We had breakfast in Max's conference room and made a report to the chief. Max was amazed, incredulous, pissed-off, happy, envious, relieved, worried, and so forth. He kept saying, "Captain Kidd's treasure? Are you sure?"
During my second breakfast, Max inquired, "So, only Stevens knew the location of this treasure?"
I replied, "I think so."
He stared at me, then at Beth and said, "You wouldn't hold back on me, would you?"
I replied, "Of course I would. If we knew where twenty million bucks in gold and jewels were, you'd be the last to know, Max. But the fact is, the stuff is missing again." I added, "However, we know it exists and we know Stevens had it for a short period of time. So, maybe with some luck, the cops or the Feds can find it."
Beth added, "That treasure has caused so many deaths that I really think it's cursed."
Max shrugged and replied, "Cursed or not, I'd like to find it." He added, "For historical reasons."
"Absolutely."
Max seemed unable to take all of this in and process it, and he kept repeating questions to which he'd already gotten answers.
I said to him, "If this debriefing is becoming an interrogation, then I have to either call my lawyer or beat the shit out of you."
Max forced a smile and said, "Sorry… this is just mind-blowing…"
Beth said, "Thank us for doing a good job."
"Thank you for doing a good job." He said to me, "I'm glad I hired you."
"You fired me."
"Did I? Forget that." He asked me, "Did I understand you to say that Tobin was dead?"
"Well… not the last time I saw him… I mean, I guess I should have stressed that you need to get him some medical attention."
Max looked at me a moment, then inquired, "Where exactly is this underground room?"
I gave him directions as best I could, and Max quickly disappeared to make a phone call.
Beth and I looked at each other across the table in Max's conference room. I said to her, "You're going to make a fine detective."
"I am a fine detective."
"Yes, you are. How can I repay you for saving my life?"
"How about a thousand dollars?"
"Is that what my life is worth?"
"Okay, five hundred."
"How about dinner tonight?"
"John…" She looked at me and smiled sort of wistfully, then said, "John… I'm very fond of you, but… It's too… complicated… too… I mean with all these deaths… Emma…"
I nodded. "You're right."
The phone on the table rang, and I picked it up. I listened and said, "Okay… I'll tell her." I put the receiver down and said to Beth, "Your county limousine is here for you, madam."
She stood and went to the door, then turned back to me and said, "Call me in a month. Okay? Will you do that?"
"Yes, I will." But I knew I wouldn't.
Our eyes met, I winked, she winked back, I blew a kiss, she blew it back. Beth Penrose turned and left.
After a few minutes, Max returned and said to me, "I called Plum. Spoke to Kenneth Gibbs. Remember him? Stevens' assistant. The security guys already found their boss. Dead. Mr. Gibbs didn't seem all that upset or even too curious."
"Never look too hard at an unexpected promotion."
"Yeah. Also, I told him to look for Tobin in the underground ammo rooms. Right?"
"Right. Can't remember which one. It was dark."
"Yeah." He thought a moment, then said, "What a mess. What a ton of paperwork this is going to-" He looked around the room and asked, "Where's Beth?"
" County PD came and took her away."
"Oh… okay…" He informed me, "I just got an official-looking fax from the NYPD asking me to locate and watch you until they arrive about noon."
"Well, here I am."
"You gonna give me the slip?"
"No."
"Promise. Or I have to give you a room with bars."
"I promise."
"Okay."
"Get me a ride to my house. I need stuff."
"Okay."
He left and a uniformed officer, my old bud, Bob Johnson, stuck his head in the room and said, "Need a lift?"
"Yup."
I went with him and he drove me back to Uncle Harry's house. I got into nice duds that didn't say "Property of Southold Town PD" on them, and I got a beer and sat on the back porch, watching the sky clearing and the bay calming down.
The sky was that almost incandescent blue you get after a storm has blown out the pollutants and washed the air clean. This is what the sky must have looked like a hundred years ago, before diesel trains and trucks, cars and boats and oil furnaces and lawn mowers and chemicals and pesticides and who knew what the hell else was floating around.
The lawn was a mess because of the storm, but the house was okay, though the electric was still out and the beer was warm, which was bad, but the good news was that I couldn't play my answering machine.
I suppose I should have waited for the NYPD as I promised Max I would, but instead I called a taxi and went to the train station in Riverhead and took the train to Manhattan.
Back in my apartment on East Seventy-second Street after all these months, I noticed thirty-six messages on my answering machine, which was the maximum it would hold.
My cleaning lady had stacked the mail on the kitchen table and there was about ten pounds of the crap.
Amongst the bills and junk was my final divorce decree, which I stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet.
I was about to give up on the piles of unwanted mad when a plain white envelope caught my eye. It was hand-addressed, and the return address was that of the Gordons, though the postmark said Indiana.
I opened the envelope and took out three sheets of lined paper, each side of which was filled with neat script, written in blue ink. I read:
Dear John, If you're reading this, it means we're dead-so, greetings from the grave.
I put down the letter, went to the fridge, and got a beer. I said, "Greetings from the land of the living dead."
I continued reading:
Did you know that Captain Kidd's treasure was buried close by? Well, by now, maybe you do know. You're a smart man, and we'll bet you figured out some of this. If not, here's the story.
I took a sip of beer and read the next three pages, which were a detailed chronicle of the events that had to do with Kidd's treasure, Plum Island, and the Gordons' involvement with Fredric Tobin. There were no surprises in the letter, just a few details that I'd missed. Regarding things about which I'd speculated, such as how the Plum Island location of the treasure was discovered, the Gordons wrote:
Not long after we arrived on Long Island, we received an invitation from Fredric Tobin to attend a wine tasting. We went to Tobin Vineyards for the event and met Fredric Tobin for the first time. Other invitations followed.
So began Fredric Tobin's seduction of the Gordons. At some point, according to the letter, Tobin showed them a rough map drawn on parchment but did not tell them how he'd come by it. The map was of "Pruym Eyland," complete with compass headings, paces, landmarks, and a big X. The remainder of that story was predictable, and before long, Tom, Judy, and Fredric had struck a devil's deal.
The Gordons made it clear they didn't trust Tobin and that he was probably the cause of their deaths, even if it was made to look like an accident or foreign agents or whatever. Tom and Judy had finally come to understand Fredric Tobin, but it took them too long and it was too late. There was no mention in their letter about Paul Stevens, about whom they were totally clueless.
It occurred to me that Tom and Judy were like the animals they worked with-innocent, dumb, and doomed from the first minute they stepped onto Plum Island.
The letter ended with:
We both like you and trust you very much, John, and we know you'll do everything you can to see that justice is done. Love, Tom and Judy.