Turkey Day Murder (5 page)

Read Turkey Day Murder Online

Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Turkey Day Murder
11.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Rumford's face hardened. “If they get recognition as a tribe, and that's a big if, then we'll have to reconsider.” He snorted. “If you ask me, it's just a big bluff. They don't care about the war club or anything else. They only want to be a tribe so they can have a casino.” He paused and looked at her. “I mean, if they care so much, how come they've never protested when the football team uses the club at their pep rally every year? I care about that club a hell of a lot more than any of these so-called Metinnicuts—that's for sure. I make the team captain sign a paper saying he understands how valuable it is and that he accepts liability if anything happens to it, but believe me, I'm not happy until the club is safely back in its case.”
Lucy nodded. “I understand how you feel,” she said. Then she smiled. “But if I were you, I'd smoke a peace pipe with Curt Nolan. I think you have more in common than you think, and he's not somebody you want to have for an enemy.”
Rumford shrugged in response and got in his van, giving her a nod as he drove off. As Lucy watched him go, she doubted he'd follow her advice, and maybe he was right. Curt Nolan didn't seem eager to make peace with anyone.
CHAPTER 6
S
ometimes controversy was a good thing, thought Lucy, as she pulled her cleaning supplies out from beneath the kitchen sink. Thanks to the fact that the Metinnicuts' petition was so controversial, the selectmen's meeting had been scheduled for Tuesday evening, instead of the usual afternoon time, so more people could attend. That meant Lucy had all day to get the house in shape for Toby's homecoming.
Cleaning was never her favorite activity, but today she really didn't mind. She wanted everything to be perfect for Toby and his roommate Matt—or at least as perfect as it could be considering the house was over a hundred years old and occupied by an active family.
Oh, she loved the old farmhouse that she and Bill had worked so hard to restore, but she had to admit the years had taken their toll. As she went from room to room with her dustrag and vacuum, she noticed the woodwork was smudged with fingerprints, the paint on the back stairway was scuffed and the wallpaper in the downstairs powder room was peeling. In the family room, the sectional sofa was looking awfully worn and the rug was past cleaning—it needed to be replaced. She sighed. There wasn't any hope of getting new carpet anytime soon; Toby's college bills made that out of the question. She went into the dining room to cheer herself up. There, the ceiling was freshly plastered and new wallpaper had been hung last spring.
As she polished the sideboard with lemon oil, she wondered about Matt, Toby's roommate. What kind of home did he come from? Coburn University had a smattering of scholarship students like Toby, but most of the students came from families that had plenty of money and didn't even qualify for financial aid. Did Matt come from a home like that? Would he expect a guest room with a private bath when all she could offer him was the trundle bed in Toby's room. And that was if she could convince Elizabeth to move back to her old bed in the room she used to share with the other girls—a big if.
All of a sudden the room she had been so proud of didn't look that great after all. The furniture didn't match; she'd found the big mahogany table at an estate sale but the chairs came from an unfinished furniture warehouse and she'd stained and varnished them herself. The rug was a cheap copy of an Oriental and the sideboard's only value was sentimental because it had come from her grandmother's house.
She flicked the dustcloth over a framed photo montage that hung above the sideboard and paused, studying the kids' faces. The montage had been hanging there for quite a while. Zoe was still a baby, Sara still a chubby preschooler, and Elizabeth was actually smiling. Perhaps that was her last recorded smile, thought Lucy, her eyes wandering to the photograph of Toby.
It was one she particularly liked, snapped just after Toby had scored a goal playing soccer in his freshman year of high school. He looked so young and boyish, with his chipmunk cheeks and enormous adult teeth, and so thoroughly pleased with himself.
Her hand lingered over the photo. She would never admit it to anyone, not even Bill, but she had missed Toby terribly since he'd left for college. Maybe it was because he was her firstborn, maybe because their personalities were so similar, but she had felt as if a part of herself had suddenly gone missing. She smiled. But now he was coming home again and the family would be whole again. She would be whole again.
Hearing the school bus she glanced at her watch. Goodness, where had the day gone? She'd been so busy she hadn't noticed the time, and no wonder. She'd cleaned both bathrooms and the kitchen and had tidied and dusted the entire house. Only one job remained: evicting Elizabeth. She went to greet the girls.
 
