Celilo's Shadow

by Wilcox, Valerie

  Tony flashed his best smile. “Do you happen to know where I might find them?” Thinking fast, he added, “I have some important papers for them to sign.”

  The dog spotted a squirrel almost as big as it was and cut short his business in mid-stream. Straining hard against its leash, the little beast yapped and yipped itself into a frenzy. “Hush now, Buffy,” its owner scolded, scooping him into her arms. “He thinks he’s a big game hunter.”

  “Cute, though,” Tony said. He left the porch and pretended to admire the pooch. The old lady seemed pleased with the attention but Buffy didn’t appreciate his efforts and snarled at him. “About the Nestors,” Tony said, stepping back a bit. “I really need to get in touch with them.”

  “Oh, dear, that may be a tad difficult.”

  Tony’s patience was non-existent, but he conjured up another engaging smile. “How’s that?”

  “Well, they’re in Portland, you see.”

  He didn’t see. Tony’s smile vanished. “Portland?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. It’s only temporary. Mr. and Mrs. Nestor will be back soon. I understand they’re going to open a new business here.”

  “So I’ve heard,” muttered Tony. He’d had a nagging suspicion that something was wrong ever since Clarice had cut off all contact between them. It had sounded reasonable when she suggested it, but he should’ve realized that nothing involving Clarice was simple. When he thought about it, she was always doing what he least expected. Murdering Nick was a prime example. Worse, he was starting to believe that she’d been taking him for a ride all along. It scared him shitless, but he had to know for sure. He needed to talk to Stan Feldman.

  Feldman’s office was located in a small, non-descript industrial complex on the outskirts of town not far from Monty’s Motel. His office building resembled a poorly built Quonset hut and was hotter than a sweat lodge, not that Tony had ever been in one. The wily Feldman never seemed to mind the heat. He could be found sitting at his battered second-hand desk seven days a week, unless a good prospect insisted on meeting somewhere more comfortable. Otherwise, Feldman was content to hang out at the office with a telephone receiver growing out of his ear, wheeling and dealing his way to a fortune. The guy was too cheap to hire a secretary so Tony was confident that the busy signal he got when he called ahead of his visit meant Feldman was on the job.

  Sure enough, when Tony walked into the office Feldman was on the phone. “That’s the price, take it or leave it, Sidney,” he said. Looking up as Tony entered, he waved him into a folding chair alongside his desk. He held up an index finger to indicate that he’d be just a moment longer. “Call me if you change your mind,” he told the Sidney person. “You know the number,” he concluded. “So, what brings Tony Rossi to my cozy hole-in-the-wall?”

  Tony hesitated. It was now or never time. “Baker Bluff,” he said.

  When Feldman burst out laughing, Tony had the sucker punch answer he’d been dreading. “You’re a day late and a dollar short, my friend.”

  Tony couldn’t move, couldn’t catch his breath. He had to force himself to speak. “Meaning?”

  “I told you when we met at the Carlton that Baker Bluff was a hot commodity. You’ve been outbid.”

  Tony’s gut reeled. Swallowing hard, he fought off the bile rising to his mouth and slumped against the chair’s metal backrest. “Clarice,” he sighed.

  Feldman laughed again. “Let me give you some advice, Tony, my man. Never ever trust a broad, especially a sexy broad in bed with a rich banker.”

  The jab cut Tony deeper than a knife. Bleeding fury, he lunged across the desk. “How ‘bout I give you some advice.”

  Feldman reached inside his desk drawer and pulled out a nasty looking silver pistol. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, aiming at Tony’s chest.

  Tony raised his hands and backed up to the door. Turning, he bolted outside. Halfway to the Caddy he stopped, clutched his gut and doubled over. The retching was violent, a burst of short explosions that ripped at his insides and splattered vomit onto his shoes as it hit the pavement. Uncontrollable tears ran down his face, but it was rage, not despair that had overtaken his body.

