A Fatal Vineyard Season Read Free Page B

near her throat. “It is you, Mr. Jackson. Aunt Betsy said you might be doing some workhere.” She let her hand fall and put on a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
    â€œCall me J.W.” I poked a thumb over my shoulder. “I should be here about another fifteen minutes, then the place is all yours. I just opened some of the upstairs bedroom windows to let in some air.”
    â€œThank you.” She paused. “Are you all alone here?”
    â€œAll alone. Nobody else has been here since Stan and Betsy left for the winter.”
    The two of them looked at each other. “Well, then,” said Julia, “I guess we’ll bring in our things.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” said Ivy Holiday. Her eyes flicked over me, and she flashed a quick Hollywood smile.
    â€œCall me J.W. Nice to meet the two of you, too.”
    I went back to the faucet and finished installing it. When I came out into the kitchen, I could hear the women in the living room. I went there and found them with their luggage. “All done,” I said. “Enjoy yourselves.”
    They exchanged quick glances. “Wait a moment,” said Julia. “I know this is going to seem silly, but would you mind showing us around the house? Ivy’s never been here, and it’s been a long time since I was. Would you mind?”
    I put my toolbox by the front door. “No, I don’t mind at all.”
    I had been through all of the house many times during the previous five years, and I made sure that I showed them every room. And every closet, all of which I opened. And the attic. And the basement. And the three-car garage. I showed them the locked doors and windows on the lower floor, and the windows I’d opened upstairs that morning.
    When we were back in the living room, Julia seemed happier.
    â€œThank you very much,” she said.
    â€œI’m in the book,” I said. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”
    â€œThank you.”
    I looked at Ivy. “My wife may be calling you.”
    She tilted her head to one side. “Your wife?”
    â€œZee Jackson. You met in Hollywood last year, when she was out there shooting a scene in Island of Emeralds. She heard you were coming to the island and said she’d like to get together with you. She’s going to the mainland tomorrow, but maybe you can fit each other into your schedules.”
    Ivy’s dark brows lifted. “Ah, Zee. You’re her husband. Well, I must admit that it never crossed my mind that the Zee Jackson I met out there would be married to the J. W. Jackson I just met today.” She put out her hand and took mine. “How do you do?”
    Her hand was warm and firm and lingering. “There are a lot of Jacksons in this world,” I said. “Too many, some might say. There’s no reason you’d tie Zee to me.”
    â€œWell, tell Zee that I want to see her. Tell her to call me and that if I don’t hear from her, I’ll call her.”
    â€œI’ll do that.” I got my hand back and picked up my toolbox. I looked at Julia Crandel. “To repeat myself, if you need anything, let me know. I can be here in fifteen minutes. It might be a good idea to keep the downstairs doors and windows locked, just in case some drunk forgets where he lives and tries to get into your house by mistake.”
    Julia nodded. “Thank you. We will. Come on, Ivy. You can have the big room I usually use, because you’re the guest of honor. I’ll sleep next door.” I thought the lightness in her voice seemed feigned.
    I went out and drove home, wondering why she was so nervous, and whom they didn’t want to meet. I thought of stopping by the Oak Bluffs PD and asking the guys to keep an eye on the women, but on second thought realized I didn’t really have any reason to ask them to do that. Besides, two women who looked as good as Julia Crandel and