“You get his name?”
“Ted. It was on his jacket.”
Silas finished eating and wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “We should have another chat with this Ted sometime. I want to look into this business with the grandfathered leases. There’s something not right here. Those guys had a map of the Arizona Strip out when we walked in. Zahn rolled it up as we were talking. I don’t think they were planning a backpacking trip.”
“You want to go back? I’m up for it!”
“No, let’s not. I don’t think we’ll get anything more out of Balin Aldershot or Slim Jim. Maybe we need to talk with Terry Aldershot and see what she knows.”
“Let me try! Woman suspects are my specialty!”
Silas just looked at him as Hayduke seemed to levitate out of his chair. “Bad idea, Hayduke. I let you loose on Terry the Terror and you’ll both be in jail before nightfall. I think we need to go about doing this differently. Don’t forget, we have a hike to prepare for.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Into the canyon!”
Silas stood and folded up their chairs. “I’m going to track Terry Aldershot down. You’re going to find out when Love is going to be at Phantom Ranch. Let’s touch base once we’ve got what we’re looking for.”
Hayduke was silent for a minute. Then he tossed his empty beer can in the direction of his Jeep. It bounced off the side of the gunmetal-blue rig. “Um, sorry, I faded out there for a minute. What are we looking for?”
“A connection between what happened to Jane Vaughn, Kiel Pearce, Darcy McFarland, and Penelope.”
“Oh, just that. Well, shit, why didn’t you say so!”
SILAS WAS IN luck. He went to the town of Page’s municipal building, where he learned that at two o’clock there was a hearing before town council and that Terry Aldershot was expected to attend. Silas considered what he had learned that morning from his confrontation with Balin and Slim Jim. It seemed that every conversation he had—with Dallas Vaughn, Paul Love, or the pair that morning—made him certain that that person had reason to want Jane dead. He wondered if Terry the Terror would be any different.
Just before two he walked into Page City Hall and found the small council chambers. There was room for a few dozen spectators and a small, informal arrangement for the mayor and council itself. Silas quickly determined that a resort development on the edge of town was the topic of that day’s hearing. He spotted the proponent, a man in a sports coat and neatly trimmed beard conferring with whom Silas imagined was his lawyer. Silas scanned the room and thought he picked out a small cluster of young men and women that he would have bet were environmental activists, likely from Flagstaff, who were in attendance to oppose the project. Silas was sorting through the various stereotypes in his head when Sarah Jamison walked into the room. She was pushing her red hair back out of her eyes and walked quickly to where the young people were huddled.
Silas sank down in his chair. After his conversation with Sarah in Flag, he hadn’t thought of her again. She had mentioned that she was volunteering for the Wilderness Society, but he imagined it was for small, local projects. But here she was, almost two hundred miles from home, and deep in enemy territory.
The mayor—a round man with the large, veined nose of an alcoholic and the ruddy complexion of someone who spends a lot of time on the golf course under the desert sun—called the meeting to order. Silas sat back to enjoy the show. He identified Terry Aldershot by the name plate on the council table, sitting to the right of the mayor, and wondered if her position was symbolic or merely coincidental. She looked angry before the hearing had started, and Silas pitied the university students who were about to face off against her.
As was the custom, the proponent of the project presented first. The lawyer for the applicant laid out the specifications of the resort, to be built on Page municipal land, but with a view of Lake Powell and the nearby marina. After ten minutes the lawyer showed no signs of slowing as he held forth on the merits of the project to the Page economy. Another ten minutes passed and the university students in the front row started making obvious signs of looking at their watches. Finally the mayor interrupted. “We get the point, Mr. Ross.” He waved his hands. “This project will be the answer to all of our prayers. Thank you for your time. Any questions?”
Terry Aldershot indicated with a nod that she wished to ask a question. “Councillor Aldershot?”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.” She turned her face to the project developer. “Mr. Johnston, can you tell us how many jobs this project will create?”
Johnston stood, looking at his notes. “Certainly. There will be about one hundred and fifty jobs created in Page in the trades during the construction. Another two hundred and twenty-five full-or part-time jobs created through the operation, and in the community as a result of increased tourism traffic.”
“Thank you. And what about the impact on other amenities?”
“Those will be positive impacts. More traffic means larger contracts for road maintenance in this part of the county, which will be offset by more taxes for Coconino and the state. It’s a win-win situation.”
Aldershot asked several more leading questions about the positive outcome of the resort development and, when she was done, she looked at the mayor. “Nothing further.”
Silas realized now that how business got done in Page was pretty much the same as in Moab.
“Now, is there anybody else here to speak in favor of this application?”
Nobody responded. “Anybody like to speak in opposition?” the mayor said, sighing audibly. One of the students put up his hand. “Imagine my surprise. You are?”
“Michael Lee.”
“Are you a resident of Page, Mr. Lee?”
“No, sir, but I represent a point of view that should be heard.”
“Any objections?”
“Yes!” said Terry Aldershot.
“Again, imagine my surprise,” moaned the mayor.
