I walked down the steps to the street and grabbed the front of the stroller to help Scoobie heft it up the steps to the boardwalk. "How come you brought the side-by-side stroller?"

  Leah piped up, "I like to sit next to my brother."

  Oddly, Lance said nothing.

  Scoobie stood behind the stroller so the kids couldn't see his expression or actions. He pointed down to Lance. "Somehow half a glass of orange juice found its way to one seat of the other stroller."

  The kids like the wide stroller so they can talk to each other. Its width makes it hard to maneuver in a crowd. Scoobie says it comes in handy as a bulldozer.

  I gave Scoobie an empathetic head shake. "We can take turns. I'll take them over to the salt water taffy place if you want to look around."

  The twins love the taffy machine, which turns a huge line of taffy in a continual figure eight formation. They especially enjoy watching Mr. Fitzpatrick change the candy's colors. Fortunately they don't like to eat the sticky stuff.

  We split up and Scoobie went to check out all of the booths. He had probably secured half of them. He's lived in Ocean Alley all his life and knows people from all walks of life. I've been here about six years, and most people I know are either through him and Aunt Madge, Harvest for All, or the appraisal business.

  The twins entertained people with their squeals of delight for about twenty minutes as they watched the constantly moving taffy stretcher. By that time, I could tell Kevin had tired of waving at them from inside the store and I had had enough of watching the circulating taffy. I put them back into the stroller and we made our way toward the piñata game.

  We had not gone far when a thin-faced man slowed his pace as he walked by us and glanced down at the twins. This happens many times a week, but there was something about his gaze that disturbed me. He lifted his eyes to mine and, without smiling, said, "Cute kids. I bet you keep a close eye on them."

  I said nothing until he had passed me and then turned and in a loud voice said, "A very close eye."

  I shut my eyes briefly to commit him to memory. His hair under a baseball cap looked black, and his skin had an olive tone. I guessed him to be about five-feet-eleven. His dark green corduroy sport jacket didn't go with either the temperature or the festive atmosphere.

  Running footsteps came from behind me. "Jolie, slow down."

  I turned to see Kevin panting slightly.

  As he reached us he turned his head. "I think that was the guy! The guy from her driveway."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I STARED AT KEVIN. “Are you sure?”

  Kevin’s nod was emphatic. “I know it is!”

  Leah said, "Hi Kevin."

  Lance ignored Kevin in favor of trying to grab a poodle's tail. Fortunately, he missed.

  “We have to call your uncle!"

  "I'm going to follow him." Kevin turned and jogged in the direction of the man with the baseball cap.

  I called after him, but Kevin didn't turn around. I pulled my phone from the pocket of my slacks and pushed the speed dial for Scoobie. He picked up, and I said, "We're in front of the souvenir shop a couple of doors down from the taffy place. I need you here."

  He was with us in less than thirty seconds and I relayed where Kevin had gone and why. He nodded and began jogging down the boardwalk in the same direction.

  I dialed Morehouse's cell phone. He answered as I turned the twins' stroller around to follow Scoobie. "I'm not sure if Kevin was correct, but he thinks he saw the man from Sandra's driveway. He went after him and now Scoobie is going after Kevin."

  "You at your boardwalk thing?"

  "Yes. They were going north from near the taffy place."

  Before the twins and I had gone half a block I could hear the sirens. We reached one of the staircases that led down to the street, but I couldn't take the stroller down by myself. Besides, they might still be on the boardwalk, or have used another set of steps.

  "We need grape popsicles," Lance announced.

  I looked up and down the boardwalk. "We'll try to find some when Daddy gets back. You might have to settle for grape snow cones."

  A police car pulled up on the street below, and Dana Johnson got out. She saw me and waved and came up the steps at a fast clip. "Have you seen them since you called Morehouse?"

  "No. I don't know if they're together or whether…" I pointed. Scoobie and Kevin came toward us. Relief surged through me. I hadn't realized how tense I felt until my shoulders relaxed.

  Leah clapped and Lance called, "We're getting grape popsicles, Daddy."

