"Right. When was this hunting party?" I asked.

"Two seasons back."

"Like, hunting seasons?"

"Yeah. Up here we have hunting season; ski season; mud, flood, and fly season; then fishing season."

When I left the city, it was the opera and ballet season. "A guy could really keep busy up here."

"Yeah, if you like the outdoors."

"I love the outdoors. By the way, I saw a map of the Custer Hill property, and I saw some outbuildings away from the lodge. What are those buildings?"

He thought a moment, then said, "Well, I know one of them is a bunkhouse. You know, for the guards. There's also a big barn-like building for all his vehicles. Then there's a generator building."

"Electric generator?"

"Yeah. Three diesel generators."

"What's that all about?"

"You can lose power in the ice storms. Most people have some sort of generator backup."

"Right. You've seen these generators?"

"No. They're in a stone building." He informed me, "The guy in Potsdam who services the emergency generator here also services the ones at the Custer Hill Club."

I recalled the three heavy cables I saw on the utility poles on Madox's property. "Why would this lodge need all that juice?"

He thought about that, then replied, "I'm not sure how much power each generator puts out, and I assume one or two are backups if one fails. But you raise an interesting point. I'll find out how many kilowatts they put out."

"Okay."

"What are you thinking?"

"Quite frankly, I don't know." But this generator thing led me to ask him, "What is the local gossip about the Custer Hill Club?"

He looked at me. "Are you investigating this homicide, or are you picking up where your friend left off?"

"I'm a homicide cop. But I'm also nosy. I like gossip."

"Well, there's the usual gossip. Everything from wild, drunken orgies to an eccentric billionaire sitting around watching his toenails grow."

"Right. Does Madox ever go into town?"

"Almost never. But now and then you get a Madox sighting in Saranac Lake or Lake Placid."

"Did anyone ever see the former Mrs. Madox?"

"I don't know. She's been out of the picture for a long time."

"Girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of."

"Boyfriends?"

"He impressed me as a refined gentleman, but he had a macho side to him. What did you think?"

"Same. I think he's on our team." I asked him, "Do you know how often he comes out to his club?"

"I have no idea. Usually the local or state police are notified when the residents of a big lodge, or a Great Camp, are away so the police can keep an eye on the place-but Madox has full-time, twenty-four/seven security guards. To the best of my knowledge, that place is never left unattended."

I'd guessed that from what Madox himself had told me and Kate, and now it was confirmed. "Did anyone ever suggest that the Custer Hill Club was something other than a private hunting and fishing club?"

He sipped his coffee thoughtfully, then replied, "Well, when that place was being built, about twenty years ago-ten years before I got here-I heard that no local contractors were used. And the rumor was that whoever was building this place was putting in a fallout shelter and sixteen miles of fence, which was true, and radio antennas and perimeter security devices, which was also true. And I guess the diesel generators were installed then, too. The word was that strange people were coming and going, delivery trucks were arriving in the middle of the night, and so forth." He added, "You know, rural people have a lot of time on their hands and good imaginations. But some of this stuff was for real."

"Right. So, what did people think was going on there?"

"Well, I only got this secondhand ... but this was during the Cold War, so a lot of people assumed this was a secret government facility." He added, "I guess that was a logical assumption given the scale of the project, and what was on people's minds back then."

"I guess. But didn't anyone ask?"

"As I understand it, there wasn't anyone to ask. It was pretty self-contained there. And it wouldn't have mattered much if anyone from the project absolutely denied that it was a government installation. The locals tend to be patriotic, so as long as they thought that place was a secret government facility, they overcame their nosiness and stayed away."

I nodded. Interesting observation. I guess if you're a billionaire looking for security and privacy, you might want to promote the idea that this was a secret government installation disguised to look like a private club. That was as good as sixteen miles of fence. I said, "But now, I assume, everyone understands that this is a private hunting and fishing club."

"There are still a few people who think it's a secret government installation."

I could see the advantage to Madox of keeping the mystique alive.

Major Schaeffer continued, "Look, it's not illegal to surround your property with a fence and security devices, or to hire private guards, or even to hold a Roman orgy. Rich guys do weirder things than that. Paranoia and weirdness are not illegal."

I informed Major Schaeffer, "Paranoia and weirdness are never the endgame."

"I agree. But if Bain Madox is involved in some kind of criminal activity, I don't know about it." He stared at me. "If you know more than you're telling me, now's the time to tell me."

"All I was told is that it has to do with oil-price rigging."

He considered that for a moment, and I could see he was having the same problems with that bullshit that I'd had when I heard it from Walsh. "So," he said, "you think Bain Madox, an oil billionaire, murdered a Federal agent who was doing a routine surveillance of arriving guests who might be involved in an oil-price-rigging conspiracy?" He pointed out, "That sounds a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Yeah ... well, if you put it that way-"

"What other way is there? And what's the national security angle?"

I was happy to see that he was paying attention, but I was not happy with that question. This guy was hungry and he needed something to chew on, but I certainly wasn't going to offer up nuclear tidbits, so I dissembled a bit and said, "Look, Major, oil is more than black sticky stuff. I mean, Bain Madox is not in the garment business, you know? When oil is involved, anything and everything is possible. Including murder."

He didn't reply but kept looking at me.