He parked directly in front of the departures drop-off section of the airport and was pleasantly surprised to see a young man from the car rental company waiting for him. He handed over the keys, grabbed his carryon bag, and slipped into the terminal.
In the TSA-Pre line, he stood behind a statuesque woman he guessed to be in her early-fifties. She was smartly dressed and had an insanely expensive crocodile Hermès Birkin slung over her arm. It was purple; he knew the bag well. He could tell it was authentic and it looked brand new, even though it had come out a few years ago.
“I’m admiring your bag,” Augie said to her when she glanced over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said without pretention. “It’s Hermès.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, almost choking on her chewing gum, “you’re Augie Alameda!”
“Guilty.”
“I follow you religiously. Didn’t you feature this bag? I mean, I probably have it because of you.”
“Then my job is done,” he laughed. “Hermès would be thrilled. Where are you off to?”
“Home to Charleston,” she said. “Commercial, can you believe it? But at least I’m up front.”
“Private is still the dream. The ultimate luxury,” he said. “But if you fly as much as I do, it’s just too damned expensive. Unless someone else is paying the bill.”
“It is expensive,” she said. “I can only get my husband to agree to it once a year for the big family vacation. Otherwise, I usually survive in first class. You’re on your way back to New York?”
“Yes, then out to the Hamptons for the weekend. I’ll be posting.”
“And I’ll be following. Can you believe I’m going back to South Carolina in the summertime? I came up to Maine to visit my sister; I could get used to this weather. But I married the guy who works constantly. In July, even. We should be summering in Maine...or out there in the Hamptons like you.”
Augie shrugged his shoulders, finding it hard to feel sorry for her.
“Oh, we’re moving,” she said, realizing there was a big gap in the line in front of her. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Alameda.”
“Likewise.” Augie grabbed his things off the conveyer belt and found his gate. They were boarding the flight just as he arrived. He settled into seat 2A and immediately fell asleep.
SIXTEEN
In a freshly laundered, starched uniform, Deputy Leonard Little marched himself up the steps of the court house and into the police station offices. He gave Kristin a quick nod then glided into his father’s office. He took a seat across from the big desk and waited to be noticed.
“I see you,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome back.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy.”
“Since when do you bother to listen to anything I have to say?” The Sheriff looked up from his paperwork and examined his only son. “You look very good. Clean shaven. Pressed uniform. Very presentable. But are you ready?”
“I’m ready to get to the bottom of this, yes sir. What do you want me doing today?”
“Can you go have a talk with Porter Maddox? Gerald Gains is insistent that it was Porter who killed the second animal. I got him to back off. There’s no evidence to speak of, as you know.”
“So, what am I talking to him about?”
“I don’t really care. I just want to be able to say that we looked into it again. Gerald is a pain in the ass, but he’s a citizen and one of my oldest friends, so I can’t completely ignore his concerns. Porter’s your friend. See what you can get out of him.”
“He’s not really my friend.”
“You had dinner together at Skyler’s last night. You went to high school together. He’s a friend.”
“I really wanted to do something Patty-related, Dad. I need to be involved.”
The Sheriff contemplated telling his son about the M.E.’s report and the pregnancy, but thought better of it. “We’re at a crossroads, son. There’s nothing new. The state handed the case over to us because they have nothing. We have nothing. It might be a cold case.”
“How the fuck can it be a cold case when Patty isn’t even cold yet?!” Leonard screamed.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Dad!”
“Listen, Lenny, I don’t want to give up either. But besides sending someone down to Miami to try to find out what Patty was doing, I have no idea what else we can do. I just got word back that there were no finger prints on the mysterious letter or on the Starbucks receipt. There was nothing left behind in the Chowder House bathroom. No one saw anything. No one has a motive that we know of. We just have a big…fat…nothing.”
“We’re not giving up,” Leonard said, suddenly getting to his feet. “And I’m going to Miami.”
“You’re not a detective and we don’t have the budget to send you to Miami.”
“I’m a sworn officer of the law and I learned a thing or two about investigations at the police academy. And I don’t need to spend a fortune, Dad. There must be some discretionary funds to get me down there and back.”
“And a hotel room, and a car, and food. It adds up, buddy.”
“My wife is dead and the only lead we have points south. I’m going officially or unofficially. You can decide which.” And he left the office.
“Officially!” the Sheriff yelled after him. “Kristin!”
Kristin appeared in the doorway. “Go stop Leonard then sit down with him and book him an open-ended flight to Miami for tomorrow morning. Give him $500 in petty cash and the department’s credit card.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “Why don’t I get to go?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to be in Miami in the summertime. Just please get it done.”
* * *
At a quarter to Noon, Porter parked his sister’s car in front of the Chowder House and entered through the front screen door. Waiters and waitresses were busy setting the tables and no one seemed to notice him standing in the front lobby. He walked into the main dining room and found the swinging kitchen door propped open. He wound his way through the kitchen until he saw Tanner sitting at his desk tucked under the stairs.
