Fox Island (7 page)

“Give me one good reason to open each
chapter with an italicized section.”

“Because the contrast in both style and form
gives warmth and closeness to your part of the text, that’s
why.”

Why did the crow’s-feet always disappear
around her blue eyes when she was angry ? Those deep azure eyes.
“Oh, well, you could be right. But that surely doesn’t mean...”

The phone jarred them.

“Tony, baby, it’s me, Terry Davidian. Say, I
was double-checking on...”

“I’m busy. Call me later.”

“How about five-ish?”

“How about August-ish?” He hung up the
receiver. “Now, where were we?”

A smile creased across her face. For some
reason, Tony imagined the first time he ever saw her. She was a
summer tour guide at the Grand Canyon, and he lead a string of
mules. That incredible smile snared him. Everything about her
seemed to glow. That’s all he could think about all the way down
the Canyon and back.

“You were about to tell me I was completely
right.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “What I
meant was...”

The phone rang again.

“If that’s Davidian...” He pounced on the
phone. “Shadow brooks.”

“Daddy, it’s me. You’ve got to do something
with Kit.”

“Darlin’, slow down. What’s the matter?” He
motioned for Price to grab the phone in the kitchen.

“Mother, it’s about Kit.”

“What’s up, Kath?”

“She didn’t come home last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“She went to a drag race out at Quartzite,
and she didn’t come back.”

“Who’d she go with?” Price asked.

“Who else? Travis. He asked her to be on his
crew.”

“She’s still not home?”

“She walked in the door a few minutes ago.
Meanwhile, I’ve been awake all night worried about her.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“She’s in the shower.”

“Take the portable to the bathroom and put
her on. You listen in, too.”

“She’s going to be mad that I called
you.”

“Yes, she will.”

During the long pause, Price paced around
the kitchen. She told Tony they were not mature enough to be left
alone. One of them, sure. But together? No way. They should have
brought them here.

Tony traipsed back and forth the length of
the phone cord. Surely she didn’t do anything dumb. Kit was a smart
girl. They were both smart girls. But Kit was a lot like Tony.

Surely she didn’t do anything dumb.

“Hi, guys, I can’t believe Kath called
you.”

Price answered first. “She called because
she was worried. Where were you all night?”

“I went to the drags, that’s all. Travis
kept winning, so we stayed late. He finished second and won $145.
Isn’t that cool?”

“You were there all night?”

“No, the tow car broke down on the
interstate. It took us until almost daylight to get it fixed.”

“Who’s we?” her father quizzed.

“Travis, Ken, Brad and Punky.”

Price gasped. “You spent the night with four
boys?”

“I spent the night underneath an ’82 Chevy
pickup while four guys held the light.”

“Why didn’t you call Kathy?”

“Mom, there wasn’t a phone for fifty miles.
You know how deserted that part of 1-10 is.”

“Well, when you got it fixed, you could have
called her then.”

“I thought she’d be sleeping. I didn’t want
to wake her. How was I to know she was having a private all-night
swim party?”

“A what?” It was Tony’s turn to gasp.

“That’s not true,” Kathy said. “I asked
Bryson to come over and wait with me because I was worried
sick.”

“You waited in your bathing suits?” Kit
sneered.

“It was a hot night, so we went swimming.
Just for a little while. We didn’t go in the house, Mother. We sat
out in front and waited. That’s all. We were right out front on the
patio when you got home, Kit.”

“Sure, underneath a blanket.”

“A what?” Tony sputtered.

“Look, Mom and Pop, I have no idea why Kathy
had to call you. I won’t be late next week. I’ve got Travis’ rig
repaired, so I’m sure it won’t break down again.”

Price broke in with her lecture voice. “Kit,
if you don’t get home at the pre-arranged time, you will have to
find a phone and check in, without exception.”

“Take your mom’s cellular phone next
time.”

“Really?”

“But only make emergency calls. Any other
calls listed on that phone will come out of your paycheck. Is that
clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Katherine?”

“Mother?”

“When we said no male company after dark, we
meant in the pool, in the yard, in the driveway, or at the
curb.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?”

“Is that what you meant?” Kit mimicked.