 
“Where's Toby?” demanded Zoe, breathless from running all the way up the driveway.
“He's not here yet,” said Lucy.
“Why not?” demanded Sara, dropping her bookbag on the floor with a thud.
“It's at least a five-hour drive, and he probably had classes this morning. I bet he'll get here around dinnertime.”
“Oh, goody,” said Elizabeth, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can't wait.”
Lucy bristled. “You still haven't moved your things out of Toby's room like I asked you to,” she said.
“I'll take care of it,” replied Elizabeth, draping herself languidly on one of the kitchen chairs.
“It's still his room, even if you have been using it. I don't want Toby to feel that this isn't his home anymore.”
“Well, it isn't, is it?” demanded Elizabeth. “He's not here anymore. Why does he get a whole room that he's not even using when I have to share with these cretins.”
“What's a—” began Zoe.
“Am not!” screeched Sara, spraying everyone, and the table, with milk and chocolate chip cookie crumbs.
“That's disgusting!” exclaimed Elizabeth, reaching for a napkin to wipe her face as Sara beat a hasty retreat.
“Sara! Get right back here and clean up the mess you made, including your backpack!” yelled Lucy, shouting up the stairs.
“And you . . .” Lucy had turned to glare at Elizabeth. “I want you to clear your stuff out of Toby's room right now.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes and Elizabeth shrugged. “Okay.”
“And as for you . . .” Lucy turned her baleful stare on little Zoe, who was struggling with a gallon jug of milk. “Let me pour that for you.”
 
 
By 6
P.M
. everything was ready for Toby's homecoming. Elizabeth had taken her things out of his room and Lucy had made the beds with fresh sheets.
The table was set for seven and Toby's favorite meal, lasagna, was cooking in the oven.
Lucy inhaled the aroma of herbs and cheese as she went from room to room, closing the blinds and turning on the lights. In the lamplight, she decided, the house looked attractive and welcoming.
“Hey,” called Bill, as he pushed open the door and dropped his lunch box on the kitchen counter. “Where's Toby?”
“He's not here yet,” said Lucy, taking Bill's jacket and hanging it on a hook.
“Not here? What's keeping him?”
“I don't know,” said Lucy in a tight voice. “I haven't heard a word from him.”
“Now don't worry,” said Bill. “I'm sure everything's fine. They probably left later than they planned. You know how kids are.”
“I'm sure that's it,” said Lucy, pushing thoughts of squealing brakes and ambulances to the back of her mind. “Besides, we'd have heard if . . .”
“Right,” said Bill. “The roads are clear. It's not like there's a storm or anything. I'm sure they're fine.”
“Fine,” repeated Lucy, peeking in the oven. “I know. Let's have a glass of wine and I'll hold dinner for a while. Say fifteen minutes? After all, it's Toby's favorite.”
Bill opened a bottle of chianti and they sat at the kitchen table, fingering their glasses.
“How was work?”
“Fine.” Bill took a sip of wine. “How was your day?”
“Okay. I have a meeting tonight.”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
Bill looked at the clock.
“Don't you think we'd better eat?” he asked.
“I guess so,” said Lucy with a big sigh.
CHAPTER 7
Z
ipping down Red Top Road on her way to the town hall, Lucy had only one thought on her mind: She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay home to wait for Toby. Instead, she would have to sit in an overcrowded meeting room, facing the members of the board she'd so self-rightously blasted in last week's paper. What would their reaction be? Would Howard White publicly admonish her from his lofty perch as chairman? Would Bud Collier give her hurt, reproachful glances?
Worst of all was the knowledge that Ted had offered to cover the meeting for her and she'd turned him down. She had been sure Toby would arrive earlier in the day and there would be plenty of time to catch up at dinner. What had she been thinking? she wondered. How could she have forgotten that college students operated on a different clock from the civilized world, staying up until all hours of the night and sleeping late in the morning?
She braked to turn into the town hall parking lot and groaned aloud. Every spot was filled. That meant she was going to have to park across the street at the library. Not a good sign. The meeting room was obviously packed with people eager to express their opinions; it was going to be a very a long meeting, indeed. She wouldn't be home until eleven, at the earliest, and that was assuming she survived the roasting the board was sure to give her.
Getting out of the car, she spotted Ellie Martin and gave her a big wave. This was better; she'd feel a lot more comfortable going into the meeting with a friend.
“Looks like a full house tonight,” said Lucy, as they waited for a car to pass so they could cross the street.
“I hope there's room for everybody,” said Ellie. “I don't want to be shut out.”
“Oh, you won't be,” Lucy reassured her as they stepped off the curb. “Open meeting law. If the room's too small they have to relocate the meeting.”
“Really?”
“Really. Trust me on this. If they could get away with it, the board would meet in a coat closet!”
Ellie was quiet as they walked along the sidewalk; then she stopped abruptly as they were about to enter the building.
“How do you think it will go tonight?” she asked in a serious voice. “Do you have any idea how they'll vote?”
“Not a clue,” said Lucy with a little laugh. “They're a pretty unpredictable bunch.”
She pulled open the door and paused, wondering what was bothering Ellie. “Does it matter to you, how the vote goes?” she asked.
“I didn't think it did, but now I'm not so sure,” said Ellie, who was twisting the handles of her purse. When she spoke, she sounded tired. “I guess it's six of one and half a dozen of the other. You've heard of a win-win situation? Well, I'm afraid this is a lose-lose situation. No matter how the vote goes, everybody's going to lose.”
 
