Just in case, he’d installed a cheap but effective wi-fi surveillance camera outside of his house and another at his mother’s place, where he intended to move the next weekend. If anyone approached with a letter or anything else, he’d get them on video. The station already had cameras, but he assumed that whoever was lurking around out there would know about them already and keep clear of the official buildings.
Deputy Kristin entered his office. “Sheriff, Gerald Gains is here to see you.”
“Just what I need,” Little said under his breath. “Show him in, please.”
Gerald appeared behind the Deputy. “I’m already here.”
“I see that. Please take a seat, Gerald. What can I do for you?”
“You can get off your lazy ass and drive over to the Lobster Shanty and arrest Porter Maddox for murder.”
“Excuse me? Lazy ass?”
“I apologize. I’m frustrated, Maynard!” He slumped into a chair.
“I understand that. But this has already been explained to you, we are not going to arrest Porter for murder. I have no cause to believe he killed your animal. We have no proof. Kristin told me about your new cameras and security systems. I think that’s going to do the trick.”
“If you won’t arrest him, then I’m going to be forced to file a civil suit against him.”
“Gerald, for God’s sake, he doesn’t have any money. I think you need to leave that boy alone. Hasn’t he been through enough?”
Gerald bristled. “Haven’t I?”
“Gerald, it was you that disfigured that boy. Do you not remember that?”
“Of course I remember that. It was one of the worst days of my life.”
“More his.”
“Yes. It was very unfortunate. And it was ruled, by you, an accident. And now, even though it wasn’t officially my fault, he’s taking vengeance against me. He blames me for his fucked up face.”
“Gerald, it was your fault. You were drunk and I covered it up because you’re my friend and I didn’t want to see you go to jail for the rest of your life. Do you know that I could have lost my job and gone to jail, too? For pushing that shit under the rug for you?”
Gerald sat in silence for a moment. “I wasn’t that drunk,” he finally said under his breath. “And I’ve thanked you repeatedly. I really did appreciate it. I appreciate it every day of my life.”
“Well, thanks.”
“So, you aren’t going to arrest him?”
“No!” the Sheriff yelled. “And you aren’t going to sue him either. And I don’t want to hear about this anymore. I have enough on my plate.”
“I need satisfaction.”
“You aren’t going to get it,” the Sheriff said. “Get out of my office and go tend to your animals. It’s not going to happen again.”
Gerald Gains stood up to leave. “You better be right, Maynard Little.”
And he left.
Kristin reappeared in the Sheriff’s doorway. It was obvious to Maynard she’d heard the whole thing. She stared down her boss for a moment then disappeared.
“Crap,” the Sheriff said. He put his head down on the desk, closed his eyes, and concentrated on not screaming or throwing a fist through a wall.
* * *
Leonard worked on packing his belongings at his grandmother’s house. He was making piles of clothing to donate to Goodwill at the same time—both his old things and everything of Patty’s. If he was going to make this move a fresh new start, he didn’t want anything old, or anything of hers, to remind him of the past.
He was also working on quitting smoking. He’d only had three cigarettes since he woke up; a new record. The six pack of beer wasn’t helping matters though. He was four in by Noon when there was a knock at the door. The sleeping dog in the front room didn’t hear a thing. Leonard stepped over the mutt and pulled open the heavy wood door.
“Hi,” she said, holding out a pie. “I made you one, too.”
Leonard eyed Skyler up and down then took the dessert from her hands. “Too?”
“I made one for Mayor Millhouse,” she said, inviting herself inside. “I’ve never been here before. What’s with all the boxes?”
“I appreciate dinner last night, Skyler,” Leonard said, checking himself out in the mirror over the piano. He was unshowered, unshaven, and probably smelled bad. “Why would you bring me a pie the day after? I should be thanking you.”
“The boxes?”
“Oh, I’m moving to my Dad’s place. He’s moving back in here. We’re trading. Too many bad memories for me here.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Skyler knelt and petted the dog, who opened one eye to her. “He’s so cute.”
“Thanks. What’s really going on?”
“I need a favor. I don’t want to bother your father,” she said.
“Why the fuck not? That’s his job.”
“And yours. You’re on the force, too, aren’t you?”
“I’m on a sabbatical, of sorts. I’m in mourning, don’t you know.”
“No. Actually I didn’t know,” she said, perhaps too sharply. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, but you haven’t seemed too grief stricken the last few days. You were so chipper last night. It’s easy to forget what’s happened to you.”
“I had a lot of wine.”
“I think Janey is sweet on you.”
“You think?” Leonard asked, lightening a bit. “No, wait. That’s the last thing I need.”
“Too soon I guess.”
“Way too soon. I’m swearing off girls for a while. I have a pretty shitty track record.”
“I am sorry.”
“So, what’s this favor?”
Skyler told the deputy the story of Augie and the conversation she had with Lois that morning.
“So?”
“So,” she began, “I want to know where the money came from.”
“It’s not a crime to pay a—what did you call him?”
