Indian Pipes (27 page)

Casey glanced away from the road briefly.

“Suspects,” Victoria explained. “I have a list of eight. Seven.” She crossed out Burkhardt’s niece Linda. “All of them except Tad Nordstrom are likely to be at the casino meeting this afternoon.”

Victoria was perspiring from her walk to the police station. She was glad for the occasional spray of rain blowing in on her through the open window.

“Who are the seven?”

“Hiram’s friend, Tad Nordstrom. He had the strongest motive of all. Jube was blackmailing him. He may have felt Hiram had deceived him about his and Jube’s affair.”

“And Linda’s death?”

“Linda’s death puzzles me.”

“I’ll check with the Steamship Authority to see if Nordstrom was on the boat he claimed to be on,” said Casey.

Victoria scribbled something. “Next strongest suspect is Harley. She had a good reason for killing both her uncle and her sister.”

“Eighteen million is a pretty good motive.”

“Hiram got in the way, so she had to kill him.” Victoria wrote something. “Then there’s Toby, her boyfriend. Harley could have promised him a share of the money, if he killed her uncle and sister. Linda was on my list, but obviously, we have to eliminate her.”

“Someone did,” said Casey.

“Linda’s boyfriend, Mack is a likely suspect.”

“Whatever possessed him to come up with that crazy kidnap scheme? Stupid, really stupid. What did it get him? A long time in prison, that’s what.”

“He wanted to find out, for Linda’s sake, who her Uncle Jube named as heir. He thought I would tell him where to find the computer.”

“Anyone can type a will,” Casey said. “Even if we find a will on his computer, it won’t hold up in court.”

“No, of course not. They needed to know what was
in
the will,” said Victoria. “And the name of Jube’s lawyer.”

“I can picture not-so-bright Mack killing Jube and Hiram without considering what he’s doing, but not his girlfriend Linda.”

“She could be quite aggravating,” said Victoria. “When the arson team found Hiram’s body, she may have blamed him. Told him she was through with him. After he’d killed two people for her, he’d have been angry enough to kill again.”

“That makes four suspects, if we include Tad.”

“Both Patience and Peter had good reasons for wanting to get rid of Jube. He was playing one against the other, holding up permits, and threatening to sabotage both Peter’s and Patience’s casino plans. A casino would mean a lot more money than eighteen million dollars.”

“That makes six,” said Casey. “The seventh?”

“I don’t have a name for the seventh. A man with a shipping company is involved with Peter. I have a feeling he’ll be at the meeting this afternoon.”

“You left off two prime suspects.”

“Dojan? He’s not the killer,” said Victoria, stoutly.

“You sure you’re not influenced by the fact that you like bad boys?”

“Of course not. Dojan is not a killer.”

“Ha!” said Casey.

Victoria wrote Dojan’s name on her list, and immediately crossed it off. “Dojan is not the killer.”

The winding road led up into the Chilmark hills, where stone walls hemmed in irregular fields. Rain had dampened the graygreen lichens that covered the stones, and enhanced the colors of the grasses.

“And what about Bugs? A motorcyclist whose name is on Burkhardt’s short list.”

“Bugs is a professor. He wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Professors kill people all the time,” said Casey.

They went around a bend and suddenly there was the sweep of
the gray Atlantic beyond the sheep pasture, a view that always put matters into perspective for Victoria.

“Okay, what about your trap?”

Victoria was holding her hand out the window to catch the flying raindrops. “I’ve just realized something,” she said. “There may have been two killers, and Linda might well have been one of them.”

C
HAPTER
32

They passed stone walls covered with wild grapevines, gray shingled houses, stark against the dull sky.

“Jube was taking money from the pro-casino, the anti-casino, and the floating casino people,” said Victoria. “A lot of money was involved. He seemed to be taking cash, and he must have squirreled it away somewhere.”

“If it was in his house, it’s gone now,” Casey said.

“He mentions a safe deposit box in some of his letters. But no one knows where he kept the key.”

Casey slowed as they came to a dirt road branching off to the right. Oak trees overhung the road, which was dry underneath the leafy branches.

“Look familiar, Victoria? There’s your escape route from the kidnappers.”

“They weren’t bad people,” Victoria said. “They apologized.”

