Christmas.'
'That reminds me-are you going to Mr. Tobin's soiree on Saturday?'
'Maybe. Are you?'
'I thought I would. In the line of duty.'
She suggested, 'Why don't you arrest him in front of everyone and take him away in handcuffs?'
'That sounds like fun, only I don't think he's done anything wrong.'
'I'm sure he's done
I started my vehicle with the remote. She said, 'That's a nice feature.'
I said, 'It's good to detonate car bombs from a distance.'
She laughed. I was not joking.
We got into my sport utility vehicle, and I threw it into reverse, purposely leaving my door ajar. The female voice said, 'The driver's side door is ajar.'
Emma said, 'That's a silly feature.'
'I know. It sounds like my ex-wife. I'm trying to kill it. The voice, not my ex-wife.'
Emma played with the computer buttons as she asked me, 'How long have you been divorced?'
'Actually, it's not official until October first. In the meantime, I'm trying to avoid adultery and bigamy.'
'That should be easy.'
I wasn't sure how to take that. I pulled out of the parking area and said, 'What do you like? You pick.'
'Why don't we continue the mood and go to a historic inn? How about the General Wayne Inn? Do you know it?'
'I think so. Isn't that John Wayne's place?'
'No, silly. Mad Anthony Wayne. He slept there.'
'Is that what made him mad? Lumpy mattress?'
'No… are you historically challenged?'
'Totally clueless.'
'Mad Anthony Wayne was a Revolutionary War general. He was the leader of the Pennsylvania Volunteers.'
'Right. Their big single was 'My Heart's on Fire and You're Sit-tin' on My Hose.''
Emma Whitestone stayed silent awhile, wondering, I'm sure, if she'd made the right decision. Finally, she said, 'It's on Great Hog Neck. I'll direct you.'
'Okay.' And off we went to a place called the General Wayne Inn, located in a place called Great Hog Neck. I mean, could I get into this scene? Did I miss Manhattan? Hard to say. If I had big bucks, I could do both. But I don't have big bucks. Which got me to thinking about Fredric Tobin, who, as it turns out, also doesn't have big bucks, and there I was envying him, figuring he was on top of the world-grapes, babes, bucks-turns out he's broke. Worse, he's in debt. For a man like Fredric Tobin, to lose it all would be the equivalent of losing his life. He might as well be dead. But he wasn't. Tom and Judy were dead. Connection? Maybe. This was getting interesting.
But time was running out for me. I could play cop for maybe forty-eight more hours before I was shut down by the Southold PD, the NYPD, and the Suffolk County PD.
Ms. Whitestone was giving me directions as I ruminated. Finally, she asked me, 'Are they leveling with us about the vaccine?'
'I think so. Yes.'
'This had nothing to do with germ warfare?'
'No.'
'Or drugs?'
'Not that I can determine.'
'Burglary?'
'It looks that way, but I think it has to do with a stolen vaccine.' Who says I'm not a team player? I can put out the official bullshit as well as anyone else. I asked Ms. Whitestone, 'You have another theory?'
'No, I don't. I just have this feeling that they were killed for some reason we don't yet understand.'
Which is exactly what I thought. Bright woman.
I asked her, 'Have you ever been married?'
'Yes. I married young, sophomore year in college. Lasted seven years.' She added, 'And I've been divorced seven years. Add it up.'
'You're twenty-five.'
'How did you get twenty-five?'
'Forty-two?'
She said, 'Turn right here. Right is toward me.'
'Thanks.'
It was a pleasant drive, and we soon found ourselves on Great Hog Neck-which is yet another peninsula that juts into the bay, lying somewhat east and north of Nassau Point, sometimes called Little Hog Neck.
I've noticed that around here there are three main sources of place names-Native Americans, English settlers, and realtors. The latter have maps with nice names that they make up to replace yucky names like Great Hog Neck.
We passed a small observatory called the Custer Institute, which Mrs. Wiley had mentioned, and I got a briefing on that and on the American Indian Museum across from the observatory.
I asked Emma, 'Were the Gordons interested in astronomy?'
'Not that I knew about.'
'You know they bought an acre of land from Mrs. Wiley.'
'Yes.' She hesitated, then said, 'That was not a good deal.'
'Why did they want that land?'
'I don't know… It never made sense to me.'
'Did Fredric know about the Gordons' buying that land?'
'Yes.' She changed the subject to the immediate environs and said, 'There's the original Whitestone house. Sixteen eighty-five.'
'Still in the family?'
'No, but I'm going to buy it back.' She added, 'Fredric was supposed to help me out, but… That's when I realized he wasn't as well off as he appeared.'
I didn't comment.
Like Nassau Point, Hog Neck was mostly cottages and some newer weekend homes, many of them gray- shingled to look like ye olde. There were some fields that Emma said had been common pastureland since colonial times, and there were woods here and there. I asked, 'Are the Indians friendly?'
'There are no Indians.'
'All gone?'
'All gone.'
'Except the ones in Connecticut who opened the biggest casino complex between here and Las Vegas.'
She said, 'I have some Native American blood.'
'Really?'
'Really. A lot of the old families do, but they're not advertising it. Some people come to me actually wanting to expunge relatives from the archives.'
'Incredible.' I knew there was a politically correct thing to say, but every time I try to do PC, I blow it. I mean, it changes, like weekly. I played it safe with, 'Racist.'
'Racial, though not necessarily racist. Anyway, I don't care who knows I have Indian blood. My maternal great-grandmother was a Corchaug.'
'Well, you have nice color.'
'Thanks.'
We approached this big white clapboard building set on a few acres of treed land. I actually recalled seeing the place once or twice, when I was a kid. I have these childhood memories of places in my mind, still-life summer scenes, sort of like looking at slides through a viewfinder. I said to Ms. Whitestone, 'I think I ate here with my
