A Vineyard Killing Read Free

went out?”
    â€œNot a soul. I think there’s a chance that the shootist might have been spotted by somebody at the Black Dog. They always have a good noon crowd.”
    â€œTrouble is that it’s chilly and probably nobody was standing outside. Where do you figure the guy went?”
    â€œI don’t think he went along the beach past the Black Dog because there are windows on the harbor side and he would have been in plain view of whoever was there, so he probably went the other way. Not too many people back there in that direction.”
    â€œOr he could have just stepped inside the Black Dog and ordered himself some lunch.”
    â€œThat, too.”
    â€œAny thoughts about the shooter?”
    â€œNothing original. Used a pistol at long range. Shot twice and hit the wrong guy then ran away. A pro would probably have gotten closer or used a long gun.”
    â€œYou’re sure he hit the wrong guy?”
    â€œI’m not sure of anything, but most people would guess that Donald Fox was the target. A lot of people hate his guts. But maybe Paul Fox has been sleeping with somebody’s wife when he was off duty.”
    Agganis grunted. “You sure the guy used a pistol?”
    I shrugged. “It didn’t sound like a rifle, and the slugs I saw looked to be about nine millimeter or so.”
    â€œThe lab will check that out. So the shooter is mad enough to take a crack at Donald Fox with a pistol, but not so mad that he’ll walk right up to him to do it, right?”
    â€œMaybe. Not so mad he wants to get caught, I guess. How do you figure he knew where Fox would be?”
    Agganis rubbed his big jaw. “Could be he followed Fox, saw him go into the E and E, and waited for him to come out.”
    â€œCould be, I guess. If so, he knows enough about the area to have an escape route.”
    â€œYeah. Local boy or girl with a grudge and a gun?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œYou sound skeptical.”
    â€œShooter popped Paul, not Donald. Pretty bad shooting.”
    â€œMaybe he just wanted to kill a Fox. Any Fox.”
    â€œYou mean like those people who gallop across the countryside in England yelling, ‘Yoiks’? Could be, I guess, but you figure it out. You’re the cop, not me. I gave all that up a long time ago.”
    â€œLook who’s coming.”
    I turned and saw Donald Fox and the man with the cane walking toward us.
    â€œI’m Donald Fox.” Fox put out his hand.
    I took it. “J. W. Jackson.” We had a little squeezing match and called it a draw.
    â€œDamned gutsy of you to come out to give Paul a hand. I appreciate it.”
    â€œThe gunner was gone, and your brother probably got away with no more than bruises or maybe broken ribs.”
    â€œI never dreamed anybody would take a shot at me. Thank God Paul was wearing that vest. He’s been after me to wear one, but up to now I thought it was nonsense.”
    â€œThe car wasn’t nonsense,” said the man with the cane. “You have to be careful.”
    Fox put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You saved my life, Brad. I’ve not forgotten it and I won’t. Gentlemen, this is Brad Hillborough, my colleague. Two years ago a woman tried to run me down with her car. Brad shoved me out of harm’s way and took the hit himself. They don’t come better than Brad.”
    Hillborough reddened slightly and shook hands. “I don’t like this shooting,” he said. “I can’t save Donald from a bullet.”
    Fox turned to Agganis. “My brother is lucky to be alive. I want you to get the person who did this.”
    His last statement was voiced like an order, but Agganis didn’t take orders from civilians, even a multimillionaire civilian with a reputation for tough business practices and for stepping on people who stood up to him.
    â€œWe plan to do that,” said Dom without expression.
    â€œPut every man you can