  Between heaves, he caught sight of Feldman standing in the office doorway. His smirk brought a sudden halt to Tony’s spasms. Without bothering to wipe the slimy discharge dribbling from his lips, Tony stumbled to the car and plopped behind the wheel. He would’ve liked to have taken a moment to get his breathing under control, but he didn’t want to give Feldman something else to mock. He gunned the engine and spit gravel as he sped out of the parking lot. He’d kill her! And Warren, too! Nobody steals Tony’s dream and gets away with it. They’d pay. Oh, how they’d pay. But first things first. He needed to wash away the taste of deceit and betrayal. Luckily, the state liquor store was just down the street.

  Fortified with a fifth of Jim Beam, Tony drove east on Interstate 84. He hadn’t given thought to a destination except to find someplace where he could get rip-snorting drunk. He hadn’t been on a good bender since he’d been exiled to this godforsaken town. He deserved a little mind-numbing pleasure, now more than ever. Tony had driven just a few miles when he spotted her. Ellie . . . the precious gift he’d been trying to unwrap from the first day he’d seen her.

  He didn’t know why she was walking alone on the shoulder of the road, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. For once there was no father or pesky girlfriend tagging along to spoil things. Ellie had never looked better. The long summer in the sun had given her skin a sexy glow. Her silky blond hair was a rich golden color hanging loosely about her slim shoulders. She wore short-shorts and a flimsy sleeveless blouse that showed off her budding figure. His loins ached as he pulled the convertible alongside her.

  “Need a ride?” he asked. When she looked at him, her eyes were rimmed in red, her face tear-streaked. “Ellie? Are you okay?”

  She shook her head and began to cry. Tony hopped out of the car. “Hey, nothing can be that bad.” Except losing your dream to a lying bitch. He put his arm around her waist and felt her tremble. Despite her misery, she smelled like a sweet garden of flowers; a delicate and fragrant bouquet waiting to be picked. The image made him tremble, too. This girl-woman had stirred him, teased him, and tempted him on far too many occasions to let her get away this time. “You look like you could use a friend, Ellie.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Danny’s truck was acting up again. He’d replaced the spark plugs, changed the oil, and tuned the engine, but the old beater had racked up too many miles over the years to be reliable. Wheeling down I-84 was touch and go at best, but he had no other way to get around. Walter and the others were already at the Pit Stop waiting for him. Leroy had probably already dropped off the oil Danny had bought earlier.

  After his encounter with Ellie in town, he’d gone fishing with Oscar. He’d only planned to stay for a short while but the salmon were running like crazy and their haul had been a good one. Oscar said it was like the old days when the fish literally jumped into their nets as soon as they’d dipped them in the water. The day had been a rich blessing for the old man. The plentiful catch had invigorated him, his arthritis temporarily forgotten as he lifted the heavy fish-laden nets out of the water many times over. He’d joked with the other fishermen as they counted and weighed their catch, besting even the famous Wauna Joe for the day. Oscar would sleep well that night.

  For Danny, the day had been bittersweet. He liked seeing his grandfather happy, but all the joy and excitement he usually felt when fishing at Celilo Falls was long gone. It had been so different in the beginning. He remembered the day that he caught his first salmon as the most thrilling event in his young life. No other tradition—even dancing—had ever come close to making his heart beat with the pride he had
felt that day. According to Oscar, the ancient rite of passage from boy to man was more than tradition, it was a sacred experience. He’d made a speech about salmon at the ceremony for Danny’s initiation. “The resource does not belong to us,” he’d said. “We belong to the resource.” This was their practice and always had been for more than ten thousand years.

  It irked Danny that Oscar and the other elders had no more fight left in them. They were resigned to their fate. Maybe it was inevitable that the dam would be completed. That didn’t mean they had to just roll over and let it happen without any kind of resistance. Their lack of fighting spirit had caused many harsh arguments between Danny and his grandfather. Now more than ever, Danny would have to lead the battle. No matter the cost.

