A Deadly Vineyard Holiday Read Free

Vineyard had been turned quite upside down by the president’s two weeks on the island, and that most island lives had been altered dramatically by his presence.
    In fact, had it not been for the media coverage, most people on the Vineyard wouldn’t have been aware that the president was even there. He and his family stayed in a house down a long drive that was well protected by Secret Service agents, and his appearances in public places were generally unannounced, so that even if some people wished to see him, touch him, talk to him, they wouldn’t have been in the right spot to do it.
    And most people, at least the people I knew, didn’t want to do that anyway. Their general attitude was that the guy and his family needed a vacation, and that the best thing to do was let them have one by staying out of their lives.
    That was again our plan when the First Family made a second vacation visit to the Vineyard. But life is what happens when you plan something else, and now chance had intervened, and I had a problem.
    â€œHi,” said the girl, dusting herself off and looking around. “Is this your house?”
    â€œIt is. What were you doing in my truck? I thought you were walking to Edgartown.”
    â€œWell,” she said, “I saw how close the Jeep was, and I knew they’d probably catch up with me if I went on down the beach, so I ducked up behind a sand dune till they were gone. Then while you were fishing, I snuck into the truck. I figured since they’d looked there once, they wouldn’t look there again. How far is it to Edgartown from here?”
    â€œAbout as far as the last time you asked me,” I said,putting my mouth in gear while I tried to get my brain started. “Since you’re here, you want to give me a hand? There’s a freezer on the porch there, and I need more ice to keep these fish cool till I can get them to the market. There’s a bucket by the freezer. Bring a bucket of ice and we’ll put it over the fish.”
    â€œSure.”
    She went up through the screen door onto the porch, and I did some fast thinking.
    When she came back with the ice, I dumped it into the fishbox and looked at my watch. “Breakfast time. You hungry?”
    She looked hungry but wary. “I’d better be going. Which way is town?”
    â€œUp the driveway and take a left. I’m J. W. Jackson. What do people call you?”
    She lied. “I’m Mary Jones.”
    â€œNo, you’re not,” I said. “You’re Cricket Callahan, but if you want me to call you Mary Jones, it’s okay with me. Whatever I call you, let me tell you something: If you plan on going into town and having nobody recognize you, especially this time of the morning, and more especially with God only knows how many Secret Service agents and cops in a panic to find you, you’d better plan again.”
    She looked angry, but not surprised by my comment. “That’s the trouble,” she said. “I can never get away from them. It’s like being in a zoo!”
    I remembered the one interesting article I’d read about her family’s first visit to the island. It was a compilation of remarks from island kids her age who’d been asked what they thought about her vacationing here. Every one of the kids had felt sorry for her because she could never be free from prying cameras and security.
    â€œYou’re away from them now,” I said. “But you can’t just run off like this. Your parents will be worried sick.” To say nothing of Walt Pomerlieu, Ted, and company. I could imagine the thoughts, fears, and actions that must already be ruining their day.
    â€œMy parents aren’t even awake yet,” said the girl, still angry but wavering.
    â€œDon’t bet on that,” I said. “How old are you?”
    â€œI’m sixteen. What difference does it make?”
    â€œIt means you’re old enough to