“It’s out of your hands. The state does not approve of kidnapping. Nor do the feds.”

“They didn’t know any better.”

“You can say that at their trial, if you want. The state will expect you to testify.”

Victoria was silent as they went down the hill to the bridge that separated Stonewall Pond from Quitsa Pond. Casey slowed at the overlook where the hazy expanse of pond, village, and Sound was grayed by the drizzle.

“We’re almost there. Are you going to tell me about the trap before we get there?”

Victoria didn’t answer directly. “If I say something strange at the meeting, don’t think I’ve lost my mind.”

Casey said, “I’d never think that, Victoria.” She grinned suddenly and looked at her deputy.

The parking area at Tribal Headquarters was full. Casey let Victoria off by the front door, and Victoria went in with a group of people, many of whom she didn’t know.

“Getting nasty out there,” someone said.

“Victoria Trumbull!” Chief Hawkbill, wearing a beaded headband, greeted her. He escorted her down the broad stairs into the community room, which was set up with rows of folding chairs. “I have saved a seat for you in the front with other dignitaries.”

A heavyset bearded man rose from his seat as they approached.

The chief said, “I don’t believe you’ve met Dr. Jandrowicz, have you?”

Victoria started to say she hadn’t when she looked up at the tall man and recognized Bugs. She smiled. “Yes. I met Dr. Jandrowicz first at the cliffs, then he brought my kidnappers to my house with armloads of flowers, and then, apparently, carted them off to the police station.”

Bugs bowed. “Flowers and apologies are hardly enough.”

The chief murmured something about greeting other guests, and backed away.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Bugs indicated the chair next to his and they both sat.

“Are you interested in casinos, Dr. Jandrowicz?” Even sitting down, Victoria had to look up at Bugs. He was a very large man, she realized. And beamy, like a catboat.

“Indirectly,” Bugs said, once they’d adjusted their folding chairs and Victoria had stowed her scuffed leather pocketbook beneath hers. “I’m making a survey of Island butterflies. What we learn may affect any casino site.”

“You teach, don’t you?” Victoria said. “At Smith College?”

Bugs nodded.

Behind them Victoria heard the sounds of a gathering audience. Chairs scraped, neighbors greeted one another. People speculated about the presentation.

“Have you found any interesting or rare butterflies?”

“Not as yet. The habitat is right for two or three endangered species. It would be a triumph for my students to find one of those species here.”

“Would that affect casino plans?”

“Under the state endangered species law, construction would be held up while a survey is made,” said Bugs. “However, if an endangered species were to be found on tribal lands, who knows?” He shrugged. “The Wampanoags are considered a sovereign nation, and as such, they do not necessarily need to adhere to federal or state laws. The tribe’s rights to bypass state and federal law are being tested in the courts.”

“I understand Mr. Burkhardt found some rare specimens on one of the proposed properties.”

Bugs grinned. “There are no secrets on this Island, are there? Mr. Burkhardt planted some preserved specimens on the property, then asked me to identify them.” He laughed. “The specimens were long dead, preserved, faded with time, and had pin marks in them. Obviously from somebody’s collection. Mr. Burkhardt offered me a large sum of money to verify his discovery.”

“Were they a rare species that you hoped to find?”

“Yes. Mr. Burkhardt had done enough research to know the site was the right habitat for his dead specimens, and he knew that finding them would have been a major scientific discovery.”

Chief Hawkbill bustled up to the front row and sat on Victoria’s right. “We’re about to begin,” he said.

Victoria looked around. The hall was filled with people. People were standing along the side walls. Tribal members were setting up more folding chairs in the back.

The lights blinked off and on again, and Patience made a dramatic entrance through black curtains behind the stage, stepped up to the podium, and lifted her hands. She was wearing a black dress that hung loosely from her shoulders to her feet, concealing her considerable weight. A double string of wampum beads hung around her neck. She, too, was wearing a beaded headband, hers was purple glass, the same color as her wampum necklace.

“She looks quite regal,” Victoria whispered to Bugs.

The audience hushed. Patience made a few remarks, then introduced the speaker from Casinos Unlimited.

The speaker showed a big-screen movie that was full of economic statistics and toothy, smiling people, and had a musical background, inoffensive rock underlaid with drums.