 
Lucy wondered what she meant, as they entered the hearing room. She had feared they would have to stand, but discovered there were a few unoccupied seats in the last rows. They sat down together and Lucy rummaged in her bag for her notebook and pen. Flipping the notebook open, Lucy found the agenda she'd picked up last week and unfolded it, holding it so Ellie could also read it.
“Where's the Metinnicut proposal?” asked Ellie, scanning the long list of items that included new parking regulations for Main Street, budgets for the cemetery, shellfish and waterways commissions, and an executive session to discuss upcoming contract negotiations with the police and fire unions.
“It's last,” said Lucy, realizing with dismay that the meeting could run well past midnight. “We'll never get out of here.”
“Maybe they're hoping everybody will run out of patience and go home,” said Ellie, hitting the nail on the head.
“Not much of a chance of that,” said Lucy, scanning the jam-packed room. “These folks aren't leaving until they've had their say.”
Even from her seat in the back of the room, Lucy could see that all the players were in place, almost as if in a courtroom.
In the front row, on one side, sat Jonathan Franke, executive director of the Association for the Preservation of Tinker's Cove and Bob Goodman, Rachel's husband and the lawyer representing the association.
Franke's once long hair and casual workclothes had gradually been giving way to a more professional look; tonight he was wearing a denim shirt and knitted tie, topped with a tweed sport coat.
Bob, Lucy noticed, looked as if he'd come to the meeting straight from a long day in court. His suit was rumpled and he definitely needed a haircut. He was bent over a thick sheaf of papers and occasionally consulted with Franke.
On the other side of the room, the Metinnicut faction seemed more relaxed. Bear Sykes, the tribe's leader, was sitting with his arms folded across his chest. His thick black hair was combed straight back, and when he turned to confer with Chuck Canaday, the tribe's lawyer, Lucy saw he was wearing a wampum bolo tie with his plaid flannel shirt.
Canaday, as always, was impeccably dressed in a neat gray suit. Tall and fair, he was a dramatic contrast to Syke's stocky, barrel-chested figure. Next to him was Andy Brown, wearing his trademark farmer's overalls and a smug expression, as if he had counted his chickens and was certain they would hatch a casino. The three looked up when a fourth man approached them—a man Lucy didn't recognize.
From his city-tailored suit, with no vents in the jacket, Lucy guessed he probably represented a bank or a real estate development company. This guess was confirmed when he bent down and whispered to Sykes, who immediately left the room and returned a few minutes later carrying a cardboard box, which he carefully set on a table in the front of the room. Lucy figured they were going to be treated to an architect's model—plans for the casino had indeed progressed further than anyone suspected.
“Look at that,” snorted Ellie, glancing at Bear. “They treat him like an errand boy.”
“If the casino gets approved, he won't be an errand boy anymore,” said Lucy. “As tribal leader he'll be a very influential man.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” said Ellie. “When's this meeting going to start?”
Lucy glanced at the empty bench in the front of the room and checked her watch; it was already ten minutes past seven.
“It's a power thing,” she said, leaning toward Ellie. “The board keeps everybody waiting so they know who's in charge.”
“I'll let them know who's in charge come the next election,” said Ellie. “I'm missing my favorite TV show.”
“Hiya, Ellie! What's happening?”
It was Curt Nolan, sliding into the seat beside Ellie.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing. They haven't started,” said Ellie. Lucy couldn't help noticing her voice suddenly sounded a lot brighter than it had before Curt Nolan arrived.
“Good.” Curt settled himself in the chair, planting his feet firmly on the floor and letting his knees splay apart. His hands rested easily on his denim-covered legs.
Lucy checked her watch again—it was a quarter past. Time for the selectmen to appear. A side door opened and Lucy slid down in her chair, hoping none of the board members would notice her as they marched in and took their places behind the raised bench. Last to enter was Howard White, the chairman, who walked briskly across the room to his seat at the center of the bench and picked up his gavel.
“This meeting is called to order. First on the agenda: parking regulations.”
Lucy sighed with relief and sat up a little straighter. If Howard were going to scold her, he would have done it first thing.
“Point of order.” Joe Marzetti's voice boomed out, unnaturally loud. “I'd like to move that we table all other business and take up the Metinnicut proposal first.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow and scribbled furiously in her notebook.
“I second the motion,” announced Bud Collier before White even had a chance to ask for seconds.
