"He told me that you told him about our bet. I guess you're in a betting mood today."

That was about as witty as Tom Walsh got, and I wanted to encourage him in that direction, so I laughed.

He asked, "Have you been drinking?"

"No, sir. We're still drinking."

"I see ... well-"

"Weren't you supposed to call Schaeffer before we got there to tell him that Kate and I are the designated investigators?"

"Apparently, even drunk, you don't forget an oversight on my part."

"Tom, even if I was dead, I wouldn't forget you screwing me around."

Mr. Walsh advised me, "You need to learn to manage your anger."

"Why? It's the only thing that motivates me to come to work."

Walsh ignored that. "Was Schaeffer helpful? Did you learn anything?"

"Tom, whatever Schaeffer told me, he'll tell you. He loves the FBI."

He suggested, "I think we need to continue this discussion when you're less fatigued."

"I'm fine."

"Okay," he said. "Just FYI, Harry's body is being flown by helicopter back to New York for autopsy." He added, "I understand there were signs of physical abuse on the body."

I didn't reply.

Walsh continued, "This is obviously not a hunting accident, and the Bureau is treating it as a homicide."

"What was your first clue?" I added, "Fax me the full autopsy report, care of Schaeffer."

He ignored that. "A team of agents have arrived from New York and Washington, and they'd like to speak to both of you tomorrow."

"As long as they're not here to arrest us, we'll talk to them."

"Don't be paranoid. They just want a full briefing from you both."

"Right. Meanwhile, you need to get a Federal judge to issue a search warrant for the Custer Hill Club property and lodge ASAP."

"That's being discussed."

Kate cut in. "Tom, John and I think that Bain Madox is conspiring to do something that goes beyond oil-price fixing."

There was a silence, then Walsh asked, "Like what?"

"We don't know." She looked at me and mouthed the words "MAD," "NUKE," "ELF."

I shook my head.

"Like what?"

She replied, "I don't know."

"Then why do you think that?"

"We-"

I said, "Let's discuss this when you're sober, Tom."

"Call me in the morning. I know that place doesn't have room phones, and that cell service is not good, but don't fuck with me." He added, "And don't even think about submitting a bill for that place." He hung up.

I said to Kate, "It's to you."

She threw three blues in the pot. "Don't even think about raising. In fact, don't even call."

"Fifteen, and another fifteen."

She threw in three more blue chips and said, "I'll let you off easy." She fanned out a Jack-high straight flush in hearts, and swept the pot toward her. "What did you have?"

"None of your business."

She gathered the cards and shuffled the deck. "You're a bad loser."

"Good losers are losers."

"Macho, macho."

"You love it."

We played a few more hands, and I was ahead a little on the poker, though still down on the pool. I suggested, "Let's do darts. A buck a point."

She laughed and said, "You can't even get your glass to your mouth. I'm not standing in the same room as you with a dart in your hand."

"Come on." I got up, a little unsteady, and said, "This is like a saloon triathlon-poker, pool, and darts."

I found the darts, stepped back about ten feet from the board, and let them fly. One hit the board, and the others, unfortunately, went astray, the last one pinning a window drape to the wall.

Kate thought that was funny, and I said, "Let's see how you do."

She informed me, "I don't play darts. But you can go again." She laughed.

Amy returned with a cloth-covered tray, which she set on the bar. "Here we are. He had apple-smoked turkey sausage."

Before I could tell her what Pierre could do with his turkey sausage, Kate said, "Thank you."