  I listened as Scoobie and Kevin described walking several blocks down the boardwalk without seeing the man, and deciding to return to me. My impression was that Scoobie had made the decision for them. I was surprised not so much at Kevin's insistence that it was the man he had seen outside Sandra's house as that he wanted to follow him.

  Dana jotted in a small notebook as she listened. When Kevin paused she asked, "I believe you are convinced, Kevin. But tell me why. You saw him briefly that night and it was dark. How can you be sure?"

  Kevin glanced around. People had paused as they walked by, and then passed us. One of the guys from the track team grew closer. "What's up Kevin? Get your pocket picked?"

  "Keep movin' Mahoney." Kevin looked again at Dana. "I saw him out the salt water taffy window. He looked at me in the place. He has this stare. It's like he's telling you to shut up with his eyes."

  Dana raised her eyebrows. "That's interesting. You gave us a description earlier, but you didn't work with a sketch artist. If we brought one in do you think you could do that?"

  Kevin shrugged as only a teenage boy can.

  Morehouse's police-issued Caprice screeched to a halt. I turned to Dana. "The man spoke to me as he walked by the twins and me. I might be able to help with a sketch." I relayed his description.

  Leah yelled, "We need to walk to the popsicles!"

  As Morehouse came up the steps, Scoobie took the handles of the stroller. He looked at Dana. "You know what I know. I've got to take the twins down to the ice cream place. And Jolie has a bunch of stuff to do here."

  I glanced at my watch. "Yikes it's almost time for the piñatas. I'm supposed to help keep the kids from swatting each other." I looked at Scoobie. "I'll follow you in two minutes."

  Morehouse strode toward us, every inch of him looking as if he wanted to punch someone. He studied Kevin. "You okay?"

  Kevin and Dana took turns saying what had happened. Then Dana nodded to me. "Jolie may have had the best look at the guy."

  "I told Dana what he looks like, and later today or tomorrow I can come down to your office if you call me. But I need to get down to the other end of the boardwalk."

  A less tense-looking Morehouse said, "I'm okay with that. I think Kevin and I will drive around to see if we can spot this guy."

  "Good deal." I turned and walked rapidly toward the kiddie ride area. I felt relieved that Kevin would be with his uncle. I also wanted to find Terry to tell him what had happened. If the man actually was in the area, I didn't want him and Kevin looking for the guy. I wanted them at our house or Kevin's place.

  Several people called to me and I waved or said hello, but I kept moving. I did stop briefly at the bake sale table and gave Aunt Madge a fifteen second summary of the last few minutes. "If you see Terry, tell him to find me."

  She passed a cupcake to a teenage girl. "He's already at the piñata game."

  I grinned at the button she sported. ‘This is experience working.’ People could ask her about it, but she wasn’t being overtly political at a charity event.

  A man called, “Afternoon, Jolie.”

  Jack Borman didn’t stop. Instead, he moved through the crowd, introducing himself, and shaking hands. I caught snatches of what he said. “Beautiful accommodations. Indoor and outdoor pools.”

  “He thinks he’s God’s gift to Ocean Alley,” I said.

  Aunt Madge shrugged. “Except to me. He’s gone by several times and doesn’t say hello. I think I’m supposed to be insulted.”

  I grinned. “Lucky you.”

  I went to the ice cream window, where Scoobie was explaining to the twins that no popsicles were for sale today, only ice cream or snow cones. "You need help or do you want to catch up by the piñatas?"

  He grinned. "We're good. I'm going to let them out of the stroller to eat and then walk down to find you."

  I saw a man in a baseball cap, but it wasn’t the thin-faced man. I drew a breath. Stay smiling, stay in charge. “Aretha says you have to do the cha-cha lessons.”

  His eyebrows went up and down. “Ooh la la.”

  I laughed and headed toward the first round of piñata swatting, already underway. Megan, Alicia, and Clark seemed to have the kids fairly well organized. Max proudly held several sticks, waiting to pass them to kids.

