I dropped into my own chair beside him and eavesdropped on his conversation. It appeared he was talking to a cop about Hartwick. Eggers, maybe. Scott would still be in bed after pulling the all-nighter. Her work ethic was almost as well known as Joe’s, but for an entirely different reason.

Joe hung up and smiled brightly at me. “Morning, LP. Have a pleasant evening?”

I glared at him. “I hate you and your damned energy.”

“I’m almost twice your age, kid. Don’t give me that crap.”

I grunted and sipped the coffee I’d picked up at the doughnut shop on my way down. “Who were you talking to?”

“Eggers.”

“I knew it. What’d he have to say?”

“He wouldn’t say his partner’s an idiot, although I tried to elicit agreement from him. He did say they found Hartwick’s hotel room.”

“Anything in it?”

“Not really. Nothing that helps explain what he was doing in Cleveland, at least. Eggers said they did find plenty of ammunition, though-along with two extra handguns, and even a grenade. Sounds like Hartwick was ready to go to war.”

I raised my eyebrows. “A grenade? You kidding me?”

“That’s what Eggers said. I’m just glad the guy left it at the hotel room, otherwise maybe it goes off by accident last night and blows up half the avenue, including you and me. Oh, yeah, we’re going to have to go back down this afternoon and chat with Scott and Eggers some more.”

“So they aren’t getting anywhere, eh? If they were, they wouldn’t have more time to waste on us.”

“They’re not getting anywhere. Personally, I assume the shooter was one of the Russians. Don’t you?”

The coffee had cooled enough to drink now, and I took several long swallows before responding.

“I guess it’s safe to say I assume it was one of them. Can’t prove it, obviously, but it makes sense. We know some of them were special ops guys, and whoever made the shot was pretty familiar with a rifle. The scope was high-tech, too.”

“Uh-huh. By the way, Cody’s due down here any minute. I told him to give you until eleven. Kinkaid will be here soon, too.”

“How long have you been here?”

He glanced at the clock. “Oh, maybe three hours.”

“Did you sleep at all, Joe?”

“I’m fine.”

I didn’t push it. “So, here’s a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“After all the chaos yesterday, our interview with Dan Beckley seems insignificant, but it established some pretty important points about Weston’s professional relationship with Hubbard, I think. Should we pursue that or focus on Hartwick and the Russians?”

Joe pressed his fingertips together and lifted his hands to his chin. It looked like he was praying. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think they’re both important, and I think they might be connected. One thing I don’t want, though, is for us to tell Cody about that.”

“About Dan Beckley?” I said, and he nodded. “Why not?” I asked. “We’ve already given him Hubbard.”

“I know we have, but now that we’ve got a better idea of what was going on between Weston and Hubbard, I want to keep it quiet for a while. Hubbard’s a hell of a powerful guy, LP, maybe the most powerful man in this city. And I don’t completely trust Cody. He’s fed us bad leads before, and I don’t like that.”

“You’re saying Hubbard might be pulling strings with the FBI?” I said. “Now who’s having trust issues, Joseph?”

Someone knocked at the door, and then it opened and Aaron Kinkaid poked his head inside. “Morning,” he said. I was pleased to see that he looked even worse than I did. He came in and sat down.

“Long night,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”

“A guy named Thad Cody’s going to be here soon,” Joe said. “Probably with a couple of Cleveland cops in tow. Cody’s with the FBI, and he’s calling the shots on the Weston investigation. He’s going to have quite a few questions for you.”

As if on cue, the door opened again and Cody entered, with Swanders behind him. Kraus was missing this time. It was a good thing I’d woken up when I had, or I might have been roused from bed by a pissed-off FBI agent.

“Is this Kinkaid?” Cody said, pointing at our redheaded visitor.

“I’m Aaron Kinkaid.”

“Good. Then we’re all here.” Cody pulled up a chair, but Swanders remained on his feet, leaning against the wall. Cody was wearing a suit today, and he had his briefcase with him again. He’d been a little overbearing in our first meeting, but that was nothing compared to the attitude he carried with him today. He was angry now.

“All right, gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say. And it better be true, and it better be detailed. Because if you’ve compromised my investigation, I’ll spend the rest of my career making you regret it.”

It was a hell of a way to get the ball rolling. We talked. Joe explained Kinkaid’s arrival in our office the day before, as well as how we’d determined Randy Hartwick’s identity. Kinkaid then jumped in to explain what he knew of Hartwick. This time, he didn’t leave out the weapons smuggling. Cody frowned at that and leaned forward, intense.

“Who was he running guns for?”

“I don’t know,” Kinkaid said.

“No ideas? You never heard any names? Do you know what kind of weapons he was involved with? Anything?”

Kinkaid shook his head. “I don’t. All I know is what Wayne Weston told me. He didn’t offer any details, and I didn’t ask.”

“I see. So, what brought you here in the first place, Mr. Kinkaid?”

Kinkaid looked at his shoes again, as he had when he’d talked to Joe and me the day before. “I, uh, well, I care about Julie Weston,” he said. “I was pretty close to her, you know? And, well, I’d like to do what I can to help.”

We talked for more than an hour. Swanders jumped in occasionally with questions, but it was clear that Cody was in charge. No one offered an explanation of where Kraus was or why he was missing.

“I’ve got to hand it to you assholes,” Cody said. “You really know how to make things more difficult. This Hartwick guy could have been just who we needed to break this case open. But do you call me, give me a heads-up? No, you don’t. Instead you try to play the game your own way, and then you get burned. And, in the process, I get burned, because now a guy I need to talk to is dead.” He shook his head with disgust. “I told you I wanted to work with you on this. But now you’ve made it clear you aren’t willing to work with us.”

I felt like a schoolboy being chastised by the principal-aware of the consequences of my actions, but at the same time somewhat amused with the whole scenario. Cody had never wanted to work with us. He’d made that clear when he had Swanders and Kraus feed us the bogus gambling tip. And he could have had the first crack at Hartwick if he’d been sharper. If he had found Hartwick first, I was sure he wouldn’t have bothered to notify Joe and me. Now he was griping at us, but his own investigation seemed to have stagnated. He didn’t want to work with us, but he saw we were making more progress than he was, and it was pissing him off.

“We’ve tried to work with you,” Joe objected. “We told you to check out Hubbard. Have you done that?”

“Yeah, we’re working on that, Pritchard. But it’s going to take more than a day, all right?”

“We found Hartwick in one day,” I said.

“And you got him killed in that same day, you jackass.” Cody sighed and tugged at his tie. “I’m furious with you for the way that turned out, but there’s no use crying about it now. He’s dead, and he can’t tell us anything. We need to find someone who can help us, though. You have any idea who might be associated with Hartwick?”

Joe and I shook our heads, and Cody looked at Kinkaid.

“I don’t know,” Kinkaid said. “Like I said, he was just a guy from out of state I met a few times. That’s all. If you ask me, you’re wasting time focusing on Jeremiah Hubbard, though. The Russians are clearly involved with this thing. What Weston was doing for Hubbard isn’t necessarily related. In fact, it’s more likely his connection to them came from Hartwick, not Hubbard.”