Fox Island (26 page)

“Can we do it without trying to jump to
conclusions? Let’s don’t beat her over the head with it all at
once.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The Wyatt Earp of subtlety.”

Don’t say it... don’t say it!

“Trust me, darlin’.”

The kitchen smelled of burnt eggs and weak
orange juice, but the counter housed a bouquet of fresh yellow
dahlias and bakery-made cinnamon rolls.

“I’m not a very good cook yet,” Melody said.
“I’ve never had anyone to cook for. But I had to do it. I’d regret
not fixing you at least one meal.”

“Thanks, kid. It seems strange to be packing
up.”

“Did I hear you say you got the book all
finished by midnight?”

Tony looked her in the eyes. “What else did
you hear?”

“
Oh, just a little. I didn’t mean to
be listening, really.” Melody turned back toward the stove. He
poured a cup of coffee.

“You were talking about my book, weren’t
you? It’s bad and you just don’t know how to tell me. Is that it?
Really, Mr. S., I can take it now. I know I might sound kind of,
you know, flighty sometimes, but I do understand. I’m not a total
ditz. Looking at you and Dr. S. this summer, I can tell I’m a long
way from being a real writer. Please level with me. Don’t lead me
on. It’s very important to me that you treat me like an adult. Give
it to me straight.” Tears rolled down her brown cheeks. “My
grandmother and mother live in make-believe worlds. I’m determined
not to do that. I’m twenty-five years old and I want to face
facts.” She tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand and
smeared grease instead.

“Come here, young lady,” he commanded. “You
need a daddy hug.”

She threw her arms around his waist and he
put his arms around her shoulders. He held her close and rocked her
back and forth as she alternated between sighs and sobs.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Price said in
a low tone as she entered the kitchen. “Did you tell her...?”

Tony shook his head.

Melody dried her eyes on a tea towel. “I
can’t remember the last time I got a hug from a man who wasn’t
trying to take advantage of me. I really needed that, Mr. S. Thanks
for the daddy hug. Now I’m ready. Go ahead and tell me about my
book.”

“Her book?” Price asked.

“Melody heard us blabbing away and
thought we were discussing
Out Fox Island
Way.
”

“You weren’t? Then what is it you’re afraid
to tell me?”

“Let’s step out on the deck and get some
fresh air,” Tony suggested. “We ran across some information about
your grandma. We’ll tell you what we know ... and what we don’t
know.”

Tony, Price and Melody paced the deck under
a pale, late August morning sky that hovered over the blue-green
waters of Carr Inlet. They told her about the x-ray and their
suspicions of the Davenport sisters.

Then came more tears. And hugs. Lots of
questions. And more tears.

When they returned to the kitchen, Melody
didn’t serve the cold eggs, but they drank the juice and ate the
rolls. “I can’t believe you guys knew this for a week and didn’t
tell me.”

“We wanted to make sure,” Price said. “We
hoped to find something that proved our suspicions.”

“Sounds convincing to me.”

Tony added, “Dr. Crayn in Tacoma said your
grandmother definitely broke both legs years ago. And Patsy
Mitchell reaffirmed it was Jill, not Jessica, who had the ferryboat
accident. But the coroner’s office in Pottawattamie County, Iowa,
said they lost their records in a 1964 tornado. So unless we had a
death certificate or your grandmother’s confession...”

“Or both,” Price added.

“...we can’t prove it for certain. But for
the life of me,” Tony paused as though going through his list
again, “I can’t explain it any other way. I know better than to
jump to too many conclusions. Maybe there’s a piece of the puzzle
we haven’t thought of.”

“Perhaps there’ll be a way you can talk to
your grandmother about it someday. Maybe you could start with the
x-ray and make it sound like you were checking up on her health,”
Price suggested.

“Do you think Grandma Jessie... I mean...
oh, man, if this is true, it’s going to be hard... Grandma Jill
would keep the death certificate?”

“Maybe at one time. There’s a possibility if
she wasn’t sure she could pull it off, she would want the records.
But after all these years of getting away with it, I’m not sure
she’d keep such a document. Like I said, I dug around in her files
and found nothing.”

“Did you look in her safe?” Melody
asked.

“What safe?”

