Indian Pipes (2 page)

Together, Victoria and Elizabeth walked back to the car. Victoria held her lilac stick tightly, not because she needed it, but because it comforted her.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference if we’d left Hiram’s earlier,” Elizabeth said into her grandmother’s silence. “Even if we hadn’t stayed to hear his talk about politics and casinos, we couldn’t have saved the guy.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough who he was.” Victoria brushed sand off the car seat and sat on the edge, her feet on the ground. “Phew! I didn’t realize how long I’d been standing.” She faced out into the dark night. “That poor man.”

Around them figures passed in front of the fire truck and the ambulance. Victoria heard subdued voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Objects strobed in and out of view, illuminated briefly by flashing lights that came from every direction.

Elizabeth turned the key, and the car started up with a rattle. “I wonder how the
Island Enquirer
will report this. The newspaper wants visitors to think Martha’s Vineyard is an idyllic retreat, that accidents and deaths and casino plans don’t exist.”

Victoria lifted her long legs into the car and shut the door.

Elizabeth went on. “According to the paper, we don’t have any crime. No arguments. No poor people. No racial tension. No political scummery…”

“I’m not sure scummery is a word,” Victoria said, stowing the lilac-wood stick behind her.

Elizabeth backed out of the parking spot. When they’d arrived, theirs was the only car. Now the parking area was full of emergency vehicles and villagers who’d heard over the scanner about the man who’d fallen off the cliffs. Elizabeth’s car headlights shone on a police officer who had materialized at the pedestrian crossing.

Victoria rolled down her window. “Have you seen Hiram Pennybacker?” she asked the officer.

“He left quite a while ago, Mrs. Trumbull,” she answered. “Right after I got here.”

On the main road heading toward West Tisbury and home, neither Victoria nor Elizabeth spoke for some time. The curvy road skirted fields and meadows held in with stone fences, hidden now in darkness. Their lights picked up a deer by the side of the road, its eyes bright, tensed to leap. Elizabeth slowed, and the deer turned and bounded back over a stone wall.

“I can’t imagine how he could have fallen,” Victoria said finally. “Everybody from the Island knows how to get to the bottom of the cliffs safely.”

“Maybe he got dizzy or lost his balance,” Elizabeth said. She switched on the high beam, and the fog turned into a dazzling white wall. She dimmed the lights again and the wall receded.

“But you don’t go straight down the cliffs. Everybody knows that.” Victoria opened the window a crack and the sound of the night came in. She lifted her great nose to smell the salt air, the last hay crop, sun-dried and baled in fields they couldn’t see, wet wool as they passed sheep grazing on the hill that overlooked the Atlantic.

“The way to the foot of the cliffs is down that gully,” Victoria continued. “It’s steep, but you wouldn’t kill yourself if you fell. You’d slide to the bottom.”

“No one’s supposed to climb on the cliffs.”

“We climbed all over them when we were children,” Victoria said. “We’d smear clay on our bodies and pretend we were Indians.”

“Native Americans,” said Elizabeth.

“We’d bring the clay home,” Victoria went on, “and make ashtrays. You had to be clever not to mix up all the different colors into a muddy-looking creation. Everybody had ashtrays then.”

As they left Aquinnah, the rugged hills eased into flatter land, the road straightened, and the fog thinned.

“Did Hiram know who the man was?” Victoria asked.

“I couldn’t tell. He had a funny look on his face when he came back up the cliff with the stretcher bearers.”

Victoria was quiet for a moment. “He was undoubtedly upset about the man being badly hurt.”

“It was more than that,” said Elizabeth. “He seemed upset about something else. I got the impression that he wasn’t surprised at finding that man.”

They dipped into the valley that marked the West Tisbury town line, passed the gas station and the old Grange Hall, Town Hall, and the church.

“You remember how Hiram was telling us about the tribe’s plans for a casino, Gram?”

Victoria nodded. “Hiram is tedious with his talk about town politics and gambling casinos. I don’t want to hear another word about either.”

“We’re going to hear a lot more before it’s over,” Elizabeth said. “If the tribe gets approval for a casino, it’s going to change the Island forever.”

“There’s nothing wrong with change.”

“Surely you don’t approve of a gambling casino at Aquinnah, do you Gram?”

“The Gay Head Indians…” Victoria started to say.

