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to try to keep up with Josh Shadowbrook. You know what I
don’t under-stand, babe? How did two sensible, reasonable, rational
people end up with a daredevil son?”
    Price slipped her arm into his. “I told you.
Josh believes every one of his dad’s books. He intends to live just
like your heroes do.”
    “He should read Fox Island. That should calm him down some. I
still haven’t captured a heartbeat for this place. But there might
be something to all the Prohibition-era guests that stayed at the
Longhouse.”
    “You think it was a West Coast organized
crime retreat center?”
    “I guess I’m hoping it was. In the old days
it was fairly simple to smuggle goods into the Sound. Lots of fog.
Lots of islands. Lots of harbors. What about your trip with
Melody?”
    “Doesn’t look too good about getting the
interview with Jessica Davenport. I find out she’s really ticked at
Melody for renting the house to us.”
    “Great.”
    “The whole family seems dysfunctional,
bordering on tragic. She’s an identical twin, you know.”
    “Melody?”
    “No, her grandmother.”
    “Mr. Shadowbrook!”
    Tony shaded his eyes toward the dock. A
tall, thin woman with a black hat, black silk stirrup pants and
heels approached them. A wide silver bracelet above the elbow
reflected darts of sun rays. A squat, balding man with a yellow bow
tie followed behind, munching pretzels in the shape of Mount
Rainier. She held out her hand. “I’m Sheila Lenore from Bellevue.
This is my Richard. He’s in enviro-safe sludge removal.”
    Without a glance at Price, she huddled
close to Tony, like a vulture moving in on its prey. “Could I get
you to sign my copy of Shotgun
Creek? Just put, ‘To my good friend Sheila, love
Tony.’ I read all of your books, and I have to say Shotgun Creek is my favorite. I
especially like the way you bring Jake and that Indian girl ...
What’s her name?”
    “Tukawa.”
    “Their little scene up in that aspen
grove... oh, my, makes my heart flutter just to think of it.
Doesn’t it, Richard?”
    “Yes, dear. It sort of reminded me of when
we were on the cruise to...”
    “Thank you so much, Anthony. You know, I
once stood in line for three hours to get John Grisham’s autograph.
This is much easier, isn’t it, Richard?”
    “A trifle, yes. Of course, Grisham was in
New York and it was...”
    “Well, I’ll leave you alone. Who did you say
this young lady was? Is she related to you?”
    “Yes, she is.” Tony slipped his arm around
Price’s shoulder.
    “Oh, my, I’ll bet you are very proud of your
father, dear.”
    She dawdled toward the clubhouse as Richard
turned back to whisper, “Keep writing those books. It keeps her
busy.”
    Tony shook his head as they disappeared.
“Sometimes I wonder who I’m really writing these westerns for.”
    Price held a cup of ice to her forehead. “I
think she was a delightful woman, with quite a discerning eye.”
    “That’s not the first time someone’s called
you my daughter. Makes me feel like a lecherous old man... or an
extremely lucky one. Now, tell me more about Mrs. Davenport.”
    “Mrs. Reynolds. That’s her married name.
Jessica and her identical twin sister, Jill, were born and raised
right here on Fox Island.”
    “Identical twins. That would be different.
Do you think we’d have gotten two like Kathy or two like Kit?”
    “Two Kits, and I certainly wouldn’t look
nearly so young, Mr. S. Anyway, as Melody tells it, Jill and
Jessica always dressed identical. They were the darlings of the
Island folks in the twenties and thirties. They were co-queens of
the Fox Island Fair and Pageant from 1932 to 1941. That’s when
Jessica did most of her paintings.
    “I did learn something very fascinating. You
know how most of them are ‘Two Girl...’ paintings?”
    “What do you mean?” Tony asked.
    “The titles. ‘Two Girls in a Mirror,’ ‘Two
Girls at the Lake,’ ‘Two Girls Shopping.’ There’s always a full
view of one girl and her