Murder at a Vineyard Mansion
Page 19
Overhead, the early afternoon sun was hot in a sky half filled with clouds drifting to the east, and while our offspring patiently cast, reeled in, and cast again, Zee and I worked on our tans. Later, in the privacy of our front yard, we would tan the parts now covered with the small patches of cloth that were officially our bathing suits.
“So there won’t be any trials?” asked Zee.
“None that I know of,” I said. “I don’t plan to rat on the Silencer as long as he stays out of business, and Sarah Bradford is in her posttrial stage. Unless, that is, the Christians and others are right about there being a god of justice in the hereafter, in which case she might be looking for a heavenly lawyer as she heads for the celestial dock.”
“It must be frustrating for the police not to have anybody to arrest for the two murders.”
“They have my tape, so they have Sarah’s confession, such as it is. I don’t think they’ll spend much more time on the case. They have other things to do.”
“Such as?”
“The usual. A summer of being patient with tourists who want to know how to find the bridge to Falmouth.”
“Ah, yes. The famous bridge to Falmouth.”
“Some people don’t believe that there isn’t one. They insist they got here by driving over it.”
“What do the cops do when they meet one of them?”
“They tell them to take the road to Vineyard Haven, and the people drive off feeling good about winning the argument.”
“What happens when they get to Vineyard Haven and there isn’t any bridge?”
“An unsolved mystery. The cops never see them again. The other day a guy stopped beside Tony D’Agostine and asked, ‘Is this the right road?’ Tony smiled and assured him that it certainly was and the guy drove off happy.”
“Did anybody say which road to where?”
“The guy didn’t say and Tony didn’t ask.”
“Do the cops do anything not having to do with sending tourists on wild-goose chases?”
“Sure. For instance, right now they’re trying to prove that one of the guys who’s running for county commissioner and is a favorite to win is also the island’s biggest drug dealer. They can’t prove he’s a dealer so they can’t even hint that he is. But he is.”
“Why can’t they get him?”
“Because he only sells to four people and they sell to everybody else. None of the four people will squeal so the cops can’t lay a hand on him.”
“How do they know it’s him, then?”
“Because the four people have said so. It’s just that they’ve never said so on tape. They think it’s pretty funny. They won’t testify against him and why should they, since he’s their meal ticket? And even if they get busted they just lie under oath and they’re out of jail almost before they go in. It’s harder than it should be to make a righteous bust on Martha’s Vineyard, but the cops keep at it.”
“We live in a wonderful world. Tell me more about Sarah Bradford catching your eye.”
“It was all small stuff. She was a real man-hater, she was the right size, she was left-handed and strong and knew how to swing a bat. She knew Harold was another of her husband’s bastards, and when Ethan told her about Harold and Cheryl, she never told Cheryl she knew, which was completely out of character, since normally she worked hard at running off Cheryl’s men. She lied about never driving on the beach. It all added up. Both times, once after the weekly softball game, she drove to and from Chappy over Norton’s Point Beach, but the biologist never saw her because the biologist left at five.”
“Do you really think that she may have killed George Pease, too? Her own son-in-law?”
“I think it could be. Pease was killed by a horse he was trying to train, right there in the Bradford barn where that stallion tried to do me in. It was one of Sarah’s horses, and knowing what I know now about Sarah, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was down there in the barn the same time her son-in-law was. I imagine she hated Pease just like she hated other men. I know she owned killer horses, and that murder didn’t bother her a whit. I can’t prove she actually killed anyone, of course.”
“God will know.”
“I’ll look forward to her report.”
“What do you think will happen to Cheryl?”
“She’s pretty and, unlike you, she’s a rich girl. Her biggest problem will be fending off leeches. Maybe her brother will help her filter out the worst of the suitors. She has a good heart, but I don’t think she’s long on brains, so she needs a little looking after.”
“Maybe you should volunteer. You have a fondness for blonde bimbos.”
