Grave Danger (10 page)

“Laura told me her job at TL&L was running the hotel. I understand you took over property management when you turned eighteen.”

“Yes.”

Libby reminded herself not to be vague. To get him to talk, she’d need to ask pointed questions. “So your job was to manage the employee housing. There were many Indians who worked for the logging operation, and some who worked for the mill, but I’ve found no records to indicate any tribal members lived in company housing. Why is that?”

“The loggers lived in tents in logging camps,” Earl said.

“And the mill workers?”

“The Indians preferred to live with their own kind on the reservation.”

“But wasn’t it company policy to exclude them from housing?”

“No, they didn’t want to live in the TL&L houses.”

“That seems odd. The mill houses were, and are, constructed better than the reservation homes. On the reservation, you might find two or three families living in one small house. I would think they might prefer a mill home.”

“Libby,” Jason said, casting her a warning look.

She knew she traversed a fine line. She’d managed to get her opinion into the transcript. It wasn’t exactly what Rosalie wanted, but it would suffice.

Earl looked at Libby with unflinching coldness. “If you aren’t going to listen to my answers, Ms. Maitland, then I hardly see the point of this interview.” He stood and left the room.

Jason leaned forward and picked up her tape recorder. She fought the urge to grab it back. He wouldn’t erase her words, would he? With Earl’s last statement, she would look worse in the transcript than he would.

To her relief, Jason only hit the stop button. “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

“I’m doing my job.”

“You could try your best, but fail. Rosalie can’t fault you for that.”

“Maybe I don’t want to fail. Maybe I want to accomplish what Rosalie asked for.” And for the first time, she realized she did. Millie’s nightmare spoke to her on a very personal level.

“I’m watching your face as you ask these questions, and I can see that you’re bothered. You don’t like putting them on the spot.”

“No. I don’t. I feel sorry for Laura and Earl.”

“But you’re going to publish the transcripts. That’s going to make them look bad.”

“Yes,” she said softly. Guilt stabbed at her. “Jason, I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing it to get your father his permit. I’m doing it for Coho, which will benefit from the jobs the Cultural Center will bring. It’s business. I’d expect you to understand.”

He stood and handed her the tape recorder. “I’ll get James.” He left the room.

She pulled out the cassette and broke off the tab that allowed the tape to be recorded over, and then labeled the tape with the date and Earl’s name and tucked it away in her bag.

James entered the room behind Jason. James was the first of the Montgomerys to greet her with a handshake and a smile. “Let me guess,” he said, “Laura was belligerent and Earl didn’t say anything?”

Libby smiled with genuine relief. This interview looked promising. “Before we start, I need your permission to tape this and publish the transcript in the report.”

“Sure. So, what do you want to know?”

“What I really want to know is: was your father the bastard everyone says?”

“He was worse.”

Jason gave her a hand signal she interpreted as him taking his hat off to her. He leaned back, but she still felt his sharp scrutiny.

James sat at the edge of his chair and looked eager to speak. “What I really want to talk about is Billy.”

“Why Billy?”

“He was the best of us. Jason here, his grandson, takes after him. You can write whatever you want about my father, but you need to balance the bad with the good that my brother did.”

“What did Billy do?”

“Billy arranged the secret meetings that launched the first union strike in 1946. He knew Momma would have wanted him to. Momma hated the way our father ran the company. Billy was smarter than the three of us put together. My biggest regret is being browbeaten into voting with Earl and Laura to give our father his way. If I’d voted with Billy, it would have been a tie. We would have had to compromise.”

“Billy didn’t agree with Lyle?”

“Never. The two were always at odds. At first, Billy fought him in the open, challenging his decisions and demanding that things be run differently. But Lyle was relentless and would convince Earl, Laura, and me to oppose Billy. So Billy found other ways to get around Lyle. Everyone suspects it was Billy who got the union going. He didn’t just arrange the secret meetings. He also must be the one who selected the strike date that would best serve the union. At least our mother had one kid to be proud of.”

Millie Thorpe Montgomery was at the center of all that interested Libby in this heartbreaking family saga. The bright, vibrant girl who’d married badly. “Tell me about your mother.”

“I was only ten when she died, but I know her grandfather raised her to run the mill. She cared about Coho and the mill and all the people who worked there. I understand she was a different woman, vivacious and warm, before she married my father and let him take over.”

“I’ve asked your sister and brother this, it’s important. Did she give up control willingly?”

“No,” James said. “He used his fists to convince Momma to give up control. People here played dumb and acted like she betrayed them each time she signed another legal document that my father needed from her. But they all knew he beat her into it. We all knew. My earliest memories are of my father backhanding her across the room, grabbing her by the hair. Even threatening us, if she didn’t do what he wanted.

“People blamed Momma. But no one stood up for her. No one protected her. And us.” He looked down. “I hope some of them will begin to understand if they know the truth. Your report can do that for her.”

According to Rosalie, Libby’s job was to give the tribe a voice. Now James wanted her to speak for Millie. Yesterday a mill worker eagerly told her the story of how Lyle fired people for the absurd cause of calling his home “Thorpe House.” Everywhere she turned, she found people begging for vindication because Lyle Montgomery had mistreated them. She feared the list of grievances was endless.