Elizabeth winced. “Grammy, it’s Aquinnah now, and they’re not Indians, they’re Native Americans.”

“They have a right to use their land any way they see fit. The Gay Head Indians are a sovereign nation and can set their own rules.”

“Not for a casino,” said Elizabeth. “The town’s got zoning regulations.”

“If the tribe decides that’s what they need, it’s their business.” Victoria emphasized her words.

Elizabeth slowed and turned in between the two granite fence posts that marked Victoria’s driveway.

“I can just imagine you at the casino, Gram, playing the slots.” Victoria laughed. “Probably so.”

C
HAPTER
2

By the next morning, the fog had vanished, dispelled by bright sunlight. Victoria was eating her breakfast in the cookroom, a small room off the kitchen.

Elizabeth had not yet come downstairs. It seemed such a short time ago, Victoria mused, that her granddaughter had come to stay with her. Temporarily, Elizabeth had said. She’d needed a week or two of peace and quiet. Elizabeth was still here, divorced, and with a full-time job. And now Victoria, who had always cherished her solitude, couldn’t imagine life without her lanky, sunny granddaughter.

When the phone rang, the sound startled her.

“This is Hiram, Victoria.”

“Where did you disappear to last night?”

“No reason to stay after the body was recovered. Will you be around for a while?”

“I have errands to do. I’m eating breakfast now.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

“Wait, Hiram. Don’t hang up yet. You knew the man who was killed, didn’t you?”

“I knew him, all right.” She heard him puff on his pipe. “It was that neighbor of yours, the engineer. I was telling you about him yesterday.”

“You can’t mean Jube Burkhardt?”

“Afraid so.”

Victoria pushed her cereal dish aside. “Well,” she said into the silence. “That makes a difference, doesn’t it.”

“I need to talk to you right away.”

“I don’t have much time, Hiram,” said Victoria, thinking of his seamless monologues.

“This won’t take long.”

Victoria sighed and set the phone back in its cradle. Just then Elizabeth appeared, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“Did you know Jube Burkhardt?” Victoria asked, after she’d greeted her granddaughter.

“Just by sight,” Elizabeth said. “Why?”

“He was the man on the cliffs last night.”

“That’s weird. Hiram was talking about him last night. I wasn’t paying attention, to tell the truth. Was Jube a friend of yours?”

Victoria shook her head. “Not really. He was a bit of a recluse. I knew his mother quite well, though. As children, we liked to play in the barn loft where his grandfather stored hay.” Victoria carried her breakfast dishes to the sink. “Hiram is coming by in a few minutes.”

“Would you like me to make blueberry muffins?”

“Good idea. Keep his mouth full.”

Elizabeth laughed. While she mixed batter and poured it into muffin tins, she and her grandmother talked about Jube.

“He lived right on the pond, didn’t he?” Elizabeth asked.

Victoria nodded. “In the old Mitchell place, his family house.”

The muffins were still baking when Hiram drove up. He parked his van under the maple tree, and Victoria could see him knocking ashes out of his pipe on the sole of his boot.

He paused at the kitchen door and sniffed. “Morning, Victoria, Elizabeth. Something smells good.”

Victoria led the way into the cookroom and waited until Hiram had seated himself. “What did you need to see me about, Hiram, Jube Burkhardt’s death?”

Hiram nodded. “That, but something else as well.”

“It’s hard to believe Jube could have fallen from the top of the cliffs and then crawled all the way back up to where I saw him.”

“I agree.” Hiram clasped his hands on the table and studied them. “I told you, didn’t I, that Jube attended the tribal council meeting the day before yesterday?”

“To report on his soil tests, you said.”

“Tests for a septic system, actually. Four members of the tribe and Burkhardt were at the meeting.”

Elizabeth brought in mugs of coffee and a basket of hot muffins, and sat across from her grandmother.

Hiram smiled and helped himself. After he’d buttered his muffin and taken a large bite, Victoria asked him about the meeting. “Who was there besides Jube?”

Hiram patted his mouth with his napkin. “Chief Hawkbill, of course. He’s only a figurehead now that Patience VanDyke is chairman. She was there and so was that assistant of hers, Peter Little.”

“And the fourth person?” asked Victoria.

“Obed VanDyke, the fisherman.”

“He’s Patience’s first cousin,” said Victoria.

