I found his address book and looked up Gordon. Tom and Judy were listed, but they'd been crossed off. I looked up Whitestone and saw that Emma, too, had a line through her name. Considering he'd murdered her only this morning, and the news was not even out yet, this showed a very sick and orderly mind. The sort of mind that sometimes worked against the person who possessed it.
There was a fireplace in the room, and above the mantel were rifle pegs for two weapons, but neither weapon was there. Eva was proving to be a reliable witness.
I went back to the kitchen and looked out the rear window. The bay was angry, as the old salts would say, but not totally pissed off yet. Still, I couldn't imagine what would send Fredric Tobin out on a day like this. Actually, I could imagine what. I had to play with it in my mind a little.
Beth came back in the house, her poncho wet from the short run between the Jeep and the door. She gave me my keys and said, "There is a forensic team at the Murphy house, and another at… the other scene." She added, "I am no longer heading the Gordon investigation."
"Tough break." I added, "But don't worry about it. You've already solved the case."
"You solved it."
"You have to make it stick. I don't envy you that job. Tobin can bring you down, Beth, if you're not careful with how you proceed."
"I know…" She glanced at her watch and said, "It's 6:40. There are forensic and homicide people on the way here, but it'll take them a while to get through this storm. They'll be working on a search warrant before they enter. We should be outside when they get here."
"How do you explain that you were already inside the premises?"
"Eva let us in. She was frightened-felt she was in danger. I'll finesse that." She added, "You don't have to worry about it. I'll say I went down to the basement to check the electric."
I smiled. "You're getting good at covering your ass. You must be hanging out with street cops."
"You owe me some cover on this, John. You broke every rule in the book."
"I barely got through page one."
"And that's as far as you're getting."
"Beth, this guy killed three people I was fond of and an innocent elderly couple. The last three people wouldn't have died if I'd moved faster and thought harder."
She put her hand on my shoulder. "Do not blame yourself. The police were responsible for the Murphys' safety… As for Emma… well, I know I wouldn't have guessed that she was in danger-"
"I don't want to discuss it."
"I understand. Look, you don't need to speak to the county cops when they get here. Take off, and I'll handle it."
"Good idea." I tossed her my car keys and said, "See you later."
"Where are you going without your keys?"
"For a boat ride." I took the Formula key from the keyboard.
"Are you crazy?"
"The jury's out on that. See you later." I headed toward the back door.
Beth held my arm. "No, John. You'll get killed out there. We'll catch up with Fredric Tobin later."
"I want him, now, with fresh blood on his hands."
"No." She was really squeezing my arm now. "John, you don't even know where he went."
"There's only one place he would go on a night like this in a boat."
"Where is that?"
"You know where-Plum Island."
"But why?"
"I think the treasure is still there."
"How do you know that?"
"Just a guess. Ciao." Before she could get in my way again, I left.
I headed across the lawn toward the boat. The wind was really howling, and a huge branch fell not far from me. There was almost no daylight left, which was fine because I didn't want to see what the water looked like.
I made my way along the dock, holding on to the pilings, then sprinting to the next one so as not to get blown off into the water. Finally, I reached the boathouse, which was creaking and groaning. In the dim light, I saw that the Formula 303 was still there, but I noticed that the Whaler was gone, and I wondered if it had broken loose and been washed away, or if Tobin was towing it behind the Chris-Craft, either as a lifeboat or as a way to get onto the beach at Plum Island.
I stared at the Formula rising and falling on the swells and thumping against the rubber bumpers on the floating dock. I hesitated a moment, trying to get into a rational frame of mind, telling myself that it wasn't necessary for me to take a boat into a storm. Tobin was finished, one way or another. Well… maybe not. Maybe I had to finish him before he got himself lawyered up and alibied and outraged at my violations of his civil rights. Dead men can't sue.
I kept staring at the Formula, and in the dim light, I thought I saw Tom and Judy on board, smiling and motioning for me to join them. Then, an image of Emma flashed in my mind, and I saw her again, swimming in the bay smiling at me. And then I saw Tobin's face at his party as he was speaking to her, knowing he was going to kill her…
Beyond the legal necessities, I realized that the only way I could bring closure to this case for me personally was to capture Fredric Tobin myself, and having captured him, to… well, I'd think about that later.
The next thing I knew, I was jumping from the dock into the speedboat.
I caught my balance on the pitching deck and made my way to the right-hand seat, the captain's seat.
I experienced my first problem, which was finding the ignition. I finally found it near the throttle. I tried to recall what I'd seen the Gordons do and remembered that they'd once handed me a printed plastic card titled "Suddenly in Command," and told me to read it. I had read it and decided I didn't want to be suddenly in command. But now I was. I wished I still had the card.
Anyway, I remembered to put both gear selectors in neutral, put the key in the ignition, move it to on… then… what…? Nothing was happening. I saw two buttons marked "start" and pushed the right one. The starboard engine turned over and fired. Then I pressed the second button and the port engine started. I felt them running a little rough, and I pushed both throttles slightly forward and gave them more gas. I remembered I had to let the engines warm a few minutes. I didn't want to stall out in that sea. While they were warming, I found a knife in the open glove compartment in the dashboard and cut the spring line, then both mooring lines, and the Formula immediately rolled with a wave and smashed into the side of the boathouse about five feet from the dock.
I shifted into forward gear and gripped the dual throttles. The bow was pointed to the bay, so all I had to do was push forward on the throttles, and I would be out into the storm.
Just as I was about to do this, I heard something behind me and looked over my shoulder. It was Beth, calling my name over the noise of the wind, water, and motors.
"JOHN!"
"What?"
"Wait! I'm coming!"
"Then come on!" I shifted the boat into reverse, grabbed the wheel, and managed to back the boat closer to the dock. "Jump!"
She jumped and landed on the rolling deck behind me, then fell.
"Are you okay?"
She stood, then a swell pitched the boat, and she fell again, then stood again. "I'm okay!" She made her way to the left-hand seat and said, "Let's go."
"Are you sure?"
"Go!"
I pushed the throttles forward, and we cleared the boathouse into the driving rain. A second later, I saw a huge wave coming at us from the right, and it was going to hit us broadside. I cut the wheel right and got the bow into the wave. The boat rode up, hung on to the crest as if it were in midair, then the wave broke behind me, leaving the boat literally in midair. The boat came down, bow first, digging into the swelling sea. Then the bow rose and the stern hit the water. The propellers caught, and we were off, but in the wrong direction. In the trough between waves, I swung the boat around 180 degrees and headed east. As we passed the boathouse, I heard a sharp crack and the entire structure leaned to the right, then collapsed onto the boiling sea. "Jeez!"