Read Online Fox Island by Stephen Bly - Free Book Online Page A

angry.”
    “Jessica’s granddaughter lives in the
apartment over the garage here. She’s gone now, but maybe you’d
like to talk to her?”
    “Jessica’s granddaughter? I suppose I could,
but, actually, I really don’t know what I’d say. An old, old friend
of her grand-mother’s sister? There’s not much to talk about. All
that long trip out here and I finally see how foolish it was. It
was a long flight and I’m tired. Think I’ll head back to the
hotel.”
    “Where are you staying?”
    “The Airport Hilton.”
    “Could I pass that information to the
granddaughter, just in case?”
    “As you wish.”
    Tony stared at the man as he inched down the
stairs.
    Bennington scooted up the sidewalk toward
the road before he turned back. “Thanks for your help, Mr.
Shadowbrook. I’m glad you were here. I really didn’t want to speak
directly to Jessica, and you’ve been so helpful. I was risking an
angry scene, not good for either of us. And keep writing those good
books. I’ve read your whole Sackett series.”
    “No, that was...” Tony started to protest,
but the stately gentleman slid into a tan Lincoln and backed it
down the long, uphill driveway.
    Angry? Why would anyone be angry?
     
     
    Tony, Price and Melody ate turkey pasta
salad, purchased from the local Food Mart, off white paper plates
tucked into wicker holders. A low-hanging sun glittered off the
salty waters of lower Puget Sound. Just as it sank beyond the
Olympic Peninsula, a ring of wispy clouds tinged peach, then melon,
then tangerine surrounded it. Tony tore a hunk of sourdough bread
and smeared it with something that resembled margarine from a
plastic tub.
    “I don’t believe it,” Melody blurted out.
“You actually talked to a man who dated my great-aunt Jill?”
    “Your grandmother and her sister were
extremely pretty ladies back then. I suppose they both had their
share of dates,” Price suggested.
    “Grandma Jessie always said Jill was such a
perfectionist. She refused to date any of the boys on the Island.
Something to do with them not having the social standing she
required.”
    “Well, all I know is this guy met Jill after
your grandmother’s wedding and broke up with her a few weeks
later.”
    “And now, he decides to come for a visit?”
Price dug deep into a white cardboard carton and raked out the last
square chunks of turkey.
    “I guess at the end of your life you relive
some ‘what ifs.’”
    “Speaking of which,” Melody broke in. “What
if Grandma Jessie still lived here and went to the door. He might
have thought it was Jill. The old guy could have had a heart
attack. Whoa, you could have included that into your book.”
    Price chuckled. “You’re starting to sound
like Tony.”
    Tony glanced up, fork poised in the air.
“What did you ladies discover about the Island’s history?”
    Price spoke between bites. “Arthur Murray
once came for a short vacation … met with the San Souci girls for a
private dance lesson.”
    “The San Souci Club really were the Fox
Island socialites, weren’t they?”
    “Still are,” Melody reported.
    Price set down her fork and wiped her mouth
with a green calico napkin. “Mrs. Johnson reported that her father
was one of the original members of the ‘Law and Order Society of
Fox Island and Hale Passage.’”
    “The vigilantes? I read a little something
about that down at the museum. There were thirty members who
contributed $134 for dues. Something about needing to stop the
sneak thieves and footpads. But I haven’t found any record of them
doing any-thing.”
    “Well,” Price added, “according to Mrs.
Johnson, her father always said he figured the thief had joined the
vigilantes in order to avoid suspicion, because the stealing
stopped after the group was formed. Then the organization seemed to
fade out of existence.”
    Price strolled to the railing and leaned her
elbows on the gray cracked paint of a two-by-six, between a sundial
and clay baby ducks. She tossed