Hiram nodded. “Dojan Minnowfish would have been there, but he’s still in Washington.”

“The first time I saw Dojan, he practically scared me to death,” said Elizabeth. “He looked like something out of a horror movie.”

“It’s all an act,” said Hiram.

“When is he due back on-Island?” Victoria asked.

“Not before Christmas.”

“From everything I hear, he seems to be a capable tribal representative,” Victoria said.

“The federal government certainly accepts him.” Hiram wiped his mouth. “He fits right in with government insanity.”

“I suppose he goes to work barefoot,” Elizabeth said, “with that feather stuck in his hair?”

Hiram grunted. “Burkhardt told me that Obed got into a squabble with Patience. She’s applying for a federal grant for the tribe to build a casino.”

“Here we go again,” mumbled Elizabeth.

“I gather Obed doesn’t approve of the casino proposal?” Victoria asked.

Elizabeth sighed and glanced at her watch.

“Obed insists that gambling goes against tradition.” Hiram patted the pocket where he kept his pipe. “Patience says the tribe lost its traditions years ago.”

Victoria passed the muffin basket. “Have another.”

“Delicious.” Hiram nodded at Elizabeth.

“How come Patience is tribal chairperson?”

“The tribe has always had a woman chairman.” When Elizabeth frowned, Hiram added, “That’s the official title.
Chairman.
Not chairperson.”

“Both her mother and grandmother were tribal chairs,” said Victoria. “She’s following in their footsteps.”

“According to Burkhardt,” Hiram continued, “Peter Little and Patience were upset with each other.”

“That’s odd,” Victoria said. “I thought they were like that.” She held up two fingers close together.

Hiram shrugged. “Burkhardt didn’t say. He had his own agenda. Peter had accused him of taking bribes.”

“What for?” asked Elizabeth. “To skew the soil tests? I thought Burkhardt was working for the tribe.”

“No, he was working for the town. The town hired him as a consultant.”

“So the tribal council wasn’t exactly sympathetic?”

“Decidedly not,” said Hiram.

“What kind of tests were they?” Elizabeth asked.

“Perc tests. To see if the site would percolate enough for a septic system. But the tests were never done.”

“A casino would mean a huge influx of people,” Elizabeth said. “And a huge septic system.”

“Right.” Hiram felt for his pipe again. “A casino would need a fair-sized sewage treatment plant, not a septic system. At one point during the meeting Jube lost his temper-”

Victoria interrupted. “He’s not the first person on this Island to lose his temper over an issue.”

“No, but he evidently touched raw nerves.”

“In what way?” asked Victoria.

“Before stalking out of the meeting, he said the entire tribe was a pack of mongrels.”

Elizabeth set her coffee mug down. “That’s what he said? That they were
mongrels?”

“We’re all mongrels,” said Victoria.

“It’s not exactly sensitive to call a minority group ‘mongrels,’ “ said Elizabeth. “Do you think Jube Burkhardt really
was
taking bribes?”

“Probably. He wasn’t known for integrity.”

“And he refused to recommend a waiver for
any
septic system?” Elizabeth asked. “Or sewage plant?”

Hiram nodded. “That’s what he told me. Burkhardt could have delayed things for a long, long time.” Hiram crumpled up his napkin, dropped it beside his plate, and sat back. “Patience is claiming tribal sovereignty. She says the tribe doesn’t need Burkhardt’s tests or the town’s approval. Or to concern itself with state regulations.”

“Whew!” said Elizabeth. “Why did Burkhardt tell you all this?”

“I’m on the town’s health board. He wanted me to certify that the planned casino sites had failed the perc tests.”

“Did they fail?” Elizabeth asked.

“As I said, he never ran any tests.”

“Did you sign the papers?”

Hiram was silent.

Elizabeth stared at him.

Hiram changed the subject. “I promised I wouldn’t take up much of your time.”

Victoria waited.

“Burkhardt had come to see me on personal business.” Hiram seemed to be working something out in his mind. “He was supposed to meet someone on the beach below the cliffs the following night, and asked me to go with him.”

“Last night,” Victoria said. “The night he was killed.” “Right.”

Victoria thought for a moment. “Did he say who the person was? Or why Jube wanted you to go with him?”

“I got the impression he wanted a witness.”

“Did you meet with him?”