Vineyard Shadows (6 page)

“Which he pretty much did, and still does, although that idea might be challenged by Pete McBride. Pete is beginning to think he should run the rackets in Charlestown.”

“Fine. Maybe they'll shoot each other and my problems will be solved. Meanwhile, if you have any contacts with Sonny's associates, tell them that I want to meet with him. Tell them that he can name the time and place, but that I want it to happen soon.”

“J.W., I'm telling you that I don't think that is a good idea.”

“Just do it, please.”

“All right. But I don't like it.”

“Look on the bright side,” I said. “If anything happens to me you'll have a clean shot at Zee. Of course, you'll have to convince her first that a reporter is an actual human being. It won't be easy.”

I had no sooner hung up the phone than it rang. It was a reporter from the Cape. I told him that the Jacksons weren't home and rang off. In the guest room, Rimini was looking at the decoys my father had carved so long ago.

“Those are very nice,” he said.

“Sit down,” I said. “Just so you don't change your mind about running home to save Carla, I want you to know what happened here this morning.”

He sat, and I told him. He looked sick when I was through.

An hour later, Rimini and I and the kids got into the old Toyota and I drove him down to the parking lot at the foot of Edgartown's Main Street. There are some public telephones there on the side of what used to be the Junior Yacht Club building. Now the Junior Yacht Club has snazzier quarters, although they're nothing in comparison to the senior Yacht Club. There were a lot of summer people and cars on the streets, but fate was kind and we actually found a parking place right where we wanted one.

We went to the phones and while Joshua and Diana ogled the boats tied to the dock, I handed a receiver to Rimini.

“There's a possibility that the phone at your house has been tapped, or the house itself might be bugged. Probably neither of those things has happened, but they might have. So for the next few days, when you call your wife, always use a public phone and never tell her or anyone else where you're staying.”

“My house bugged? My telephone tapped? Who would do anything like that?” The idea seemed to astonish Rimini.

“I can think of two people,” I said. “Sonny Whelen and Graham. Both because they'd want to know who you meet and what you say when you're out of their sight.”

“My God! Do you really think it's possible?”

It was easy for me to be impatient with him. I shrugged. “I think it's unlikely, but I think you should act like it was true. You decide. It's your life.”

He shook his head and turned to the phone.

“And you might skip what happened at my house this morning,” I said. “That might scare Carla more than she needs to be.”

I stepped away, but not too far away because I didn't know if I could trust him to be discreet. I looked past the yacht club, but my ears were aimed at the bank of phones.

More and more boats, both sail and power, were coming into the harbor and finding moorings as July drew nearer. The
Shirley J.,
our eighteen-foot Herrishoff America, was swinging on her stake halfway between the yacht club and the Reading Room dock, where she had been moored since early May. She was a lovely thing, and as usual when I looked at her, I felt the old urge to stop whatever I was doing and go sailing for a few days. I'd been able to drop everything and do stuff like that when I'd been a bachelor, but now I was a married man with a family, so I had to keep myself more in check. It wasn't hard to opt for Zee and the kids, but any sailboat was still a siren.

Right now, of course, I had Rimini and Sonny Whelen to deal with, so there'd be no sailing for me. Not for a while.

Off to my left, Rimini's voice spoke of love and caring and regret and loneliness and the hope, but not the promise, of coming home. When at last he hung up the phone, Rimini looked tired and sad.

“Come on, kids,” I said. “Let's get some ice cream and then head for home.” I glanced at Rimini. “You, too. Ice cream is good for you whether you have troubles or not.”

Rimini tried a smile. “Maybe you're right.”

So we walked up to North Water Street, bought and ate four separate flavors, then drove back to the house.

The next morning I was feeding blueberry pancakes to the children when Rimini came into the kitchen. He didn't look like he'd had the good night's sleep that doctors recommend.

I waved a spatula. “There's juice in the fridge and coffee right there. Help yourself. Pancakes coming up.”

He went straight for the coffee. I wasn't surprised because I've been told that for schoolteachers, like cops and doctors, coffee and booze are the fluids of choice.

I put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Eat. These are our own berries off our own bushes out back. We picked them last year.”

“Pa,” said Joshua. “I'm done.”

I eyed him. He looked pretty sticky. “Okay. Go wash the syrup off your hands and face.”

He climbed off his chair and I looked at Diana the Huntress. Unlike her big brother, Diana seemed far from done. She lifted her eyes from her empty plate.

“More, Pa?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

I served her another pancake. Like her mother, Diana could eat a horse and never seem to gain an ounce.

By the time Joshua reappeared to show me his now fairly clean hands and face, Diana, too, announced that she was done. If possible, she was even more syrupy than her brother had been. I took her into the bathroom and helped her scrub. Joshua followed.

“When are we going to get Ma?”

“Soon. You two go play for a while. I want to talk with Mr. Rimini.”

“Why can't we stay and listen?”

“Because it's private big-people talk.”

“So?”

“So me no so's. You two go out and play. When I finish talking with Mr. Rimini, we'll go for a ride and bring your mother home.”

The carrot did it. “Okay, Pa. Come on, Diana.”

I went back into the kitchen and got myself some pancakes. The cook is often last to eat. They were worth waiting for.

