The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

He motioned to one of the techs, who performed the test on both Michelle and Sean and did the analysis on the spot.

“Clean,” he said.

“Wow, how about that,” said Michelle.

The lieutenant said, “So you two are private investigators?”

Sean nodded. “Bergin engaged us to help with the Edgar Roy case.”

“Help with what? Man’s as guilty as they come.”

“Just like you said, not for us to decide,” said Sean.

“You licensed in Maine?”

“We’ve filed the paperwork and paid the fee,” said Sean. “Waiting to hear back.”

“So that’s a no? You’re not licensed?”

“Well, we haven’t done any investigative work yet. Just found out about the job. We filed as fast as we could. The jurisdictions where we’re licensed have reciprocity with Maine. It’s just a formality. We’ll get the approval.”

“People looking to be PIs need some sort of special background. What’s yours? Military? Law enforcement?”

“United States Secret Service,” said Sean.

The lieutenant eyed Sean and then Michelle with a new level of respect. His men did the same.

“Both of you?”

Sean nodded.

“Ever guard the president?”

“Sean did,” said Michelle. “I never got to the White House before I left the Service.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Sean and Michelle exchanged brief glances.

Sean said, “Had enough. Wanted to do something else.”

“Fair enough.”

Forty-five minutes later another car pulled up. The lieutenant looked over and said, “That’s Colonel Mayhew. Must’ve put the pedal to the metal, think he was over near Skowhegan tonight.”

He hurried off to greet his commander in chief. The colonel was tall and broad shouldered. Though in his fifties, he had retained his trim figure. His eyes were calm and alert, his manner brisk and businesslike. He looked, Sean thought, like a Hollywood-inspired poster for police recruitment.

He was briefed on the situation, took a look at the body, then came over to them. After introductions Mayhew said, “When was the last time you had contact with Mr. Bergin?”

“Phone call earlier today, around five thirty p.m. A little while before we got on the plane.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was going to meet us at the B-and-B where we’re staying.”

“And where is that?”

“Martha’s Inn near Machias.”