staying in Boston. Someone at OCME had to know. After all, he was now part of Didi’s homicide investigation.
Since she was killed at OCME, she would fall under state, rather than Boston, jurisdiction. I knew a couple ofdetectives I could call. I’d rather leave Kranak out of it, if possible. I’d wait a couple of days, let things settle, then get the governor’s location.
I tapped a few keys and looked up the Steamship Authority’s ferry schedule on my computer. Plenty of ferries were running to the Vineyard. No more phone calls. I’d hop a ferry tomorrow and visit Delphine’s shop myself.
C HAPTER F IVE
Indian Summer—there was nothing like it. The drive to Woods Hole was spectacular, and Penny and I made the 10:45 A.M. ferry to Vineyard Haven with ease. On this late-September Wednesday, with the sky a glossy blue and the air crisp with promise, I could hardly imagine murder staining someone’s life.
I stood on the top open-air deck and wrapped my hands around the rail. Gulls wheeled and cawed and dived for tidbits tossed by passengers. It was loud—the crossing always was—with the sea and surf and wind in my ears. I tightened my sweater from the sea-chill.
How I loved the ocean! The sea brought memories of my dad and Veda and the possibility of the infinite.
I laughed and ruffled Penny’s fur. Hank always said he loved when I “waxed poetic,” as he called it. I usually found my yammerings, in retrospect, pretty silly.
We debarked at Vineyard Haven, and I immediately relaxed. I was crazy about the Vineyard, especially when the summer people had fled. Then you could feel her bones. She was old and no matter how much they flossed her up,her earthiness reappeared each winter. She was a working island, where life was hard and could be cheap. In the old days, folks struggled to survive. I admired their determination and grit.
As I stepped on the dock, I spotted a tall, hearty-looking man with a wispy beard and a seaman’s grin. Dan Black and his wife Belle were dear old friends. She’d grown up on the Vineyard, but of the two, he looked like the stereotypical Old Salt. In truth, he was a cowboy from Durango, Colorado, who’d come east to college on a fencing scholarship.
“Dan!” I waved and was suddenly engulfed in the kind of wonderful bear hug where you can hardly breathe. I laughed and returned it. Penny barked.
“Where’s your lovely bride?” I asked upon my release.
“Putting together some bluefish pate for lunch before you head off on your big adventure. Delish!” He caught my eyes and the smiling glint faded to sadness. “I’m sorry about Doc Cravitz. She was a good one.”
“Yes,” I said. “She was.”
He smoothed a hand over my tangly hair. “Are you all right?”
Was I?
“I guess. It was tough, finding Didi that way. I’ve sort of been possessed by this whole thing, y’know?”
“I hope not too much. Sounds like this was a real nasty one.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take my murders fictional, as you know.” He hefted my backpack and led us through the crowd.
“I want to drive by Delphine’s shop, okay?” I said as I slid into the passenger seat of Dan’s red Jeep Cherokee. The truck backfired, seemingly in protest, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
He snapped me a nod, then took a right, and then anotheronto Main Street. I wished we had time to stop in at Bunch of Grapes books and the Sioux Eagle jewelry store, two of my favorite shops in all the world.
“Next time we’ll stop and shop,” said mind-reader Dan.
“Oh, you know me too well.”
He grinned and tipped his cap. “Which is pretty nice, isn’t it?”
“To have friends like that?” I said. “Yes, it is.”
We continued down Main, through the shopping area where I’d once seen President Clinton and Chelsea leave their motorcade and shop for books. At the time, I’d talked to Buddy, the president’s chocolate Lab. He was a handful for the Secret Service agent who held his
Since she was killed at OCME, she would fall under state, rather than Boston, jurisdiction. I knew a couple ofdetectives I could call. I’d rather leave Kranak out of it, if possible. I’d wait a couple of days, let things settle, then get the governor’s location.
I tapped a few keys and looked up the Steamship Authority’s ferry schedule on my computer. Plenty of ferries were running to the Vineyard. No more phone calls. I’d hop a ferry tomorrow and visit Delphine’s shop myself.
C HAPTER F IVE
Indian Summer—there was nothing like it. The drive to Woods Hole was spectacular, and Penny and I made the 10:45 A.M. ferry to Vineyard Haven with ease. On this late-September Wednesday, with the sky a glossy blue and the air crisp with promise, I could hardly imagine murder staining someone’s life.
I stood on the top open-air deck and wrapped my hands around the rail. Gulls wheeled and cawed and dived for tidbits tossed by passengers. It was loud—the crossing always was—with the sea and surf and wind in my ears. I tightened my sweater from the sea-chill.
How I loved the ocean! The sea brought memories of my dad and Veda and the possibility of the infinite.
I laughed and ruffled Penny’s fur. Hank always said he loved when I “waxed poetic,” as he called it. I usually found my yammerings, in retrospect, pretty silly.
We debarked at Vineyard Haven, and I immediately relaxed. I was crazy about the Vineyard, especially when the summer people had fled. Then you could feel her bones. She was old and no matter how much they flossed her up,her earthiness reappeared each winter. She was a working island, where life was hard and could be cheap. In the old days, folks struggled to survive. I admired their determination and grit.
As I stepped on the dock, I spotted a tall, hearty-looking man with a wispy beard and a seaman’s grin. Dan Black and his wife Belle were dear old friends. She’d grown up on the Vineyard, but of the two, he looked like the stereotypical Old Salt. In truth, he was a cowboy from Durango, Colorado, who’d come east to college on a fencing scholarship.
“Dan!” I waved and was suddenly engulfed in the kind of wonderful bear hug where you can hardly breathe. I laughed and returned it. Penny barked.
“Where’s your lovely bride?” I asked upon my release.
“Putting together some bluefish pate for lunch before you head off on your big adventure. Delish!” He caught my eyes and the smiling glint faded to sadness. “I’m sorry about Doc Cravitz. She was a good one.”
“Yes,” I said. “She was.”
He smoothed a hand over my tangly hair. “Are you all right?”
Was I?
“I guess. It was tough, finding Didi that way. I’ve sort of been possessed by this whole thing, y’know?”
“I hope not too much. Sounds like this was a real nasty one.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take my murders fictional, as you know.” He hefted my backpack and led us through the crowd.
“I want to drive by Delphine’s shop, okay?” I said as I slid into the passenger seat of Dan’s red Jeep Cherokee. The truck backfired, seemingly in protest, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
He snapped me a nod, then took a right, and then anotheronto Main Street. I wished we had time to stop in at Bunch of Grapes books and the Sioux Eagle jewelry store, two of my favorite shops in all the world.
“Next time we’ll stop and shop,” said mind-reader Dan.
“Oh, you know me too well.”
He grinned and tipped his cap. “Which is pretty nice, isn’t it?”
“To have friends like that?” I said. “Yes, it is.”
We continued down Main, through the shopping area where I’d once seen President Clinton and Chelsea leave their motorcade and shop for books. At the time, I’d talked to Buddy, the president’s chocolate Lab. He was a handful for the Secret Service agent who held his
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