“Any discussion?” From White's tone, it was a challenge rather than a question. Howard White was clearly unhappy at this evidence of rebellion in the ranks.
Lucy was surprised. In her experience with the board, she had never seen individual members take any initiative whatsoever. Someone must have put a bee in Marzetti's and Collier's bonnets, and she suspected it was Chuck Canaday, who had gotten his ducks in a row before the meeting.
“Considering the very great interest in the Metinnicut proposal, I think we should act as expeditiously as possible,” said Sandy Dunlap.
Lucy doubted that Sandy had come up with such big words on her own; she was probably quoting Chuck. What a busy bee. Lucy wondered if he was working on a retainer or if he stood to get a share of the casino.
“Any objections?” White looked hopefully to Pete Crowley, who was usually a stickler for proper procedure.
Receiving no encouragement in that quarter, White called for a vote, and the motion passed with only one no vote.
“All right, then” said White, with a disapproving humph. “We'll take up the matter of the Metinnicut proposal.”
There was a buzz in the room as Bear Sykes stepped forward to address the board, reading nervously from a prepared statement.
“The Metinnicut Tribal Council has asked me to request your support, as the board of selectmen, for the tribe's petition for federal recognition.
“We all know that the history of the Metinnicut people is interwoven with the history of this town—Tinker's Cove. When I was a little boy growing up here, I shared many of the same experiences as most American boys. I was a Cub Scout. I played Little League baseball. I went to the public schools and served in the army.
“I was also aware, however, that because of my Indian ancestry I was descended from people whose culture and values were different from those of most Americans. I felt a desire to acknowledge this separate identity, but I was unable to do so. My tribe, the Metinnicuts, were not recognized.
“In recent years, I spoke about this with family members and others and learned I was not alone in my desire to reclaim my Metinnicut heritage. As time went on, we formed a tribal council and conducted genealogical research. Now we are now ready to request federal recognition as a tribe. As citizens of this town, we ask your support for this petition. Thank you.”
There was scattered applause, which White quickly silenced.
“Do I have a motion?” he asked, casting an evil eye toward Marzetti.
Marzetti swallowed hard and raised his hand. “I move that the board support the Metinnicut tribe's petition.”
“Second?”
Collier nodded.
“Discussion?” asked White, looking extremely annoyed as hands shot up throughout the room.
“Do I have a motion to limit discussion?” Lucy, for once, found herself agreeing with White. Unless discussion was limited, the meeting could go on all night.
This was met with silence by the board.
Defeated, White recognized Jonathan Franke.
“With all due respect to Mr. Sykes and his Indian heritage, I want to point out that the main reason the tribe is seeking federal recognition is so that they can negotiate a casino deal with the state government. It's important to recognize that fact and consider the possible impact such a project would have on our town.”
There was a loud buzz from the audience and Chuck Canaday stood up.
“If I may . . .” he began, catching Howard White's eye but continuing without waiting for his permission. “Mr. Franke has brought up an important point, which we are prepared to fully address tonight. With us is Jack O‘Hara of Mulligan Construction in Boston. Mr. O'Hara has plans and a model of the proposed casino project.”
“Ah, Mr. O'Hara,” said White, shooting his cuffs. “Didn't I see your name in the business pages of the
Boston Globe?
They say you're the top contender for my old golfing buddy Joe Mulligan's job when he retires next year.”
As Lucy wrote the quote in her notebook she felt a rare surge of sympathy for Howard White. It must be quite a comedown for a man like him—the former CEO of a paper company—to find himself reduced to managing an unruly group of local yokels.
O'Hara shrugged off the comment. “You know, sir, you can't believe everything you read in the papers. But I'll be sure to give your regards to Mr. Mulligan.”
White was charmed. “Heh, heh,” he chuckled. “That's right. Well, let's see what you've got there.”
O'Hara stepped forward and stood next to the table with the box, but didn't lift the cover.
“By way of preamble,” he began, “I want to tell you that we at Mulligan Construction believe we were presented with a tall order: a request for a modern, innovative design that would also honor the unique tradition of our clients, the Metinnicut Indian tribe.”

Other books

The Abandoned Bride by Edith Layton
Paper Chasers by Mark Anthony
Boldt by Ted Lewis
Family Man by Cullinan, Heidi, Sexton, Marie
Devil's Deception by Malek, Doreen Owens
Reasonable Doubts by Gianrico Carofiglio
The Doll by Taylor Stevens
Intermix Nation by M.P. Attardo