I glanced at her. She had an innocent smile on her face. “No thanks,” I said. “I have enough simpleminded women on my hands already.”
She grinned. “Touché. I walked right into that one. That’ll teach me to be a smart-ass.”
“I doubt it.”
Above us, surrounded by clouds, there was a blue patch of cloud-eating sky. When clouds blew into it they grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared. Another mystery of the universe. There were many such.
“What about the other players in this drama you’ve been reviewing?”
“I wasn’t reviewing it, I was part of the cast. Sort of, at least. Well, let’s see. Ethan may make a deal with cousin Ron Pierson and sell him back the HPM weapon he’s perfected. Money makes for strange bedfellows, after all.”
“Maybe if they can make a deal it’ll heal the war between the Pierson factions. The Hatfields and the McCoys made up, after all, and if they could do it the Piersons can.”
“Maybe. Let’s see now…Helga Mattes and John Lupien can get hitched and live happily ever after. Who’s left?”
“How about all of those women Harold Hobbes seduced?”
“I’ve never thought that seduction between adults was a one-way street,” I said. “I think all of the ladies will survive quite well. Maybe Maria Danawa and Paul Fox can have a double wedding with Helga and John. What do you think?”
“I feel bad about Maud Mayhew. She got nothing but grief out of this.”
“Her son wasn’t much of a loss.”
“You can say that, but he was her son, and he finally actually loved someone, even though it was his own half sister.”
“I wonder if he knew what love is.”
“He loved her enough to have that vasectomy.”
“There was that.”
“And he was going to take her away where no one would know them and they could start a new life.”
“Yes.”
“I feel bad about Maud.”
“She’s a tough old bird. She’s outlasted three husbands and she can probably survive this. The question is whether she can survive Ron Pierson and people like him building castles on Chappaquiddick.”
“Maybe the battle to make Chappy a gated community will rouse her élan vital.”
“Could be.”
We looked up at the spot of cloud-eating sky. It was still there. I could hear the sound of laughter from somewhere down the beach.
I rolled over until I was lying across Zee’s sun-warmed body, and put an elbow on the bedspread on either side of her head. She looked up at me with her wide, dark eyes.
“Aha, me proud beauty,” I said with a leer. “You are in my power at last.”
She fluttered her long lashes. “Oh, dastardly villain, you would not dare to treat me so if Lord Studley or brother Jack were here.”
“Your precious Studley is with his regiment fighting fuzzy-wuzzies and your dear brother Jack is far at sea and cannot save you this time.”
She put her bronze arms around me. “Help, help,” she whispered.
“Your cries are in vain,” I said, giving her a kiss. “Surrender.”
“Never, vile scoundrel.”
“Then I shall wreak my wicked will upon you.”
“You may possess my body, beast, but you will never possess my soul.”
“Pa! Ma! Look! Look
!” Joshua’s voice was filled with excitement.
We looked and saw little Diana down by the surf, her tiny rod bent nearly in two.
“She’s got a fish!” shouted her brother.
We were on our feet in an instant and beside our daughter a moment later.
“Reel down like we showed you,” said Zee. “Then raise the rod and reel down again. You can back up, too.”
Diana did both and after a battle, a fish came flopping up onto the sand.
“It’s a keeper,” I said. “Good work! We can have him for supper.”
Diana was beaming and panting. “He almost pulled me in. I thought he was a big shark.”
“It’s better than a shark,” said Zee, hugging her. “It’s a flounder, and it’s your very first fish. We’re proud of you!” She smiled at me. “I didn’t notice you rigging her up for flounder.”
“There are no blues around so I figured she couldn’t lose by trying for these guys.”
On both sides of us the fishermen were staring, wondering what sort of fish Diana had caught or perhaps using the flounder as an excuse to look at Zee in her bikini. Both reasons were understandable.
I took the fish off Diana’s hook and put it in the fish box. Then I rebaited the hook and sent my daughter back down to the water.
