His answer confirmed my doubts and revealed how political expedience had invaded our own organization. “Stowe initiated the case, of course. But the ball’s pretty much ours. No way they’re going to be committing people to this kind of goose chase.”
Sammie glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. I sighed inaudibly and asked, “Exactly how did that conversation go with Stowe’s chief? Frank Auerbach? He runs a pretty tight department-well equipped, well organized. A full-service outfit.”
The pause in the conversation told me Bill got my point. “You and I have hashed this over before, Joe,” he finally said. “Our charter specifies we can initiate investigations where we see fit.” He held his hand up as I opened my mouth to respond. “Not that we’re doing that here. After the AG paved the way following the ME’s initial report this morning, I called Auerbach to introduce myself. I offered him our services in case the need should arise, nice and polite. He thanked me very much.”
Allard sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“He hasn’t officially accepted us?” I asked, trying to keep calm. “I thought we were already on board. That’s what I told Ed Turner in Burlington, who by now has probably spread it all over downstairs, maybe even back to Auerbach.”
He shrugged. “Look. No one’s a virgin here. The Legislature may have created us, but we’re already ancient history. It’s a brand-new session stuffed with freshmen, and so far they’ve been happy to let us hang in the wind. Every cop shop in Vermont is hoping we’ll vanish without a trace, and if the governor doesn’t hear some good news after bragging to the press this morning, that’s probably what’ll happen. We’re going to have to be a little pushy to start with, Joe, or we’re not going to survive. Auerbach’s going to need help with this. He’ll know that as soon as the ME gives him her report. All the AG and I did was make it diplomatic for him to ask for us instead of the state police. Heavy-handed, maybe-underhanded if you want-and maybe you’ll have to smooth a few feathers because of it, but at least you’ll be in business.”
I couldn’t argue with him. He was absolutely right about our shelf life. Our coexistence with other units was going to be initially bumpy in any case-either because we were untested or because we were seen as competition. We might just as well get started, show some signs of life, and try to work out the details along the way.
But if that was the plan, I had an additional problem. “Bill, as far as I know, you and I are the only two people on the VBI payroll with assigned responsibilities. Sammie here got a welcome aboard letter, as did a bunch of other people, but none of them have heard a word since. Now I know the Bureau’s supposed to have regional offices, and that Stowe and Brattleboro couldn’t be much farther apart, but if we’re going to play this like a pickup game, I’d like to select my own team-just this once. Given how disorganized things are, I don’t think it’ll bother anyone, especially if it leads to more cases.”
Allard seemed relieved by my acceptance of his backdoor strategy concerning Auerbach. “Sure,” he said. “Who do you want?”
“Sam, for one,” I told him, “and Willy Kunkle for another.”
Allard rubbed his chin with his finger. “Name rings a bell. Doesn’t he have a little attitude problem?”
Neither Sammie nor I said a word, but the question alone told me Kunkle’s name had come up in at least one context in this building.
After an awkward pause, he added, “I’m not sure what the status is on his application, to be honest. And that’s one part of the process I don’t want to fool with right now-can’t be seen playing favorites.”
I seriously doubted Willy Kunkle was anyone’s favorite, including mine, and he’d worked on my squad alongside Sammie for years. A recovering alcoholic, he’d beaten his wife before she left him over ten years ago, and he was cynical, sharp-tongued, dismissive of others, and difficult to work with. He was also smart, honest, hard-working, and an excellent cop despite his faults, which made him even harder on himself than he was on others-no small statement. No one aside from Sammie understood what I saw in Willy, or why time after time I’d gone out on a limb to save his career. There was more to it than his simply being good at his job-dozens of others were as capable, and all of them were a hell of a lot more pleasant. But I’d seen value in aiding in his redemption and been rewarded with signs of progress, not the least of which was Willie’s discreet, still largely unknown romantic pairing with Sammie. Childless and a widower, perhaps I wanted for Willy what a parent wants for a troubled but promising son. He had fought off the bottle, learned to control his physical outbursts, dealt with a bullet wound that had left him with a withered, useless left arm, and had been caught being sensitive and considerate when he thought nobody was watching.
But my leaving the Brattleboro department had threatened that evolution. My old chief, Tony Brandt, while a supportive and considerate boss, had made it clear that without my protection, Willy was a targeted man. Anticipating that, I’d already made the consideration of his VBI application a condition of my own signing on, something the commissioner had agreed to only reluctantly. I’d stressed then that all I was requesting was that the man get the same fair scrutiny we’d all received.
Allard’s reaction made me realize my request might not have been honored.
I wasn’t surprised, but I hated to think that all I’d done by helping Kunkle was to perhaps set him up for the hardest fall of all.
“Who does know what his status is?” I asked. “The commissioner?”
“He’s head of the selection committee,” Allard answered indirectly.
I nodded toward the phone on his desk. “Let’s give him a call, then.”
Bill Allard frowned. He didn’t know Willy Kunkle, as did Commissioner Stanton, but this was not playing ball, as the political vernacular had it. In one stroke, I’d picked a fight and gone over his head before our very first case was a day old-all over a man of dubious pedigree.
He made the call. Next to me, Sammie was looking as if she wanted to melt into the floor.
David Stanton didn’t look happy, either, when the three of us filed into his office one flight down five minutes later.
A tall, skinny man with a mop of thick, tangled hair, he was a keen organizational animal-smart, ambitious, and restless to make his mark. In the early blueprints of what VBI was to be but hadn’t become, Stanton had been slated for a cabinet secretary rating. His failure had dulled his interest in the whole experiment.
“What’s up?” he asked without preamble, not bothering to shake hands or greet us by name.
Allard spoke first. “Since the governor caught us flat-footed, we’re trying to cobble together a squad with minimal break-in needs.”
It was the preferred indirect approach, but I didn’t feel like wasting time any more than Stanton did. I might also have been reacting to his perfunctory tone. “I’d like Willy Kunkle.”
Bill tried softening the message. “I didn’t know the status of his application.”
Stanton kept his watchful eyes on me. “He’s in the pipeline, Joe, along with several others.”
“Maybe so, but since proper procedure’s already out the window, let’s cut corners,” I suggested, matching his stare.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, not right out of the starting gate.”
“Why not?” I asked, anger slowly beginning to build in my chest. “When were you going to decide about him?”
Stanton’s mouth tightened slightly. “It’s not up to me alone. There’s a panel-”
“Which you bypassed to hire me,” I interrupted.
“You were a special case,” he said, giving the comment a clear double meaning. “Kunkle doesn’t fit that category.”
I turned to the door, resting my hand on the knob. “Maybe you got me wrong.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Joe,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “When you signed on, the deal was we consider Kunkle’s application along with everyone else’s. We’re doing that. You can’t force us to accept him-it wouldn’t be ethical.”