“A social media influencer.”
“It’s not a crime to anonymously pay a social media influencer to influence people to come spend money in Wabanaki, Skyler. What’s the crime?”
“I didn’t say it was a crime. I’m just curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“I hate cats. And that’s a tired old line.”
Leonard kicked a pile of winter coats into the corner and took a seat on the chair across from Skyler. “Perhaps you should concentrate on helping Tanner. Or helping my father figure out who killed my wife. Because this just isn’t a thing. Is it?”
“It is a thing,” she said, standing up. “I’m just not sure why I care so much. I hate not knowing things.”
“We can’t all know everything. And you’ve gotten yourself into trouble over the years sticking your nose into things because you just had to know what was going on.”
“That’s true enough. But, of course, I will help your Dad. I would like to get to the bottom of that, too.”
“Well, thank you for that.”
“And you?” she asked him.
“What about me?”
“Why don’t you get back to work and help the Sheriff figure out who killed Patty.”
“Because he won’t let me.”
“Put your foot down, Leonard. He’s not going to stop you if you just show up for work. I’d take a shower and shave first, though.”
He showed her to the door. “I’ll think about it.”
“Bye, Leonard. Enjoy your packing.”
He watched her pull her car out of the driveway and then he closed the front door. He sat down and thought about Patty for a few moments, then about Skyler and the way she’d said to him, Why don’t you get back to work? After a minute, Leonard stood up and picked through piles of clothing until he found his uniform. He held it for a wh
ile, fingering the buttons. He abruptly pulled off his t-shirt and sweatpants. Naked, he walked to the bathroom and turned on water for a shower. His shift usually started at 2:00 and he didn’t want to be late.
FIFTEEN
At the Chowder House, Tanner was sitting at his desk looking up his bank accounts online. He had just enough cash to buy The Lobster Shanty, but he knew two things would happen if he agreed to Porter’s plan: 1.) His wife would kill him, and 2.) He’d have zero dollars in the bank. Besides a miniscule college fund for his son and an IRA that he couldn’t touch without huge penalties, he didn’t have much else to his name. Wanda owned the house they lived in—a wedding present from her mother Karen—and the cars weren’t worth anything anymore. And his institutionalized father-in-law never did get around to giving him a piece of the restaurant that Tanner managed for Wanda’s family.
But he wanted nothing more than to own his own place and the Shanty was the perfect opportunity. It needed cosmetic work, but the bones were strong and the building was paid off. Tanner loved the logo and branding and the location brought in just the right mix of locals and tourists. There was room to expand, too, and he knew he could grow the business into something iconic like the Chowder House, a business he’d never be able to call his own.
He questioned Porter’s motives though. The guy said that he was tired of the restaurant business and wanted to explore other opportunities, but wouldn’t elaborate. The timing just seemed very odd to Tanner.
Tanner called in Shea and told her she was in charge for the lunch rush. He left the restaurant, started his car, and drove out of the parking lot. He had to run this by Skyler.
Skyler was in the front yard on her knees when he pulled into her driveway.
“Waiting for me?” he asked.
“No,” she said, getting up. “I was looking at all these holes in the lawn. What is that?”
“Bees, I assume.”
“Bees?”
“Those are ground nesting bees. They don’t have hives, they build little tunnels in the dirt and live down there with their queen.”
“How do you know such a thing?” she asked him.
“We have them, too. I looked it up online.”
“Oh,” she said. “I hate them.”
“They won’t hurt you. Can we go inside? I want to talk to you.”
Skyler put her hands on her hips and sighed deeply. “I don’t know that I have the energy to start this all over again.”
“It’s not that,” he spit. “Porter wants to sell me the Shanty. And I think I want to buy it.”
“Oh. Okay. Let’s go inside.”
Brenda was sitting at the kitchen counter eating a chicken salad sandwich when they entered. She nodded at Tanner and finished chewing. “Chicken salad? It’s a new recipe.”
“Please,” he said, and sat down at a stool next to her.
“I’ll make them,” Skyler said. She pulled two croissants from a bag and pulled the bowl of chicken out of the refrigerator. “I am going to get so fat with you here, Brenda.”
“Hogwash,” Brenda said. “I made the mayo. It’s not nearly as fattening as the commercial stuff. That crap is nothing but shit that you’ve never heard of.”
“Tanner wants to buy the Shanty from Porter.”
“That’s a great idea. Oh wait,” Brenda said. “What about my show? I wanted to tape the episode at the Chowder House with you.”
“It’ll take some time to close, I expect,” Tanner said. “Or we can do it at my new place.”
“Either one works. Enjoy the sandwich.” Brenda excused herself to walk the dogs.
“What will your wife say?”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” He tore into the chicken salad and moaned in delight. “This is so good.”
“Right? She spoils me. How on Earth will I feed myself when she’s gone?”
“Where is she going?”
“I mean when the summer is over and she goes back to work and I go back to Washington. I’ll be eating take-out Chinese four nights a week again, I fear.”