“I'm going to move you to another house,” I said to Rimini, between mouthfuls. “The police and the D.A. will be wanting to talk with my wife and if they find you here they may make your life more complicated than it already is. Ours, too. It's also possible that one of them may let it slip that you're here and that Whelen may get the news. I don't want any of his goons coming here, ever.”

He chewed and swallowed, then nodded. “Makes sense.”

“I take care of a house that belongs to some friends of mine. John and Mattie Skye, and their twin daughters. John teaches up at Weststock College. They usually summer here, but right now the whole family is out in Colorado where his kin still live. They won't be back on the island until August, so the house is empty. It's off the road, so you'll have as much privacy as you need, and John's got a huge library, so you won't get bored. I called John this morning and told him I wanted to put an extra guest of mine in his house for a few days. He said it was okay, so I'm going to give you a map and a key. You pick up some groceries and go on out there. Call me later this morning after you get moved in, but don't call your wife from that phone because the call might be traced. And don't tell her where you are. She can't tell anybody else what she doesn't know.”

“I'm sorry I brought this to you.”

“You didn't. Carla did. Of course, you brought it to her, and of course, neither of you meant to have it happen. But now we have to try to get you out of it. I'll see what I can do. Meanwhile, you go play hermit at John Skye's house, and don't tell anybody anything they don't need to know.”

“You don't need to do this. You don't owe me anything.”

“I have a bone of my own to pick with Sonny Whelen. His goons hurt my wife and daughter, and I plan to have a talk with him about that.”

He seemed to shrink in size. “Maybe I should just go back and face the consequences.”

“If you want Carla to be a widow or maybe the wife of a cripple, maybe you should do that. You're grown up, so you can do as you please.” I dug an envelope out of a pocket and handed it to him. “This is a map to John Skye's place and the key to his front door. I think you'd be smart to just hang out there for a while, but it's up to you.”

He seemed to be through eating, so I finished off my pancakes and stacked the dishes in the sink while he sat over his coffee cup and thought about his options. I felt both sympathy and impatience.

“I'm going up to the hospital to pick up Zee. You decide what you're going to do.”

He looked up at me and nodded. “I will. And thanks.”

“I haven't done anything yet,” I said, and went out.

A half hour later, the children and I were at the hospital. There was a TV van in the parking lot. I drove past and we went into the building and came out again by a far door. By ten we were all home again. Rimini was gone with all his gear.

Zee was bruised but uncomplaining. Still, the rest of us treated her as if she were made of glass.

“Here, Ma. Sit down here,” said Joshua, leading her to her favorite chair.

Zee eased down. “Thank you, Josh.”

Oliver Underfoot and Velcro, the cats, wandered in and joined the family.

“Here's Bear,” said Diana. “You can hold her.” Zee smiled a split-lipped smile, and took Bear. “Oh, thank you, Diana.”

“Pa says we shouldn't climb on you for a while,” said Joshua.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I was saving the climbing for myself.”

“What'd you say, Pa?”

“Nothing, Josh.”

“When will you be better, Ma?”

“Soon. I'm almost better right now.”

“You got a black eye, Ma.”

She nodded, smiling. “It'll go away.”

“And you have a bloody lip.”

She ran her tongue over it. “It will get better soon.”

“I had a split lip once.”

“More than once, as I recall, Diana.”

Joshua came out of the guest room. “That man is gone, Pa.”

“Yes. He was just here for the night.”

Zee looked at me. “What man?”

“Tom Rimini.”

She frowned and then waited for an explanation.

“Let's all go out in the yard,” I said. “It's a beautiful day.” I put out my hands and helped Zee to her feet.

She and I sat on lawn chairs and sure enough, just as I had hoped, Joshua and Diana were soon too busy
playing to listen to me talk with their mother. I told her everything I knew about Rimini and everything that had happened between him and me. She listened well.

When I was through, she thought for a while, then nodded. “So those men came here because your ex-wife sent them here.”

“Yes.”

“Women!” she snapped. But then she took a breath, grimacing as she did. “Well, I might have done the same thing, I guess. In fact I probably would have told them anything they wanted to know, or done anything they wanted me to do. I tried to do that yesterday, in fact, but they didn't believe me. I had that pistol but she didn't have one. I guess I can't blame her.” She put a hand to her side, where Pat Logan's bullet had creased her. “I'll be glad when I'm back to normal.”

“I'm just glad you're here at all.”

“Me, too!” She put out her hand and I took it.

The phone rang, and I looked at Joshua. “Go answer that, will you? If somebody needs to talk with your mother or me, bring it out here.”

“Okay, Pa.”

Joshua galloped into the house and out again.

“It's for you, Pa.”

I was ready for another reporter, but Tom Rimini was on the other end of the line. He had decided to hole up in the Skyes' house. I told him that I thought that was wise, that I'd be back in touch, and that there were reporters and TV crews on the island, so it might be smart of him to stay out of sight.

“What are your plans for him?” asked Zee, as I laid the phone on the grass beside my chair. “He can't hide out forever.”

“My plans are to take care of me and mine first. After
that, I'll worry about him and his. I'm going up to Boston tomorrow and have a talk with Sonny Whelen, if I can find him.”