"Do what you have to do. Just don't spook Tobin because if he gets on to you, whatever evidence exists that's under his control is going to disappear."
"Like the treasure?"
"Right. Or the murder weapon. Actually, if I'd killed two people with my registered pistol and all of a sudden the cops were in my office, I'd ditch that thing in mid-Atlantic and claim it was lost or stolen." I added, "You should announce that you found one of the slugs. That will spook him if he still has the pistol. Then keep a tail on him and see if he tries to ditch the gun if he hasn't already."
She nodded and looked at me. She said, "I'd like you to work this case with me. Will you do that?"
I took her arm and led her inside to the kitchen. I took the phone off the hook and said, "Call his office, and see if he's there."
She dialed information, got the number of Tobin Vintners, and dialed. She said, "Mr. Tobin, please." She waited and looked at me. She asked, "What should I say to him?"
"Just thank him for a wonderful party."
Beth spoke into the phone. "Yes, this is Detective Penrose of the Suffolk County Police Department. I'd like to speak to Mr. Tobin."
She listened, then said, "Just tell him I called to thank him for a wonderful evening." She listened again, then asked, "Is there any way to reach him?" She glanced at me, then said into the phone, "Okay. Yes, that's a good idea." She hung up and said to me, "He's not in, not expected, and she doesn't know where to reach him. Also, they're about to close the winery because of the weather."
"Okay. Call his house."
She took her notebook out of her bag, found Tobin's unlisted number, and dialed. She said to me, "Am I calling his home to thank him for a wonderful evening?"
"You lost your grandmother's gold locket on his lawn."
"Right." She said into the phone, "Is Mr. Tobin in?" She listened, then asked, "Is Ms. Wells in then?" She listened again, then said, "Thank you. I'll call again… no, no message… no, don't be frightened. You should go to a designated emergency shelter… Well, then call the police or fire department, and they'll come and get you. Okay? Do that now." Beth hung up. "The housekeeper. Eastern European lady. Doesn't like hurricanes."
"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."