“Did either of you see Samantha or Abilene after the fire?”
Brooke looked down at the table. “I don’t really remember.”
“Me neither,” said Benjy.
CHAPTER 35
After she met with Benjy and Brooke, Victoria invited Abilene to tea. Herbal tea for Abilene, Earl Grey for Victoria. That done they went into the cookroom with their cups and saucers.
“I wanted to thank you for showing me your studio,” Victoria said.
“It was a pleasure. I love showing it off,” said Abilene. “But I think you had some special reason for inviting me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Victoria. When they were seated she said, “I understand you and Samantha were in the parsonage the night it burned down.”
Abilene set her teacup down gently. “What do you mean, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“I’ve been trying to reconstruct what happened the night Sebastian died. Sebastian had a wampum necklace he was going to give Samantha that night. There was a meeting of some of Samantha’s group that same night.”
“What are you saying, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“Abilene, I know you were there. I need to ask you about the night of the fire.”
“It’s too painful, Mrs. Trumbull.” Abilene looked away from Victoria, out the window, focused on something far away. She said in a soft voice, “Yes, I was there.”
“After the others left, you were there with Samantha and Sebastian.”
“Is that what they’re saying?”
“Abilene, I want to know what happened after the others left.”
“I really, truly don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can talk to me, or you can talk to the arson investigator. What happened? Did Sebastian give Samantha the necklace?”
Abilene heaved a sigh. “I took the package from him and I unwrapped it. He tried to take it back.” She stopped. “Mrs. Trumbull, I can’t talk about it.”
“After you unwrapped it, what happened?”
“Sebastian grabbed it back from me, leaned down, and laid it under a pile of newspapers that was on the floor. He said, ‘She doesn’t deserve it.’”
“Where was Samantha?”
“She was there. She said if he had a wampum necklace for her, it was hers and she wanted it, and she tried to get it out from under the newspapers. Then they got into a pushing and shoving argument.”
“What were you doing?”
“I was standing back watching them.”
“Did they come to blows?” asked Victoria.
“I can’t tell you exactly what happened. But somehow he got hurt and was lying down trying to get up. She said, we’re getting out of here, and we got out of there.”
“And left an injured boy?”
“We didn’t think he was hurt badly. I thought he was faking.” Abilene was twisting her fingers in her lap. “Mrs. Trumbull, it was all wrong. I’m guilty. I can’t justify what I did. Or didn’t do.”
“How did the fire start?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Abilene shook her head. “We’d met in the parsonage a lot of times before. We were always careful with the candles. We didn’t want the police to see the light. We’d put a stub in a bottle and when it burned down the stub just fell into the bottle.”
“Are you thinking someone else set the fire that killed Sebastian?”
Abilene put her head in her hands and began to cry. “I don’t know, Mrs. Trumbull. I haven’t been able to sleep since it happened. It keeps running through my mind. I wish I could go back to before we left Sebastian lying on the floor. I wish I could go back to when Samantha talked about playing a joke on Sebastian. I could have done the right thing then, and I didn’t.”
“Did you realize then that Samantha was just toying with you, too, the way she was with Sebastian?” asked Victoria.
“It opened my eyes, the way she treated him. And everyone else.” Abilene was sobbing. Victoria handed her a paper towel.
“I don’t know how the fire started.” Her voice quavered. “We didn’t set that fire, Mrs. Trumbull. We never, never, ever dreamed of … of … of … Even Samantha, she was not a killer. Not Sebastian.”
“How did the fire start, then?” asked Victoria.
* * *
She got the answer shortly after Abilene left, still in tears. Victoria couldn’t feel sorry for her. She thought of Sebastian, lying hurt on the parsonage floor, and Samantha and Abilene leaving him there to die in the fire that followed.
Drugs. Was that what was responsible for their failing to aid a boy in trouble?
The phone rang. It was Casey.
“What is it?” said Victoria, more sharply than she’d intended.
“Don’t bite my head off, Victoria. What’s going on over there?”
“I’m sorry. It’s about drugs and I’m sick of it.”
“I don’t blame you. I just talked to the arson investigator. His name, by the way, is Ashley.”
At that, Victoria smiled. “That’s appropriate. Have they been able to find anything?”
“They found trace evidence of accelerants in several places around the perimeter of the parsonage.”
“What kind of accelerants?”
“I don’t know,” said Casey. “And I don’t know how they detect something that was just a faint trace. But they did.”
“Then someone set the fire deliberately,” said Victoria. “Why? And why at that particular time? Did the arsonist know someone was inside?”
“I don’t have any answers,” said Casey.
* * *
Victoria realized it was futile to search for the source of leaves that covered Samantha’s body. She had never imagined there were so many maple trees on the Island. Every one of her suspects had access to piles of last year’s fallen leaves.
And then Bill O’Malley reported back to her.
His truck had been cleaned until the blue finish shone.
“It looks lovely,” said Victoria admiring it.
“The engine looks just as lovely,” said O’Malley. “Anderson Jones, the guy who does my truck maintenance, says there’s no way we can track down the movements of one dump truck between the night the body was dumped there and the morning you found it.”
“Is this the Anderson Jones who has the moped rental place?”
