I sat back in my chair and listened to the wind and rain. I felt about as bad as I'd ever felt in my life, and I was surprised at how much I missed Emma Whitestone, who'd come into my life so quickly and unexpectedly, then moved into another life, somewhere among the constellations perhaps.
I took another deep breath, then continued, "I assume the Gordons and Tobin had some sort of phony documentation to back up their claim to have discovered this location in some archive. I don't know what they had in mind regarding this-a counterfeit parchment, or a photostat of what was supposed to be an original that was lost, or they could simply say, 'None of your business how we found this. We're still researching for more treasure.' The government doesn't care how they found it, only where they found it, and how much it's all worth." I looked at her. "Does this make sense to you?"
She thought about that and said, "It makes sense the way you laid it out… but I still think that someone would make the Plum Island connection."
"That's possible. But having a suspicion of where the treasure was found and proving it are very different."
"Yes, but it's a weak link in an otherwise good plan."
"Yes, it is. So let me give you another theory, one that fits what actually happened-Tobin had no intention of sharing anything with the Gordons. He led the Gordons to believe all of what I just said, he put them up to buying the land, and the three of them constructed this whole story about how they found the treasure and why they were going to share. In reality, Tobin, too, was afraid of the Plum Island connection. The Gordons were the solution to his problem of how to locate the treasure and move it from Plum Island. Then the Gordons became a liability, a weak link, an obvious clue to where the treasure had actually come from."
Beth stayed silent, rocking in the chair, and she nodded her head and said, "Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."
"Exactly."
I continued, "The Gordons were bright, but also a little naive, and they'd never come across anyone as evil and deceitful as Fredric Tobin. They never smelled a rat because they'd gone through this whole scenario, bought the land, and so forth. In reality, Tobin knew from the beginning that he was going to kill them. Most likely, he intended to either bury the treasure on his own property near Founders Landing, which is also an old historical site, and discover the treasure there-or he was going to fence the treasure, here or overseas, thereby keeping not only the Gordons' share, but Uncle Sam's share."
"Yes. I think that's a strong possibility, now that we see he's capable of cold-blooded murder."
"In any case, he's your man."
Beth sat with her chin in her hand, her feet hooked over the front rung of the rocker. She finally asked me, "How did you meet the Gordons? I mean, how is it that people with such an agenda took the time to… Are you following me?"
I tried to smile and replied, "You underestimate my charm. But it's a good question." I considered the question, not for the first time, and replied, "Maybe they really did just like me. Maybe, though, they did smell a rat, and they wanted a rat catcher close by. They also made the acquaintance of Max, so you should ask him how that came about."
She nodded, then asked me, "So, how did you meet them? I should have asked you that on Monday at the crime scene."
"You should have." I replied, "I met them at the bar in Claudio's. You know it?"
"Everyone does."
"I tried to pick up Judy at the bar."
"There's an auspicious start to a friendship."
"Right. Anyway, I thought the meeting was serendipitous, and maybe it was. On the other hand, the Gordons already knew Max, and Max knew me, and it may have been mentioned that the shot cop on TV was a friend of Max's and was convalescing in Mattituck. I had-and still only have-two hangouts, the Olde Towne Taverne and Claudio's. So, it's possible… but maybe not… it's hard to say. Almost doesn't matter, except as a point of interest." I added, "Sometimes things just happen by fate."
"They do. But in our job, we have to look for motives and agendas. Whatever is left over is fate." She looked at me and asked,
"How do you feel, John?"
"Okay."
"I mean really."
"A little down. The weather doesn't help."
"Are you hurting?"
I didn't reply.
She informed me, "I spent some time talking to your partner on the phone."
"Dom? He never told me that. He would have told me."
"Well, he didn't."
"What did you speak to him about?"
"About you."
"What about me?"
"Your friends are worried about you."
"They damn well better be worried about themselves if they're talking about me behind my back."
"Why don't you cut the tough-guy stuff?"
"Change the subject."
"Fine." She stood and went to the railing and watched the bay, which was starting to swell and form whitecaps. She said, "Hurricane coming. May miss us." She turned to me and asked, "So, where is the treasure?"
"That's a very good question." I stood also and looked out at the rolling water. There wasn't a boat in sight, of course, and debris was starting to blow across the lawn. Whenever the wind dropped for a few seconds, I could hear the water slapping against the stony shore.
Beth asked me, "And where is our hard evidence?"
Still staring at the weather, I replied, "The answer to both of those questions may be in Mr. Tobin's home, office, or apartment."
She thought a moment, then said, "I'll present the facts as I know them to an ADA and request that the DA's office apply for a search warrant."
"Good idea. If you can get a search warrant without probable cause, you're a lot smarter than I am." I added, "A judge would be a little skittish about issuing a search warrant on the homes and business of a prominent citizen with no previous problems with the law. You know that." I studied her face as she thought this over. I said, "That's what's so great about America. You don't have the police and the government crawling up your butt without due process. And if you're rich, you get even more due process than the average Joe."
She didn't reply to that, but asked me, "What do you think we… I should do next?"
"Whatever you want. I'm off the case." The swells were turning into breaking waves now, unusual for this part of the bay. I recalled what Emma said about watching the water as a storm approached.
Beth said to me, "I know I can… well, I think I can nail this guy if he did it."
"That's good."
"You're sure it was him?"
"I'm sure."
"And Paul Stevens?"
I replied, "He's still'the joker in the deck. He may be Tobin's accomplice to murder, or Tobin's blackmailer, or a jackal waiting to pounce on the treasure, or he may be nothing more than a guy who always looks suspicious and guilty of something."
"We should talk to him."
"I did."
She raised her eyebrows. "When?"
I explained my unannounced visit to Mr. Stevens' Connecticut home, leaving out the part where I decked him. I concluded, "At the very least, he's guilty of lying to us and conspiring with Nash and Foster."
She mulled that over and added, "Or he may be more deeply involved." She said, "Well… maybe we can catch a forensic break at the two new murder scenes. That would be a clincher."
"Right. Meanwhile, Tobin will know what's going on around him, and he's got half the local politicians in his pocket, and probably has friends in the Southold PD."
"We'll keep Max out of this."