often relied on the personalities and instincts of individual leaders, some of whom were political, progressive, provincial, or pigheaded.

Fred, by grace of his ICAC skills, the charity of his boss, and his own accommodating manner, was one of the few officers in the state whom everyone knew, welcomed, and valued. The fact that he was as generous to most as he’d been to Joe—encouraging a homicide investigation to piggyback a child abuse case—meant that by association, Joe was on the side of the angels, even before his own reputation was added to the mix. Sometimes, it did boil down to whom you knew.

So it was that a small but impressively representative cluster of troopers, deputies, and Joe’s fellow federal task force officers rolled up the hill to Lemuel Shaw’s front door, prepared for a serious conversation, even if they didn’t have enough probable cause at this stage to enact a search of his house.