Kate and I nodded, and Schaeffer continued, "If they were locals, they knew about this clearing where a lot of campers and hikers pull off. Then, if you go another mile up this trail, you reach a paved road. So, one guy parked the camper here where you see it, then got into the getaway vehicle, and within a few minutes, they were making their getaway on the paved road up ahead."

Major Schaeffer had done a credible job of reconstructing the crime, partly because he'd already had some time on the scene with CSI people putting their heads together, and partly because he had knowledge of the area.

I said to Major Schaeffer, "I assume you have the key to this camper, which was missing from Harry's key chain in the morgue."

"I do." He reminded me, "You said you didn't handle the evidence in the morgue."

"Did I say that?" I continued, "I also assume you confirmed that the Chevy truck key you found on the chain was for this camper."

He looked at me. "We're not as smart as you city guys, Detective, but we're not stupid."

Based on my previous experiences with rural and suburban cops, I realized that statement was long overdue. I said, "Just checking," then asked, "How do you think the perpetrators moved this camper three miles from where the body and the ignition key were found?"

"They could have hot-wired the camper, towed it with their other vehicle, or even had a duplicate key made before the crime. But the most likely answer is that the victim had a spare key on his person, or in the vehicle."

"Right." I told him about the apparently missing spare Chevy key in Harry's wallet, and asked him, "Did you notice that?"

He didn't reply directly but informed me, "The absence of a key among other keys is not proof that there was a key."

"Right ... I'm just speculating."

Actually, this was a detective's pissing match, which we all do to keep everyone on their toes, which is good for the investigation, not to mention the detectives' egos.

Kate seemed to sense this and said, "In any case, this was made to appear that Harry left the camper here, and began walking north, toward the Custer Hill Club, and met with an accident three miles from his camper, and about three more miles from the Custer Hill property." She concluded, "Bottom line, he would not have parked six miles from the surveillance property. Plus, the phone call to his girlfriend at seven forty-eight A.M. indicated he was near the subject property, but that's not where he was found. Therefore, we have problems with time, distance, logic, and plausibility, which leads us to conclude that what we see here is not what Harry actually did on Saturday morning, but what someone did to him about a day later."

That pretty much summed it up, and neither Major Schaeffer nor I had anything to add.

So we'd done all we could here, which wasn't much, but you had to begin at the scene of the crime, then work backward and forward from there.

The trick was not to become process oriented but to remember the goal, which was to find the killer. The good news was that I had a suspect. Bain Madox. And I had a possible accomplice. Carl. But neither of those names was going to appear on the New York state police homicide report.

I asked Schaeffer, "Are the FBI agents in your office coming out here?"

"I asked them, and they said another team would do that-an Evidence Recovery Team. These guys in my office don't seem particularly interested in the crime scene."

No, I thought, they were more interested in Bain Madox than Harry Muller. And Liam Griffith was only interested in John Corey and Kate Mayfield.

But for me, it was important that I see where Harry Muller had died, and to think about how he'd died: a helpless, drugged prisoner, a police officer, doing his duty, murdered by a person or persons who didn't think as much of Harry Muller's life as they thought of their own self-interests, whatever they were.

I wondered if Bain Madox-assuming it was Madox-had tried to think of another solution to whatever problem Harry Muller posed for him. Surely there must have been a moment when murder was not the best solution, when some other, more clever course of action would have solved whatever problem Madox had with Harry Muller's appearance at the Custer Hill Club.

Most criminals-from the very stupid to the very clever-don't understand the forces they put into motion when they decide on murder to solve a problem. The ones who do understand often try to make it look like an accident, suicide, or natural death. And by doing that, they usually leave more clues than if they'd made it look like an everyday murder and robbery.

The best way to cover up a murder is with the complete disappearance of the body, which, along with the crime scene, holds too many clues. But Bain Madox had a unique problem: he needed to get a soon-to-be-dead Federal agent off his property and onto someone else's property-in this case, state land-where the body could be found before state and local police and Federal agents came around looking for the missing person on Madox's property. Therefore, Madox had something on his property-other than Harry Muller-that he didn't want anyone to see.

This, what we saw here, was Madox's solution, and it wasn't a bad quick fix. It would not, however, survive a full-blown homicide investigation.

If my other theory was correct, however, then time was all Madox wanted before he became a suspect. This bastard had already lit a fuse, and it was burning faster than it would take to find the bomb.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

We returned to Schaeffer's car, turned around, and headed back down the trail. No one had much to say.

We were approaching the T-intersection where the undercover state troopers were still hacking away at the brush. Schaeffer stopped and asked them, "Anything to report?"

One of the guys replied, "The black Jeep did a recon ten minutes ago, and the driver asked us what we were doing."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we were clearing brush and leaves, which are potential fuel sources for forest fires started by careless motorists throwing lit smoking materials out the window."

"Did he buy it?"

"He seemed skeptical. Said no one had done that before. I told him the risk of forest fires was very high this year."

"Okay. Tell you what-call Captain Stoner and tell him I want two highway repair crews here filling potholes. Real highway workers, with two troopers along, dressed like road crew and leaning on their shovels like they do."

The trooper smiled. "Yes, sir."

"Then you guys take off."

"Yes, sir."

Schaeffer continued toward Route 56 and said to us, "I think Madox is on to this surveillance by now."

I replied, "He's been on to the fact that he's under surveillance since Harry Muller got caught on his property Saturday morning."

Schaeffer pointed out, "We don't know that Harry Muller got caught on his property." He inquired, "Why was your friend sent here to gather information on Madox's guests?"

"I don't know, and neither did he." I explained, "I spoke to him before he drove up here."

Schaeffer probably thought he was going to get some information from us in exchange for saving us from Liam Griffith and taking us to the crime scene. So, to give him something that he should have had anyway, I said, "Harry was also supposed to check out the airport. Flight manifests and car rentals. The Feds will, or have already done that. You should do the same before that information disappears."

He didn't reply, so I added, "Kate and I happen to know that some VIPs from Washington arrived at the airport and may have gone to the Custer Hill Club."

He glanced at me.

When you think you might be pulled from a case because you're stepping on the wrong toes, you need to pass on the info to someone who might run with it-or at least hold it until they decide what to do with it.

I gave Schaeffer another tip. "You should keep the information about your Custer Hill surveillance to yourself for a while."

Again, no reply. I think he'd be a little more chatty without an FBI agent in his backseat. But I'd said what I had to say, and I'd repaid him for his favors. What was written in Harry's pocket was not information that Major Schaeffer needed to know.

Now it was my turn, so I asked Schaeffer, "Do you know this guy Carl? Sort of Madox's right-hand man, or maybe bodyguard."