A Vineyard Killing Read Free Page B

“is the same one we’d have if some professor got killed in the faculty office building: too many suspects.”
    â€œWell, nobody’s gotten killed yet,” said Mattie.
    â€œAnd let’s hope nobody will be.”
    â€œSome people deserve to be killed, dear,” said John mildly. “Everybody knows that. The only argument is about who it should be. A lot of people would say that Mr. Donald Fox is a worthy candidate.”
    â€œAt least one person apparently agrees with you,” replied Mattie with a sigh.
    The phone rang and Zee answered it. After a moment she said, “He’s right here. Hold on.” She gestured at me. “It’s for you. It’s Donald Fox.”

3
    I put the phone to my ear. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fox?”
    â€œYou can come up to the hospital so my brother can thank you in person.”
    â€œNo need. I didn’t do anything special.”
    â€œYou took a big chance. He owes you for that, just as I do. We’d appreciate it if you’d come. Just for a few minutes.”
    I didn’t want to go. “All right,” I said. “I’ll be up in about fifteen minutes, but it’ll just be a quick visit.”
    â€œThey’re keeping him overnight as a precaution, but he’ll be fine. We look forward to seeing you.”
    He rang off before I had a chance to say another word.
    I looked at my buzzing phone and hung it up.
    â€œWell?” said Zee.
    â€œHis brother wants to thank me in person,” I said. “I couldn’t figure out how to keep him from doing it. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œMaybe Fox will reward you with a large check,” said John.
    â€œOr with one of the properties he steals from someone whose ancestors never triple-checked their land title,” said Zee.
    â€œOr both,” I said. “Anyway, this won’t take long.”
    â€œJust don’t take the rum with you,” said John.
    I got into my winter coat and my Chinese rabbit-skin hat, climbed into my rusty old Land Cruiser, and drove to Oak Bluffs.
    The Martha’s Vineyard hospital constantly runs in red ink but somehow manages to stay open. Zee, who works there as an ER nurse, has seen about everything a nurse can see, from skinned knees to ODs to bullet wounds. Moped and bicycle accidents are especially popular catastrophes during the summer, but the other ER business occurs year-round. Paul Fox was one such piece of work.
    I was directed to his room and found him in bed, with big brother Donald and Brad Hillborough standing alongside. Donald and I tested handshakes for the third time and once again called it a draw. I wondered if he used that powerful grip to establish dominance over whomever he met.
    Brad Hillborough also shook hands. “Nice to see you again,” he said. He showed his teeth in what I presumed was his version of a smile. He had keen blue eyes under slick black hair. He limped back a few steps, using his cane. Aside from his bad leg he had the look of an athlete, and I thought he had probably once been a graceful man.
    I looked at Paul Fox. He seemed much younger than I’d taken him to be when I’d seen him earlier. He was pale and I thought he was still in shock or pain or under the influence of some medication. Or all three.
    â€œI’m told you’re going to be fine,” I said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
    His smile was real. “Me, too. I’m glad they invented Kevlar. I want to thank you for helping me. You couldn’t have known that the guy would be gone. You took a big chance. I’d like to pay you back somehow.”
    I shook my head. “I figured he’d have shot some more if he was still there. Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. You’re in a dangerous line of work.”
    â€œYeah, I guess so. I never had this happen to me before, though.”
    â€œGetting shot once is enough for a lifetime.”
    â€œYou can