Free A Deadly Vineyard Holiday by Philip R. Craig Page A

okay. Mom says it’s okay if you say it’s okay, cousin Jeff. So, say it’s okay. Please!” She clasped her hands in a parody of prayer.
    I had to smile.
    â€œNo,” said Karen, shaking her head. “I can’t take the risk.”
    â€œYou’re just my bodyguard,” cried Debby. “You’re not my boss!”
    I pointed a forefinger at Debby. “You stay here.” Then I hooked the same finger at Karen and said, “Let’s go outside and have a chat.”
    Out in the yard, we paused, and Karen said, “What’s this all about?”
    I looked at her dark form and could almost see the anger in her. Then I told her about Burt Phillips.
    When I was through, she said, “And Walt Pomerlieu thinks it might have something to do with Cricket being here at this house?”
    â€œHe said he’d have to presume that.”
    â€œMe, too,” said Karen, turning and looking out into the darkness. “We won’t tell Debby about this. There’s no point in alarming her.”
    â€œThat’s up to you. In any case, I think it might be smart if you change your mind about spending the night at John and Mattie Skye’s place. If you go right now, nobody will know where Debby is, and she should be perfectly safe. Tomorrow, when it’s daylight again, we may be able to see things more clearly.”
    She hesitated. “How well do you know the Skyes?”
    â€œWell enough to send Debby to them, and then some.”
    â€œI don’t like any of this. I should call Walt.”
    â€œHe’s calling here later tonight. I’ll give him the news. Meanwhile, the fewer people who know about this, the better. The president and his wife know where she is.”
    â€œThe president and his wife don’t know much about security.” She stared into the dark forest. “I gave up cigarettes a couple of years ago. I wish I had one right now.”
    I was feeling jumpy and impatient. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œSure you do,” I said. “You and Walt Pomerlieu and Ted and Joan are all nervous as cats in a dog pound. It’s probably normal for people in your line of work to be on the lookout for trouble, but you’re all way beyond that stage. There’s something specific that’s bothering you, and since I’ve got Debby here, and since this Burt Phillips stuff has you all turned inside out, I think I should know what’s got you spooked. What is it?”
    She shook her head. “Nothing you need worry about. All you have to do here is be the good host. Leave the rest of it to us.” She sounded as chippy as I felt.
    â€œI’ll tell you what I think,” I said. “I think that there’s a very particular threat against the president or his family, and I think it’s tied to this island. I think you think that somebody right here on the Vineyard is plotting something bad, and I don’t think you’ve got a handle on it yet.”
    â€œYou’re imagining things,” said Karen.
    â€œI’m not imagining that Burt’s got himself murdered, and that the trees up where it happened are probably full of federal agents. What’s going on?”
    â€œI think you’d better talk to Walt about this.”
    â€œYou mean there is something to talk about?”
    â€œYou talk to Walt. If we’re going to spend the night with the Skyes, we’d better get going.” When she stepped into the screened porch, Debby met her and got the good news.
    â€œOh, thank you, cousin Jeff!” said Debby, smiling.
    â€œThank Karen, not me.”
    â€œOh, thank you, dear sister, without whom I could not survive!” She gave Karen a kiss.
    â€œPack your bag,” Karen smiled, “and we’ll hit the road.”
    When they were both in the car, I leaned against the driver’s