Fox Island (24 page)

The sky labored under the weight of heavy
saturation, as in the far distance, a water wall splayed McNeil
Island. Too cool to eat on the deck, the four sat across from each
other at the oak dining table in the large front room.

“Barbara, that new haircut is really
attractive,” Price said.

“Thanks, but it’s all your fault. You
convinced me the Lord would allow me a new start, so I went out and
got my hair done and bought new clothes. Being a new person is
expensive.”

“You didn’t need to do all that.”

“Yes, she did,” Melody said. “She looks ten
years younger, don’t you think?”

Her mother sat up straight. “Now I only look
sixty.”

“I agree with Melody,” Tony said. “That
style is youthful, but fits you perfectly. You look in your
forties.”

Barbara’s eyes sparkled with delight and
something close to contentment.

As Price served dessert, Melody blurted out,
“Well? What about it, guys? Didn’t chapter one surprise you?”

Tony sipped Branding Iron Brew Cowboy Coffee
and waited for Price to join them at the table. As they sliced into
a blackberry cheesecake, Tony said, “Well, kid, there’s no
question, you’re getting better.”

“See, Mom, I told you it was good. What did
you like best, Mr. S.?”

“I’ll tell you what I liked best,” Price
broke in. “You did a very good job of describing the girl’s
feelings when the car sped out of control and was about to hit that
tree. Made me glad about my own airbag. I really felt it came
alive.”

“I just added that part yesterday. How about
you, Mr. S.? What was your favorite? How about that opening line? A
grabber, don’t you think?”

“What was the opening line, dear?” Barbara
twisted the shiny rhinestone rings that circled each of her
fingers.

Tony looked Melody in the eyes. “I believe
it goes this way, ‘Ashley figured even if sea gulls could talk,
they wouldn’t have anything worthwhile to say.’”

“Wow, you memorized it,” Melody exclaimed.
“But you promised not to use it yourself.”

“I sure did. A very good line, but one
suggestion. Consider the name of your protagonist. Ashley at this
time in history carries a whole bag of stuffy yuppiedom. Unless she
has a dog named Buffy, and a boyfriend called Lance, I’d pick
another name.”

“Really? I never thought of that. What do
you suggest?”

Tony rolled his eyes at Price in a search
for help. “If it were me... with those freckles and all ... Julee,
J-u-l-e-e.”

Melody frowned. “Sure, maybe so. What about
the scene with Ashley... I mean, Julee ... and the biker? Where the
bridge rips apart in the storm and his bike tumbles into the
Narrows and she drags him out of the water with a crab net and
nurses him back to health. Doesn’t that grab you?”

“Speaking of bikers,” Price interrupted,
“did I see Kenny Mallard in town again?”

“Yeah. I guess he’s been out to
Sturgis.”

“South Dakota?” Price said.

“Must be the time for the big Harley
Davidson rally,” Tony noted.

“I think that was it. Listen, I need your
honest opinion, and I know you haven’t seen the whole story, but on
the strength of this first chapter, do you think I can get this
book published?”

Tony motioned to Price. “Go ahead, honey,
what do you think?”

She kicked Tony under the table. “You know,
I have never written fiction. I think Tony is a much better judge.
What do you think, dear?”

“I think … you should definitely go ahead
and complete the novel.”

“But I thought you said you never wrote the
whole work until you had a contract?”

“That’s the way I do it now, but back when I
began I had to write the whole thing. Besides, when you get to the
end, I’m sure you’ll want to change things a bit. You’ll be
surprised how you see things differently.”

“Wow, thanks for the advice, Mr. S.”

Barbara wiped her napkin across what
remained of her soft pink lipstick. “I don’t think you’ve answered
Melody’s question. Do you think she will be able to make a career
out of writing, or has she been wasting her time?”

“Mother!”

Tony took up the challenge. “Melody has the
drive and enthusiasm ... and she’s learning the skills. But it
usually takes a subjective quality, call it divine providence if
you want, to write for a living. I can’t second-guess what God is
doing in her life.”

