Kate was at the second gurney now, sniffing at Harry’s shirt. She said, “I’m not sure… this could be tobacco smoke…”
I couldn’t smell anything except the menthol under my nose, but I said, “Who do we know who smokes?”
She nodded.
We went through the clothing, piece by piece, noticing the cellophane tape that Dr. Gleason had used to fix the four animal hairs. We weren’t exactly doing anything we weren’t allowed to do, but on the other hand, we weren’t supposed to be here; we were supposed to be at the state police headquarters in Ray Brook. Also, there’s the chain-of-evidence thing, and anyone who handles evidence needs to log in, which we hadn’t done. And then you had the FBI and state police investigators who might not take kindly to seeing us when they arrived. In other words, we were in a sort of gray area, which is where I spend a lot of my time. More important, we had a good jump on this, but now it was time to leave.
I said to Kate, “Let’s go.”
But she said, “Look at this.”
I moved closer to her. She was holding Harry’s camouflage pants, and she had pulled his right-side pocket inside out. “See this?”
I examined the white pocket lining and saw blue marks that appeared to have been made with a pen.
Kate said, “These could be letters.”
Indeed, they could be. As though Harry had written on the white fabric with his hand in his pocket. Or, if Harry was as careless as I was, maybe he’d just shoved an uncapped pen in there.
Kate put the pants on the gurney and we both bent closer, trying to decipher the blue marks, which were definitely ink and did not look random.
I said to her, “You go first.”
“Okay… there are three groupings of marks… the one that is most legible says, M-A-P… the next group looks like… an N… then maybe a U or a V… then an asterisk… no, a K… then the last group looks like… E-L-F…” She looked at me and said, “Elf?”
I stared at the ink marks. “M-A-P could be M-A-D. I mean, he’s writing this blind with his hand in his pocket. Right?”
“Probably…”
“Then, NUK… and here’s another mark almost hidden in the seam… so… maybe NUKE.”
We looked at each other, then Kate said, “Nuke? Like, nuclear?”
“I hope not.” I added, “This last one looks clear. ELF.”
“Yes… what was he trying to tell us? Madox? Nuclear? Elf? What is elf? Maybe he was trying to write HELP.”
“No. This is pretty clear. E-L-F.”
I glanced at my watch again, then at the door. “We need to get going.” I pushed the pocket liner back into the pants and said, “Let them work for this.”
We took off the latex gloves and put them in a covered trash can. Then I went to Harry’s body and looked at him. Kate came up beside me and took my arm. I’d be seeing Harry again soon at the funeral home, wearing his old uniform. I said to him, “Thanks for the clue, buddy. We’re on top of this.” I pulled the blue sheet over him and turned toward the door.
We left the OR and walked quickly down the hallway to the nurses’ station. I said to the state troopers, “Do you have the deceased’s gun and credentials?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need to take his NYPD shield to give to his family.”
The guy in charge hesitated, then said, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You know… it’s-”
“It hasn’t been inventoried yet. Who’s going to know?”
The other trooper said to his boss, “I’m okay with that.”
The man in charge opened an evidence bag that was sitting on the counter, removed the shield from the cred case, and slid it toward me.
I said, “Thanks,” and pocketed Harry’s shield.
The second trooper asked me, “You think this was a homicide?”
“What do you think?”
“Well,” he replied, “I saw the body on the trail before they put it in the ambulance, and the only way this guy-your friend-could have been shot square in the back in those thick woods is if the shooter was standing directly behind him on the trail. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“So, this was no accident-unless maybe it happened at night, and the shooter thought he saw a deer on the trail… I have to tell you, your friend should have been wearing something reflective or orange. You know?”
“Yeah. Well, it’s not hunting season.”
“Yeah, but still… some locals don’t wait for the season to open.”
“I understand.”
“Yeah. Well, sorry.”
“Thanks.”
The other trooper also offered his condolences, as did the two nurses behind the counter. I guess they felt badly about the off-season hunting accident, or worse about the possibility of a tourist getting murdered in their nice little corner of the world.
Kate and I walked into the lobby just as two guys in suits were coming through the door. I made them as law enforcement types-FBI or SBI-and they went directly to the information desk and flashed their creds.
The info lady noticed Kate and I leaving as the two guys were talking to her. She seemed to want to draw the guys’ attention to their departing colleagues, but we reached the door before the introductions could be made.
We moved quickly to our car, I slid behind the wheel, and we got the hell out of there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We headed back toward the center of town, then followed the signs for Route 56 south. The word “Nuke” was very much on my mind.
Kate said to me, “Whenever I work a case with you, I feel like I’m one step ahead of the law instead of being the law.”
I replied philosophically, “Sometimes the law gets in the way of truth and justice.”
“Do you teach that in your class at John Jay?”
“For your information, since 9/11, a lot of people in law enforcement have adopted the Corey Method, meaning the ends justify the means.”
“Post-9/11, we’ve all done a little of that. But this case has nothing to do with Islamic terrorism.”
“How could you know that at this point?”
“Come on, John. I don’t see any connection.”
“Well, think about this-Madox has a self-proclaimed history of fighting America’s enemies as a private enterprise. Right?”
“Yes, but-”
“Communism is gone; now, enter Islam. He told us he’s not too involved in the war on terrorism, which means he’s involved. Correct?”
She stayed silent for a while, then answered, “Yes.”
“Right. And, of course, you have the oil thing, which is a connection to all of the above.”
“What is the connection?”
“I’m not sure.” But a picture was starting to form in my mind, and it had to do with Bain Madox, nuclear weapons, and terrorism-not a good combination. Kate, however, was not quite ready to deal with that information, so I said to her, “Well, Harry thought someone would understand, so when we think about it, we’ll know.”
She nodded, then changed the subject. “One thing I’m sure of now is that Madox murdered Harry-or had him murdered.”
“He did it himself. Maybe with Carl.”
“That may not be easy to prove in a court of law.”
Cop killers don’t always get to a court of law, but I didn’t say that.
Kate read my mind anyway and said, “Please don’t do anything stupid. The ends do not justify the means.”
I didn’t respond.
We left Potsdam and headed south on Route 56. It was 6:01 P.M., and the road was getting dark. The windows of the scattered houses were lit, and I could see smoke rising from chimneys. The Columbus Day holiday was coming to an end; dinner was on the stove. Tomorrow was a workday and a school day. Normal people were gathered around the television, or the fireplace, or wherever normal people gathered.