Wild fire

Kate asked, “Tom? Are you there?”

His voice came through the phone, and he said, “I’m afraid we don’t need to continue the search.”

Neither of us responded, and I felt my stomach tighten. I already knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t want to hear it.

Tom Walsh informed us, “The state police have found the body of a man that they’ve tentatively identified by the contents of his wallet and photo ID as Harry Muller.”

Again, neither of us said anything, then Tom Walsh said, “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

I pulled off to the side of the road, took a deep breath, and asked Walsh, “What are the details?”

“Well, about three-fifteen this afternoon, the state police regional headquarters in Ray Brook… where you are supposed to be… got an anonymous call from a man who said he was hiking in the woods and saw a body lying on a trail. He said he approached the body, determined that the man was dead, apparently from a gunshot wound, then ran back to his vehicle, drove to a park emergency phone, and called the police.” He added, “The man would not give his name.”

I thought about that, and I thought I knew the man’s name. I was an expert rifleman in the Army.

Walsh went on, “This man gave a fairly accurate description of the location, and within half an hour, the state and local police, using search dogs, found the body. A further search discovered Harry’s camper about three miles south of where the body was found, so it appears that Harry was heading toward the Custer Hill Club, about three miles further north of the trail.”

I said, “That doesn’t comport with Harry’s phone call to his girlfriend.”

“Well, I played that message again, and Harry said, quote, ‘I’m on-duty, near the right-wing loony lodge.’” Walsh said, “You can’t take that to mean he was within sight of or very near the Custer Hill property.”

This man was obviously not a detective. “Tom,” I said, “it doesn’t make sense that he’d park his camper six miles away, then call his girlfriend at seven forty-eight A.M., then begin hoofing it through the woods. It would take him almost two hours just to get to the fence, and I assume he was supposed to be at or near Custer Hill at first light. But if we believe this scenario, then he wouldn’t have arrived until almost ten A.M. You following me on this, Tom?”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, then said, “Yes, but-”

“Good. And while you’re at it, get a triangulation on Harry’s cell-phone call to his girlfriend. That will tell you where he was when he called.”

“Thank you, I know that. The phone company is working on it. But other than the cell tower at the Custer Hill Club, there may not be any other towers close enough to get a triangulation.”

“How did you know about that cell tower on the Custer Hill property?”

There were a few seconds of silence, then he said, “I just got that from the phone company. We should know more in an hour or so, but I have to tell you, even if he was near the Custer Hill property when he called his girlfriend, it doesn’t mean he entered the property. He may have gotten spooked by something and was headed back toward his camper when he was shot. You know, there’s always two or more ways to look at evidence.”

“Really? I’ll have to remember that. And by the way, sometimes a little common sense goes a long way.”

“Federal prosecutors don’t care about common sense. They want the evidence to speak for itself. This evidence does not.”

“Well, then, we need more evidence. Tell me about the gunshot wound.”

“The gunshot wound entered his upper torso from the rear, and I’m told it probably severed his spinal column, and exited through his heart. No bullet recovered yet. Death was probably instantaneous… I spoke to Major Schaeffer, and he assures me there was no indication that Harry lingered… he apparently died where he fell.” He added, “There was cash in his wallet, and he had his watch, gun, credentials, video camera, digital camera, and so forth, so according to the state police, it appears to have been a hunting accident.”

I can still drop a deer at two hundred yards. I replied, “That’s what it’s supposed to look like.”

Walsh didn’t comment.

I said, “Obviously we need to look at what’s on his cameras.”

“Already done. There’s nothing on the videotape or the digital disk.”

I said, “Get the tape and disks to our lab and see if anything was erased.”

“That’s being done.”

Kate asked him, “How soon can we get an autopsy report?”

“The body is being transported to the county morgue in Potsdam for a positive identification using photo and fingerprints on file from FBI Headquarters. I have instructed that the autopsy not be done there-this is too important to leave to a local medical examiner. I’m having the body flown here to Bellevue tonight or tomorrow.”

“Good move. Fax me a copy of the autopsy and toxicology report.”

“Toxicology could take four to six days.”

“Two or three, on an expedited basis. Also, get word to Bellevue to look for signs of foul play. Drugging, bruises, signs of rope or handcuff marks on the skin, and trauma other than the gunshot wound. Also, the time of death is very important.”

“You may find this difficult to believe, but the New York City medical examiner, the state police, and the FBI do this for a living.”

I ignored that and continued, “Also, have a state police investigator at the morgue ASAP to witness the removal of the clothing and personal effects. He or she needs to look for signs that the clothing or personal effects were tampered with in any way.”

“There’s someone from the State Bureau of Investigation on their way to the morgue. Plus we have two agents coming from Albany. We’re going to get involved with this investigation because it was a Federal agent on assignment who was killed.”

“Good. And also make sure the state police and the FBI do a complete crime-scene investigation and look for witnesses. You need to assume a homicide was committed.”

“I understand, but it could also be what it appears to be-an accident. This happens all the time up there. Meanwhile, if you were where you were supposed to be, you’d be where you need to be to give your expert advice on how to conduct this autopsy and investigation.”

“Tom, fuck you.”

“I know you’re upset, so I’ll ignore that-once.”

“Fuck you.”

He ignored it a second time and asked, “Where are you now?”

Kate replied, “We’ve just left the Custer Hill Club.”

Walsh said, “Well, not only did you waste your time there but you also tipped off Bain Madox that he is under surveillance.”

Kate came to my defense. “John handled it very well. If Madox didn’t know he was under surveillance, he still doesn’t know. If he already knew, then it’s a moot point.”

Walsh said, “The real point is, you weren’t supposed to be there under any circumstances. What good did you do by going there? John?”

I replied, “I was on a mission of mercy, Tom. I got what I wanted-permission to conduct a search. Okay, we don’t need a search anymore, though I’m ready to do it anyway just to mess with Bain Madox.”

“That’s not going to happen. Now that you’ve paid him a visit, we are obligated by law to inform him that the person in question has been found off his property.”

“Don’t be too quick with that information.”

“John, I’m not messing around with this timeline. This guy is not your average Joe Citizen. He’ll be brought up- to-date by a phone call by a state or local law enforcement officer within the hour.”

“Let me discuss that with Major Schaeffer first.”

“Why?”

“I just spent forty minutes with Madox, and I got some strange vibes from him-I think that sonofabitch had