Page 32 of Holmes Is Missing

“Brendan,” said Marple. “We managed without you all summer. But this looks like more missing children. And you agreed to help.”

“Not today,” he said. “You go. This is the future.Yourfuture.”

“We’ll talk about this,” said Marple curtly. “You promised.” She nudged Poe on the shoulder and followed him out of the room.

“Endive salad,” the waitress announced as she set down an elegantly arranged plate of greens at each place, ignoring the two empty chairs. Holmes picked up his fork.

Oliver Paul leaned across the table. “I know what’s going on with you, Mr. Holmes,” he said. His tone was gentle and soothing, in spite of the rasp. “I know you’ve been in a… facility. You’re afraid you’ve lost your touch—that old Holmes magic.”

Holmes set his fork down on the table.Enough! Who does this obnoxious little groupie think he is? And where did he get his information?

“Incorrect!” Holmes said brusquely. “And as for the old Holmes magic”—he stared directly into Paul’s good eye—“I’m afraid I never had it.” He pushed back his chair and tossed his napkin onto the table. He pointed a finger at Paul. “Donotfollow me,” he said.

Then he turned and headed for the door.

“Hey, Holmes! Where are you going?” It was Harlan Coben, calling out from two tables over. “Off to search for your true self?”

CHAPTER36

“CAN YOUPLEASElet me drive?” begged Poe.

“That’s not happening,” said the driver.

“Well, then, at leastpushit! This is an emergency!”

Poe and Marple sat in the back of the courtesy limo as it made its way north from the city. The chauffeur had been expecting a simple return trip to Brooklyn. Instead, they’d commandeered him and his vehicle for a mission to rural Putnam County, more than an hour out of his way.

“Don’t worry,” said Marple. “We’ll pay the extra charges.”

Poe heard the driver mutter under his breath. “Damn right.”

As the enormous Lincoln got up to speed, Marple plumbed her iPad for any information on the incident. Police feeds. Social media. FBI threads. “Nothing,” she said. “How did your source find out about this?”

“Margaret,” said Poe, “you know I can’t give awayallmy secrets.” He looked out the window as the scenic Hudson Valley rolled by. Poe considered Marple and Holmes his closest friends in the world. He trusted them with his life. But there were still select pockets of information he kept to himself. Bankaccounts. Safe houses. And contacts who could be trusted to feed him information about crimes minutes after they were committed.

In some ways, he rationalized, his secrecy was for their protection. It gave them plausible deniability in case he ever needed to go rogue. Besides, there might come a time when he’d need to disappear altogether, and for that he would need his own private network. People only he knew.

The car turned off the main road onto a narrow two-lane. “Up there!” Poe called out to the driver.

The GPS coordinates had led them to the middle of nowhere. Brown farm fields ran off in every direction, interrupted here and there by a patch of green or a thin stand of trees.

Poe knew from his on-the-road research that the nearest town was Tompkins Corners, population 9,000—about the same as the number of people who lived in a single Manhattan block. He’d been told to look for law enforcement in this spot, and his intelligence was correct. There was a lone police car blocking the road straight ahead, and two young officers standing in the road.

When the massive stretch pulled to a stop near the Putnam County Sheriff’s Office unit, the two officers bent down to peer through the tinted windows.

The driver craned his neck around. “What’s going on? What are we doing here?”

“Relax,” said Marple, patting the back of his seat. “Enjoy the scenery.”

Poe turned to Marple. “Welcome to the country,” he said. “I think the last time these guys saw a limo was on prom night.”

“Be nice,” said Marple. “If you treat them like rubes, we’ll get nowhere.”

As Poe and Marple exited the car, another local police unitpulled up, lights flashing. A female officer and her male partner climbed out. The woman gave Poe and Marple a quick once-over. Then the limo.

“Kardashians in town?” she asked.

Marple held out her private investigator’s ID. Poe did the same. He decided to let Marple do the talking.