Plum Island

Mr. Tobin nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes. And forward.'

'Very forward.' Forward? I said, 'This is a bit heavier and more robust than a Napa Merlot.'

'Actually, it's a bit lighter.'

'That's what I meant.' I should have quit while I was ahead. 'Good.' I put the glass down.

Mr. Tobin said to Sara, 'Pour the '95 Cabernet.'

'That's all right.'

'I want you to see the difference.'

She poured. I sipped and said, 'Good. Less forward.'

We chitchatted a bit, and Mr. Tobin insisted I try a white.

He said, 'This is my blend of Chardonnay and other whites which I won't reveal. It has a beautiful color, and we call it Autumn Gold.'

I sampled the wine. 'Friendly, but not too forward.'

He didn't reply.

I said, 'Did you ever think of calling one of your wines the Grapes of Wrath?'

'I'll take that up with my marketing people.'

I commented, 'Nice labels.'

Mr. Tobin informed me, 'All my reds have labels with a piece of Pollock art, and my whites are de Kooning.'

'Is that so?'

'You know-Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning. They both lived on Long Island and created some of their best works here.'

'Oh, the painters. Right. Pollock is the splatter guy.'

Mr. Tobin didn't reply, but glanced at his watch, clearly tired of my company. I looked around and spotted an empty booth, away from the wine pourers and customers. I said, 'Let's sit over there a minute.'

Mr. Tobin followed reluctantly and sat opposite me in the booth. I sipped at the Cabernet and said to him, 'Just a few more routine questions. How long did you know the Gordons?'

'Oh… about a year and a half.'

'Did they ever discuss their work with you?'

'No.'

'You said they liked to tell Plum Island stories.'

'Oh, yes. In a general way. They never gave away government secrets.' He smiled.

'That's good. Did you know they were amateur archaeologists?'

'I… yes, I did.'

'Did you know they belonged to the Peconic Historical Society?'

'Yes. In fact, that's how we met.'

'Everyone seems to belong to the Peconic Historical Society.'

'There are about five hundred members. That's not everyone.'

'But everyone I come across seems to belong. Is this like a front for something else? Like a witches' coven or something?' Not as far as I know. That could be fun, though.'

We both smiled. He seemed to mull something over; I can tell when a man is mulling, and I never interrupt a muller. Finally, he said, As a matter of fact, the Peconic Historical Society is having a party Saturday night. I am hosting it on my back lawn. Last outdoor party or the season, weather permitting. Why don't you and a guest join us?'

I guess he had room for two more now that the Gordons couldn't make it. I replied, 'Thanks. I'll try.' Actually, I wouldn't miss it.

He said, 'Chief Maxwell may be there. He has all the particulars.'

'Great. Can I bring something? Wine?'

He smiled politely. 'Just bring yourself.'

'And a guest,' I reminded him.

'Yes, and a guest.'

I asked Mr. Tobin, 'Did you ever hear anything… any gossip about the Gordons?'

'Such as?'

'Well, sexual, for instance.'

'Not a word.'

'Financial problems?'

'I wouldn't know.'

And round and round we went for another ten minutes. Sometimes you catch a person in a lie, sometimes you don't. Any he, no matter how small, is significant. I didn't exactly catch Mr. Tobin in any lies, but I was fairly certain he knew the Gordons more intimately than he was letting on. In and of itself, this was not significant. I asked Mr. Tobin, 'Can you name any of the Gordons' friends?'

He thought a moment, then said, 'Well, as I said, your colleague, Chief Maxwell, for one.' He named a few other people whose names I didn't recognize. He said, 'I really don't know their friends or professional associates well. As I said… well, let me put it bluntly-they were sort of hangers-on. But they were attractive, well spoken, and had interesting jobs. They were both Ph.D.'s. You can say we each got something out of the arrangement… I like to surround myself with interesting and beautiful people. Yes, that's somewhat shallow, but you'd be surprised how shallow the interesting and beautiful people can be.' He added, 'I'm sorry about what happened to them, but I can't help you any further.'

'You've been very helpful, Mr. Tobin. I really appreciate your time, and I appreciate your not making a big deal of this with an attorney.'

He didn't reply.

I slid out of the booth, and he did the same. I said, 'Will you walk me out to my car?'

'If you'd like.'

I stopped at a counter on which was lots of literature about wine, including some brochures on and about Tobin Vineyards. I gathered a bunch of them and threw them in my little bag. I said, 'I'm one of those brochure nuts. I have all these brochures from Plum Island -rinderpest, lumpy skin disease-anyway, I'm getting a real education on this case.'

Again, he didn't reply.

I asked him to find me the Merlot '95, which he did. I said, apropos the label, 'Jackson Pollock. I never would have guessed. Now I have something to talk about with my date tonight.' I brought the wine to the cashier, and if I thought Mr. Tobin was going to charge it off to goodwill, I was wrong. I paid the full price, plus tax.

We walked out into the sunlight. I said, 'By the way, I was, like yourself, an acquaintance of the Gordons.'

He stopped walking and I, too, stopped. He looked at me.

I said, 'John Corey.'

'Oh… yes. I didn't catch the name…'

'Corey. John.'

'Yes… I remember now. You're the policeman who was wounded.'

'That's right. I'm feeling much better now.'

'Aren't you a New York City detective?'

'Yes, sir. Hired by Chief Maxwell to help out.'

'I see.'

'So, the Gordons did mention me?'

'Yes.'

'Did they say nice things about me?'

'I'm sure they did, but I don't recall precisely.'

'We've actually met once. Back in July. You had a big wine-tasting thing in your big room there.'

'Oh, yes…'

'You had on a purple suit and a tie with grapes and vines.'