Read Online First Light by William G. Tapply, Philip R. Craig - Free Book Online

the darkness for a few more hours, and neither of us caught anything. We quit a little after midnight.
    It was a long drive over the nighttime beach, back all the way around Cape Pogue, across the Dyke Bridge to Norton Point Beach and then across the island to the Fairchild place in West Tisbury. It was around one-thirty when Zee dropped me off at the front door.
    â€œOne of us will pick you up at cocktail time tomorrow,” she said as I climbed out of the Jeep andgathered my gear from the back. “It’s J.W.’s turn to fish. Maybe he’ll be a better guide than I was.”
    â€œYou put me on to a big fish,” I said. “I had my chance.”
    â€œJ.W. might keep you out all night,” she said. We were talking in whispers, standing in front of the Fairchild house, which was dark except for the glow of an orange bulb over the front door that they’d left on for me. “He loves to fish at first light.”
    â€œSuits me,” I said. “Fish till you puke, I always say.”
    â€œFits right into the Derby mentality,” she said.
    She waved and putted up the driveway. I raised my hand, then went into the house.
    I suddenly realized I was exhausted. One night of fishing had about done me in, and I had six more to go to win my bet with Billy.
    Maybe he was right. Maybe I was getting old.
    I slept late on Sunday and spent the morning doing paperwork. When I took my coffee out to the patio early in the afternoon, Eliza and two men I didn’t recognize were sitting at the table passing around a pitcher of Bloody Marys. Eliza was wearing a white sleeveless blouse, a short white tennis skirt, and sandals. The two men, who appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties, wore pastel polo shirts and shorts and wraparound sunglasses and admirable tans. One had black hair and a big mustache, the other had straw-colored hair and a pronounced widow’s peak.
    Eliza waved me over. “Have a Bloody,” she said.
    I held up my coffee mug. “I’m fine, thank you.”
    â€œBrady,” she said, “I want you to meet a couple friends of mine. This,” she said, indicating the dark-haired guy with the bushy mustache, “is Luis Martinez.”
    I shook hands with Luis Martinez. He had great white teeth and a manly handshake.
    The other guy’s name was Philip Fredrickson. He had nice teeth and a good grip, too.
    â€œSit with us, Brady,” said Fredrickson.
    I remained standing. “I’ve got work to do, Mr. Fredrickson.”
    â€œOh, don’t be a poop,” said Eliza. “I’ve been telling Philip and Luis about you.”
    â€œWhat about me?”
    â€œThat you’re Mother’s lawyer,” she said, batting her long eyelashes and flashing her seductive smile. “That the future of the Fairchild estate rests squarely on your gorgeous shoulders.”
    â€œWhy should Philip and Luis care about that?” I said.
    The three of them exchanged who-wants-to-tell-him glances, and then Martinez cleared his throat. “Actually, Brady,” he began, “Eliza asked us over to meet you. We—”
    I held up my hand. “Whoa,” I said. “Stop right there. I meet with people when I schedule a meeting. Otherwise, I don’t do business. Period.” I turned to Eliza. “Don’t ever do this again. Do you hear me?”
    She shrugged. “You don’t have to get all bristly, darling. No one’s trying to do anything underhanded. Luis and Philip”—she put her left hand on Philip’s leg and her right hand on Luis’s shoulder—“are friends ofmine, and they’re up from Hilton Head to play some golf and tennis, do some sailing, get some sun.”
    â€œThen why did you invite them over to meet me?” I wondered if she was screwing them both at the same time, or if they were taking turns. “This doesn’t have anything to do with turning the