"I don't think you have any reason to be angry."
"No? Try reversing the situation, Max." I added, "I should have kicked you off my porch."
Max replied, "Well… I apologize if I caused you any inconvenience."
"Yeah. Thanks."
Beth interjected and said to Max, "John is in some trouble with his bosses because he helped you."
Max said again, "Sorry. I'll make a few calls, if you tell me who to call."
"No offense, Max, but they don't want to hear from a rural police chief."
Actually, I wasn't that angry with Max and even if I had been, it's hard to stay angry with Max. Basically, he's a good egg, and his only real fault is that he always looks out for Number One. Sometimes I make believe I'm angry so the other person thinks they owe me something. Like a small piece of information. I asked Max, "By the way, have there been any other deaths among Plum Island workers that have come to your attention? Say, two or three years ago?"
He thought a moment, then said, "There was a drowning accident, two years ago this summer. A guy… Dr. somebod y… a veterinarian… I think."
How'd he drown?"
"I'm trying to think… he was in his boat… right, he was night fishing or something, and when he didn't come home, his wife called us. We got the Coast Guard out, and they found his boat empty about one in the morning. The next day, he washed up from the bay there…" He cocked his head toward Shelter Island.
"Any evidence of foul play?"
"Well, there was a bump on his head, and an autopsy was done, but it appeared he'd slipped in the boat, hit his head on the gunnel, and gone overboard." Max added, "It happens." He looked at me. "Why do you ask that?"
I replied, "I promised Mr. Tobin, and so did you, Max, that we wouldn't discuss any of this at his party." I added, "I need a beer." I walked off, leaving Max with a weenie in his hand.
Beth caught up to me and said, "That was rude."
"He deserved it."
"Remember, I have to work with him."
"Then work with him." I saw my favorite server, and she saw me. She had a glass of beer on her tray and handed it to me. Beth took a glass of wine.
Beth said, "I want you to tell me about the archaeological digs, about Frednc Tobin, about everything you've found out, and all your conclusions. In return, I'll get you an official status, and you'll have all the resources of the county PD behind you. What do you say?"
"I say, keep your official status, I'm in enough trouble, and I'll tell you all I know tomorrow. Then I'm outta here."
"John, stop playing hard to get."
I didn't reply.
"Do you want me to make an official call to your boss? What's his name?"
"Chief Inspector Asshole. Don't worry about that." The band was playing "As Time Goes By," and I asked her, "Want to dance?"
"No. Can we talk?"
"Sure."
"Do you think the drowning of that other Plum Island employee is related to this case?"
"Maybe. We might never know. But I see a pattern."
"What pattern?"
"You look good in that hat."
"I want to talk about the case, John."
"Not here, and not now."
"Where and when?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tonight. You said tonight. I'll go back to your place."
"Well… I don't know if I can do that…"
"Look, John, I'm not offering to have sex with you. I just need to talk to you. Let's go to a bar or something."
"Well… I don't think we should leave together…"
"Oh… right. You're in love."
"No… well… maybe I am… in any case, this can wait until tomorrow. If I'm right about this, then our man is right over there, and he's hosting a party. If I were you, I'd keep him under loose surveillance tomorrow. Just don't spook him. Okay?"
"Okay, but — "
"We'll meet tomorrow, and I'll give you the whole thing, then I'm through with it. Monday I'm heading back to Manhattan. I have medical and professional appointments all day Tuesday. Okay? Tomorrow. Promise."
"Okay." She touched glasses with me, and we drank.
We chatted awhile, and while we were doing that, I saw Emma in the distance. She was speaking with a group of people among whom was Fredric Tobin, ex-lover and suspected murderer. I don't know why it annoyed me to see them chatting. I mean, get sophisticated, John. When my wife took long business trips with her Randy Dan boss, did I get bent up? Not too much.
Beth followed my gaze and said, "She seems very nice."
I didn't reply.
Beth went on, "I happened to mention her to Max."
I definitely didn't respond to that.
Beth said, "She used to be Fredric Tobin's… girlfriend. I guess you know that. I only mention it in case you don't. I mean, you should be careful of pillow talk if Tobin is a suspect. Or is that why you've befriended her? To find out more about Tobin? John? Are you listening to me?"
I looked at her and said, "You know, Beth, I sometimes wish one of those bullets really had neutered me. Then I'd be completely free of the control of women."
She observed, "Next time you're having sex, you won't be thinking like that." She turned and walked off.
I looked around, realizing again that Tom and Judy would have been here tonight. I wondered if the treasure was supposed to be discovered on the bluff this week. Would they have announced it to the press by now? Or would they have announced it here tonight?
In any case, the Gordons were in cold storage tonight, the treasure was hidden somewhere, and their probable killer was about fifty feet from me, talking to a woman I'd become very fond of. In fact, I noticed that Tobin and Emma were alone now, talking tête-à-tête.
I'd had enough of this and made my way around the side of the house, discarding my hat and sword on the way. About halfway across the front lawn, I heard my name called, but I kept walking.
"JOHN!"
I turned.
Emma hurried across the lawn. "Where are you going?"
"Someplace where I can get a beer."
"I'll go with you."
"No, I don't need the company."
She informed me, "You need lots of company, my friend. That's your problem. You've been alone too long."
"Do you write a lovelorn column for the local weekly?"
"I will not let you bait me, and I will not let you leave alone. Where are you going?"
"Ye Olde Towne Taverne."
"My favorite dive. Have you had their nacho platter?" She took my arm and off we went.
I got in her old car and within twenty minutes, we were ensconced in a booth at the Olde Towne Taverne, beers in hand, nachos and chicken wings on the way. The Saturday night regulars didn't look as if they were on their way to, or back from, Freddie's fabulous fete.
Emma said, "I called you last night."
"I thought you went out with the girls."
"I called you when I got back. About midnight."
"No luck with the hunt?"
"No." She said, "I guess you were sleeping."
"Actually, I went to Foxwoods. You can lose your drawers there."
"Tell me about it."
We talked awhile, and I said to her, "I'm assuming you didn't say anything to Fredric about what we've been discussing."
She hesitated a half second too long, then replied, "I didn't… but I did tell him… I said that you and I were dating." She smiled. "Are we dating?"
"Archivists are always dating — July 4, 1776, December 7, 1941 — "
"Be serious."
"Okay, I seriously wish you hadn't mentioned me at all."
She shrugged. "I'm happy, and I want everyone to know it. He wished me luck."
"What a gentleman."
She smiled. "Are you jealous?"
"Not at all." I'm going to see him fry. "I think you should not discuss us with him and certainly not discuss pirate treasure."
"Okay."
And so we had a pleasant dinner and then went to her place, a little cottage in a residential section of Cutchogue. She showed me her chamber pot collection, ten of them, all used as planters and placed in a big bay window. My gift was now filled with soil and held miniature roses.