“Kit!”

“Sorry, Pop. Can I finish my shower? I’ve
got to get to work in less than an hour.”

“How can you work after being up all
night?”

“I could lube cars in my sleep. Bye.”

“Mother and Daddy, I’m sorry if I
disappointed you.”

“Kathy, you call us whenever you need to.
Now, you and sis try to get along.”

“We’ll be fine. Bye.”

Price strolled into the hallway and found
Tony staring out the back window at a pot of hanging geraniums.
“It’s going to be a long summer,” she said with a sigh. “Do you
think the two of them will ever become friends?” She stopped to
check his attention. “Tony? Tony, what are you thinking about?”

“I think you might be right.”

“Right about what? About Kit and Kathy
becoming friends?”

“Oh, that, too. I was just thinking that
you’re right about opening each chapter with an italicized
descriptive passage.”

“Really? You like it?”

“I think so. It does tend to highlight the
rest of the chapter, doesn’t it? I say let’s leave it that way for
the whole book and then evaluate it when it’s done.”

Price whirled around, her hair whipping
against Tony’s face. “Great. I really do think it’s creative and
... hey, wait a minute, Shadowbrook.”

“What?”

“You aren’t just trying to placate me and
then toss the whole thing out later on?”

“Nope.”

“Prove it.”

“Well... “ He pondered. “I promise we won’t
delete any of the opening paragraphs unless we both agree on it.
How will that work?”

“Splendid!” Price leaned over and gave him a
kiss on the cheek.

“And,” he said with a wide smile, “you
promise you won’t delete any of my sections of the book without my
approval, right?” He kissed her lips, long and full.

She finally pulled away and winked. “Dream
on.”

Price padded across the carpet toward the
hall, then turned around. “You should change that shirt. It’s too
plain. You really ought to cowboy up a bit for that museum
visit.”

Dressed in beige shorts and a forest green
sweatshirt shoved up to his elbows, Tony straddled a redwood bench
on the deck, his laptop in front of him, and reworked the opening
two pages of chapter three. After hammering away on a single
sentence for the fifth try, he stared at the fog hovering lower
than ever above the water, his sandal-clad feet freezing.

What if the Davenport sisters were runners
for the mob, carrying great sums of money between Seattle and the
East Coast? And maybe the car wreck in Iowa wasn’t an accident, but
payback for skimming off millions. Jessica had been hiding out
waiting for...

Relax, Shadowbrook.

This was nonfiction. Historical tidbits, a
traveler’s delight. Flowers, fauna, wildlife. Annual mushroom
festival. He wished they did have a mushroom festival.

He thought he heard the doorbell. He started
into the house, then stepped to the side of the deck and hollered,
“Around back. I’m back here.”

The man who sauntered toward Tony wore an
apologetic smile and silk gray stripe on gray suit that fit like a
seasoned tailor studied his every move. Yet his face was thin,
almost gaunt. Bald on top, white hair cropped close to his head,
his eyes and mouth formed identical slits, friendly but appraising,
tentative. He leaned over one of the blooms, reached down as though
to pluck one, then patted it instead. “Such a lovely pompon,” he
commented. “I’m so glad to find someone at home. I’m Lloyd
Bennington... from Chestertown, Maryland. I’m looking for Jessica
Davenport. I mean, I’m sure she’s ... I think her married name is
Reynolds.”

Tony stared at the man’s starched white
shirt. The tight collar seemed to scrape his neck a raw red.
“Jessica is living in a retirement community now.”

“Are you her son?”

“No, we’re leasing the place for the
summer.”

The man stuck a finger into the neckline of
his shirt and gently rubbed. “Oh dear, I was so hoping to speak to
Jessica.”

“She’s not more than five minutes from here.
Are you a friend?”

“I’ve never met Jessica. I’m really looking
for her sister, Jill. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I
didn’t know her address and was hoping to get it from Jessica.”

“You’re looking for Jill Davenport?”

“Yes, do you know where I might find
her?”

“Mr. Bennington, Jill Davenport was killed
in a car wreck in Council Bluffs, Iowa, on June 2,1942.”

