I’D FORGOTTEN THE DEAD MAN’S PIPE.
That night, after supper, I took my jacket upstairs to my room and felt something in the pocket. There was the pipe. I’d stuffed it in without thinking. The leather pouch was there, too, one of the simple foldover packs so many men carried in that day. I turned it around in my hands and opened it. The leaf inside was still damp, alive with scent. An odd feeling swept me that I was out of bounds, prying into something that was not my business. Though that was absurd. The dead man on the beach would never know what I’d taken.
I’d told my father about the body the minute he’d come home from Riley’s store that evening. He’d quietly told my mother, and she, in whispers, had informed her sister, my aunt Grace, who lived with us and worked at the post office. Silence seemed to be the way my story was to be treated until Aunt Grace broke ranks, as she often did. She was unmarried, younger than my mother, and known for stating her opinions whatever company she was in. It was not how a woman should conduct herself, my mother believed, and she was always frowning at her and trying to quiet her down.
“So it’s come to this, murder on our own shores,” Aunt Grace blurted out as the four of us sat eating a late supper that night.
“Who said anything about murder?” asked my father. “A man washed up, that’s all we know for sure.”
“A man with a bullet hole in his neck, Ruben says. It was just a matter of time,” Aunt Grace went on. “And now they’ve taken to stealing bodies to hide their crimes.”
“Come along, Grace. There’s no evidence of that,” my father said. “It’ll be investigated, I’m sure.”
“It’s the liquor that’s causing this! There’s no enforcement of our laws.”
My mother looked disapproving. “The trouble is that the Coast Guard can’t keep up. Our local police have no support. There’s too much smuggling going on.”
“They could keep up if they wanted,” Aunt Grace shot back. “They’re in league with it, most of them, making a bundle for themselves under the table.”
“Hush, dear,” my mother said.
“Well, they are! Just no one wants to say it. What’s become of this country? It’s all commerce and greed.”
“We’ll discuss this later, at a more appropriate time,” my mother said with arched brows. She meant, “a time when Ruben is not here to listen.”
“In case you forgot, I’m the one who found this body!” I protested.
“Ruben, please. We’ve heard enough about bodies. The subject is now closed,” my mother declared with finality.
As if that weren’t muzzle enough, my father took me aside after supper to back up Charlie Pope’s warning.
“There’s no good to be had in stirring up rumors. You and Jed keep a clamp on your mouths and we’ll all be the better for it.”
“But who would go and take that body? And why didn’t Chief McKenzie want to do anything about it?”
“He does want to. And he will, so keep what you saw to yourself. I mean it, Ruben, this is not our affair. Don’t go worrying your mother by bringing it up again.”
Alone in my room, I closed the pouch with an angry snap and put it down. I picked up the pipe.
It was made of good wood, smooth and glossy, though seawater had mottled it in places. The stem had a fashionable dip with a nice lip. Riley’s sold pipes, though none so fine as this one. I ran my finger over the bowl and remembered the expensive wristwatch on the dead man’s floating hand. Whoever the man was, he’d had style and the money to support it.
Downstairs, a door slammed. I heard rapid steps leaving the house and looked out in time to see my father getting into the store truck parked in the yard. He often borrowed it for transportation. That evening he was taking it back. There was the whir of the starter, and the distinctive cough of the engine. The headlights came on, bright as twin suns in the dark. The night was moonless again, and perfectly clear. It was just as it had been two nights before, when the only illumination had come from a dusty froth of stars high overhead.
Back at my desk, I stowed the pipe and pouch in a drawer and sat staring out into space. A picture of shadowy forms moving silently up a beach came into my mind.
Tyler’s Lane.
I’d been there, of course, despite what I’d let Jeddy think. I hadn’t planned to be, never would have been under ordinary circumstances. My mother liked to keep me home at night, as much for companionship as anything. My dad so often worked late at the store. Aunt Grace had a social life of her own. I was the only child at home. My older brother had moved away to take a job in Providence. My sister had married young and gone to live in Vermont. It’s the lot of the youngest to be clung to and fussed over. Except that night, I got lucky. Old Mrs. LeWitt went on the rampage for her medicine.