“The same,” said Bill.
“I didn’t realize he did vehicle maintenance.”
“He does specialized maintenance on expensive cars and trucks.”
“Such as Jaguars?” asked Victoria.
“Bruno Eberhardt’s green Jag is in Anderson’s shop right now for its annual maintenance.”
* * *
Victoria was not easily discouraged. However, the two leads that she’d felt sure would guide her to the killer, maple leaves and dump trucks, were not going to help. Not that they were poor leads, but there were too many sources of leaves and too many dump trucks.
“Don’t give up, Victoria,” said O’Malley.
“I don’t know where to turn.” She looked at her watch. She’d let the afternoon get away from her and hadn’t picked up the mail. She’d been concentrating too hard on the two deaths, Sebastian’s and Samantha’s. Then trying to deflect Bruno Eberhardt from taking revenge on Zack, the innocent, and now puzzling over who had attempted to kill Eberhardt.
“Can I give you a ride anywhere?” asked Bill.
“Yes. Anywhere would be fine. Would you take me to Alley’s? I’d like to pick up my mail. Perhaps there’ll be a real letter today.”
“Not likely. All catalogs. I’ll write you a real one.”
Victoria smiled. “I’d settle for a seed catalog.”
“I have to go to Chilmark, so I’ll drop you off at Alley’s on my way and pick you up again in, say, a half-hour?”
“That’s just what I need,” said Victoria. “A nice break from everything.”
He’d parked his dump truck in Victoria’s drive. He brought out the milk crat
e step he kept for Victoria’s use and helped her up into the high seat. She was already beginning to feel a little better. Something about his shiny new truck with its air conditioning, country music, and the passenger seat so high above all other vehicles made it seem as though she was seated on a throne viewing the world below her.
He stopped in front of Alley’s, and she waited while he set down her milk crate and helped her out of the high seat.
Joe the plumber and Sarah Germain watched from their places on the porch, as Bill escorted her up the steps.
“You sure get around, Mrs. Trumbull,” said Sarah.
“See you in about a half-hour,” said Bill.
Victoria waved a hand at them and dismissed Bill as he drove off.
“I like your chauffeur, Mrs. Trumbull,” said Sarah. “He has class.”
“Have you hitched with one of the septic system tankers yet?” said Joe. “Nice smooth ride, I hear.”
* * *
Victoria went inside to pick up her mail and came back out with a half-dozen catalogs and a copy of the Island Enquirer.
Sarah moved over. She was wearing a black T-shirt with crossed tomahawks in Day-Glo orange. “Have a seat, Mrs. Trumbull. Any nice gossip you can share?”
Victoria sat. “Lincoln and Casey seem to be keeping company. They’re very secretive about it.”
“That’s good. Patrick is a nice kid and needs a father figure. And Linc needs to be a father figure.” Sarah brushed a speck off her T-shirt. “I guess Casey, being the town’s police chief, feels she shouldn’t appear to be too friendly with a murder suspect.”
“I don’t think he’s a serious suspect,” said Victoria.
“Can I get you a soda?” Sarah started to get up.
“No, thank you,” said Victoria. “How are things at tribal headquarters?”
“You heard about Isabella Minnowfish, didn’t you?”
“I’m not sure I’ve heard the latest,” said Victoria.
Sarah told her the whole story behind Isabella’s departure with the help of her two brothers and the chief’s confiscation of all she’d taken.
“Why did Chief VanDyke go along with Mr. Eberhardt? As the tribe’s head policeman I would think he’d have refused.”
“That’s easy. The chief is a gambler, and Bruno Eberhardt bailed him out of trouble a couple of years ago. The tribe’s not happy about how cozy the chief is with Bruno, but there’s not much they can do about it. You probably haven’t heard the latest.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” said Victoria.
Sarah told how Isabella conned her brothers into trying to get her stuff back again, but that it was gone, and they found a body instead.
“Oh, my!” said Victoria. “What happened to her jewelry and the money?”
“Nobody seems to know.” Sarah paused for dramatic effect. “Chief VanDyke is going to take them to the state police to book them for murder.”
CHAPTER 36
Doc Jeffers punched in the number for the state police.
The phone was picked up on the first ring. “Sergeant Smalley, here.”
“Doc Jeffers, here. I’m calling about Eberhardt.”
“What’s up?” said Smalley.
“He’s showing signs of life,” said Doc Jeffers. “Not a lot, but it’s within the realm of possibility that he may survive.”
“Will he recover brain function?”
“We can’t tell at this point.”
“Do you still have a twenty-four-hour watch on him?”
“Yes, but we can’t do it much longer. Other patients need attention.”
“I’m concerned his assailant will show up to finish the job.”
“We are too, but there’s only so much we can do.”
“I’ll get one of my guys there right away to spell your people.”
“Make it soon.”
* * *
The state police, using volunteers from the Island’s six police departments, set up four-hour watches outside the second-floor Intensive Care Unit, where Bruno Eberhardt lay unconscious, hooked up to machines and tubes.