  This time he wouldn’t wimp out like he’d done at the Pioneer Cemetery. He’d let Ellie and her father mess with his head once too often. He’d been wrong to trust them. Sam Matthews was a liar and his daughter was too stubborn to admit it. The two of them had deceived his mother and almost succeeded in sidetracking him. He would never let that happen again. The plans were set and the dynamite ready. All Danny had to do now was to go to the Pit Stop for their final preparations. He stepped on the gas pedal as hard as he dared. The truck rattled and shimmied as it struggled to pick up speed.

  He was halfway to the Pit Stop when he saw a girl walking alongside the highway in the opposite direction. Ellie. He’d just been thinking about her and suddenly she appears. Danny slowed the truck to get a better look. She was as stunning as ever, but it was her golden, sun-streaked hair hanging loosely about her tanned shoulders that reminded him of how angry she’d been with him. Her ponytail had come undone and the pink ribbon that had held it together fell to the dusty sidewalk. When he’d scooped it up, she’d refused to take it from him. The warm summer wind blew the newly freed silky strands across her face like soft caresses. He’d never seen anything quite so beautiful and he guessed that was why he’d saved the ribbon. He glanced at it now, tied to the truck’s rearview mirror—a symbol of how far he’d wandered off track. His usual reserve and caution vanished every time he was around her. Getting mixed up with a white girl was just plain stupid. No more! He snatched the ribbon from the mirror and tossed it out the open window.

  With a determined set to his jaw, Danny fixed his eyes on the road ahead. A shiny red Cadillac speeding down the highway served as a fine distraction from thoughts about Ellie. He’d seen the Caddy in town and had admired it from afar. The ragtop belonged to some rich guy, which always seemed to be the way the world worked. He’d heard rumors that the car was owned by a smooth-talking salesman. Danny wasn’t surprised since conning people and lying like a coyote trickster was what white people did best. Sam Matthews had proved that.

  When he took a last look at the car in his rearview mirror, he saw that the driver had stopped alongside Ellie. Curious, Danny eased off the gas and pulled to the side of the road. As he watched Ellie chatting with the guy, he felt a nervous twitch in his gut. What line of bull was he feeding her? His anxious feeling revved up a notch when the driver suddenly hopped out of his car. Danny strained to get a better look. Despite the distance, he could tell the fellow was good-looking. He had a cocky “look at me” swagger designed to impress the ladies. He wore sharp threads, too. A scheming coyote in disguise. Apparently, Ellie didn’t see him that way. She didn’t back off, even when he wrapped his arm around her waist. In fact, she let him guide her to the convertible and help her inside. They looked very chummy. Danny shook his head. White makes right every time. He quickly shifted gears and entered the highway again as the convertible did the same in the opposite direction.

  Danny slapped the steering wheel. Damn. He couldn’t shake loose his feelings for Ellie, no matter how hard he tried. Seeing her ride off with that con man worried him. Ellie was a smart girl, but she was young and innocent in so many ways. It would be easy for someone to take advantage of her. Despite his earlier vow, he couldn’t just drive away. He had to know that she was safe. If he acted quickly, he could follow them and make sure. That’s all. Just make sure she was okay. Walter and the others could nurse their beers a while longer. After making a sharp U-turn in the middle of the highway, Danny goosed the truck to catch up with the Caddy. The truck coughed and sputtered, but he coaxed it into gaining enough speed to keep the convertible in sight from a discreet distance. They’d traveled about two miles on I-84 when it made a left turn onto a dirt road.

