Fox Island Read Online Free PDF Page B

at the market. I’ll call
Josh from the pay phone.”
    “Melody said her grandmother wasn’t up to an
interview. I guess she even got hostile about it.”
    “Oh, brother. We aren’t going to get a
Jessica Davenport scoop?”
    “Not today. Melody figures sometime in the
next few weeks it will work out. Her grandmother sort of bounces in
and out of reality.”
    “Don’t we all?” Price dug in her purse and
pulled out her car keys.
    The phone rang again from the deck
railing.
    “That will be WBAC,” Tony said.
    “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    “Tell Josh I’ll talk to him later. Find out
what doctor he went to. Maybe we can find out what really
happened.”
    “Answer your phone. Your public is waiting.”
Price blew him a kiss.
    “Hello, Tony Shadowbrook here.”
    A male voice on the other end startled him.
“Tony! Man, am I glad I finally caught you.”
    “Are you with WBAC in Boston?”
    “No, I’m your stepping-stone to incredible
fame.”
    “If you’re selling something, we’re
definitely not interested. I either already have it, or don’t want
it. I’m really busy.”
    “Wait, this is Terry Davidian.”
    “Who?”
    “Terry Davidian of Terrance Davidian and
Associates. I talked to your son and daughter last week.”
    “Son and daughter?”
    “I was at your house in Scottsdale. I guess
I just missed you. Kathy and Kit, if I remember.”
    “Daughters. They’re both girls.”
    “Oh, my, well, one was, eh, one was under
the car. There was grease and...”
    “No problem. Look, Davidson, I need...”
    “Davidian. Terry Davidian. Formerly with
Michael Ovitz.”
    “Davidian, I’m scheduled for a radio
interview right now. I’ll have to call you back.”
    “I’m on the road, so let me call you. I’m
just north of Portland... driving up 1-5... how about us doing
lunch on Fox Island? You name the restaurant and I’ll meet you
there.”
    “No restaurants on this Island, Davidian.
Besides, I have a previous commitment. Maybe you ought to talk to
my publicist. Her name is Liz....”
    “No, no, no! Tony, my main man, I didn’t
drive over twelve hundred miles to talk to a publicist. This is
big, real big. I’ll check back with you later. Save me some time in
your afternoon schedule.”
    “Yeah, right.”
     
     
    Tony pecked at his laptop computer on
top the redwood table, the cordless phone on the bench beside him.
He flipped through the pages of a locally published book
entitled How the U.S. Government Covered
Up a Japanese Submarine Invasion of Fox Island, written by a man named Harvey Peterson, who claimed the
credentials of “Supreme Commander of the Fox Island Chain Saw
Militia.” As far as Tony could determine, they had a membership of
one.
    The guy ought to be writing headlines for
tabloid rag sheets. Who read this boring stuff? Surely no one
believed it. But he probably sold more copies than Tony’s latest
novel. Why did writing with integrity never sell as well as
garbage? They kept telling Tony if he’d write his stories to be
more violent, sexy, and vulgar he’d sell more copies. But his goal
was to write the last, decent bestseller that could be read aloud
to a sixth grade class without shame. Maybe after the River Breaks
series, he’d do a historical saga to end all sagas.
    Minutes later he stared across the waters of
Carr Inlet. He could faintly hear water sloshing and bubbling
against the driftwood and beach. An acrid vegetable smell stung
him, like stewed chard, pot herbs, and rancid sea plants.
    “Radio! Where is that interview?” He punched
familiar numbers into the phone. “Liz? Tony here.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Fox Island.”
    “You’re supposed to be on the radio.”
    “That’s what I thought. They never called.
Check it out for me, would you?”
    “I confirmed it with LaPointe yesterday.
Don’t go away. I’ll see what’s happening.”
    “Hey, do you know an agent named Terrance or
Terry Davidian?”
    “Book agent?”
    “Movie