“The one behind the ‘Two Girls at the
Theatre’ painting downstairs.”

“No, of course not.”

“Let’s go look. I know the combination. It’s
my grandma’s birth date.” Melody led them toward the stairs.

“This is totally up to you, kid,” Tony said.
“From here on we’re stepping out of it. You only have to press this
as far as you want.”

“Do you know what this means if this is
true? Oh, man... Bennington might be my grandfather. And my mom?
She’d have a father... still alive.”

“For a little while,” Tony reminded her.

Price spun around at the dong of a bell.
“I’ll get the door. You two go on. But no more hugging until I get
there.”

“Is Dr. S. the jealous type?” Melody
whispered.

“Like a wounded mama bear,” Tony whispered
back. “She’s dangerous to be around if she gets jealous.”

“Wow, she is so sophisticated. She doesn’t
look that sort at all.”

Melody still spun the dial on the safe when
Price joined them, carrying something wrapped in green tissue.

“Who was at the door?” Tony inquired.

“Kenny Mallard.”

“What’s that?”

“A long-stemmed red rose.”

Melody stopped spinning the dial. “Isn’t it
just like a jerk? He thinks he can make up for everything by
bringing me a red rose. Some people are so naive.”

“Actually, it isn’t for you. I think it’s
sort of a going away present for me,” Price sheepishly replied.

Melody clutched her throat. “What? For you?
Kenny Mallard gave you a flower?”

Tony stood arrow straight and jammed his
hands on his hips. “What did he say?”

“Something to the effect of... ‘If you ever
get tired of the old man and need me to unlock your computer or
anything else, just call and I’ll charter a plane. I can be in
Arizona in four hours.’” Tony flung both hands in the air. “He said
that?”

“Wasn’t that sweet of him?” Price flashed a
plaster smile.

“If that leather jacketed gigolo shows up in
Arizona, he’ll face forty grains of powder and two hundred grains
of lead,” Tony snarled.

Melody drew her hands across her face in
mock horror. “Whoa, he’s like a wounded mama bear when he gets
jealous.”

Tony’s tension relaxed into a smile. “Come
to think of it, old Kenny is pretty smart.”

“How do you figure?” Price cocked her
head.

“He’s got good taste in women.” Tony patted
the safe. “Come on, kiddo, open that sucker up.”

The eighteen inches square iron-gray safe
showed little sign of use. Inside were stacks of papers and
policies and several cigar boxes. Melody dug around in the boxes,
filled mainly with assorted pieces of Victorian jewelry. The last
box was sealed with thick, yellowed cellophane tape and held a
small, locked journal.

“Did you find anything in those papers?”
Melody asked as Tony spread the contents across the couch.

“Nothing yet. Maybe these old insurance
policies have a clue. Read them over carefully.”

“It could be in here.” Melody held up the
brown leather book.

“Is there a key?”

“No, but we could cut the strap,” Melody
suggested.

Tony examined the book and handed it back to
Melody. “That’s got to be your decision. It’s your family. Your
grandmother. We can’t tell you what to do. There may not be
anything in here. Or your grandmother Reynolds might want this, and
it would be tough to explain.”

“Wait a minute,” Melody shouted. “This might
not be Grandma’s diary.”

“It does say Jessica Davenport on the
cover,” Price pointed out.

“Exactly. If Grandma Jessie is really Jill,
then this isn’t her diary. It’s her sister’s.”

“Melody, if that is Jessica Davenport’s
diary from her years as an artist, it could be really exciting in
itself,” Price said.

“Talk about a writing project,” Tony
commented. “The Davenport Diary... there’s your writing project.
That, young lady, would be highly publishable.”

“Oh, man, this is turning out to be an
incredible day. Do you think there could be some of Jessica’s
personal papers inside?”

“Seems like a mighty good place to stick
Jessica’s legal papers,” Tony suggested.

Melody tried to pull the strap loose. “Do
you have something sharp?”

Tony reached into his pocket for his
buckhorn cattleman’s knife.

Melody shoved the book toward Tony. “Cut it
open for me.”

“Nope.” He opened the knife and handed it to
her. “You’ve got to do it. It’s got to be totally your choice. Once
it’s cut, it can never be locked again.”