“You have a desk?”
Startled, Tanner turned to look behind him. “Oh, hey, Porter. Yes, I have a desk. Don’t you?”
“Nope,” Porter said, pulling up a stool. “I do all the paperwork and ordering from home. You’ll find that out; there’s not a lot of extra room in my kitchen. Certainly no space for an office.”
“Well, I’ll figure something out.”
“So, are you going to go for it? What did Wanda have to say? She couldn’t have been too pleased with the idea.”
“I haven’t told her yet,” Tanner said awkwardly. “But I’m doing it. I have the cash.”
“An all cash deal?”
“Yeah. I’d rather not finance it. If the income is what you say it is, I should be fine. Even with the child support and alimony.”
“Oh shit. Really, dude? Wanda’s finally leaving you?”
“No. I’m going to leave her. It’s been a long time coming. Please don’t say anything to anyone.”
“Who the hell would I tell?” Porter asked. “I don’t hang out with your friends.”
“We all had dinner together last night, Porter.”
“Seriously? The only reason I was there is that Skyler and Brenda felt sorry for me, which no one should fucking be doing. I’m much better these days and I’m going to be happier without that restaurant. It’s a royal pain in the…” His voice trailed off as he realized exactly who he was talking to.
“In the ass?”
“Well, not really.”
“Hey, I get it,” Tanner said. “The restaurant business is a royal pain in the ass, but I happen to love it. It’s all I’ve done since high school. I’ll ma
nage. And—the best part—it’ll be mine.”
“All yours, buddy,” Porter said. “When do you want to do this deal?”
“I was thinking about next Monday. I’ll bring a check and you can hand over the keys. I’m buying it all, right? Lock, stock, and everything?”
“The entire business. I’ll type up an agreement. I’m sure you’ll have to tell the suppliers and the bank people and the business license will have to be changed, but that can all be done as you go. We have pretty decent credit, too. I have at least 30-days, if not 60 to pay most of my accounts. The beef guy is a pain in the ass, but the fish guy is amazing. And I get the lobsters from my father, of course. He’ll be thrilled to keep selling to you, even though he hates me.”
“Why does your father hate you?”
Porter sighed deeply. “It’s a long story. But the short version is that soon after the accident, I got super drunk one night and punched him in the face and broke his nose. He never really got over that.”
“Geez, I’m sorry. Why’d you punch him?”
“Fuck if I know,” Porter said. “I was all kinds of depressed, obviously. He must have said something that upset me. He doesn’t remember what caused it either. Or at least that’s what he tells my sister Laura. I don’t really talk to him anymore.”
“Well, at least you have a father. Mine died well over a decade ago. Out there on the water.”
“Heart attack.”
“That’s right.”
“I remember. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Tanner said. “It was so long ago. It broke my mother’s heart. She passed away soon afterward, which is so weird because I always got the impression that she regretted being married to a lobsterman. She was so much more cosmopolitan. But she loved him deeply.”
“She wrote books, right?”
“Yeah. Decorating books. She was self-taught. I still don’t know how she got a publishing deal, but I still get little royalty checks every now and then in the mail. I’m sure that’ll run out one of these days.”
Porter jumped off the stool. “Listen, I’ve got to go handle my own lunch crowd. I’m glad we’re doing this. You’re allowing me to start a whole new chapter, man.”
“And you me,” Tanner said, getting to his feet. They shook hands firmly. “Who would have thunk it?”
“Not me.” Porter turned to leave. “Sorry about the wife and kid.”
“Well, they’re not dead. But I might be when I tell her.”
“She may surprise you.”
“We’ll see.”
When he got behind the wheel of his sister’s car and had closed the door, Porter pulled a large Chowder House kitchen knife from inside his waistband. He placed it on the passenger seat and marvelled at how easy it was to steal.
He started the car and headed toward The Shanty.
* * *
Skyler and Brenda sat on the edge of Skyler’s enormous master bathroom tub with their feet soaking in a few inches of sudsy water. They each had a flute of champagne in one hand and a set of directions in the other.
“It says here that it should be tingling,” Brenda said. “I feel no tingling.”
“It says here that it will take a few minutes. It’ll happen, Bren.”
“This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done.”
“The weirdest thing we ever did was sit side by side, in our underwear, with our feet in organic foot soaking crystals? I think not.”
“Ahh,” Brenda said, “What about that time we got so drunk in Vancouver that we had no recollection of how we got back to our hotel room.”
“Or the time we decided it was a good idea to steal Mrs. Marley’s dog and then return it the next day for the $100 reward she posted, pretending that we found it.”
“Hold on, hold on! How about the time I came to visit you in D.C. and you took me to the White House Christmas party as your date and you dared me to use a thick cockney accent when I met President Bush.”
