by Murray Segal
“Nah, It’s just life in the big city. Besides, I am used to it.”
We check into the Senator and take all our stuff to the room with some help from a bellman. The MDTW goes on the closet floor and I pile the Bean’s clothing on top of it. What could be better than spending the rest of the morning in the Spa followed by a tasty lunch? Not much.
“Come on Silvia, I’ll take you to see what little there is to see in this capital city. It has been my experience that all state capitals are boring places with not much to see.”
First, we drive toward the downtown a few minutes and stop at the impressive capital building. We decide not to take a tour of the building. Instead we drive around the downtown which is directly on the bank of the Kennebec River. Then it’s back to the Inn to partake of more spa time and a few movies.
“Silvia, if you look to your right as we get near the inn you will see the Maine State Airport on a steep rise toward the runway. No fun landing or taking off here. I’ve done it. What is fun, there are a ton of antique shops south of here where I used to shop frequently, but I’d rather go back to the inn. More spa time, some movies, dinner and a few drinks and who knows what else.”
“Like I couldn’t imagine what the ‘what else’ would be, now could I?”
“Knowing me as you do, you probably can.”
We accomplish all the above, and eventually fall into a deep sleep and don’t move until nine o’clock the next morning.
“I’m glad we stayed the day here. I feel rested and relaxed compared to the last few days. I’ll even take the wheel for a while.”
“Good, I charged up the Toshiba at the Senator so I can answer any questions you have when we get on the road.”
We do just that and we are in the car, zipping along at 70 mph, a few minutes after 9:00 am. In just a wee bit over one hour we approach the Bangor, Maine area where I-95 abruptly changes direction by swinging straight north. A few miles to the north we pass the exit to the main campus of the University of Maine at Orono. I can feel Silvia getting uptight as we approach Orono. I know she is thinking that this would be a good place to settle so I meet that head on.
“I’d really like to settle here because we both would like the academic environment but there would be limited opportunities in terms of escape routes so I don’t think it’s wise from a safety standpoint.”
“I know. We have been over this several times and you are right. My Toshiba tells me to exit the Interstate here because we can buy a copy of Presque Isle’s weekly newspaper here. The paper is owned by a Bangor publishing company. While you are driving, I can be checking up on the local Presque Isle news. It is a way to start familiarizing ourselves with the area.”
“Sure.”
I get off at the Orono exit and we find a variety store/gas station and buy a copy of the Presque Isle Star-Herald. When we get back on the Interstate Silvia starts browsing through the newspaper while stopping now and then to bring me up to date.
“Interesting. We should feel right at home. Not only was there a murder very recently but there is a compilation of each of the stops made by every Trooper at Troop F of the State Police. There is an article about a spate of vandalism in the area and a strike by nurses. The school district budget has been vetoed and there is a photo of two guys wrestling in a large container full of mashed potatoes and a contest to see who can eat the most potatoes. HONEST.”
“Surely you must be pulling my leg.”
“Don’t call me Shirley and I am not pulling your leg.”
I drive the next leg of our trip to Houlton, Maine where I-95 ends at the Canadian border.
As we near the outskirts of the city, Sam’s wonderful car starts to run very rough.
“Jeez, Silvia, do you feel that?”
“Of course, I do. It feels like this car is on its last legs. Broken legs at that. What do we do?”
“We are going to find a repair shop and let a mechanic look at it.”
We make it to a Sears which has an automotive shop and pull into the parking lot. The manager lets me know that all his mechanics are currently flat out and he may or may not get one to look at the car by the end of the day.
“We are just passing through. Based on what you are telling me, we should probably find a place tonight. Am I reading you, right?”
“That would be wise, particularly if the car needs parts that we don’t have in stock. I would recommend the Shiretown Inn and suite. It is a good place to stay, with a pool and it’s not very far from here. We could call you a taxi but it would be faster for you to wait a few minutes and I’ll have one of our men run you over there.”
Five minutes later a giant of man comes into the waiting room and introduces himself.
“Hi, my name is Moose. I can drive you over to the Shiretown right now.”
“Good to meet you, Moose. My name is Harry and this is my wife, Silvia. I’ll have to get some stuff from our car.”
“Sure. I will get my car and park near you so we can load up.”
He pulls up a couple of minutes later in a very old Buick Station Wagon. It looks like a relic from a couple of decades ago and carries the scars and rust to prove it.
“This looks like a classic, Moose.”
If I am to become proficient with the lies, I need to practice, practice. Practice.
“It needs a bit of body work but it runs like a top.”
Needs a full body transplant, that’s what I think to myself. I catch a bit of a snicker from Silvia but fortunately Moose is busy transferring our suit cases and doesn’t hear her. It is a short drive to the Shiretown and the old Buick does run very smoothly. At the desk the desk clerk tells us that they do have a few rooms for the night.
“Our car broke down and it is possible we may stay more than one night so put us down for two nights.”
“Certainly sir. May I see you driver’s license and a credit card?”
“We will be paying with cash. I don’t use credit cards.”
“Not many people use cash these days. We have a nice room available at $129.00 per night. Since you don’t know if you will be with us the second night a one-night deposit will do.”
