I called in on the Federal Field Office, leaving Tim in the car outside.
The Federal Agent was named Jack Hoskiss. He was a big, beefy guy, with a shock of blueblack hair, a big fleshy face and humorous eyes. He stood up behind his desk, offered a moist hand.
I didn’t beat about the bush. “I’m Chester Cain,” I said.
He nodded, said he recognized me, and what could he do?
I stared at him. “I’m supposed to have killed three guys,” I reminded him. “Don’t you want to make anything of it?”
He shook his head. “When Paradise Palms Police Department call us in, we’ll do something about it,” he said, offering me a cigar. “Right now, it’s off our beat.”
I eyed him over. “Your job is to hold me anyway,” I said.
“Don’t make it hard for yourself,” he returned, grinning. “You don t have to tell me my job. We have an idea what you’re after.” He glanced out of the window, smiled to himself. “We might be after the same thing.”
I grinned. “That guy Killeano is nobody’s love child.”
“It beats me why he hasn’t yet made a false move,” Hoskiss said. “We’ve been watching him for months, but so far he’s been smart. I’d like to get something on him.”