Melody’s mother saluted him with her coffee
cup. “Spoken like a true politician. Now that we’re through this
discussion, I have two announcements. First, I was at the hospital
today, and they said they are going to transfer Mother back to the
apartments tomorrow. Her recovery is going very well.”

“You went to Tacoma by yourself?” Melody
asked.

“I take it you’re astonished?”

“Well... it’s just ... you’ve never...”

“And if you think that’s amazing, hold on to
your hat. I stopped by and registered to take two art classes at
the college this fall. It’s time I finished that degree after all
these years.”

“You did what? Mom, really?”

“I have sixty more units to take and I
haven’t had a drink in three weeks. I think after thirty-four
years, I can do it.”

“What made you decide to do this?” Price
asked.

“I heard a voice tell me to do it.”

Melody gawked at her mother. “A voice? Like
an angelic announcement?”

“No, it was more like some middle-aged
professor from Arizona saying, ‘Get off your duff and make
something of your life before it’s too late.’”

“Proves God can use anything. I was having
one of those wonderful menopause days.”

“Well, then, thank God for menopause. Even
with this episode with Mother, this is turning out to be a very
good summer.”

Price stood and cleared some dishes. “Is
your mother in a lot of pain?”

“The meds help, but Mother’s never very
happy. Breaking her hip certainly added to her misery.”

“I wish we could have visited more,” Tony
added. “She’s such a fascinating, complex person.”

“I would never think of her in such terms,”
Barbara said.

“I create characters all the time, so I’m
always scouting for interesting personalities. Think about it.
She’s an identical twin who grew up on a remote island. She painted
creative and haunting pictures of the 1930s. Went to school in
Boston. Lost her sister in a car wreck. Dis-carded art and became
reclusive. Lived her life on her home island with one daughter and
one granddaughter. Preoccupied with the past. It’s like she refused
to go beyond 1942. That reluctance greatly affected all three of
you.”

“I suppose,” Barbara mused. “Not to mention
a husband lost at sea ... or whatever.”

Tony looked at Price, who gently nodded.
“Barbara, one of the reasons we wanted you both here for supper is
I discovered information about Hubert Reynolds that should be of
interest to you.”

“Grandpa?” Melody’s eyes opened wide.

“He didn’t die in a boating accident, did
he?” Barbara said.

“I don’t know. Let me tell you all I
found.”

The next half hour they pored over the
declassified documents. The rest of the evening conversation
bounced from runaway men to how war changes people... from broken
hips to writing novels ... from stuntman sons to midlife college
students ... and cheesecake recipes.

At 11:00 p.m., Barbara handed a large,
oversized manila envelope to Price. “Here is that x-ray copy of my
mother’s. If you’d stick it in the black file drawer downstairs,
I’d appreciate it. That’s where we keep most of Mom’s important
papers. Thanks again for all you’ve done for Melody ... and
me.”

“Melody has become like a daughter to us
this summer,” Tony said.

“Mr. Shadowbrook, I also appreciate your
giving us that information about my father. A strange thing, it’s a
relief. All these years I felt in my heart something like that
happened, so it came as no shock. But now it’s settled, although
I’ll always wonder how he could so easily leave my mother and me.
You will stop by before you leave next week, won’t you, Price?”

“Sure will. We’ll be praying about those
college classes.”

Melody gave Price and Tony a big hug and
walked her mother to her car before she retired to the garage
loft.

Tony dried the dishes as Price swept the
floor. “I’m looking forward to getting back into my own
kitchen.”

“How many more books do we have in this
series?”

“Five. But I bet you’ll be anxious to leave
Scottsdale by next June.”

“I suppose so. I have two novels to write
before then.”

“Are you bragging or complaining?”

“Neither. I do think for once it will be
more peaceful at home than here.”

“Especially when the girls and I are busy at
school.” Price hung the ‘I Hate to Housekeep’ tea towel on the rack
and tugged off her apron. “I’m beat. Could you put that stack of
dishes away and take Jessica’s x-ray to the downstairs files? I’m
going to bed before I fall asleep standing up.”

“So, the middle-aged college prof is
weary?”

