Gobble, Gobble Murder

by Leslie Meier

“I’m going to put it back in the box and let you all take a look at it, and while you’re doing that, I want each of you to take a pair of these protective goggles. Then we can start making some flints, okay?”

  Once Zoe was settled with her safety glasses and chipping away at her piece of flint, Lucy got up and wandered around the room, examining the displays that Rumford had brought from the museum. These were mostly points of all sizes—many of which would seem to be nothing more than bits of rock to untrained eyes. The war club, however, was undoubtedly something remarkable. Examining the workmanship, Lucy knew that it would have been difficult to produce anything like it even with modern woodworking tools. How could a native craftsman, working only with crude stone tools, make such a finely crafted weapon?

  As she studied the war club, Lucy wondered about Metinnicut culture and all that had been lost. What had their garments looked like? Their houses? How had they managed to survive in such a hostile climate for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years? What did their language sound like? What were their songs and dances like? What games did their children play?

  It seemed terribly sad to her that nothing remained of the Metinnicuts except for the war club. So much had been lost, impossible to recapture. She couldn’t help wondering how different American history might have been if the European settlers hadn’t considered themselves superior to the natives and had been willing to learn from them.

  “Look, Mom! Look what I made!”

  Zoe was standing next to her, holding a crude arrowhead in her small, plump hand.

  “Wow! That’s neat.”

  Lucy picked it up and turned it over. “Was it hard?”

  “No, Mom. C’mon. I’ll show you.”

  Lucy allowed herself to be led back to the table, where Zoe instructed her in the fine art of flintknapping. When they were through, she, too, had produced a passable arrowhead. When she finally looked up, she realized everyone else had gone.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered, blushing. “Are we holding you up?”

  “Not a bit,” said Rumford. “It’s great to see someone take such an interest.”

  “It’s fascinating,” said Lucy. “It’s amazing when you think about it. We have refrigerators and freezers and cars and TVs and computers, and it’s a national emergency when the electricity goes out. These people lived so simply. . . .”

  “Exactly,” said Rumford, starting to pack up. “And they were successful until disease, brought by the Europeans, wiped them out. They had no immunity to common illnesses like measles and smallpox.”

  “Can we help you with this stuff?”

  “Thanks,” he said. “We can go right out to the parking lot through the workroom next door. Saves going up and down the stairs.”

  In a few minutes they had packed everything into plastic totes and gone out to the parking lot, forming a little parade. Rumford led, carrying a pile of boxes, followed by Lucy, who also had a stack of containers. Zoe was last, proudly carrying the box with the war club.

  “It’s the gray van. It says Winchester College on the side.”

  “W-I-N . . .” began Zoe, then stopped abruptly as Curt Nolan threw down his rake and approached them. He stopped in front of Zoe, towering over her.

  “What you got there?” he demanded.

  Zoe didn’t answer, but stepped closer to Lucy.

  “Is it a war club?” Nolan bent down so his face was level with hers.

  Zoe nodded.

  “Aren’t you awful little to be carrying something so important?”

  Nolan was no longer addressing Zoe. He had stood up and was talking over her head to Rumford.

  Lucy started to speak, defending her child, but Rumford beat her to it.

  “She’s a very trustworthy child,” said Rumford. “She was doing just fine.”

  “Well, what’s fine to you and what’s fine to me are two different things.” Nolan glared at him. “Of course, it’s only an artifact to you, a curiosity. To me, it’s my history and my heritage. It’s sacred. And if you can’t take proper care of it, you ought to return it to the people who can—the tribe.”

  “What tribe?” Rumford’s voice was contemptuous. “There are no Metinnicuts left. There is no tribe. And that’s what I’m going to tell the feds.”

  Nolan’s face flushed purple and he made a move toward Rumford. His hands were clenched, he seemed ready to take a swing at the professor.

  Rumford’s face was also flushed and he seemed ready to chuck the boxes he was holding in order to defend himself.

  Lucy stepped toward him, staggering and causing her boxes to slip. The professor reflexively braced himself, allowing her to steady herself.

  “How clumsy of me,” she said, chuckling nervously. “We’d better get these things safely in the van.”

  “Of course,” said Rumford, turning and setting his boxes on the curb. Slowly, with shaking hands, he took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the back door, pulling it open.

  “How’s your dog?” Lucy had turned to face Nolan and spotted Kadjo, sitting patiently in the cab of Nolan’s pickup truck. “Is he staying out of trouble?”

  Nolan didn’t answer, but stood for a moment glaring at Rumford. He suddenly turned and stalked off, stopping to pick up the rake he had thrown on the grass and tossing it into the bed of his truck. He jumped in the cab beside his dog and drove off, leaving rubber.

  “Thanks,” said Rumford. “I really didn’t want to tangle with him.”

  “He’s not so bad,” said Lucy, carefully taking the box with the war club from Zoe and handing it to Rumford. “Emotions are running high these days. The Metinnicuts have a lot at stake.” She smiled. “He might have a point, you know. Didn’t the Smithsonian recently return some Indian artifacts?”

  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

  Sometimes 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 clea
ning—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

  Zipping 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.”

&nb
sp; “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.