“Your Worship, this young man isn’t here on behalf of the citizens of Page. He represents an outside perspective. Our municipal development laws are clear on this matter.”
“Let’s let the boy have his say,” said the mayor. “What’s the harm, Terry?”
Fuming, Terry Aldershot remained silent.
“You’ve got five minutes, son.”
Lee stood and with a trembling voice made his presentation. He outlined the importance of the desert environment, and the proposal for Wilderness on the nearby Colorado River, and listed the possible plants and animal communities that would be harmed by the mega-development. When he was done he looked down at Sarah, who only nodded at him and smiled.
“Any questions?” The mayor looked at his colleagues. Aldershot smiled. Silas realized that they had set the young man up.
Aldershot pulled a pair of glasses out of her hair and perched them on her nose. “Are you a communist?” she asked the young man, still standing before the council.
“No ma’am.”
“Are you a member of Earth First! or the Animal Liberation Front?”
“No. I’m a member of the Northern Arizona Chapter of the Wilderness—”
“Do you hate America, young man?”
“No, I’m here because I love America.”
“Do you have any idea how many people are unemployed in this state?”
“Um …”
“Two hundred and forty thousand people. That’s how many.”
“If you’ll excuse the interruption—” But the young man was cut off.
“Do you care more about coyotes than people?”
“I don’t think it’s either or—”
“You care more about cacti than children, don’t you, Mr. Lee.”
“No. But—”
“Here’s what I think. I think you can go back to Flagstaff and raise your objections there. Nobody in Page, Arizona, wants to hear about your objections because here, in this town, we want jobs. We want a future for our town and for our children. There
is no shortage of coyotes and jackrabbits, thank you very much. What we have is a shortage of jobs and economic prospects for the future. Is that clear? Now, I move that His Worship the mayor call a vote and that we give this project the green light to proceed to the municipal planning process.”
“All in favor?” Five hands went up as the mayor banged his gavel and the councillors stood. Terry Aldershot grinned as Michael Lee sat down.
Silas stood up and shook his head. How many times had Penelope been subject to this sort of treatment at town council and county planning board hearings? He approached Sarah Jamison and her students. “You took quite a beating there,” he said, addressing the young man.
“Silas! I didn’t see you back there.” Sarah looked up at him.
“I’ve been in town for a few days.” He looked at Lee. “You alright? They set you up pretty good.”
“It’s alright,” Lee said. “We expected it.”
Sarah gestured toward the young people. “These are some of my students who I’ve browbeaten into joining the Wilderness Society, Silas. Folks, this is Dr. Silas Pearson. He was a professor of English at UNA.”
“Still am, technically speaking.” He smiled.
“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked.
“In Page? Well, it’s about Penelope. I’m tracking down some leads.”
“And here, in council chambers?”
“I’m here to talk with Terry Aldershot.”
“Shit,” muttered Lee. “Have fun.”
“Terry leads the nepotism team here in Page,” said Sarah.
“I see that.”
“Alright, now’s your chance. You’d better not be seen fraternizing with the enemy if you want to get some of the councillor’s time.”
Silas smiled, nodded, and turned to catch Aldershot as she was leaving the room.
“It’s good to see you Silas,” said Sarah as Silas made for the door.
SILAS CAUGHT UP with Terry Aldershot in the parking lot. The afternoon sun was blinding and he held his hand up to shield his face. “Ms. Aldershot?” She turned to face him. She was next to her Toyota FJ Cruiser as he approached her.
“Council meeting is over,” she said abruptly.
“I know. I was hoping you could help me with something else.”
“If this is about Page City business …”
“No, it’s about my wife. Penelope de Silva.”
Aldershot was inscrutable behind her massive sunglasses. “You were the one talking with my husband this morning, were you?”
“Yes, I was. He was helpful, and I hoped you might be as well.”
“Balin called to tell me that you were in his office busting his balls.”
“I was just asking about my wife, Ms. Aldershot. I think his friend Mr. Zahn was the one who took offense.”
She unlocked her SUV. “I have to pick up the kids in five minutes, Mr. Pearson.”
“Did you know Penelope?”
“I didn’t know her. Like those kids in there, she would show up from time to time and give us a hard time about our business here in Page. We set her straight just like the rest.”
“Do you recall when she was here last?”
“I don’t. It’s been years. I heard she went missing. I figured that you had killed her, to be honest.”
“I didn’t. Do you recall what issue she was—”
“Protesting? No. I don’t. I think it was something about the dam. Same thing, over and over. We don’t even manage it. Bureau of Reclamation does, but there they all are, carrying placards outside our offices.”
“It wasn’t about uranium mining?”
“Here in Page? No, it was the river. I’m pretty sure.” She opened the door and threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat. With the click of a button she started the vehicle.
“What about Jane Vaughn?”
“Never heard of her. Now, I’m off to get the kids to dance recital. Good luck with your wife. I suspect you’re likely responsible for her death and this search you’re on is a ruse to keep the FBI from locking you up and frying your shit for killing her, but good luck just the same.” Terry Balin sat down in her SUV, smiled at him, and closed the door.
