Plum Island

CHAPTER 30

Beth left me alone for a while during which time I was able to get myself together. Finally, she came out on the back porch and gave me a mug of coffee laced with what smelled like brandy.

We both stood silently watching the bay. After a few minutes, she asked me, "What is this all about, John?"

I knew that I owed her some information. "Gold," I replied.

"Gold?"

"Yes. Buried treasure, maybe a pirate's treasure, maybe the treasure of Captain Kidd himself."

"Captain Kidd?"

"Yes."

"And it was on Plum Island?"

"Yes… as far as I can guess, Tobin somehow got on to this, and realizing he could never get access to one of the most inaccessible places in the country, he began looking for a partner who had unlimited access to the island."

She thought about that, then finally said, "Of course… it all makes sense now… the historical society, the digging, the house on the water, the speedboat… we were all so hung up on plague and then drugs…"

"Right. But when you completely discount those possibilities, as I did because I knew the Gordons weren't capable of that, then you have to rethink the whole thing."

She nodded and observed, "As Dr. Zollner said, When the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail."

I nodded.

"Tell me all of it. Go ahead."

I knew she was trying to get my mind off Emma's murder, and she was right that I had to work the case and do something positive. I said, "Okay… when I was on Plum Island, these archaeological digs struck me as totally out of character for Tom and Judy, and they knew I'd think that so they never mentioned it to me. I believe they were thinking ahead to a day — after they supposedly discovered treasure on their own land — when certain people might remember their digging on Plum Island and make a connection. So, the fewer people who knew, the better."

Beth remarked, "It wouldn't be the first time something valuable was moved and suddenly discovered in a more convenient place."

"That was the crux of the entire plan. The X on the pirate map had to be moved from Uncle Sam's land to Tom and Judy's land."

She thought a moment and asked me, "Do you think the Gordons knew exactly where the treasure was buried on Plum Island? Or were they trying to find it? I don't remember seeing too many fresh digs on the island."

"I think Tobin's information was reliable and believable, but maybe not very accurate. I learned a few things about pirate maps from Emma… and from this book here…" I pointed to the book on the end table. "And, as I learned, these treasures were meant only to be buried temporarily, so some of the landmarks on a map or some instructions turn out to be long-vanished trees, rocks that have been quarried or fallen into the sea… that sort of thing."

Beth asked me, "How is it that you decided to interview Emma?"

"I just wanted to check out the Peconic Historical Society. I was going to give it about an hour, and I really didn't care who I spoke to… then, I met her and in the course of conversation, it turns out she was once Tobin's girlfriend."

Beth contemplated all of this for a while as she stared out at the bay, then said, "So, next you interviewed Fredric Tobin."

"No, I interviewed him before I interviewed Emma."

"Then what led you to interview him? What possible connection would you think he had with the murders?"

"None, at first. I was doing junior detective work, talking to friends, not suspects. I'd met Tobin at his vineyard, back in July, with the Gordons." I explained about that and added, "I didn't care for him then, and I wondered why the Gordons did. After I spent a few hours with him on Wednesday, I decided he was an okay guy, personally, but he wasn't giving me the right answers to simple questions. You understand?"

She nodded.

"Then, after I spoke to Emma, I started to triangulate some relationships."

Again, she nodded, stared out at the rain, and seemed to be thinking. Finally she said, "I spent the same two days with forensics, the ME, Plum Island, and all that. Meanwhile, you're following a completely different scent."

"The very faintest of scents, but I didn't have much else to do."

"Are you still annoyed at the way you were treated?"

"I was. Maybe that's what motivated me. Doesn't matter. Point is, I'm giving this to you. I want Fredric Tobin arrested, convicted, and fried."

She looked at me and said, "That may not happen, and you know it. Unless we get some real solid evidence, this guy is not going to be convicted of anything. I don't even think the DA would try to indict him."

I knew that. I also knew that when the problem was a nail, all you needed was a hammer. I had a hammer.

Beth asked, "Well? Do you have anything more in the way of evidence?"

"Actually, I found a small flat-bottomed boat in Tobin's boat-house with a pole — the kind of thing you can use to move through wetlands. Also, an aerosol foghorn." I related my encounter with Tobin in the boathouse.

She nodded, then said to me, "Sit down." I sat in my wicker chair, and she sat in the rocker. She said, "Talk to me."

I spent the next hour briefing her, telling her everything I'd done since we parted Tuesday night, up to and including the fact that Tobin's girlfriend, Sondra Wells, and the housekeeper had been away on the afternoon of the Gordon murders, yet Tobin had led me to believe they had been home.

Beth listened, staring out at the rain and the sea. The wind was getting heavier and actually howled once in a while.

When I finished, Beth said, "So, the Gordons' purchase of the Wiley property was not to double-cross Tobin."

"No. Tobin told the Gordons to buy the land, based on this legend of Captain Kidd's Ledges. There is also a place called Captain Kidd's Trees, but that's a public park now. Regarding the ledge or the bluff, this spot is not as well pinpointed in history books as the trees are, so Tobin knew that any bluff in the area would do. But he didn't want it to get around that he was buying useless land up on the bluffs — that would lead to all sorts of gossip and speculation. So he had the Gordons buy the land with their own money, which was limited, but they got lucky with that piece of Wiley land — or maybe Tobin knew about it. The plan then was to wait awhile before burying the treasure, then discovering it."

