AFTER MAKING A dozen phone calls, Decker found out that Douglas Arrenz had retired to Florida. But Allan Sugar lived in East Hampton and agreed to see them any time after ten in the morning. That meant he was the first stop on their way to the city. The business districts of the beach areas were made up of quaint villages: cute little shops and cafés, one after another. The skies were gray and the sidewalks looked deserted with only a few hardy souls braving the snowdrifts.

Mansions abounded.

Since it was after the holidays, the residences that Decker could make out through the iron gates looked shut down for the winter. He wondered how a retired detective could afford this piece of paradise. That was made clear by the address. Sugar lived in what looked like the carriage house to the original dowager estate next door. It was a compact brick one-story with black trim around two multipane windows. Decker parked in a blanketed driveway, snow crunching underneath the tires. The chimney was emitting pine-scented smoke and there was a hint of ocean beyond the house.

McAdams said, “Looks like the Rhode Island PD pays well.”

“How much do you think the house is worth?”

“Well . . .” He thought a moment. “It’s small—about two thousand square feet. And it’s in the wrong part of the Hamptons. But it is on the shore. Maybe around three, four million.”

“Whoa.” Decker was taken aback. “That’s a lot of zeros.”

“My grandfather’s house isn’t a whole lot bigger, but it has more property and it’s in Southampton, which jacks up the price. It’s also got a good beach front.”

“Do you own that as well?”

“I have no idea. I do know it’s in a thirty-year trust for the good and use of all the grandchildren. So I have access to it for the next twenty-four years. After that.” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Somebody knows.”

“That is true, but I’m not privy to that information. I rarely use it in the summer. The Hamptons are a scene. I actually like it at this time of year. There’s something serene in the desolation.”

“It’s calming. I can understand that.” Decker put on his jacket, gloves, and his hat and got out of the car. The kid followed, both of them stepping in fairly deep drifts. January was turning out to be a particularly cold month everywhere on the eastern seaboard.

“If you ever want to use my grandfather’s house, let me know,” McAdams said. “I’ll slot it in for you.”

“That’s mighty generous of you, Harvard.”

“Share the wealth.”

They made their way up the walkway to a paneled front door painted in black and without a knocker. There also didn’t appear to be a doorbell.

Someone wanted privacy.