Chapter 3

“Please join me. Have a drink, on the house.”

Vergil slipped into the booth, sitting as far from the other man as possible, taking care not to stare. “I don’t drink.”

Hogan let out a huff of laughter. “I’ve got the only dry detective in Massachusetts. Are you a bluenose?”

Vergil shrugged. “I don’t like feeling out of control.”

For a moment the smirk on Hogan’s face faded. “Neither do I, but this is the world we’ve got to live in.”

“A man was found dead this morning. A smuggler running his ship up the Miskatonic in the night. He had been shot in the back. The boat was gone. Do you know anything about it?”

“If I did, you wouldn’t be sitting there right now wagging your chin.”

“You are trying to tell me you don’t know anything about a bootlegger ship running up the river?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re a bootlegger.”