I pay the bill and we push a luggage rack out to the car. Moose helps us load it up. When we finish, he looks at me and asks, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Actually, there is. Could you pick up at dinner time and join us for dinner?”
“I can certainly pick you up but dinner is not necessary.”
“Well it’s not necessary but we would be delighted if you could join us. We are strangers to this area and are totally unfamiliar with it. I’m sure that you could help us out in getting familiar with the area.”
“I’ve lived here all my life and that I could do. I get out of work a five and need about an hour to go home and clean up. Does six o’clock work for you?”
“It does. See you then.”
Moose shows up right on time. I remember we still must do some searching of the MDTW to see if we can get any clues as to why the Nazis want it. We can’t do it until we get to a place where we have some extended time to work on it. When we get into the Classic Buick I say to Moose,
“Moose, I need to make some repairs on an old typewriter and I wonder if there is a good place to buy some small tools.”
Silvia kicks me in the shin and I get the message loud and clear. I have blurted out the word typewriter when it is supposed to be a secret. Thinking quickly, I concoct another lie to cover up this gaff.
“Moose. Please keep this secret. We are going to give this typewriter to an old friend and we want to surprise him with it.” My, am I getting good at lying or what?
“My lips are sealed. Why don’t we stop at Collins Hardware Store to get your tools right now and then go to dinner?”
“Terrific.”
At the hardware store we pick out an assortment of small screwdrivers, pliers, some wrenches, and cleaning materials. I pay the bill and Moose takes us to The Tast
e of China Restaurant. The food is remarkably good. During the meal, we chit chat about things going on in the world. Moose’s world, however, is largely confined to the area around Houlton and points further north. This is fine because that’s what we are interested in learning.
“Moose. Have you lived here long?”
“Born and brought up here in Houlton and never saw the point of leaving it. The air is fresh and clean here, the people are friendly, and I have worked at Sears long enough so that I know my way around the auto shop. Oh yeah, the deer hunting is great in the fall and so is cross country skiing in the winter. I know the best places to fish. There are lots or tourists here in the summer and some of them are interesting. Well, like yourselves. Why would I leave?”
I can’t for the life of me think of a reasonable answer to that question so I look at Silvia who has not been her usual effusive self during the meal. She gets the message.
“Moose, do you have a large family here?”
“Nope. Mom and Dad are gone and I have no brothers or sisters. I have an uncle up near Caribou. I go up there occasionally for a long weekend or vacation.”
I make a mental note of this fact. It would be nice to know someone up there but at the same time I don’t want to let Moose know that we are headed there.
“What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Steven Gustafson and he lives in a tiny town called New Sweden.”
“Interesting.” Nice going Silvia.
I am all talked out at this point so I let out a small yawn and ask Moose to drive us back to the Inn. When we get there, he informs me that the guys at Sears will be bringing our car into the garage first thing tomorrow morning.
“You should know what’s going on with it by lunch time if not before. I will call you when we know. Goodnight, and thank you for the dinner.”
“Goodnight to you. Silvia and I enjoyed it very much.”
When we get inside Silvia goes to the computer and gets a map of New Sweden, Maine and finds out its population is less than 400 people. This may come in handy sometime in the future. I make a note of it, and then we watch a Red Sox game until eleven. I have a beer and Silvia has an iced tea. Another brilliant pitching performance by David Price. He lasts 4 innings and gives up 7 runs before Manager Farrell sends him to the showers. Not bad for a 207 million-dollar mistake. An improvement over his last outing. Breakfast at the Inn and then we wait by the telephone for Moose’s call. It comes at 10:30.
“Harry, this is Moose. Do you want the good news first or the bad news?”
“Start with the good news.”
“Well we do need a part for your car but it is not expensive.”
“And the bad news?”
“We don’t have the part in stock so you will be in Houlton one more night.”
“The bad news is not so bad. We will survive nicely.”
“Will you be needing any rides after work, today?”
“Probably will but I will call you later and let you know.”
I hang up.
“Silvia, we will be spending another night here. We have the rest of the day to do whatever turns you on.”
“I am going to see what the Toshiba has to offer. Umm, Trip Advisor mentions Uncle Willy’s Candy Shoppe, with an E. Facebook recommends Grammy’s Country Inn, American Restaurant. On Saturday, August 5th there is the Charlie Russell Memorial Jamboree which looks like a carnival. You tube takes us to a Big Truck Stop, The Bridge to Nowhere and various small sculptures. It looks like our choices are limited. We can stay here and watch movies or take a walk which looks pretty boring or do both.”
“I must get out of here and get some fresh air. I vote for a walk, lunch at Grammy’s Country Inn Restaurant, and then maybe a movie or two. I owe Moose a call first.”
So I call.
“Moose. This is Harry Stein. Silvia and I are going out for a walk and lunch. I will let you know later what our plans for tonight are. Maybe we can have dinner.”
“Ok. Let me know. “
We walk for a while in the downtown area. There are lots of red brick, rectangular buildings which have a 1940’s look about them. Many parking lots which are maybe half full, with a preponderance of pickup trucks. I even spot a vintage 1962 Jeep pickup. I look this one over very carefully and drool a bit. It is model J-2000 in super condition. I don’t remember ever seeing one before.