"Incredible."

"Yes. And because it's almost impossible to fake the age of a vertical shaft, they intended to tuck the treasure chest into the side of that bluff — on that ledge that we found — and then say it was exposed by erosion. Then, when they hacked it loose from the sand and clay, using picks and shovels, the site is basically destroyed, and the chest itself is in splinters, so the recovery of the chest makes it impossible for anyone to study the site."

She said again, "Incredible."

"These were three very bright people, Beth, and they had no intention of screwing up. They were going to snatch ten or twenty million dollars' worth of treasure right from under Uncle Sam's nose, and the first that Uncle was going to hear about it was when it made the news. Enter the IRS, which they were prepared for." I explained about the treasure trove laws, income tax, and all that.

She thought a moment, then asked me, "But how was Tobin to get in on the money after the Gordons announced their find?"

"First of all, these three established that they'd been friends for almost two years. The Gordons had developed this interest in wine, which I don't think was real, but it was a good way to get Fredric Tobin and the Gordons seen together in public as friends." I explained what I'd discovered from Emma about the nature of the relationship. I said, "However, that didn't agree with what Tobin had told me about the relationship. So I had another interesting inconsistency."

She nodded. "Being friends is no reason to share millions of dollars in found treasure."

"No. So they concocted a whole story to go along with the discovery. Here's what I think… First, they pretended they had developed a mutual interest in local history, and eventually that interest led to some information on pirate treasure. At this point, according to what they were going to put out to the press, they entered into a friendly agreement to search for and share whatever they found."

Beth nodded again. I could see she was mostly convinced of my reconstruction of what had taken place before the murders. I added, "The Gordons and Tobin would say they all pored through old archives in the various historical societies here, which is true, and they did the same in England, and so forth. They became convinced that the treasure was on the land owned by Margaret Wiley, and while they had some regrets about having suckered her out of that parcel, all's fair in treasure hunting, and so forth. They'd give Margaret a nice jewel or something. They'd also point out that they took a twenty-five-thousand-dollar risk because they couldn't be positive the treasure was there."

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."

"Do what you have to do. Just don't spook Tobin because if he gets on to you, whatever evidence exists that's under his control is going to disappear."

"Like the treasure?"

"Right. Or the murder weapon. Actually, if I'd killed two people with my registered pistol and all of a sudden the cops were in my office, I'd ditch that thing in mid-Atlantic and claim it was lost or stolen." I added, "You should announce that you found one of the slugs. That will spook him if he still has the pistol. Then keep a tail on him and see if he tries to ditch the gun if he hasn't already."

She nodded and looked at me. She said, "I'd like you to work this case with me. Will you do that?"

I took her arm and led her inside to the kitchen. I took the phone off the hook and said, "Call his office, and see if he's there."

She dialed information, got the number of Tobin Vintners, and dialed. She said, "Mr. Tobin, please." She waited and looked at me. She asked, "What should I say to him?"

"Just thank him for a wonderful party."

Beth spoke into the phone. "Yes, this is Detective Penrose of the Suffolk County Police Department. I'd like to speak to Mr. Tobin."

She listened, then said, "Just tell him I called to thank him for a wonderful evening." She listened again, then asked, "Is there any way to reach him?" She glanced at me, then said into the phone, "Okay. Yes, that's a good idea." She hung up and said to me, "He's not in, not expected, and she doesn't know where to reach him. Also, they're about to close the winery because of the weather."

"Okay. Call his house."

She took her notebook out of her bag, found Tobin's unlisted number, and dialed. She said to me, "Am I calling his home to thank him for a wonderful evening?"

"You lost your grandmother's gold locket on his lawn."

"Right." She said into the phone, "Is Mr. Tobin in?" She listened, then asked, "Is Ms. Wells in then?" She listened again, then said, "Thank you. I'll call again… no, no message… no, don't be frightened. You should go to a designated emergency shelter… Well, then call the police or fire department, and they'll come and get you. Okay? Do that now." Beth hung up. "The housekeeper. Eastern European lady. Doesn't like hurricanes."

"I'm not too keen on them either. Where is Mr. Tobin?"

"He's absent without explanation. Ms. Wells has gone to Manhattan until the storm blows over." Beth looked at me. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. But we know where he's not."

She said, "By the way, you should get out of this house. All waterfront residents have been advised to evacuate."

"Weather people are professional alarmists."

And with that, the lights flickered.

Beth said, "Sometimes they're right."

"I have to head back to Manhattan sometime today anyway. I have appointments tomorrow morning with those who will decide my fate."

"Then you'd better leave now. This is not going to get any better."

While I contemplated my options, the wind took a chair off my porch and the lights flickered again. I remembered I was supposed to call Jack Rosen at the Daily News, but I'd already missed the deadline for his column. Anyway, I didn't think the wounded hero cop was going to make it home today or tomorrow. I said to Beth, "Let's take a ride."

"Where?"

"To find Fredric Tobin — so we can thank him for a wonderful evening."