  Danny recognized the turnoff as the quickest way to get to Baker Bluff. He’d only been there one time when he’d checked out George’s story—and that was enough. He’d arrived just as the sun was setting—much like it was now—and the view overlooking the river had been spectacular. But as far as he was concerned, Baker Bluff was an evil place that reeked of death. He’d found a sign discarded by the side of the road with a crudely drawn imitation of his signature symbol. Someone had tried to make it look like Danny had been to the bluff before, perhaps even to prove he was responsible for what had happened there. He wouldn’t be surprised if the sheriff had planned to accuse him of that white guy’s death instead of blaming poor old George. Why he hadn’t, remained a mystery. Danny had stayed at the bluff just long enough to look around and then got out of there. If Baker Bluff was where the guy was taking Ellie, then Danny had been right to follow them. He couldn’t see anything good happening there.

  His major concern now was all the dust the Caddy was stirring up. He didn’t have enough money to replace the air filter when he’d overhauled the truck and if they didn’t get to the bluff soon, he might not make it at all. Hoping to cut down on the damage, Danny eased back on the throttle to put more distance between the car and the truck. It was too late. The death throes had already begun. A lurch, shake, and window-rattling shudder ended the old pickup’s misery.

  Glazed with nervous sweat and cursing his bad luck, Danny swung out of the cab and propped up the hood with a determined urgency. There was nothing to do now but fix the problem and fix it fast. He hoped that it was only the filter that had stopped the truck. That he could deal with on the fly. Anything more serious and he’d have to hike the rest of the way to Baker Bluff. The thought made him shiver despite the heat. How far was it? Six miles, seven at the most. His bum ankle would never get him there. He had to get the truck going again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ellie turned her tear-streaked face toward Tony. “Oh, good, it’s you. I . . . my dad . . . I need to . . .”

  Although she was sweaty and her hair had tumbled out of its pony tail, she still looked gorgeous. But it was her troubled expression and confused stammering that aroused Tony more than her youthful beauty. A distressed woman is a vulnerable woman. He placed his finger lightly on her quivering lips. “Hush now,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you. We’ll go for a little ride in the Caddy and you’ll feel much better.”

  Ellie smiled tentatively. “Thank you, but . . . but you don’t understand. I’m . . . I’m going to Celilo Village. I need to talk to them . . . to Reba and Danny. It’s really important,” she said in a voice trembling with urgency.

  “Of course, I understand,” he said. “I can take you wherever you want to go. When she didn’t respond, he smiled and added, “You trust me, don’t you, Ellie?”

  She gave him a half-hearted nod.

  “All righty, then. Hop in here beside me,” he said, patting the passenger’s seat. “Now close those beautiful eyes of yours, lean back, and enjoy the ride.” And what a ride it will be.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tony brought the car to a stop and turned off the ignition.

  Ellie opened her eyes and looked around. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Baker Bluff,” Tony said. “My favorite spot.”

  “But you said you’d take me to Celilo. You see, my dad isn’t who I thought
he was. It’s a little hard to explain, but I just found out that he . . .”

  Tony half-listened to her ramblings while he gazed at the river below, a grim set to his jaw. He didn’t care about her father or whatever the hell she was prattling on about. That Sam Matthews was an FBI agent did give him some pause, though. Tony was already on the man’s radar, if the sheriff ‘s hysterics could be believed. Messing around with a G-man’s daughter probably wasn’t the smartest thing for him to do right now. But he’d been betrayed big time. When Clarice thought he couldn’t get her what she wanted soon enough, she dumped him and got her rich husband to buy Baker Bluff. His dream of a better life out from under Uncle Sol’s thumb was dead the moment Clarice killed Nick. And, if all that wasn’t bad enough, he could be going to jail for the cover-up, not to mention the fraudulent real estate transactions Clarice had conned him into doing. He looked at Ellie and shrugged. Might as well get something out of the deal while he could.

  “Uh,” said Ellie with a puzzled frown. “I’m not sure why you stopped here but it is a beautiful place.”

  Tony leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Not as beautiful as you.” His voice sounded husky and his breath smelled sour even to him.

  Ellie twisted her head away from him. “Oh, no,” she cried. “You’ve been drinking.”