  We had agreed that each child could have one minute to blindly swing the bat. Since this was a group of younger kids, I doubted any would have the strength to actually break the paper maché donkey.

  We announced in advance that if no one broke the piñata, one of the adults would smash it and the kids could scramble for the goodies. Since the piñata's contents were of more interest than the swatting, at least for most kids, I figured it should go smoothly.

  I glanced around for Terry. He must have gone from the piñata game area to another part of the boardwalk.

  I allowed myself to take a breath and then grabbed a seat on the bench next to Sylvia Parrett, our longest-serving Harvest for All board member. A couple of years ago, a very proper Sylvia would have thought the event was either too loud or too messy. Today she looked as if she was having a great time. "How long have they been at this?"

  "Hi Jolie. Close to ten minutes, I think. I saw you with the twins earlier."

  "Scoobie has them. They're getting ice cream. I hope he has enough wipes."

  Sylvia has been treasurer for almost four years. Sometimes her precision drives me crazy, but I wouldn't want the job.

  "How much did we make in booth fees?" I asked.

  "Some people paid more than the basic fee, as a donation. So almost $900. She nodded to herself. "Between the retail donations, raffles, and donations to play a couple of games, I bet we hit $10,000."

  "I hope you're right." My eyes traveled throughout the crowd, continuing to search for the thin-faced man in the ball cap. What would have been his point in coming here? Was he trying to scare Kevin? It made no sense. Now more people knew what he looked like.

  His remark about keeping an eye on the twins really bothered me. They are never more than a couple of feet from either of us, unless we're at the playground, which is fenced in. Still, if he had connected me to Kevin and wanted to frighten me, it worked.

  A glance down the boardwalk revealed Scoobie pushing the stroller, following the twins who walked ahead of it. I tapped Sylvia on the shoulder. "I'm going to join Scoobie in corralling the kids."

  She didn't take her eyes off the piñata swatting. "Good luck."

  I walked toward them and stopped when I reached them. Lance held up his hands, palms toward me. “Grape hands.”

  “Do they taste good?”

  He licked a palm and made a face. “No.”

  Leah seemed to be fading. “Push me Daddy.”

  He lifted her into the stroller and she put her head on its food tray.

  Lance looked as if he was about to make a dash for the poodle we’d seen earlier. I picked him up. “Are you a tired boy?”

  He yawned. “No, Mommy.”

  I patted him on the back and he rested his head on my shoulder. “Maybe you should take them you-know-where.”

  Scoobie shook his head. “George and Ramona can watch them for a couple minutes. I think I can win the cha cha contest.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BETWEEN THE FUNDRAISER AND the man who commented about keeping an eye on the twins, Saturday had been crazy. We needed some calm time.

  Sunday morning, we trundled the twins to church. They like the toddler babysitting room, with its brightly colored walls and three boxes of toys. After the service, we had donuts and coffee with Madge and Harry. Since no jelly donuts were available, the twins stayed clean.

  Reverend Jamison circulated and eventually made it to our table. He shook his head toward Scoobie. “Sorry you didn’t win the cha cha contest.”

  Scoobie grinned. “Incentive for next year.”

  Jamison turned to Aunt Madge. “How are you holding up, Madge?”

  “Even when I’m sad or mad,” she gestured to the twins with her head, “I’m always fine.”

  Harry added, “And we’re so busy with her campaign, we probably don’t think of Sandra enough.”

  Jamison’s gaze fell on me. “You pulled off another one, Jolie. Thanks so much.”

  “Scoobie got most of the vendors and community organization booths,” I said. “Everybody pitched in.”

  Scoobie and I shared a look, and he said, “Jolie is so tired she thinks it’s Tuesday, so we’re good.”

  “Hey.” I threw a wadded napkin at him.

  “No throwing,” Leah said.

  Jamison stooped so he was eye-level with the twins in their booster seats. “Did you have fun on the boardwalk yesterday?”

  “I burped grape snow cone,” Lance said.

  “I picked candy off the ground,” Leah added. “From the paper donkey's bottom.”