“That!” Skyler screamed, “That was the highlight of the year. The look on Laura Bush’s face was priceless. She knew who the fuck you were and she still didn’t say a thing.”
“I still can’t believe I did that. Stupid! So stupid.”
“It was quite unexpected.”
“To say the least. Oh! I feel something.”
“Me too,” Skyler said. “It’s working! Our feet will look years younger.”
“I hope so. Mine are such a mess. When you’re on ‘em all the time like I am, oh man. The right shoes are so important. I get so many people making fun of my green Crocs, but I’ll tell you, they are the best thing for a chef. That and those spongey gel pads that I place in front of all my work stations. I need to get you one for the kitchen here.”
“You’re the only one who ever cooks in my kitchen.”
“Which is exactly why I need to get you one. It kills my back without it.”
The B-52’s “Love Shack” started playing on Skyler’s phone and she almost dropped her glass. “Ha! I forgot I changed the ringer.” She managed to grab the call right before it went to voicemail. “Skyler Moore.”
“Officer Leonard Little.”
“Oh, hey, Leonard. What did you find out?”
“I didn’t even get around to that, but I did report back to work, and guess what?”
“There’s a break in the Patty case?”
“Patty case, patty case, baker’s man,” Brenda started singing. “Bake me a case as fast as you can.”
“Shhhh,” Skyler said. “What is wrong with you?
“Patty case,” Brenda blurted out.
Skyler hit the chef. “I’m so sorry Leonard,” Skyler said. “You were saying?”
“My father is sending me to Miami to maybe figure out what Patty was up to down there. That’s really the only lead as of now.”
“Well, I’m happy, I guess. Have you worked in the field before?”
“Of course,” he said, unconvincingly. “Sure I have.”
“In another state?”
“No. And you already knew that. So?”
“So what?” she asked.
“Do you want to come with me? To Miami?”
She contemplated that for a few seconds. “On Wabanaki’s dime?”
“You know we have next to no money, Skyler. But, I thought this was something you might be interested in helping me with. Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course,” she said. “Alright, I’ll go with you. When do we leave?”
He gave her the flight information and his seat number. “As of a few minutes ago, the seat next to me was still available. Kristin said there are only two seats on each side of the plane.”
“In coach?! We’re flying on a tiny ass plane? In coach?”
“Who’s flying coach?” Brenda asked, clearly disgusted.
“Apparently I am. Okay, Leonard, I guess that sounds good. I’ll see you at the gate.”
“I’ve never flown before, so this should be interesting,” Leonard added.
“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Well, you’ll be fine. It’s safer than driving.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Pack light. It’s hot down there.”
Skyler hung up the phone and pulled her feet out of the water.
“Where are you going down there?” Brenda asked.
“Miami.”
“In July?! In coach?”
“Apparently.”
“Well your timing is perfect, actually.”
“Why’s that?” Skyler asked, wondering if she just made a big mistake agreeing to go sleuthing in Florida with a completely in over his head police officer.
“I need to make a quick trip to Las Vegas to interview a new executive chef for my restaurant there. Las Vegas. In the summer.”
“Miami,” Skyler said in the same deadpan voice Brenda used. “In the summer. We’re both going to cook.”
“I cook, you just eat.”
“You knew what I meant.”
Skyler busied herself with flight arrangements and packing while Brenda whipped up a spectacular dinner with odds and ends she found in the kitchen. They ate hungrily on the screened porch and retired at a reasonable hour, full and happy.
* * *
An hour after sunset, Porter Maddox slipped down the external stairway from his garage apartment into the backyard. He walked along the side of Lois’ orangery and made his way through the front gate out onto the street. He was dressed all in black again and he had a weapon.
This time, though, he planned on leaving it at the scene.
SEVENTEEN
Leonard was giddy at the thought of an adventure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the state, but he was very apprehensive about flying 35,000 feet off the ground in a narrow metal tube. By the time Skyler approached the gate, sweat had created enormous wet circles underneath and surrounding each of his armpits.
“You look awful,” she said, a large Starbucks cup in one hand, her iPhone and carry-on bag in the other. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re soaking wet. Are you afraid to fly?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s like the easiest thing in the world. We get on the plane, you sit down and buckle your seat belt, and off we go. Once we’re up there, we’ll be traveling at almost 600 miles an hour. But don’t worry—you won’t even know we’re moving.”
“Holy shit,” he said, sitting down in the closest chair. “Holy shit. Maybe there’s a reason I’ve never left the state.”
Skyler sat down next to him and grabbed his knee. “There’s an entire world beyond Maine, Leonard, and you deserve to see it. And most of it is only accessible by airplane. Trust me, please? Millions of people do this every single day and 99.99% of them get to their final destination.”
“What happens to the other .01 percent?”
The Maine Nemesis Page 12