Nelson Demille - Wild fire

I stopped at Pond House, gathered my plastic shopping bags from Scheinthal’s Sporting Goods, got out, knocked on the door, and announced, “It’s your mountain man.”

Kate opened the door, and I went inside. She asked me, “Where did you get that van?”

“Rudy.” I explained, “It’s important to switch vehicles when you’re a fugitive.”

She didn’t comment on that. “How did it go? What’s in those bags?”

“It went well, though Bain still doesn’t have his meds right. Let me show you what I bought.”

I emptied the contents of the two bags on the kitchen table. “Clean socks for me, some extra ammo and magazines for us-”

“Why-?”

“An air horn, and two BearBangers-”

“Two what ?”

“Scares away the bears, and signals that you’re in trouble. Pretty neat, huh?”

“John-”

“Hey, you should have seen this sporting-goods store. I never knew so many things came in camouflage. Here’s an energy bar for you.”

“Did you get anything to eat?”

“I had a granola bar.” Or was that a Ring Ding?

I sat on the kitchen chair and pulled off my shoes, then my socks, which I could see had rug fibers on the soles, and at least one long dark hair, which I hoped belonged to Bain Madox, Kaiser Wilhelm, or Harry Muller. I said, “This is from Madox’s office, and I have a hunch-really a hope-that Harry was sitting in the same chair that I sat in.”

She nodded.

I put the socks in a plastic bag, then took a page from my notebook and wrote a brief description of the time, date, method, and place of collection, signed it, and put it in the bag.

I then took the lint roller out of my pocket, removed the protective paper, peeled off the first layer of sticky paper that was coated with fibers, and explained to Kate, “This was from the foyer carpet.”

I carefully pressed the sticky paper to the inside of the plastic bag and said, “One time, I swiped a murder suspect’s ham sandwich from his kitchen”-I began writing up the lint-paper description and continued-“I got enough DNA to link him to the crime… but his lawyer argued that the evidence was improperly obtained- stolen, without a warrant-and therefore not admissible, and I had to swear that the suspect offered me the half-eaten sandwich…” I rolled the bag up and asked Kate, “Do you have any tape?”

“No. But I’ll get some. So, what happened?”

“To what? Oh, the evidence. So, the defense attorney grills me about why the accused would offer me a half-eaten ham sandwich, and I’m on the stand for twenty minutes, explaining how this happened, and why I shoved the sandwich in my pocket instead of eating it.” I smiled at the memory of that testimony. “The judge was impressed with my bullshit, and ruled the ham sandwich as admissible.” I added, “The defense attorney went bonkers and accused me of lying.”

“Well… but it was a lie. Wasn’t it?”

“It was a gray area.”

She didn’t comment on that, but asked, “Did they get a conviction?”

“Justice was done.”

I found the hand towel in the bottom of the second bag and said to Kate, “This is from the downstairs pee-pee room, and I used this to wipe some surfaces.” As I wrote a note about the hand towel, I said, “This comes under the category of the ham sandwich. Was I offered the hand towel to keep, or did I take it without a search warrant? What would you say?”

“It’s not for me to say. It’s for you to say.”

“Right…” I wrote on the note and said aloud, “Offered to me by Carl, an employee of the suspect, when he noticed it was… what? Stuck in my zipper?”

“You may have to think about that.”

“Right. I’ll finish this later. Okay, so with any luck, some of these hairs and fibers from Custer Hill will match those found on Harry, and similarly, maybe some of Harry’s hair and clothing fibers were left at Custer Hill, and they’ll be mixed in with this stuff.”

Kate had no comment, except to say, “Good job, John.”

“Thank you.” I informed her, “I was a good detective.”

“You still are.”

Shucks .

She said, “I think we have enough forensic and other evidence now to call Tom Walsh, then get back to New York, ASAP.”

I ignored that suggestion and showed her my new wool socks. “We have another shot at collecting evidence from the lodge.” I asked her, “What kind of socks do you have on?”

She didn’t reply to my question, and instead asked me, “Are you serious about that dinner invitation?”

“I am.” I put the lint roller back in my pocket. “How many times does a murder suspect invite you to dinner?”

“Well, the Borgias used to do it all the time.”

“Yeah? They were…? Gambino family. Right?”

“No, they were Italian nobility who used to poison their dinner guests.”

“Really? And the guests kept coming? That’s pretty stupid.”

“Point made.”

She unwrapped the energy bar, and I asked her, “Do you want me to take a bite to see if it’s poisoned?”

“No, but if you’re hungry, I’ll share this with you.”

“I’m saving my appetite for dinner.”

“I’m not going there.”

“Sweetheart, he specifically invited you.”

“And you’re not going either.” She said to me, “Tell me what you and Madox talked about.”

“Okay, but first, call Wilma.”

“Why?”

“Tell her you’ll get her laptop back to her before six-thirty, and ask her for a roll of tape.”

“Okay.” She moved to the desk, and I walked barefoot to the couch, not wanting to taint my new socks with Wilma’s B amp;B.

Kate picked up the phone, and I said to her, “Also, ask Wilma to call you immediately if your husband drives by in the white Hyundai.”

I thought Kate would tell me I was an infantile idiot, but she smiled and said, “Okay.” She had an odd sense of humor.

Kate called and got Wilma on the phone and thanked her for the laptop and promised to return it before 6:30. Then Kate said, “Could I impose on you for two more favors? I need a roll of tape-masking tape or duct tape. I’m happy to pay you for it. Thank you. Oh, and if you see my husband drive by in the white Hyundai, could you call me immediately?” Kate smiled as Wilma said something. Kate explained, “It’s just a friend, but… well… yes-”

“Tell her you need enough tape for your wrists and ankles, and see if she has whipped cream.”

“Hold on, please-” She covered the phone and, suppressing a laugh, said to me, “John-”

“And call us if any other vehicle is headed for Pond House.”

Kate looked at me again, nodded, and said to Wilma, “My husband may be driving another vehicle. So, if you see any vehicle coming toward Pond House-yes, thank you.”

Kate hung up and said to me, “Wilma suggests that my friend move his van, and reminded me that there’s a back door off the porch.”

We both got a good chuckle out of that, which is what we needed. Kate said, “As if I don’t know how to get rid of a guy out the back door.”

“Hey.”

She smiled, then said, seriously, “I guess Wilma is now our lookout.”

“She’s motivated.”

Kate nodded. “Sometimes, you think good.”

“ I’m motivated.”

Anyway, we belatedly hugged and kissed, then Kate informed me, “I booked us a flight to LaGuardia from Syracuse at eight-thirty A.M. tomorrow. That was the first available flight I could get.”

I didn’t want to argue about that at this point. “I hope you didn’t use your credit card.”

“They weren’t taking checks over the phone.”

“Well, when you get to the airport, tell Liam Griffith I said hello.”