Ninety-Three

NINETY-THREE

I DON'T GO ANY closer.

Don't even think about touching the door handle.

I don't believe anybody would go out of their way to give me a heads-up that they were about to blow me to kingdom come if I did open the door or start the engine.

But I don't know that for sure.

I back away from the car and stare at it in the gathering darkness and try to assess the current threat level.

Same old, same old.

Not paranoid.

Just alert.

Somebody blew up Bobby Salvatore's boat the other day. Now somebody, maybe the same person, wants me to know they can blow my car if they have the urge to do that, because they've obviously been inside my car, unless the sign left itself on the seat.

Or somebody is watching me from a distance right now and has rigged it to blow remotely whether I try to open the car door or not.

Another way of looking at things.

Most likely they just wanted to scare me.

Maybe I am feeling, suddenly, at least a little paranoid.

I get myself back to the start of the trail and take out my phone and call the East Hampton Town Police, tell them who I am and where I am and what my situation is, reminding them that a boat has recently exploded off Montauk, a boat carrying people connected to my current case.

"I'm just being overly cautious," I say. "It's probably not a bomb." I pause. "But it could be."

"We don't have a bomb squad," the officer who answers the phone informs me. "The only thing I can do is hang up and call the County Police in Yaphank."

I give him Danny Esposito's number instead, tell him that I believe the State Police probably do have a bomb squad and dogs and maybe even robots if they think the situation warrants all that. He says fine with him, he'll make the call and send one of their cars over, and to stay as far away from my vehicle as possible.

I tell him if I backed away any farther, I'd be in Connecticut.

I call Jimmy then and follow up with my own call to Esposito, who tells me that his crew will be there as fast as the sirens and flashing lights can get them from East Farmingdale to East Hampton. The East Hampton cops arrive within twenty minutes, but they tell me that they're going to wait for the staties, they're going to keep their distance from my car, same as I am.

Once the staties do arrive, they do it all by the numbers, taking their time, two of them in the same bomb suits you see in the movies. Danny Esposito stands with Jimmy and me while we all watch them go about their business in painstaking fashion. They use the dog first, and then the robot to open the car door and even pop the hood before it's done. Esposito says that if they wanted to get really fancy, they would have sent up a drone with an infrared camera.

They finally determine that they don't need the drone, because there's no bomb.

"Okay, this is embarrassing," I say to Jimmy and Danny Esposito when the guys from his bomb squad are finished.

"You did the right thing," Esposito says. "This goes a different way if you're not connected to Salvatore and his boat didn't get blown. But you are. Or were. And his boat did get blown. Sending the crew was a no-brainer regardless of whether I like you or not."

"I hope your dudes are getting overtime out of this," I tell Esposito.

He grins, back in character, the cool cop acting as if he's the one in charge, because maybe he has been. "Oh, don't worry, we all are."

I thank everybody on his crew, and the East Hampton cops. I thank Danny Esposito himself. They all leave, and it's just Jimmy and me.

"No bomb doesn't change the fact that somebody followed you here," Jimmy says. "And got inside your car."

By now Jimmy's already informed me he's spending the night on my couch and doesn't want to hear any back talk from me. Time for us to go. But even after the all-clear from the bomb squad, I feel myself hesitating before I open my door.

"Has to be the same people who blew the boat, wanting me to know they could do the same to me if they wanted," I tell Jimmy.

"Boom," he says quietly.

He winks at me.

"Too soon?"