Free A Vineyard Killing by Philip R. Craig

Haven–West Tisbury line.
    Maybe he was going shopping in Edgartown before he went home.
    But instead of going to Edgartown, he turned left on Airport Road and putted along toward the blinker. The pickup that had been between us went straight on, but a line of oncoming cars from Edgartown kept me from turning left and following the moped. When I finally managed it, John was far ahead and there were several cars between us.
    That would have been fine, but then one of the cars in front of me was held up by more oncoming traffic before making a left turn into the industrial park. By the time my line of cars got going again, John was out of sight.
    Blad dast it! When I’m king of the world I’m banning all left turns.
    When I finally got to the blinker John was still out of sight. I had three choices: right to Edgartown, where a cold-looking hitchhiker was trying to thumb a ride, left to Vineyard Haven, or straight ahead to Oak Bluffs. Since John could have gone to either Edgartown or Vineyard Haven by shorter routes than this one, I went toward Oak Bluffs, following Barnes Road.
    With me hurrying and John on a moped, I figured I should catch up with him, but John did not come into view.
    Hmmmm.
    I turned around at the fire department and drove back to the blinker. The hitchhiker was still there, looking colder than ever. I pulled over to him and stopped. He opened the door and got in.
    â€œThanks, buddy. I thought I was going to freeze my ass off out there.”
    â€œThe first rule of hitching is that nobody owes you a ride. How long have you been here?”
    â€œHalf hour, maybe.”
    â€œYou see a moped go by, coming from the airport?”
    â€œNah. Too cold for mopeds. Summer is moped time.”
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œEdgartown. I got a room there. Got to clear out of it in June, but it’s mine for now.”
    â€œI’ll take you to your door.”
    â€œWell, thanks, buddy. I appreciate that.”
    I drove him to his address, because I owed him that much, then went back to the blinker. Somewhere between there and the industrial park John Reilley had turned off. I turned into the Deer Run development and followed its various streets, seeing no sign of the moped. Then I drove back to Airport Road and drifted slowly along looking for driveways. There weren’t too many, but when I found one I took it: houses but no mopeds.
    A lot of the land was state forest that contained bicycle paths and fire lanes but few buildings of any kind. Had John driven off on one of those paths? I pulled over and stopped and looked down one as far as I could see.
    No John was in sight.
    Mysteriouser and mysteriouser.
    I checked my rearview mirror to make sure I wouldn’t get run over when I pulled back onto the road. Back there a quarter of a mile or so was what looked like a green Range Rover parked by the side of the road.
    I drove toward the Edgartown–West Tisbury road. The green Range Rover pulled onto the highway and followed along. I turned toward Edgartown and a bit later saw that the Range Rover had done the same.
    I had a tail.

10
    Just to be sure, I turned onto Metcalf Drive, drove a half mile or so, and stopped in front of a house. In jig time the Range Rover came around a corner behind me. It seemed to hesitate, then drove on by. The driver and passenger didn’t look at me, but I looked casually at them. They were both wearing ties.
    When the car was out of sight, I waited a few minutes, then drove on. Around the next corner I met it coming back. I gave it not a glance because I already had the license plate number and knew what the driver and passenger looked like. The plate was from Georgia.
    I wondered how long I’d been followed and why Saberfox was interested in me. The tail could have been there from the time I’d left home and I just hadn’t been paying attention. The first time I’d noticed a Range Rover was when I’d seen that one headed