Free Dead in Vineyard Sand by Philip R. Craig Page B

really. Dom just wanted to go over some old stuff again. You know how cops are. They like to be sure of things.”
    â€œI phoned Norman Aylward. We have an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon.”
    â€œFine,” I said. “I’m sure we won’t need his help, but it won’t hurt to let him know what’s going on.”
    â€œGood. I’ll feel a lot better if Norman’s working for us.” Zee kissed me and went back to the stove.
    I went into the bedroom and dug a phone book out of the drawer in the bedside table. There, right where it should be, was a telephone number and a West Tisbury address for Marty and Joanne Homlish. I then looked for Annie Duarte, but although there were a lot of Duartes on Martha’s Vineyard, there was no Annie listed. No matter; I could find her when I needed to. While I was at it, I looked for a Henry Highsmith, and found only one. He had lived off Middle Road in Chilmark. Two hits in three tries. If the noose I felt around my neck didn’t start loosening soon, I’d know where to begin unknotting it.

10
    â€œPa.”
    â€œWhat, Joshua?”
    Zee had already left for work, but the kids and I were still eating blueberry pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast.
    â€œHave you decided about the rope bridge?”
    The rope bridge. My mind might be filled with Highsmith thoughts, but my children were thinking about Tarzan’s tree house. Which subject was most important? Actually, I’d spent some time planning a possible rope bridge. My musings about Highsmith’s body had shunted those plans aside, but now Joshua and Diana had brought them back. What we adults consider real life often commands our attention, but sometimes children’s fancy must reign.
    In fact, my children’s lives were as real to them as mine was to me, and their happiness was at least as important as mine. It was clear that my Highsmith worries and plans were intruding upon my parental pleasures and duties, so I pushed them away. They didn’t go far or go easily, but they did withdraw a bit.
    â€œYour mother and I have talked about it,” I said. “After breakfast we can take a look outside and I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”
    Diana licked syrup from her lips. “Good, Pa. If we have a rope bridge we can have fun all summer!”
    â€œYou have fun all summer anyway.”
    â€œYes, but this will be even funner!” She grinned her miniature Zee grin and stuffed another forkful of pancake into her sticky mouth.
    So, after I’d washed and stacked the breakfast dishes, we went out into the warm summer morning.
    The tree house we’d built up in our big beech was very popular with Joshua and Diana and most of their friends, and so far nobody had broken any bones falling out of it. There was a ladder leading up to it through a trapdoor in the floor of its porch, so if you were attacked you could shut the door and keep the bad guys out, and there was a rope you could use to swing down to the ground. The porch was in front of the main room and there were two smaller rooms on adjoining branches so the kids could have places of their own. It’s important to have a room of one’s own, as well as a common room for group activity.
    Zee and I had occasionally accepted an invitation to spend a family night in the tree house, but even the main room was a bit too small for us to stretch out, and though we’d used air mattresses along with our sleeping bags, we didn’t sleep well.
    â€œFirst,” I said now, “we’re not going to have a bridge that leads to the balcony. The balcony is for big people, and if we have that kind of bridge, you guys will use it even if you don’t think you should because what good’s a bridge unless you can use it?”
    â€œWe thought of another place it could go, Pa.”
    â€œWhere, Joshua?”
    â€œThere,” said Diana, pointing. “Over to that