  SCOOBIE TOOK THE KIDS to the food pantry to sort cans, and I headed for the grocery store. When I got back to the house, Terry and Kevin had made sandwiches and stationed themselves in front of the television. Any house feels small with two teenage boys parked in the middle of a room.

  “Hi guys. A little R&R before Sunday afternoon homework.?”

  Terry turned his head toward me. “Jolie. What did we say about embarrassing me in front of my friends?”

  I laughed and so did they.

  Kevin looked behind me. “Where are Scoobie and the twins?”

  I sat my two sacks of groceries on a table.

  “You have more to carry in?” Terry asked.

  “No, thanks. They’re at Harvest for All. Scoobie is helping sort some of the donations from this weekend. We have a little gated area for the kids.”

  “Aren’t they kind of big for something like that?” Kevin asked.

  “They could easily get out. There are hundreds of things that could fall from the shelves onto their heads, so the deal is if they play in there they get a Happy Meal later.”

  “Lucky kids,” Kevin said, and turned back to the television.

  I headed to the kitchen, put groceries away, and took a pound of hamburger from the back of the fridge. I planned to make spaghetti.

  Kevin came into the kitchen as I turned on the stove to cook the meat. He sat at the table.

  “Jolie, do you think that man will come back?”

  I didn’t want to give him a response meant only to be comforting. “My guess is he wanted you to see him so he’d know if you recognized him. Now he knows you do…”

  “You think he’ll come back?”

  “It wouldn’t make sense.”

  Kevin sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward. “Why not? He could figure out where I hang out.”

  I talked fast so he didn’t interrupt. “But at this point, he has to know that not only do you know who he is, but I do. We’ve described him to the police and they issued some vague ‘person of interest’ statement yesterday evening. I heard it on the car radio. If harm were to come to you, he’d be the first suspect.”

  “Huh.” Kevin took an apple from the bowl on the table. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “So far, no one seems to recognize him from that description, I doubt he lives in Ocean Alley. He knows not to come back.”

  “I could see him somewhere else. He wouldn’t like that.”

  I concentrated on breaking up the hamburger and using a spatula to turn it in the pan. “If he is some kind of criminal, he might change his appearance so you don’t recognize him. Then you're no threat to him and he won't bother you.”

  He stood. “I bet he does, like, dye his hair or something.”

  Terry stuck his head in the doorway. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

  Kevin left the kitchen and started toward the front door. Over his shoulder he called, “Thanks, Jolie.”

  I met Terry’s gaze, and he mouthed “thank you” before he followed Kevin.

  THE MONDAY PAPER ALWAYS has a huge article, complete with a photo spread, about any Harvest for All fundraiser. Everyone whose picture was in it, or knew someone with a picture, wants a copy. The paper prints extras.

  I tried to look at some of the many shots while I cut up bananas for the twins to eat in the van. Scoobie and I had decided he should follow us to the daycare for a couple of days, to be sure no one was scoping us out, as he said.

  The earliest drop-off was seven-thirty, so when Scoobie drove on to work, the twins and I would sit in the parking lot for thirty minutes. I had two wet washcloths in plastic bags plus clean shirts, in case the bananas ended up smeared on a twin. Or when they did.

  As I was about to fold the paper shut, a color photo of one of Aunt Madge’s signs drew my attention. “Oh, damn.”

  Scoobie walked in with Leah riding piggyback. “What?”

  I pointed. “Did Aunt Madge put up the signs herself, or her volunteers?”

  “Volunteers, I guess. Uh oh.”

  In the middle of the page was one of the off-message signs Scoobie had made. “Madge for Boss. Do What She Says.”

  AFTER DROPPING OFF THE TWINS at daycare, I drove to the Popsicle District to appraise a cottage that Lester had written a contract on for a ridiculously high price. He advertises occasionally in a neighborhood paper in New York City. There he finds wealthy people who have no idea about the true value of houses in Ocean Alley. He convinces them to make ludicrous offers for houses that Lester has listed too high.