INDIAN PIPES

by Cynthia Riggs

“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.”

  CHAPTER 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?”

  Hiram shook his head. “I walked a quarter mile or so along the beach to the foot of the cliffs, but I never saw him. Or anyone else. The fog had come in, thick. I waited until six, then left. I figured Burkhardt got held up for some reason, and would get in touch if he needed me.”

  “That must have been about two hours before I saw him on the cliff,” said Victoria.

  “About that. You brought the chair by before supper.”

  “And we stayed an hour or so. We were at your house roughly from six-thirty to seven-thirty.”

  Hiram started to say something, then stopped. He began again. “We’re so focused on that damned casino, you’d think nothing else was happening in the world.”

  Victoria watched him, her eyes half-closed.

  “I must tell you something, get it off my chest.”

  “Of course.”

  Elizabeth got up. “I’ll make my bed,” she said.

  Hiram clasped his hands on the table again. “I have a friend, Victoria, a close friend, Tad Nordstrom. A banker, lives in Omaha. Married, nice home, two teenage kids.” Hiram shifted in his seat. “He’s greatly respected in his community. A fine human being.”

  “I gather you and he are more than friends?”

  Hiram nodded.

  “How did you meet?”

  “We were both stranded in the Chicago airport for two days during a snowstorm six years ago. We’ve kept in touch.”

  “Everyone who knows you, certainly, understands you’re, um, not the marrying type,” said Victoria. “So I assume it’s your friend who has the problem, not you?”

  Hiram glanced out the window. “He visits me every year. Tells the family he’s going on retreat.”

  “I suppose that’s close to the truth,” said Victoria.

  “His wife thinks she’s to blame for the disintegration of their relationship. He feels guilty and angry.”

  “Why doesn’t he simply come out and tell her he’s gay and suggest a divorce?”

  “Money, kids, church, family, position in the community. He lives in Nebraska, not Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “This is the twenty-first century,” said Victoria. “People recognize that so-called lifestyles are not a matter of choice.”

  “Not where he lives.”

  “Wherever he lives, he’d better do something soon, while his wife can still make a new life for herself.”

  “We’ve talked about that-”

  Victoria interrupted. “I have no patience with a man whose priorities are money and position in the community.”

  “Children…” Hiram began.

  “Does he think he’s helping his children by pretending he’s something he’s not?” Victoria started to get up.

  “Wait, Victoria. I haven’t told you the problem.”

  “The problem is that your friend is a hypocrite,” said Victoria, “and you’re not helping his family by covering for him.”

  “Please, sit down and listen to me.”

  “I’ve heard more than I want,” Victoria said, but sat again. “I take it Jube figures in this in some way?”

  “When Burkhardt came to see me the other night with the faked soil tests, I said I couldn’t sign them. At that, he brought out an undated copy of a letter he had written.”

  “About your friend Tad?”

  Hiram nodded. “To Tad’s bank, with copies to the local paper. And to his wife.”

  “I hope you told Jube what he could do with it?”

  “I signed the certificate.”

  Victoria pushed her chair away from the table and stood up again. “Hiram, I’m ashamed of you.” She leaned on the table. “I never expected you to give in to blackmail.”

  “Victoria, listen to me-”

  “I’ve listened to you and told you what I think.”

  “There’s more.” Hiram swallowed hard. “Burkhardt and I were lovers before I met Tad.”

  Victoria turned and looked down at him. When she saw his expression, she sat down abruptly and took a deep breath. “Hiram,” she said, “you didn’t kill Jube Burkhardt, did you?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Hiram sat up abruptly. “Of course I didn’t kill Burkhardt!”

  “When the police learn that you were to meet him on the beach below the cliffs around the time he died,” Victoria said, “they’re going to wonder how he could have fallen to his death from the top of the cliffs.”

  “That’s right.” Hiram tugged at his short beard. “However, the police are calling his death an accident. A fall from the cliffs. They’re about to close the case.”

  Victoria studied her fingernails, short and ridged with a line of gardening dirt she hadn’t been able to scrub clean. “That decision must be a relief to you. You’d be a likely suspect otherwise.”

  “No, it’s not a relief at all. Burkhardt’s death was no accident. Someone killed him. Who? And why?”

  Victoria looked up. “Then explain that to the police.”

  “So the police can arrest me? Even you think I might have killed him.”

  They were both so quiet, Victoria could hear the town clock ring in the church steeple. She looked at her watch. “Ten o’clock. I have to be somewhere at eleven.”

  Hiram sighed. “Victoria, I’m worried. The killer must have known Burkhardt expected me to go with him.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Hiram lifted his empty mug, then put it down. “After you left last night, I listened to my answering machine. Burkhardt had left a message saying he’d been delayed and would meet me an hour later. Same place.” Hiram toyed with his mug. “The killer may have overheard Burkhardt. Or perhaps Burkhardt told him I’d be there?”

  “If Jube was so suspicious of the person he was meeting that he asked you to accompany him, why would he then go alone with him when you didn’t show up?”

  “I don’t know what went throug
h Burkhardt’s mind, Victoria. My first thought when he asked me to go with him was that it involved the blackmail letter. But that didn’t make sense. Why not simply meet at my house?” Hiram paused.

  Outside the window, a blue jay tried to land on a small perch of the bird feeder and flew off with a flutter of wings and a squawk. The feeder swung back and forth, dropping seeds into the browning iris leaves.

  “And who, on the Island, anyway, would care about Tad’s and my relationship? Then I thought the meeting might have to do with one of Burkhardt’s nieces. He’d been having some problems with one or both of them, you know.”

  “Or they with him,” said Victoria.

  “I imagined other scenarios. Burkhardt meeting with a motorcyclist. Talking to someone about casino plans, taxes, septic permits, the tribe. But nothing made sense. Why would anyone need to meet him on the beach?” Hiram ran both hands through his crew cut. “I believe now that the killer planned to lure Burkhardt to a secluded place to kill him.”

  “Did Jube suspect the meeting was a trap?”

  “Burkhardt was uneasy about the meeting, but I doubt if it occurred to him that anyone would have the temerity to attack him.”

  “Where is your friend Tad now? Did he know that Jube was blackmailing you on his account?”

  “Tad knew,” said Hiram, gazing out the window. “Tad has been visiting me for the past two weeks.”

  “Is it possible that Tad was meeting with Jube?”

  “Tad?” Hiram stared at her. “Good heavens, no.”

  “Where is Tad now?” Victoria asked.

  “On his way back to Omaha.”

  “Is he driving?”

  “Tad’s not a killer, Victoria.”

  Victoria checked her hands again, tried to wedge dirt out from under her thumbnail with a fingernail. “Under the right circumstances we can all be killers.”

  Hiram looked at her in surprise.

  “If someone threatened my family? Yes.”

  Hiram stared at her.

  She continued. “Suppose Tad contacted Jube, offered to buy the letter, asked to meet him somewhere private.”

  “No, Victoria. No.”

  Victoria looked up. “Jube, of course, contacted you to join them. When Tad realized you’d agreed, he put the meeting off an hour. That fits with the facts we have.”