She interviewed James for over an hour, changing the tape several times. Unlike the interview with Laura, it was a pleasant conversation and would give her plenty to work with. Finally, James stood and reached out a hand to her. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Maitland. I look forward to reading your report.”

She quickly packed up her things and then stepped out the front door onto the wide front porch to wait for Jason as he shared a private conversation with James. She stared out over the town that unfolded below them. More than a hundred homes owned by TL&L were laid out in an even grid pattern, with the largest houses positioned closest to the seat of power.

It was here, on this porch, that Lyle had stood and viewed his domain. He probably felt as if he ruled the world. Behind him, inside the house, lived the wife and children he controlled through pain and fear. In front of him were the homes of his employees, people he controlled with low pay, poor working conditions, and the ever-present threat of firing and eviction.

Libby took a deep breath of sea air, hoping to cleanse her lungs and her mind from the oppressive thoughts. She looked down on the Shelby house across the road from Discovery Bay, pleased her borrowed home was as far from the Montgomery mansion as possible.

Jason joined her on the porch. “Well, I think you got what you were looking for,” he said with mild sarcasm.

“Are you going to cause legal trouble for me?”

“At this point, my actions will all depend on the presentation. You’re smart, Libby. Legally, I can’t stop you from publishing the transcripts.” He sighed. “Aunt Laura was a real piece of work. Nice job getting her to vent. Usually opinions like hers are only shared in the safety and comfort of a Klan meeting.”

She smiled. “Now tell me what you really think.”

He laughed and stepped off the porch.

She followed. “You’re just angry with her because she spoke so frankly. I’m appalled by her views, but I realize where they came from. Personally, I feel sorry for her. For all of them. Everyone I talk to has a grievance with Lyle.”

“Be grateful you never met him.”

“I am. What was your relationship with him?”

Jason looked sideways at her as they strolled across the lawn to the front gate. “Is this for your report?”

“Personal curiosity. Off the record question.”

“He was the meanest sonofabitch I’ve ever met. And that includes some of the scumbags I’ve defended in my law practice.” He stopped in front of a rose bush. “And no, I won’t elaborate, even off the record.” He reached out and plucked a perfect flower just on the cusp of opening. He offered the rose to her.

Pleasure mixed with dread. Maybe Simone was right about Jason. Maybe he wanted to be something more than a legal advisor. She reached for the flower, noticing for the first time that he’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing his skin. On his forearms were several long scratches. Scrapes he could have gotten from blackberry vines.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

H
OURS LATER, AFTER INTERVIEWING
a few Kalahwamish tribal members, Libby returned to the Shelby house. The disturbing encounter with Jason weighed heavily on her mind. She considered calling Mark and telling him about the scratches she’d seen on Jason’s arms, but wondered how that would be perceived. And if Jason got wind of it, what would it mean for her relationship with her client?

But if Jason had been hiding in the bushes, he wouldn’t want her to see the scratches, she reasoned. And scratches weren’t conclusive evidence. Telling Mark would probably cause her trouble, make her seem as if she were overreacting again. She would, however, remain guarded in her interactions with Jason.

Tired, she headed for the staircase, looking forward to a long, hot soak in the claw-foot bathtub. She came to a surprised halt on the upstairs landing. Bright light spilled into the hallway from under the door of her office. She approached the room slowly, wondering whether she was being foolish—foolish for being afraid, or foolish for entering the room, she didn’t know which.

She turned the knob, and pulled the door toward her, glad that this door opened outward, and therefore couldn’t serve as a hiding place for anyone inside the room. She scanned the room, and then slowly stepped inside. She circled her desk, opening drawers. Everything looked normal. She sat in her comfy desk chair, noticed the flashing light on the answering machine, and hit the play button. The voice message was short and sweet: “Back off, bitch.”

She dropped her head to the desk. Caller ID had said “Blocked” but she recognized the voice: Aaron.
Dammit.

With a deep breath, she stood from her desk and looked around the room one more time but didn’t see anything out of place, so she flipped the switch and left the room. She must have left the light on this morning.

She started to head to her bedroom, when another dim light under the door of the adjacent office caught her eye. Simone had a key to the house, and she used this office. Maybe she came by today?

She pushed open the door and glanced inside. The light table glowed eerily in the otherwise dark room. She slowly approached the table.

A piece of paper rested on the bright surface, a photocopy of an October 1940 newspaper article, which she’d made at the library just that morning. The headline read: MILLICENT MONTGOMERY DIES IN FIERY CAR ACCIDENT.

There was no doubt in her mind. She had left that page in her office on her desk this morning with the rest of the copies she’d made at the library. A tremor began at the back of her neck and spread the length of her body. Was this a warning? A threat?

She should call the police, but feared that once again, no one would believe her.

A loud bang sounded and she jumped.

Ohmygod.
The door to her office had slammed shut. Someone else was here. She raced down the stairs and out the front door as she dialed 9-1-1 on her cell phone.