"I'm not too keen on them either. Where is Mr. Tobin?"

"He's absent without explanation. Ms. Wells has gone to Manhattan until the storm blows over." Beth looked at me. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. But we know where he's not."

She said, "By the way, you should get out of this house. All waterfront residents have been advised to evacuate."

"Weather people are professional alarmists."

And with that, the lights flickered.

Beth said, "Sometimes they're right."

"I have to head back to Manhattan sometime today anyway. I have appointments tomorrow morning with those who will decide my fate."

"Then you'd better leave now. This is not going to get any better."

While I contemplated my options, the wind took a chair off my porch and the lights flickered again. I remembered I was supposed to call Jack Rosen at the Daily News, but I'd already missed the deadline for his column. Anyway, I didn't think the wounded hero cop was going to make it home today or tomorrow. I said to Beth, "Let's take a ride."

"Where?"

"To find Fredric Tobin-so we can thank him for a wonderful evening."

CHAPTER 31

The rain was heavy and the wind sounded like a freight train.

I found two yellow ponchos in the coat closet and retrieved my.38, which I wore in my shoulder holster. The next thing to do was to get out of the driveway, which was covered with limbs and debris. I started the Jeep, threw it into gear, and ran over the fallen branches. I said to Beth, "Fourteen-inch clearance, four-wheel drive."

"Does it float?"

"We may find out."

I drove through the narrow lanes of my waterfront section of Mattituck, over more fallen limbs and past sailing trash can lids, then I found the road blocked by a toppled tree. I said, "I haven't been out in the country during a hurricane since I was a kid."

Beth informed me, "This isn't the hurricane, John." drove up on someone's lawn, around the huge fallen tree, and observed, "Looks like a hurricane to me."

"It has to reach wind speeds of sixty-five knots to be a hurricane. Now it's a tropical storm."

She turned on the radio to an all-news channel and, as expected, the top story was Jasper. The news guy said, "… tracking north-northeast, with wind speeds of up to sixty knots, which is about seventy miles an hour for you landlubbers. Its forward speed is about fifteen miles an hour, and if it continues on its present course, it will make landfall somewhere on the south shore of Long Island at about eight p.m. tonight. There are small craft warnings posted for the ocean and the Sound. Travelers are advised to stay at home and-" I shut off the radio. "Alarmist."

Beth said, "My house is pretty far inland, if you want to stop by later. From there, it's less than two hours by car or train to Manhattan, and you could leave after the worst of the storm has passed."

"Thank you."

We drove in silence awhile, then finally reached Main Road, which was clear of debris but flooded. There wasn't much traffic and almost all the businesses along the way were closed and some were boarded up. I saw an empty farm stand that had collapsed, and a utility pole that had fallen over, taking the telephone and electric wires with it. I said, "I don't think this is good for the vines."

"This is not good for anything."

Within twenty minutes, I pulled into the gravel parking lot of Tobin Vineyards. There were no cars in the lot, and a sign said, "Closed."

I looked up at the tower and saw there were no lights in any of the windows, though the sky was almost black.

On both sides of the parking lot were vineyards, and the staked vines were taking a beating. If the storm got any worse, the crop would probably be wiped out. I remembered Tobin's little lesson about the moderating influence of the maritime climate-which was true enough until you were in the path of a hurricane. "Jasper."

"That's what it's called." She looked around at the parking lot and the winery and said, "I don't think he's here. I don't see any cars, and the place is dark. Let's try his house."

"Let's pop into the office first."

"John, the place is closed."

"Closed is a relative term."

"No, it isn't."

I drove toward the winery, then swung off to the right, out of the parking lot and onto a grassy area between the winery and the vineyard. I turned into the back of the big building where a few trucks sat parked among stacked empty wine barrels.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked.

I drove up to the back door at the base of the tower. "See if it's open."

She looked at me and started to say something.

"Just see if it's open. Do what I say."

She got out of the Jeep and ran to the door, pulling at the handle. She looked at me and shook her head, then started back toward the Jeep. I hit the gas and plowed the Jeep into the door, which flew open. I shut off the engine and jumped out. I grabbed Beth's arm and ran through the open door into the tower.

"Are you crazy?"

"There's a nice view at the top." The elevator, as I'd noticed, had a keyed entry, so I started up the stairs. Beth grabbed my arm and said, "Stop! This is called burglary, not to mention any civil rights violations-"

"This is a public building."

"It's closed.'"

"I found the door broken in."

"John-"

"Go back to the Jeep. I'll take care of this."

We looked at one another, and she gave me that look that said, "I know you're angry, but don't do this."

I turned away from her and went up the stairs alone. On each landing, I tried the door to the offices, but they were all locked.

On the third-floor landing, I heard footsteps behind me and drew my.38. I waited at the back of the landing and saw Beth turn the corner. She looked up at me.

I said to her, "This is my felony. I don't need an accomplice."

She replied, "The door was broken in. We're investigating."

"That's what I said."

We continued up the stairs together.

On the fourth floor, the executive offices, the door was also locked. This didn't mean there was no one there-these fire exit doors could be locked on this side, but would have to open out from the other side. I banged on the steel door and kept banging.

Beth said, "John, I don't think anyone's in-"

"I hope not."

I ran up to the fifth floor and she followed. Again, I tried the knob, but it was locked.

Beth asked, "Is this his apartment?"

"Yes." In a glass case on the wall was the mandatory steel-cut fire ax and a fire extinguisher. I took the extinguisher from the wall smashed the glass, and extracted the ax. The noise of the breaking glass echoed up and down the stairs.

Beth almost screamed, " What are you doing?"

I pushed her back and swung the ax at the doorknob, which came right off, but the locking mechanism held. A few more swings opened the steel around the mechanism, and a final blow caused the door to swing inward.

I took a few deep breaths. My lung felt funny, as though I might have re-opened something that had taken a long time to close.

"John, listen to me-"

"Quiet. Listen for footsteps." I pulled my piece from under my poncho, and she did the same. We stood motionless, and I peered into the doorway I'd just opened. Blocking my view into Tobin's apartment was a Japanese silk screen which hid the steel door from Mr. Tobin's delicate eyes. The apartment was dark and quiet.

I still had the ax in my left hand, and I pitched it through the door at the silk screen, which toppled over, revealing a large living room and dining room combination.

Beth whispered, "We can't go in there."

"We have to go in there. Someone smashed the door open. There're burglars somewhere."