“Ugh. I still can’t get used to being called
middle-aged. But tonight I feel every minute of forty-nine.”

“Save me a warm, snuggy place,” Tony called
out. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The sheet and blanket covered her like cool
cotton heaven. Price was only vaguely aware Tony hadn’t come to bed
yet.

Softly glowing red digital numbers of the
clock radio on the nightstand read 3:23. Price blinked twice,
reached out, and felt an empty pillow beside her. “Tony?”

She fumbled to find the light switch. The
sixty-five-watt bulb seemed like a police interrogation as she
tried to shield her eyes. She dug through the closet for her old
white terrycloth robe and mauve slippers and padded out to the
living room.

A dim stream of light glowed from the stairs
to the lower level of the hillside home. She inched across the
room, clutched the rail, and eased down the stairs one at a time,
peering into the large main room on the downstairs level. She found
Tony on his knees in the back corner of the basement digging
through the bottom of a four-drawer black file cabinet. File
folders and assorted papers stacked and piled all around him.

He glanced up, stood to his feet, stretched
his back and rubbed his eyes.

“What in the world are you still doing down
here? Don’t you know what time it is?”

“I’m on the trail of solving a great
mystery.”

“What are you talking about? It’s 3:30 in
the morning.”

“I’m looking for something.”

“But that’s Mrs. Reynolds’ personal files. I
don’t remember us getting permission to rifle through them.”

“I know. But I thought about the options,
and this seemed the right thing to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tony yawned. “How about you going upstairs
and fixing me a cup of coffee?”

“All I want to do is go back to bed. Come
on, whatever it is can certainly wait until morning.”

“Wrong. Fix us something to drink. In
Melody’s words, I’ve got something to show you that will absolutely
knock your socks off.”

“I’m not wearing socks.”

“Well, I’ve got an absolute shocker for
you.”

“What’s it about?”

“Jessica Reynolds. I’ll be right up.”

Price got accustomed to the kitchen light
about the time the water finally boiled. She plopped down at the
counter and basked in the steam that rolled up from the white
porcelain cup as Tony bounded into the room. “I need to keep
looking a little longer, but I’m into the last drawer,” he
announced.

“What’s this so-called news that can’t
wait?” she prodded.

“Well, I carried the x-ray down to the files
to store, but first, I decided to take a glance at it myself.”

Price grimaced. “Um, to look at the break in
her hip?”

“I was just curious, but here’s the thing.”
Tony held the x-ray up to the kitchen light. “Look down her leg
bones. What do you see?”

“Tony, this is an invasion of privacy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But look. On the left. That
would be her right leg, broken some time about four inches below
the knee. Must have been a severe break to still show up like
that.” Tony’s voice began to rise in pitch and intensity. “Then
look at the left leg. Another break above the knee an inch or
two.”

“So, Jessica broke her legs, too?”

“That’s what I surmise. Thought I’d call the
hospital tomorrow and see if I could get someone to confirm that
analysis.”

“Wait.” Price blinked her eyes hard. “Aren’t
those the same locations where Jessica said Jill broke her legs
during the ferry accident?”

“Exactly.”

“So, what does it mean?” Price sipped Lemon
Zinger tea as she deliberated the x-ray in front of her.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m still up.
I’ve been trying to figure this out. Here’s my list.”

“What list?”

“Of the different possibilities.”

“Tony Shadowbrook making lists? You’re
sounding like me.”

“You taught me a few things.”

“Well, maybe this would be a good time to
discuss chapter five,” she teased.

“Don’t change the subject. Here’s what I
figure ... either one, these are not breaks, and the x-ray can be
interpreted another way. Or two, Jessica broke her legs in the very
same place Jill broke hers. Or three, it was Jessica, not Jill, who
broke her legs.”

“Well, Mr. Holmes, which theory do you
support?”

“At this point, I’m convinced those lines
represent old breaks in the bones. But that can’t be proven until I
call the hospital. Second, I don’t believe it’s probable for
Jessica to have broken both legs in the exact same place, even for
identical twins.”

“And not tell anyone.”

“Right.”