Indian Pipes Read Online Free PDF Page B

the street between Elizabeth’s convertible and the car in front, his baseball cap on backward, his jeans drooping around his feet, the braces on his teeth sparkling in the sunlight. He slapped the hood. “Pretty sporty car.”
    “Hello, Jed,” Victoria said. “Looks as if you’ll get there before we do, wherever you’re going.”
    “It’s August.” Jed dodged among the shoppers who were ambling along Main Street and disappeared up Center Street.
    On the outskirts of town, four or five blocks and ten minutes later, they turned down the steep hill to Owen Park, and carried their lunch to a bench overlooking the harbor.
    Below them the ferry from Woods Hole rounded the jetty, entered the harbor, and moved into its slip. Partway around the harbor, just this side of Packer’s wharf, was a high-tech vessel shaped like a gargantuan grapefruit seed.
    “Look at the way that deck slopes,” said Elizabeth. “No one can possibly stand on it.”
    Two broad stripes ran from bow to stern, the lower one turquoise, the one above it lime green.
    Victoria studied the vessel. “It must be speedy.”
    “Fifty knots.” Elizabeth shaded her eyes with her hand. “Who wants to go that fast in a boat?”
    The vessel’s name,
Pequot,
was spelled out in three-foot-high letters that slanted backward to add to the illusion of speed.
    Victoria opened her container of chowder and spooned it up as she spoke. “Do you know who owns the boat?”
    “That casino in Connecticut.”
    “Pequot
was an Indian word for ‘destroyer.’ “
    “Destroyer as vessel, or as wrecking people’s lives,” Elizabeth said. “I wonder if they know how apt that is?”
    “A bit of gambling can be fun,” Victoria said. “I wouldn’t mind taking a ride to Connecticut at fifty knots, visiting the casino, and winning some money.”
    Elizabeth shook her head.
    The captain of the casino ferry, wearing a dazzling white uniform, greeted passengers. Gold stripes on his shoulder boards glittered in the noon sunlight.
    “Isn’t that Patience VanDyke?” Victoria pointed to a large woman in a purple muumuu who was walking sedately up the gangplank.
    “It’s hard to tell from here.” Elizabeth studied the passengers. “The man behind her looks like Chief Hawkbill.”
    “And Peter Little,” said Victoria, tugging down the brim of her hat to shade her eyes from the glare off the water. “Practically the entire tribal council.”
    “Is that Hiram behind the rest?”
    Victoria tilted her head. “I don’t think so. Hiram didn’t mention anything this morning about a boat ride. In fact, he said he’d call me around five.” She looked at her watch. “I want to be sure to be home by then.”
    “I suppose the tribal council is checking out the casino,” said Elizabeth. “What’s Hiram calling about?”
    “He started to say something before he left suddenly.”
    “When Dojan showed up. What’s Hiram got against Dojan?”
    “I have no idea,” said Victoria.
    The woman in purple reappeared and moved back down the gangplank. “There’s Patience again,” said Elizabeth. “With Peter Little right behind her. Guess those two aren’t going after all.”
    As they finished lunch, the
Pequot
slid away from the dock, slowly rounded the jetty, then lifted partway out of the water on what looked like skis.
    In the harbor, children buzzed around in an outboard motorboat, trailing a long wake. A boy dived off the dock in front of them and swam out to an anchored sailboat. The
Pequot
rounded West Chop and disappeared from sight.
    As they were leaving their picnic spot, a stream of cars debarked from the three-thirty ferry. Elizabeth took the back road past the waterworks to avoid traffic. They crossed the town line into West Tisbury.
    Victoria looked at her watch.
    Elizabeth checked the rearview mirror and passed a line of mopeds. “We’ll be in plenty of time for your phone call, Gram. He’s not supposed to call for another hour.”
    They drove past West