Five minutes later Zee and I had our light rods rigged with sinkers and baited hooks and had joined our children and the other fishermen in having a go at flounder. It was a beautiful Vineyard day and I was happy.
“Pa.”
“What, Diana?”
Her smile and eyes were bright. “This is even funner than the computer!”
Such a wise child. Took after her father. No doubt about it.
Recipes
CHICKEN AND SNOW PEAS
(Serves 3–4)
This is a simple, one-dish meal. If you don’t like chicken, you can use shrimp or scallops instead. If you like it hotter, add hot sauce or red pepper to taste.
J.W. cooks this dish in the book.
2 tsps. soy sauce
2 tsps. cornstarch
2 tsps. sherry
2 tsps. water
¼ tsp. white pepper
4 tbsps. cooking oil
1½ lbs. chicken breasts, boned, skinned, and cut into bite-sized sections
1 clove minced garlic
8 ozs. sliced mushrooms
½ c. sliced bamboo shoots
¼ lb. snow peas (Chinese pea pods)
Sauce
½ c. water
1 tbsp. sherry
2 tbsps. soy sauce
½ tsp. sugar
1 tsp. cooking oil
1 tbsp. cornstarch
Mix sauce and set aside.
Marinate chicken in mixture of soy sauce, cornstarch, sherry, water, pepper, and oil.
Put wok or skillet over high heat. When it’s hot, add 1 tablespoon oil. When oil is hot, stir in garlic and half of chicken mixture. Cook about 3 minutes, until chicken centers are no longer pink. Remove chicken and repeat process with remaining chicken.
Remove chicken, add remaining oil. When hot, stir in mushrooms and bamboo shoots for one minute, then add pea pods. After stirring for 3 minutes, return chicken to wok. Add sauce and stir until sauce is boiling and has thickened.
Serve with rice.
SPAGHETTI SAUCE
(Serves 8)
Like most recipes, this one can be modified according to your taste. J.W. likes it just the way it is.
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves (at least) garlic, minced
½ c. cooking oil
1 sweet red or green pepper, chopped
8 ozs. sliced mushrooms
1 lb. ground beef (or chicken, if you don’t eat mammals)
1 lb. hot Italian sausage, cut into bite-sized pieces
½–1 c. red wine
1 can cream of mushroom soup (the secret ingredient)
1 6-oz. can tomato paste
1 tbsp. dried parsley
1 tsp. each dried sage, rosemary, thyme
1 tb. Dona Flora’s “Bean Supreme” (a wonderful combination of herbs and spices available from Dona Flora, PO Box 77, La Conner, WA 98257)
Salt and pepper to taste
Ground Parmesan cheese to taste
In a large frying pan over medium heat, sauté onion and garlic in a bit of oil; remove from pan, add more oil if necessary, and sauté pepper and mushrooms; remove from pan, add remaining oil, and brown ground meat and sausage.
Return veggies to pan, add wine, and stir in remaining ingredients. Cook, covered, over low heat for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Serve over pasta and top with ground Parmesan cheese. Delish!
SEVICHE
This excellent cold dish consists of fish “cooked” only by a lime marinade. The best fish to use when making seviche are oily ones such as bluefish because the marinating process eliminates the oil. Since Martha’s Vineyard waters contain a lot of bluefish, that is the species J.W. uses.
2 c. of fish fillets cut into ½-inch cubes
2 small hot green peppers, finely chopped
1 large tomato, peeled and chopped
½ c. onion, chopped
¼ c. red pepper, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ c. tomato juice
1/3 c. lime juice
1/3 c. olive oil
1 tbsp. parsley, finely chopped
½ tbsp. coriander (cilantro), finely chopped
2 sprigs thyme, finely chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Combine all ingredients and let them stand in the refrigerator overnight. Seviche is best served ice-cold.
About the Author
Philip R. Craig grew up on a small cattle ranch southeast of Durango, Colorado. He earned his MFA at the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop and was for many years a professor of literature at Wheelock College in Boston. He and his wife live on Martha’s Vineyard.