That Flesh Is Heir To

Teddy always insists on driving, even when she has a man of action in the car. We took the Audi and left the Caddy sulking alone in the back row of the underground garage. It hadn’t yet had its winter dust washed away. I like the midtown tunnel. Don’t ask me why. I couldn’t tell you. Teddy likes the Triborough. Don’t ask her why. I did. “Why the Triborough?” “Why don’t you sit back and enjoy the ride.” “Are you going to take the Cross Island?” “Northern State.” “But the Expressway has a Diamond Lane now.” “Sweetie lamb …” “Yes?” “Shut it.” There followed 20 miles of stop and go silence with a background music track provided by her mp3 player. She had loaded it with classical music and some light adult dreamy whatever. By the time we had met up with the Expressway and merged onto it, I was twitching. “Is that Michael Bolton?” I ventured. “Yes.” “You like his music?” “I met him once,” was her answer. Two more miles of road passed wordlessly below the car. “Are you hungry?” I wondered out loud. “We are stopping at Starbucks.” “At Exit 70?” “That’s the one.” The sky seemed to lower as we drove east. The temperature dropped as we crossed the canal. Teddy adjusted the heater control. It wasn’t good weather to view Carlton “Jake” Barlton’s East Hampton retreat for the first time. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was expecting something a little more grandiose. About all you could say about it was that it was old looking with steeply pitched roofs, and there were a number of them. There were many small windows, many with diamond panes. “What style is that?” I asked Teddy. She twisted the steering wheel to send us onto a long gravel drive that curved through decades of expensive landscaping. “It’s one of Whethers and Banyon’s renovations. The original house was from 1926 and I gather it was along the lines of an English cottage. Now it somewhat resembles a movie set for the Night of the Living Scullery Maids. It was turned down for Architectural Digest, so they managed to get it into Hampton Garden and Shore. It’s a bit of a cartoon architecturally, but the interior finish is of very high quality.” She parked the car and we stepped out into the chilly wet air. The house was situated on a pond about a mile from the ocean. There was a bit of fog blowing in from the beach. Teddy looked around for the others, but ours was the only car visible. “We’ll wait inside for them,” she said as I followed her down a bricked path lined with rose beds to the front door. “The electricity has been turned off. Teddy produced a key from her windbreaker. It had a little round label on a chain that read A7. They don’t put the name on the key in case one is lost. When we stepped up on the wooden porch we could see that she didn’t need the key because the front door was broken open. “It looks like someone has already been here.” I remarked. “I wonder if the bank is aware?” said Teddy frowning at the shattered doorjamb. “Did you bring your cell phone?” I asked. “It’s in the car. Where’s yours?” “Back at the house, it makes a lump.” “One doesn’t want to see a lump,” said Teddy with an arched eyebrow. “That’s why it’s back at the house.” “Dickie always has a lump,” said Teddy. “Well, Dickie is celibate,” I noted. “That’s the only lump he will ever have.” “Poor Dickie,” she said. “Should we call this in?” I asked. “Let’s see what they’ve been up to first,” said Teddy, pulling gently on the door as it swung on silent hinges toward us. We were hit with a cold house breath. The air inside was cooler than out. It was gloomy in the old house with small windows and no working lights. The first thing I saw was that the alarm system had been smashed and wires were sticking out. There was debris on the floor and holes had been knocked in the wall board. “We should definitely call this in,” I said. I was about to say more when there was a crash from the 2nd floor and a man’s voice cried out a scatological reference. “You go wait in the car and use the cell phone,” I said. “I’m going to see what’s going on upstairs.” “I’m going with you,” she said. “No you’re not.” I said as I started to crunch over broken wallboard to get to the stairs. “Someone has to call the cops.” “Helloo!” shouted Teddy. It was so loud and so unexpected I straightened up violently and may have risen slightly off the floor. That got the feet moving upstairs. It sounded as if there were two of them. I ran for the stairs and Teddy kept right up with me. There were thirteen steps. I don’t know why, but in my excitement I managed to count them. When I reached the top stair two things happened at almost the same time. The first was the gun going off. It was a big gun and it made a mighty bang in that small space. I didn’t see the shooter because almost at the same instant a door slammed at the other end of the upstairs hall. Teddy had dropped back down the stairs out of pure adrenalin induced reflex. I was flat on the floor. We could hear two pairs shoes going down what sounded like wooden stairs behind the closed door. “Don’t move!” I said to Teddy. “Where are you going?” she said in a big whisper. “Just stay here.” “Do you have your little gun?” she asked. “No. I just want to see what they look like.” “Why don’t you have your little gun?” “To look at a house? How many people do you know that were shot when a real estate deal went bad?” “To people in the Hamptons real estate is serious business.” “Stay here!” I started toward the door at the far end of the hall, slowly because I didn’t know what was behind it, or if it would open suddenly and the shooting would start again. I was almost there when something breezed by my back. I almost yelled. I know I grunted. As I turned around I saw Teddy’s shoes disappearing into a bedroom. “Hey! What are you doing?” I said as I turned to follow her. “You are going to miss them,” she said as she trotted to the window. We nearly did. They were just disappearing into a thick hedge at the edge of the lawn. “Did you see their faces?” I asked her. “No. It was a man and a woman.” “He was wearing orange pants,” I said. “And she had a raincoat,” said Teddy. “What kind of a burglar wears orange pants?” “In daylight,” said Teddy. “In any light,” I said. “Look at the yard!” I looked where she was pointing. Someone or others had been digging in the yard. Whoever it was had been quite busy. We turned to each other and said at the exact same instant, “The gold!”