“WE’RE ALL SET. PAUL LOVE will be at Phantom Ranch in two days. He’s due to spend the day there with officials from the BLM, Interior, and Park Service who are hiking down for the day,” said Silas.
“What’s he up to?” asked Hayduke.
“I don’t know, but one of the officials who is on the rafting trip with him is Chas Hinkley.”
“The superintendent of Glen Canyon?”
“One and the same.”
“How did you find this out?”
“I called Grand Canyon Adventures and told them I was with the media. I wanted to do a story on the controversy over Wilderness along the river corridor. They practically offered to carry me down the Bright Angel Trail.”
“This is starting to sound like a party.” Hayduke smiled.
“Want to crash it?”
“HEY ROBBIE. DAD here.”
“Hey Dad. Glad you called. I got something, but it took a little doing. You told me to look for Chas Hinkley, right? Superintendent of Glen Canyon National Park.”
“Recreation Area, but yeah, that’s the guy.”
“I got nothing under his name—”
“That’s too bad. I really thought—”
“Hold your horses, I’m not done. You see, his wife was a different story altogether. She must really like rafting.”
BEFORE THE COUNTY seat closed, Silas followed his son’s lead and headed back there. He found the registrar just as she was closing up. She grimaced at him as he approached.
“We’re closing up.”
“I can see that. I just have one little request.” When the woman said nothing Silas continued. “I wonder if I could have a look at the land title documents for a marina down on Lake Powell?”
The woman’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly.
SILAS AND HAYDUKE drove in their separate vehicles to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Silas had only been to the South Rim once. As he neared the east entrance to the park and the Desert View watchtower, he remembered the day.
HE AND HIS wife stood in the woods near the park visitor center. It was an hour to sundown.
“Why don’t we take the trail like everyone else?” he asked Penelope.
“Because this is better.”
“We’re just going to wander around in the woods?”
“Well, no … we’re going to walk through the woods. It’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“Trust me, Silas. This is important to me.”
They had only been married a year. Silas was in the third year of his tenure and already he was distracted by term papers and his own publications. He looked at his watch. He wanted to get back to Flagstaff that night. If they could just get to the South Rim and get back, they might beat the traffic heading into town on a Sunday evening.
He felt Penelope take his hand. He relaxed a moment and looked at his wife. “Alright, lead on, Macduff.”
She squeezed his hand in hers and they began to walk through the juniper and piñon pine forest. In a few minutes the drone of traffic at the visitor center was behind them. The woods were cool on this day in late September. They smelled rich and filled his head with memories of his childhood on the coast of British Columbia. The memories weren’t entirely pleasant, but the feeling of his young wife nearby consoled him.
“What are you thinking about?” Penelope pressed her arm into his and they stayed that close until they had to step over a fallen pine.
“Nothing. These woods are so different from those I grew up in, but it makes me think about walking in the trees with my father.”
Penelope kissed him on the cheek. “You did that a lot?”
“No. Almost never. But when we did, it was like the world stood still. But we didn’t do it very often. He was …”
�
��What?”
“Distracted.”
Penelope was silent. The woods around him momentarily faded and Silas was two thousand miles away, and forty-five years younger, holding hands with his father, whom he had rarely seen and who had been dead now for half of Silas’s life.
“Come back,” he heard his wife say. Silas snapped out of his reverie. They walked for a few minutes, weaving their way between downed logs and stalwart trees, the heady aroma almost intoxicating. Silas felt the change before saw it. The air seemed to become lighter; the scent shifted from being thick with the aroma of juniper boughs and pine duff to being almost earthen, sharp and dry. The light changed too.
“Where are we?”
“You’ll see.” Then they emerged from the woods, the stunted trees yielding easily. They were on the rim of the earth, the great canyon before them, the raw light splashed like a spray of red and orange paint swatches tossed across a display table. Penelope pulled Silas forward and they crossed the paved South Rim trail; she led him onto a small promontory of stone. They stopped. There was nowhere else to go. A few feet from where they stood, the Kaibab Plateau disappeared and fell fifteen hundred feet straight down, broken only by tiny ledges of rock and a few distressed junipers that clung for dear life to the shoulder of the gorge.
Silas opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped. Penelope looked at him and then out over the sixteen-mile distance toward the North Rim.
“I never take the same path. I always follow some random course through the trees. That way I never know exactly when I’ll emerge from the woods. It’s always a surprise.”
They sat on the sandstone slab and watched the colors change and fade. A pair of ravens glided overhead and tucked their wings tightly into their jet black bodies. The birds dove into the grotto, spiraling a thousand feet down in a manic game of chicken before pulling out of the dive and floating back up on the evening’s rising air mass.
Other people passed behind them but Silas was oblivious to them. He was lost in the magnificence of the Grand Canyon and what his wife called the greatest, most commonplace show on earth: sunset.
Black Sun Descending Page 13
