12

He froze.

His first thought was that it might be the police coming back. He’d been lucky this morning, but perhaps his luck was running out. If they threw him into the pokey again, how could he get off the island? He had to get on that 1:45 ferry, had to be seen boarding it, had to be in Providence by 5:00. If this was the police …

Hastily, he thrust the tobacco pouch into his trousers pocket. The car was closer now. He walked quickly to the table with the paint rags, unscrewed the cap on a bottle of turpentine, and poured it liberally onto his hand. He was wiping off the remaining traces of the red paint when the car pulled up. It was not a police car. He rolled down his sleeve, strapped on his watch, and calmly stepped off the front porch.

The girl in the car was Anne Dubrow.

She got out of the car, her short black hair tight against her head, the sea-green eyes alert. She walked stiffly erect, the way her mother did, a woman of purpose.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“We rent this house to the Clouds,” Anne said. “After what happened …” She shrugged. “I imagine we’ll be looking for new tenants. I came to inspect the place.”

“Is that why you came?” Zach asked.

“Yes. You sound as if you don’t believe me.”

“What’s there not to believe?” Zach said.

“You’re a funny guy. And I don’t mean funny haha.”

“Am I?”

“Your wife drowned, okay. Stop acting as if everybody on the Vineyard held her head under water.”

“Maybe somebody on the Vineyard did,” Zach said.

“Sure. And maybe I’m a Martian who—”

“My wife was a high school swimming champ,” Zach said. “She went down to the beach three hours after breakfast, and she’d never had a cramp in the water in all the time I’d known her.”

“The currents in Menemsha Bight are tricky,” Anne said.

“That’s what they told me last year. But I’m beginning to think a lot more than the currents are tricky.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning somebody may have held her head under water.”

“If you believe that, why don’t you go to the police?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to look around,” Zach said.

“For what?”

“What would I be looking for?”

Anne’s eyes did not leave his face. Shrewdly, they studied him. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’m asking you.”

Zach shrugged.

“Where’s your daughter?” Anne asked. Her eyes were still narrowed. Suspiciously, she watched him.

“On the mainland.”

“Where?”

“Don’t you know?”

If he had intended to trap her, he was sadly disappointed.

“How would I know?” she asked, her eyes wide now.

“I thought everybody knew everything about everybody on the Vineyard.”

“If you dislike it so much,” Anne said, “why the hell don’t you go back where you came from?”

“You’ve been trying to get me to do that since the moment I arrived,” he said. “Relax. I’m leaving on the 1:45 boat. You can give the damn cottage to your Mr. Carpenter.”

“Are you kidding?” Anne asked.

“I’m dead serious.”

“But you paid for the cottage,” she said.

“Oh? You’re sure about that now?”

“I called Mother in Boston last night. She said you’d wired her the money, and she said Pete Rambley was a fool.”

“That sounds like your mother,” Zach said.

“Well, if Mr. Carpenter takes the house, I’ll refund your $500,” Anne said. “That’s the least I can do.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me since I got here,” Zach said.

Anne’s face softened. “It’s not a bad place,” she told him. “It gets very dreary in the winter, but it’s not a bad place. I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“I suppose I prejudiced myself against it,” he said, watching her face. “I was in the Air Corps during the war, and I understand the Air Force is moving into the island.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Don’t you know about it?”

“About what?”

“They’re installing a Nike-launching site. I thought everybody knew that.” He watched her carefully.

Anne Dubrow stared at him blankly. “A what launching site?”

“Nike,” he said.

“A night-key-launching site? What’s that?”

“Nike,” he repeated. “It’s a guided missile with a warhead. Haven’t you ever heard of the Nike rocket?”

“No.” She thought about it for a moment. “I don’t see why it should have disturbed you, anyway. You’re a funny guy. Nike.” She shrugged. “You must have really disliked the Air Corps.”

“I wouldn’t go back into it for forty-five-thousand dollars,” he said.

Anne laughed lightly. “Maybe you are funny haha. Maybe we hicks don’t appreciate your humor.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “Well, I’ll be running along now. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“All I’m looking for are damages we’ll have to repair before we rent again. That’s all.”

“How about the money?” he said.

Anne blinked. “What money?”

He hesitated before answering her. Her eyes looked completely guileless, but he could not be certain. “My five hundred dollars,” he said. “Will you know where to send it?”

Again she laughed. “I admire a cold-hearted businessman,” she said. “Where do you want me to send it?”

“Resignac Broadcasting in New York,” he told her.

He went to the car and started it. Anne Dubrow walked onto the front porch, looked briefly at the paint cans, and then went into the house.

“Night key,” he murmured, and drove off.