The half slits in Lloyd Bennington’s eyes
closed, his head dropped, and Tony noticed a shudder. “Would you
like to come around and sit on the deck?” Tony offered.

“Yes, thank you. I am a little tired.”
Bennington climbed the stairs slowly and slumped on the redwood
bench.

“When was the last time you saw Jill
Davenport?”

“May.” He stared down at the deck.

“When?”

“May of ’42.”

“That was over fifty years ago. You must
have considered the possibility she might have passed on by now.”
Tony knew that was an awkward attempt to console.

“Oh yes, of course. I realized she might be
gone. But I never considered it could have been so soon after we
broke up.”

“You were dating Miss Davenport?”

“Yes.”

“And the family didn’t notify you of her
death?”

“Well...” The old gentleman coughed and
faced the Sound. “None of her family knew about us, I suppose.”

“Not even Jessica?”

“I’m not sure. Jessica had just married
Reynolds, and he was about to go to the war, so they were busy with
each other.” A tear slid down the man’s face. He pulled out a white
kerchief.

“You must have really cared for her.”

“I was hoping that... it’s difficult to
explain.”

Incredible to think he’d been out of the
picture for over fifty years, and the memories still brought him to
tears. What had this guy been doing? Tony decided he liked the man.
The hesitancy, the mood of melancholy, combined with the Brooks
Brothers demeanor, encouraged his curiosity. “If I might ask, why
come looking for Jill Davenport now?”

“Mr. eh...”

“Shadowbrook.”

“Shadowbrook? Like the guy who writes
westerns?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“No fooling? You’re Louis Shadowbrook?”

“I’m Tony Shadowbrook. It’s Louis...”

“You a brother to Louis?”

“There is no Louis Shadowbrook. There’s
Louis L’Amour and I’m Tony Shadowbrook.”

“Right. I knew that. Where was I?”

“You were telling me why you waited so long
to contact Jill Davenport.”

“Yes. Well, I’m seventy-six years old. Last
April they found some colon cancer in me. They cut me open and
sewed me right back up. Said there was nothing they could do. So,
I’m trying to settle up any unfinished matters before the Almighty
calls me to account.”

“And you had some unfinished business with
Jill Davenport?”

“It’s just the way a foolish, dying old man
thinks, I suppose.”

“Say, would you like to read the newspaper
account of her death? My wife and I are writing a book about the
Island, and we’re researching the families and the Davenport
sisters.”

The man’s face brightened. “If you don’t
mind. Maybe it would help some.”

Tony returned with a stack of old newspapers
in vinyl covers and two cups of coffee. Neither man spoke as
Bennington read several articles. Then, he stood and shuffled
toward the stairs. “I’m glad I came. I’ll be going now.”

“I’d suggest you go visit Jessica, but she’s
not seeing visitors these days. Seems like she never really
recovered from losing her sister.”

Bennington rested his hand on the railing,
stared a moment at the Sound, then closed his eyes as though to
memorize the view. “No need. No purpose to be served in that. I
bought one of her paintings. Had to give it to a museum a while
back. It was too realistic.”

“She did all those before the accident, you
know.”

“I wasn’t aware of that. Oh, I knew the ‘Two
Girls’ motif had ceased. But I assumed she kept on painting.”

“Not that we can determine.” Tony searched
for something else to tell the man. “Jessica sees the accident as
her fault, so I hear. She’s gotten worse the past few years. I
guess identical twins are pretty close.”

“Jill talked highly of her sister. Always
said she was the talented one. Identical only in looks, she told
me. Well, it’s just as well Jessica’s unavailable. It would
probably just remind both of us of a painful past. If she
remembered anything, she’d probably just get angry.”

“Jessica’s granddaughter lives in the
apartment over the garage here. She’s gone now, but maybe you’d
like to talk to her?”

“Jessica’s granddaughter? I suppose I could,
but, actually, I really don’t know what I’d say. An old, old friend
of her grand-mother’s sister? There’s not much to talk about. All
that long trip out here and I finally see how foolish it was. It
was a long flight and I’m tired. Think I’ll head back to the
hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Airport Hilton.”

“Could I pass that information to the
granddaughter, just in case?”