After that, there were questions, some decidedly hostile, which Patience and the Casinos Unlimited spokesman answered politely. Finally, Patience, looking around for more questions and finding none, said, “We can continue our discussion over drinks upstairs in the conference room.” She made some small joke about Indians and firewater, there were a few polite snickers, and the meeting broke up.

“Professionally done,” said Bugs with respect. “May I buy you a drink, Mrs. Trumbull?”

It took several minutes to wade through the crowd. Neighbors greeted Victoria as if they hadn’t seen her for some time. Victoria looked around anxiously for Casey, and wiggled her fingers when she saw her. Casey nodded, her eyebrows raised quizzically.

“Is there someone you’d like me to find for you?” Bugs asked courteously.

“They’re probably upstairs, congregated around the bar,” Victoria said, so they climbed the stairs.

She saw Peter Little first, looking more saturnine than usual. His sullen expression changed slightly when Victoria waved at him. He started toward her through the crowd. As he did, Victoria saw the young woman with spiky purple hair she’d seen at the cliffs. The girl was accompanied by the tall man with long dreadlocks and blueblack skin Victoria had seen with her.

“Is that Harley?” Victoria asked Bugs, who was staying next to her. “Jube Burkhardt’s niece?”

“Harley and Toby,” Bugs growled, and turned away from her so she couldn’t see his expression.

“With her sister dead, I wouldn’t think she would want…” Victoria didn’t finish.

“The two weren’t close.” Bugs abruptly changed the subject. “Would you like me to get you a glass of wine? Or something stronger?”

“White wine, please.”

Harley and Toby worked their way toward Victoria. Peter, a martini glass in hand, was approaching at the same time. Victoria looked through the crowd, noisy with cocktail chatter, and saw Patience. Patience held up a wineglass and pointed to it with a questioning look, apparently asking Victoria if she’d like a glass. Victoria shook her head. She could see Casey, eyeing her from the side of the conference room. The conference table had been moved to the end of the room and had been set up as a bar. The great tree trunks that held up the arched roof seemed like living trees in a forest.

Casey was talking with the Aquinnah police chief and sipping from a tall glass, which, Victoria knew, held only tonic water.

“Excellent presentation, Patience. Here’s to you.” It was Chief Hawkbill, who’d joined the circle. He held up a champagne glass as he spoke. “I can only toast you with ginger ale, but the sentiment is the same.”

“Hear, hear,” Peter said with a trace of irony, and held up his martini glass. “Good God, here comes the apparition.”

Victoria looked in the direction Peter indicated and saw Dojan working his way through the crowd to the knot gathered around Victoria. When he reached her, he nodded, and moved behind her. The others around Victoria chattered about the worsening weather, the fine quality of the hors d’oeuvres, the presentation, the size of the crowd. No one mentioned what everybody else on the Island was talking about—the murders.

Chief Hawkbill brought up the subject first.

“Victoria Trumbull, you know more than anyone else on the Island about the murders. Are we any closer to knowing who the killer is?”

Victoria turned to the chief, her hooded eyes bright. “Yes, indeed. We’ve had a major breakthrough.”

“Oh?” Peter stopped, his glass halfway to his lips.

“You mean, my sister’s killer?” Harley had worked her way into the circle that surrounded Victoria. Toby stood behind her.

Casey moved next to one of the tree trunks, out of sight but within hearing distance of Victoria.

“I found something in the barn that I am sure will wrap everything
up,” Victoria said. “It’s only a matter of hours now before we make an arrest. Thank you,” she said to Bugs, who had handed her a glass. She sipped her wine and gazed around the circle of people who closed in on her.

Behind Peter, Victoria saw the Aquinnah police chief signaling to Casey. The post blocked her view of Casey, but the Aquinnah chief smiled and moved away.

“Tell us more, Victoria Trumbull,” Chief Hawkbill said. “We are all ears.”

Victoria felt Dojan shift behind her. Peter sipped his martini. Patience opened her eyes wide. Bugs thrust his hands into his pockets. Toby put his arm around Harley’s shoulders. Harley leaned against him.

“I’ve probably said too much already.”

“What sort of evidence did you find?” Peter said.