“Good morning, Elton. I hope you’re well.”
“I am, thank you. Bruce, I was thinking I might come to Washington for a few days to see how Evan lived.”
“What a good idea. I’ve got the keys to Evan’s house. I think you’d be very comfortable there.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I don’t think I could tolerate the crowds at a hotel.”
“Evan has a live-in couple who take care of the place very well. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
“That would be grand. Do you think there’d be room for Manolo, too? I’d want him to drive me.”
“Of course. When would you like to arrive?”
“Late this afternoon? Would that be all right?”
“Of course. I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Do you think you could find a quiet table at the Four Seasons in Georgetown? I’ve heard about the restaurant from you and seen photographs of it in the papers.”
“Certainly. They know me there, as they knew Evan. When you arrive in town, come to my shop. I’d like you to see it. Then I’ll take you over to the house — it’s not far.” He gave the old man the address, then hung up and called the house to alert the couple that a guest was coming. “It’s Evan’s father,” he said, “and his chauffeur. I hope you’ll make them very comfortable.”
“Will you require dinner, Mr. Bruce?” the woman asked.
“No, we’ll be going out, but after that you should be prepared to serve meals. Mr. Hills doesn’t enjoy going out a lot.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Bruce hung up and went back to reading his statements. An hour later, UPS arrived, bringing him a package from Apple Publishing.
Mr. Hills,” Manolo said, “the people you were expecting from your attorney’s office have arrived.”
“Please show them in, Manolo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Manolo, I want you to drive me to Washington, D.C., immediately after lunch. Pack a bag for two nights.”
Manolo was momentarily speechless; he had never had such a request from his employer. “Yes, sir,” he was finally able to say.
“And perhaps you’d better clean the car and fill it with gas.”
“Yes, sir.” Manolo showed the group of people into the library, and they began to hand Elton documents.
“Please read the marked passages, Mr. Hills,” the attorney said. “Those are where the changes you wished have been made. If they are correct, you may sign them, and we’ll witness them properly.”
Hills read the documents, approved them, and signed them. The group lined up to witness them.
Before lunch, Elton Hills did something he had not done for many years: he packed a bag. After lunch, he handed the bag to Manolo, then called him to look at a photograph in a folded newspaper. “Do you see this man, Manolo?”
“Yes, sir, very tall, isn’t he?”
“I believe so. I’m going out to dinner tonight with Mr. Willard, to a place this man frequents. If you see him arrive, come inside and tell me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then follow him. I want to know where he goes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll be staying at my son’s house tonight. I’m told we’ll be very comfortable there.”
“Very good, sir.” Manolo took the bag to the car and put it into the trunk.
Elton went to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed an object he had owned for more than fifty years. He put it into his coat pocket, got his overcoat, then went to join Manolo in the car.
Elton got into the rear seat of the old Bentley with his newspaper. He was nervous about the trip, but curious about what he might see. They left the estate, and he was amazed at the amount of traffic on the roads, particularly the interstates. They moved at thrilling speeds — seventy, sometimes, at his urging, eighty miles an hour.
This was fun!
Dino was having a rare lunch at his desk when his secretary buzzed him. “There’s a woman on the phone called Gina Corretti. She says you know her.”
“Sure.” Dino picked up the phone. “Gina? How you doing?”
“Hey, Dino, not so good. Carmine didn’t come home last night.”
“Has he ever done that before?”
“Not without calling. I called his precinct, and they haven’t heard from him since he signed out yesterday. He came home and got his tackle box and a couple of rods and said he was going fishing.”
“At this time of year?”
“Go figure. He was wearing rubber boots and a heavy, waterproof jacket.”
“Does Carmine own a boat?”
“No, but he sometimes goes fishing with a friend of his who has one. I called him, and he hasn’t heard from Carmine since last summer.”
Dino began to get a bad feeling. “Gina, do me a favor. Call the friend back and ask him to check on his boat.”
“Sure.” Gina hung up.
By the time Gina called back, everything had fallen into place in Dino’s mind. “What’d he say?”
“He checked at the marina. A guy who said he’s a friend of his took the boat. Sounds like Carmine. The boat is a Boston Whaler, eighteen feet with a forty-horsepower outboard.”
“Okay, I’m going to check this out, Gina, but it might be a while before I can get back to you.” Dino buzzed his assistant. “Call the Coast Guard and see if anybody has reported a Boston Whaler found in Jamaica Bay or around there.” Half an hour later, his assistant buzzed back.
“They found such a boat this morning, aground on one of those little islands in the bay. It had some bullet holes in the bottom, but Whalers are almost impossible to sink. And, boss, there was some blood in it. Could be fish blood, but I called Corretti’s precinct, and they’re sending some people out there.”
“Keep me posted,” Dino said. He hung up and called Stone.
“Hey.”
“We got a problem,” Dino said.
“What problem?”
“Dolce.”
“Oh, shit. What’s happened?”
“I think one of my detectives went out to the Brooklyn property, and he didn’t come back. The Coast Guard found his boat.” Dino filled him in on what he knew.
Bruce Willard received Elton Hills at his shop and gave him the tour. A lot of what the shop had to offer was in line with what Elton had in his house, and he seemed to enjoy it. When they were done, Bruce rode over to Evan’s town house with Elton. The old man took an even greater interest in what Evan had collected.
“Did you find all these things for him?” Elton asked, stroking a piece of silver.
“Many of them, but Evan’s tastes were in place before we met. I think he must have inherited them from you.”
“More likely, his mother,” Elton said.
Bruce led him to the best guest room. “This is quite handsome,” Elton said, looking around. “I can sleep here.”
The woman who took care of the place brought them tea in the library. Bruce poured.
Elton accepted a cup, added lemon and sugar, and sat back in his chair. “Did I tell you that I served in the Korean war as a young man?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I was a platoon leader in the battle of Chosin Reservoir.”
“That was a bad one,” Bruce said.
“I was a first lieutenant. When our command post took an artillery shell, I suddenly found myself a regimental commander. We made a fighting retreat, and the best I can say for myself was that I got most of the regiment out.”
“That says a very great deal,” Bruce said. “We studied that battle at the Point, so I have some idea of what you must have gone through.”
“It wrecked me,” Elton said. “They sent me home with a decoration, and I spent four months in a military hospital, getting the experience off my chest.”
They sipped their tea in silence. Bruce wondered why on earth Elton had brought up his military service.
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