Victoria was determined to be involved. Her grandniece, Hope, was on duty in the ICU, so Victoria spent as much time as she could spare at the hospital, conversing with the guard on duty, working on her poetry, and catching sight of Hope as she went about her duties. There was a comfortable couch where she could sit. When she got tired of sitting she wandered out to the roof garden. From there she had a panoramic view of the harbor and the white houses of Vineyard Haven.
She had become accustomed to the steady beeps and chirps of the machines that monitored Eberhardt’s life systems.
It was Friday afternoon, three days after Eberhardt had been admitted to the hospital. Tim Eldredge was on duty, checking his watch when Smalley came up the stairs.
“Still on duty, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“It’s a pleasant place to sit and write,” said Victoria. “I spell Tim when he needs a break. You know my grandniece, Hope, don’t you?”
The steady beeps from Eberhardt’s room faltered, and Hope dashed toward the room. By the time she got there, the beeps had resumed their steady rhythm. From where Victoria sat she could see Hope checking gauges, monitors, tubes, and wires. Hope wrote something on a clipboard and returned to the nurses’ station across from his room.
“That was fast,” said Smalley. “Doesn’t that noise from the monitors bother you, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“I’ve gotten accustomed to it. I wouldn’t know what to do if it should change rhythm, but I’d know to call the nurses if they hadn’t already responded.”
“Fortunately, we don’t need to concern ourselves with the medical end of this,” said Smalley. “Our role is to make sure no unauthorized person has access to Eberhardt or the stuff that’s keeping him alive.”
“I don’t see how anyone can gain unauthorized access with a nurse on duty all the time and a police guard as well.”
“That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Trumbull. The police guard duty. How would you feel about taking over for a couple of hours?”
“I’d be delighted.”
“Tim has a family emergency and Chief VanDyke won’t be here until five o’clock, which leaves two unguarded hours.”
“I’ll sit at the guard post right now,” said Victoria, gathering up her papers in preparation of the move across the hall.
“You understand our function?” said Smalley. “No unauthorized person anywhere near the patient. Only the medical staff. No one is to enter his room, whether they’re friends or not.”
“I understand,” said Victoria.
“The nursing and medical staff is all checked out,” said Smalley. “Since the maternity ward is on this floor, there are going to be visitors. Also, the inpatient rooms are over there.” He pointed to the hallway behind them. “They’ll have visitors, too. But no one, and I mean no one, is to go into his room. No one—only authorized hospital staff.”
“I understand,” said Victoria again.
“I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more with this guard job than you,” said Smalley and left.
Tim placed a bookmark in his book and closed it. “Appreciate this, Mrs. Trumbull.”
“I’m sorry about your emergency,” said Victoria.
“It’s not a big deal,” said Tim. “The engine on my brother’s lobster boat cut out and he needs my help getting it going again.”
Victoria laughed. “A better emergency than someone falling and breaking something.”
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
“Of course. I’ve been observing you for the past two hours, and my grandniece is on duty,” said Victoria. “Furthermore there certainly are a lot of visitors to keep me entertained.”
“Sure are. Well, thanks, Mrs. T.”
After he left, Hope moved Victoria’s armchair closer to Eberhardt’s door, where Tim had been sitting, and Victoria sat
“It’s a wonder he survived,” said Hope. “He’d been lying there
for at least a full day before his cleaning woman found him.”
“A full day?” asked Victoria. “The Minnowfish brothers couldn’t have killed him, then.”
“I don’t understand,” said Hope.
“They were there to get Isabella’s clothing only minutes before Maria Lima found Bruno.”
“I gotta get back to work,” said Hope. “You’ll figure it out.”
Victoria could see Bruno Eberhardt through the open door. His head was wrapped in bandages that looked like a Sikh’s turban. His face was pasty white. A white hospital blanket was pulled up to his chest. Everything around him was white except for his hospital gown, which was light blue and printed with bright flowers and colorful toy animals, a small attempt at bringing cheer. Both of his arms were straight down beside him. Victoria could make out tubes and wires coming from everywhere—arms, nose, chest, and from under the blanket. A bottle of liquid hung from a stand and a tube led from that to his arm. There was a steady beeping, chirping, piping, humming, clicking from the various machines near his bed and the nurses’ station.
Who could possibly interpret all the reports from those machines? What was going on inside that inert body?
“Hello, Mrs. Trumbull.”
Victoria, surprised, looked away from the patient. “Good afternoon, Abilene. What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same, Mrs. Trumbull.”
“I’m a police guard,” said Victoria. “And you?” Early on, Victoria had considered Abilene a suspect in Samantha’s death, and now it seemed likely she had made the attempt on Samantha’s father. She was strong and had powerful motives for killing both of them.
Furthermore, the thought of Abilene leaving an injured Sebastian disturbed her. Someone had set that fire. Had she?
“I’m visiting a client who’s here.” Abilene held up a mason jar with a bouquet of wild flowers. “I’m taking her some flowers.”
“I hope your friend is not seriously ill,” said Victoria.
“I don’t think she even needs to be hospitalized,” Abilene replied. “But she had flu-like symptoms, and who knows what that means. Is Bruno in there?” She nodded toward the door.
“Yes,” said Victoria.
“How is he?”
“I really don’t know,” said Victoria.
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