“Stop the wishful thinking Harry. We already have a car and there is no room for any pickup truck.”
“Who said I was interested in buying this truck?”
“I read you like a book, loveman, so don’t try to snow me.”
My good sense says stop right there. She does read me like a book. A comic book. We find a footbridge called the Gateway Bridge just off Main Street. It spans the Meduxnekeag River and leads to a trail on the far side. Neither of us is interested in hiking the trail so we turn around and walk back on the footbridge. After some more walking, we stop at a restaurant called the Courtyard Café on Main Street for lunch. Our waiter tells us that The Courtyard is the only restaurant in Houlton with a full bar.
“That’s very interesting. Do you have any Bushmills?”
“Certainly, sir,” he informs me, as I wince from Silvia’s kick in the shin under the table.
“Well on second thought maybe it is a little early for a drink. I’ll just have a Virgil’s Crème Soda.”
“Yes, sir.”
If this guy gives me one more SIR, I will cut his tip in half.
“How many people live in this town?” I ask.
“About 6,000, sir.”
There goes his tip.
“If this is the only bar in town, you must have a lot of teetotalers here,” I say as I look around the near-empty place.
“We do get very busy, at times, sir.”
“Before you get too busy we should order. I’ll have a roast beef sandwich, potato salad and iced tea to drink.”
“And I’ll have a large chef’s salad and just water to drink.”
“Good choice, madam.”
The waiter leaves to place our order in the kitchen. When he is out of hearing, I look at Silvia and utter, “What will you be having for dessert, madam. And will you be bringing anything back for the working girls at the house, madam?”
“Very funny. Your sense of humor grows with each passing day. Grows worse. I hope he didn’t hear you. You are already in enough trouble with him.”
In a few minutes the waiter comes back with our meals. They are excellent.
“Silvia, thus far our limited dining out experience up here has been surprisingly good.”
“Have you ever met a restaurant that you didn’t like?”
“Enough. Stop picking on me or I will call Moose right now to come and take you away. It’s funny how certain words conjure up images from the past. A long time ago, I had a secretary/office manager who always looked to the dessert menu first and planned the rest of her meal around what she thought she’d have at the end of the meal.”
“That would have been Avis. Yes?”
“That’s right. I had a small office on Beacon Street in Brookline, Massachusetts, just where the trolley came up from the underground tunnel. We would frequently have lunch across the street at a restaurant called the Elbow Room. I think.”
By now I have finished my lunch but Silvia is a slow and careful eater so I wait patiently while chews her food thoroughly like you are supposed to.
CHAPTER VII - MEET HERMAN BIGGS
Herman Biggs never amounted to much. He was four years old when his dad hit the road, tired of beating up on his wife and Herman, so he went looking for greener pastures. Years later his story came up on every one of the local radio stations and small town weekly newspapers in the area. The greener pastures turned out to be the home of a married woman whose husband took exception to his illicit relationship and beat him to death, along with the wife.
Herman’s mom was a loving parent but having to bring up a fatherless son took its t
oll. She worked long hours six days every week. Her salary as a maid in a local motel barely provided enough money for them to survive on. There were never any of the “extras” of life that most people take for granted. A one-week vacation in the summer and small presents at Christmas and on Herman’s birthday. Left alone most of the time while growing up, he took a lot of punishment at school, particularly from the older and bigger kids. He took to carrying a rock for protection and soon learned how to use it as an effective weapon. The other kids caught on and the rock lost its effectiveness. He saw a gun as his only other alternative. He bought a small 22 caliber handgun from the proceeds of odd jobs. Herman’s mom knew nothing of these goings on. If she had, she most likely would not been able to do anything about it anyways.
Herman saw the gun as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. At age 15, he started to use his weapon. He saw it as the way to better his life and even to help his mom eventually. It didn’t work. He held up a gas station in Exeter and unfortunately the station was equipped with a video monitoring system that allowed the local police to find him within a few hours of the crime. It was easy because they already knew Herman, who had a series of less serious skirmishes with the police. Since he used a gun in the robbery, he drew a long prison sentence is spite of an emotional appeal to the judge by his mother. He drew a ten-year sentence with no possibility of parole for seven years. Herman used the time in prison to develop his skills. He learned many tricks of the trade from his fellow inmates. He also learned much about crime from the guards. In other words, he became a hardened criminal who knew of no legitimate means of earning an income. He studiously avoided any confrontation with the inmates or the guards. He became skilled at deceit and it worked. The parole board granted him the three years off his sentence. He returned to his mother’s home to start the next chapter in his life.
He knew the basics of criminal behavior, so it was a natural transition to the life of a private detective. He rented a dingy office and put his name on the door. He did not have a private detective’s license and might never get one. He knew the risk of publicly calling himself a private eye without the license so he avoided doing that. He had to develop another method of getting the word out to potential clients who might need of an investigator. People from the dark side who might need help from someone who knew the ins and outs of crime. He used a network of former prison inmates who had left prison before he did. In turn, they spread the word to other “associates.”