“I have a solution to that,” Tanner said. “Don’t go back to D.C.”
“I have a house and a business and employees who depend on me, Tanner. I can’t just ignore all of that. Plus, you know I’m not fond of the winters here. It’s too damned cold and wet and windy.”
“Yet I’m stuck here.”
“You’ll be even more stuck when you own a business.”
“Porter closes up his restaurant from Christmas until the end of March. That’s three months of every year that I can do something else.”
“Like what? You have a wife and a kid.”
“Not for long.”
Skyler was shocked. “What?!”
“I’m making all kinds of changes. I’m not getting rid of Charlie, of course, he’s the love of my life. But I’m done with Wanda. And she knows it.”
“Does she?”
“She will.”
“I’m sorry to hear this. I thought you’d make it for the long run.”
“Did you?”
She sighed. “I’d hoped.”
“I’m not doing this for you.”
“Well that’s a relief. Tanner, honey, you have to do what’s best for you.”
“I think my own restaurant and a divorce is best for me. Of course, I’ll need a place to live.”
“Are you hinting?”
“Are you offering?”
“I am not.”
“Damn.”
* * *
Shelby Taralavi closed her accounting book and stuck the pencil back into her thick head of hair. She did everything by hand because she hated computers and refused to learn how to use them. She didn’t even have a cell phone. She was old-school and she liked it that way even if it drove the rest of the town crazy.
Upstairs in the court house, she walked into the mayor’s office and sat down across from Lois.
“We’re about $75,000 in the hole.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s high time you considered increasing the taxes.”
“I told you that I would never do that,” the mayor said. “It’s against everything I stand for and everything I campaigned on. I’m a libertarian, Shelby, you know that. If I had my way, we’d do away with this whole government once and for all.”
Shelby had heard it a thousand times before. “But that’s not feasible.”
“No, because people expect roads and emergency services and electricity and water and fireworks.”
“But they didn’t get fireworks this year.”
“I realize that,” Lois said. “Because we’re $75,000 in the hole.”
“So how do we make up the difference? And how do we fund the new exit off the freeway that you’ve proposed to the council? The state already said they won’t help. How do we…”
“By increasing the tourists who pay the taxes that we already have in place. The lodging tax, the downtown retail area sales tax. We get more people here. We get business owners to expand their current businesses. We open new motels. New inns. New shops. More tourism. That’s the plan, Shelby. That’s the ultimate plan for Wabanaki.”
“That won’t happen overnight.”
“It just might,” the mayor said. “It just might.
* * *
In Brooklyn, New York, a young musician, who regularly plays backup for Lady Gaga on tour, sits in an organic coffee shop while he waits for his daughter to get out of pre-school. With his iPad in one hand and a high voltage dark roast in the other, he scans his Instagram feed. He comes across @AugieAlameda’s latest post, a picture of a succulent lobster roll sitting next to a mound of ridged potato chips and a pickle spear. Underneath the photo the hashtags include #whatsforlunch #wabanakimaine #wabanaki #mainecoast #coastalmaine #lobster #lobsterroll #seasidevacatio
n #hotspot #vacationidea #downeast etc.
The musician takes a screen grab and texts it to his wife, a noted fashion model:
Instead of East Hampton next week?
And plans are made.
In Boston, a businesswoman is wrapping up a conference call when she spots an @AugieAlameda post on Twitter. He’s taken a selfie in front of a charming light-grey clapboard cottage with the ocean in the background. She’s never seen him outside of a city setting before. She’s intrigued. She ‘likes’ the tweet and retweets it immediately. Her best friend sees and retweets it, too, and before the end of the business day, they’ve charted out a route and booked two rooms at a charming little inn.
The Chicago Sun-Times gets an email blast and an editor assigns a story.
Down East magazine checks their archives and realizes they haven’t done anything on Wabinaki in a decade. They aim to change that.
Drake Black gets a call from his editor at The Boston Globe asking him to fast-track the travel article.
And a location scout sits in her living room in Santa Monica and makes an airline reservation for Portland, Maine for the following Monday; she’s been looking for the perfect seaside town to film a new Ford Explorer Super Bowl commercial.
And so on and so on it goes.
* * *
Pleased for the time being, mostly with himself, Augie jumped into his rented SUV and headed back to the airport. He’d return, but in the meantime, he had posted seven different items online and had another two dozen options saved on his phone to use later, from wherever he might be. He was legitimately charmed with the town, which made it that much more authentic, but he’d had enough of small town living for the time being. He needed to get back to his real world that included Starbucks, fresh sushi, and his analyst—pretty much in that order—none of which was going to be found in Wabanaki. Plus, he had promised to post about a new Italian wristwatch popup in Manhattan before the weekend—for which he accepted an $87,000 timepiece as payment—and Universal was depending on him to tweet from the red carpet at their newest New York premiere on Thursday. A ridiculously easy evening and another $50,000 fee.
The Maine Nemesis Page 11