She nodded, carefully sliced through the
leather, and slowly flipped through the yellowed pages. Most of the
faded entries were written in pencil. Two neatly folded papers
fluttered to the ground. Tony stooped over and picked them up.

“What are they?” Melody’s voice was tight
and high. “Read them to me.”

Tony handed them over. “You’ll have to tell
us, darlin’. This is your family.”

She opened the one with gold embossing.
“It’s Jessica Davenport’s baptism certificate from 1932.”

“And the other?” Price urged.

Melody held the sheet away from her as
though it would catch fire any moment. She unfolded it. The room
was dead silent except for the crinkling of the page. She stared
for a moment, then her lips quivered. Her eyes puddled. She sucked
air in deep gulps. “Oh, dear Lord...” she moaned.

“Is it the death certificate for Jessica
Davenport?” Tony asked.

Melody nodded and flung her arms around
Price for a second round of tears.

They walked Melody to her truck. “Don’t
worry about us,” Price assured her. “We’ll arrange for someone else
to take us to the airport. You’ve got a lot of things to take care
of.”

“No, I want to do it, really. I’ll try to be
back before 2:30. But if I’m not here, Kim is on standby. She said
she would be happy to drive you. I want to show all this to Mom.
The x-ray, the doctor’s evaluation, and the death certificate. I
couldn’t tell her on the phone.”

“What will you do after that?”

“I don’t know. Mom and I will have to
decide.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to handle it?”
Price asked.

“She’ll be in total shock, just like me. But
Mom was serious about that commitment she made to the Lord. She’ll
do a lot better than she would have before.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Tony
offered.

“I know you’ve got a lot of last minute
details, toting those documents back to the museum and all that.
Besides, Mom and I might blubber all afternoon. I’m not about to
make you late for your plane.”

“Listen, kid, if you need us, we’ll cancel
the flight and help you work this through.”

Price nodded agreement as she slipped her
arm in Tony’s.

Melody stared at them. “You mean it, don’t
you?”

“Yes, we do,” Price affirmed.

“You haven’t seen your family all summer,
and you’d stay here with me?”

“Just say the word.”

Melody bit her lip. “Well, here’s the word:
Go home. I can’t figure out why you treat me so good. Go home
before I start crying like a kid being left at camp.”

“If your mother needs to talk, have her call
me,” Price said. “I’d love to talk with her before we leave.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

They still stood in the driveway when a
small green sedan zipped toward them. Barefoot and wearing
camouflage shorts and olive drab tank top, Tulip jumped out of her
car carrying a 2’ x 3’ artist’s canvas. Her braid flew out in a
long tail behind her. “Hey, good. You aren’t gone yet.”

“We’ve hardly seen you since the night of
the Island Fair. How have you been?”

Narrow green eyes peered right at Price.
“I... I’ve been fine. Thanks for asking.” She turned to Tony. “This
is for you.” She shoved the canvas into his hands.

“Did you paint this?” he asked.

“Yeah, I had to rush it when I found out you
were leaving today. It’s my way of saying thanks for helping round
up the animals. I could tell you really cared about them. It’s a
quality in a man I find very appealing.”

Tony showed the artwork to Price.

“That big rock represents Tony, and the
little flower is the Angora rabbit,” Tulip explained. “... and the
beam of light is the rope. See how it surrounds the flower? Like
when you roped the rabbit.”

“Actually, I didn’t rope it. I think I
stunned it.”

“Why does this cloud have lipstick and a
smile?” Price asked.

“That’s me. Well, not me, really. I have no
need to paint my lips with caustic, polluting chemicals. It’s more
like Mother Nature giving her approving kiss on the whole
evening.”

“I see.”

“The whole piece is ecologically balanced
and correct.”

“Of course.”

“But it’s still kind of wet. You might not
want to stick it in an overhead bin. It could get smeared. If I
were you, I’d carry it on your lap.”

“Oh?” Tony’s eyes glazed as he appealed to
Price.

“Listen.” Tulip’s sprinkling of freckles
seemed to glow in the light of her all-natural face. “If you ever
need someone to review your books, to make sure they’re politically
correct, I’d be happy to check them out. Call me anytime. Here’s my
home number.” She handed him a card shaped like a whale. One phone
number was crossed out and another written in pencil.