Vineyard Stalker by Philip R. Craig Read Free Book Online

analyzed.”
    â€œLet’s hope that they find nothing.”
    A consummation devoutly to be wished, but one I didn’t expect. “I’ll let you know what I learn.”
    I drove to John Skye’s farm and found him and his wife Mattie over coffee. They were early risers. The twins, Jen and Jill, were, as college students will, sleeping late.
    â€œI thought you might be up,” I said.
    â€œYou must be bored,” said Mattie. “Zee and the kids will be home in just a few days, if you can hold out that long. Have some coffee.”
    â€œThe bachelor life is not the life for me,” I said, putting the can on John’s desk as Mattie went to fetch another cup.
    â€œWe don’t have a cat,” said John, eyeing it.
    â€œIf you did, I wouldn’t give you this stuff,” I said. “As I recall, you have a pal up at Weststock who’s a toxicologist. Is that right?”
    â€œNot all of us professorial types are in the liberal arts,” said John. “Yes, my colleague George Faulk is in love with poisons. Why, is this cat food full of cyanide?”
    â€œI don’t know, but I want to. Do you think your friend will test it for me? The quicker, the better.”
    John eyed the can, then eyed me. “Tell me your tale.”
    I told him of the earlier vandalism and then described how I’d seen the prowler put the can on the ground beside the cabin, but I didn’t mention names or tell him anything about what had happened on the trail beside the stream.
    Mattie returned with my coffee cup just as I ended my narrative.
    â€œNow you can say everything again,” she said, pouring. “John filters stories sometimes and I want the original.”
    So I repeated myself and when I was through she said, “Don’t these people you work for have names?”
    â€œThey do,” I said, “but I can’t tell you what they are. Call it client confidentiality.”
    â€œYou’re not a lawyer or a doctor, J.W. You can’t claim confidentiality.”
    â€œHow do you know I’m not a lawyer or a doctor? Maybe I’m just too modest to have mentioned it before.”
    â€œHa!”
    â€œMaybe I’ll tell you someday. Meanwhile, I’d like to have the contents of this can analyzed.”
    â€œWhy don’t you take it to the police?” asked John. “It seems to me that they’re the ones to do the test. If somebody’s trying to poison a cat, they should know about it.”
    â€œMy client doesn’t want the police involved.”
    â€œWhy not?” asked Mattie.
    â€œAsk my client.”
    â€œHow can we ask your client if we don’t know who your client is?”
    I smiled at her.
    John tapped his forefinger on the table. “Say, I think Sam Myers is driving up to the Kittery Trading Post today. I’ll bet I can get him to drop this off at Weststock on the way. All I have to do is tell him it’s a suspected poisoning. That’ll catch his interest.” He looked at his watch and got out of his chair. “I’ll call him and George right now and tell them the situation.”
    He went into the house and Mattie looked at me. “You’re infuriating sometimes,” she said.
    â€œAnd you’re gorgeous all the time,” I said. I tried fluttering my eyelashes, but all I got was a laugh.
    A while later John returned, smiling. “We’re in business,” he said.

5
    Carole Cohen worked at Gull Realty, one of the countless real estate companies that kept busy buying and selling property on the Vineyard. The two growth industries on the island were building mansions and selling property so more could be built; Carole was in the right profession.
    I found her in her office, poring over papers while she talked on the phone with a client. She waved a manicured hand at me and pointed to a chair. Her desk was piled with papers, many adorned with photos of houses, and her