a friendly good-bye and watched her go out of sight in front of the brand-new Stop and Shop. No one followed her. No one even looked her way.
I waited awhile and then walked back up to Main Street and went into the bookstore. I looked around and didnât see the mystery man anywhere, then went over to the biography section. After a while I found the book that I thought Kate had been reading. It was a biography of a woman whose passionsand scandalous affairs had made her name notorious and had kept her in the international society columns for most of her life.
I put the book back on the shelf.
Hmmmmm. Could it be? Was Kate in love with Joe Begay? It would account for her rush to the Vineyard to be with him in a time of danger; it would account for her willingness to shoot me just in case I wasnât who I said I was but was really the Bunny or a Bunny accomplice; and it would account for her distraction and her need to get away from Aquinnah if, during their three weeks together, Joe, who I knew loved his wife and children, had shown no romantic interest in her.
So maybe the beautiful assassin was infatuated. If so, she was in trouble. And so was Joe, if he was depending on her, because love intrudes on cold thought, and cold thought was what was needed to deal with the Easter Bunny.
I turned toward the door and as I did so I saw the man across the street, looking at the store. As if he spotted me looking back at him, he turned and walked away. There was a pretty good crowd in the store, and by the time I got past them and into the street, he was gone. I ran down to the parking lot but he wasnât in sight.
Uncle Bill Vanderbeck would have known how he performed that disappearing act, but I didnât. I wondered if the man was watching me even though I couldnât see him. I felt as I sometimes had when I was a kid and it was night and my bedroom was dark, and something seemed to be lurking in thatfar corner. It could see me but I couldnât see it. My only hope was to lie so quiet and still that it wouldnât notice me under the covers.
Here and now I couldnât hide and try to hold my breath, so I got into the Land Cruiser and started home. About a mile out of town I noticed a black car behind me. I slowed down; so did the car. I speeded up; so did the car.
Trouble at River City.
 7Â
I took a right at the new four-way stop sign and drove toward the airport. Behind me, the black car did the same. I cut left on the road leading to the state forest headquarters, and then went left again onto the road that led back to the regional high school.
By this time the driver of the car realized that I knew he was tailing me. He pulled into sight behind me but then stopped and got out of his car. In my rearview mirror I saw that he was wearing a green coat and a felt hat. He lifted binoculars to his eyes.
Blast and drat! I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop with the Toyota sideways in the road. Back toward forest headquarters the driver lowered his glasses, got back into his car, made a U-turn, and drove out of sight. I grabbed my own binoculars but before I could adjust them the car was gone.
I tossed the glasses aside and turned and followed the car, but by the time I got back to the airport road it was nowhere to be seen.
Not good, Kemo Sabe. It was possible that the guy had not gotten my license plate number, but I doubted that and I definitely hadnât gotten his, so he had the edge.
Spilt milk. I drove on home. There was no one in my mirror, but that didnât make any difference. It wasnât hard to trace a license plate to its owner.
Zee was still at the ER and the kids were in school. Only the cats, Oliver Underfoot and Velcro, were at home. I checked their food and water then got John Skyeâs house keys and drove to Oak Bluffs, where I loaded up on groceries at the Reliable Market before driving on to John Skyeâs farm.
John and Mattie Skye generally summered on
I waited awhile and then walked back up to Main Street and went into the bookstore. I looked around and didnât see the mystery man anywhere, then went over to the biography section. After a while I found the book that I thought Kate had been reading. It was a biography of a woman whose passionsand scandalous affairs had made her name notorious and had kept her in the international society columns for most of her life.
I put the book back on the shelf.
Hmmmmm. Could it be? Was Kate in love with Joe Begay? It would account for her rush to the Vineyard to be with him in a time of danger; it would account for her willingness to shoot me just in case I wasnât who I said I was but was really the Bunny or a Bunny accomplice; and it would account for her distraction and her need to get away from Aquinnah if, during their three weeks together, Joe, who I knew loved his wife and children, had shown no romantic interest in her.
So maybe the beautiful assassin was infatuated. If so, she was in trouble. And so was Joe, if he was depending on her, because love intrudes on cold thought, and cold thought was what was needed to deal with the Easter Bunny.
I turned toward the door and as I did so I saw the man across the street, looking at the store. As if he spotted me looking back at him, he turned and walked away. There was a pretty good crowd in the store, and by the time I got past them and into the street, he was gone. I ran down to the parking lot but he wasnât in sight.
Uncle Bill Vanderbeck would have known how he performed that disappearing act, but I didnât. I wondered if the man was watching me even though I couldnât see him. I felt as I sometimes had when I was a kid and it was night and my bedroom was dark, and something seemed to be lurking in thatfar corner. It could see me but I couldnât see it. My only hope was to lie so quiet and still that it wouldnât notice me under the covers.
Here and now I couldnât hide and try to hold my breath, so I got into the Land Cruiser and started home. About a mile out of town I noticed a black car behind me. I slowed down; so did the car. I speeded up; so did the car.
Trouble at River City.
 7Â
I took a right at the new four-way stop sign and drove toward the airport. Behind me, the black car did the same. I cut left on the road leading to the state forest headquarters, and then went left again onto the road that led back to the regional high school.
By this time the driver of the car realized that I knew he was tailing me. He pulled into sight behind me but then stopped and got out of his car. In my rearview mirror I saw that he was wearing a green coat and a felt hat. He lifted binoculars to his eyes.
Blast and drat! I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop with the Toyota sideways in the road. Back toward forest headquarters the driver lowered his glasses, got back into his car, made a U-turn, and drove out of sight. I grabbed my own binoculars but before I could adjust them the car was gone.
I tossed the glasses aside and turned and followed the car, but by the time I got back to the airport road it was nowhere to be seen.
Not good, Kemo Sabe. It was possible that the guy had not gotten my license plate number, but I doubted that and I definitely hadnât gotten his, so he had the edge.
Spilt milk. I drove on home. There was no one in my mirror, but that didnât make any difference. It wasnât hard to trace a license plate to its owner.
Zee was still at the ER and the kids were in school. Only the cats, Oliver Underfoot and Velcro, were at home. I checked their food and water then got John Skyeâs house keys and drove to Oak Bluffs, where I loaded up on groceries at the Reliable Market before driving on to John Skyeâs farm.
John and Mattie Skye generally summered on
Similar Books
