“Red, you mean.”
“That, too. I bet Lucy couldn’t go anywhere. I don’t complain though. How can I? I’m a one percenter because of this silly career and I thank my lucky stars every night.”
“Not God?”
“Him, too,” she said. “But I’m not a true believer. I’m more spiritual than religious. I never bought into the whole organized religion claptrap.”
“Same here, actually.”
“So, I have a big fat question to ask you.”
“By all means, yes, you can be on my show,” Brenda joked.
Carissa screamed, startling more than a few restaurant patrons and Brenda herself. “Don’t tease me. I’d love that. I really would.”
“Well, I was kidding. We’ve never had a superstar on my cooking show. Really? You’d do it?”
“In a heartbeat, Brenda. Make it happen. I have weeks off from the show and I have nothing else lined up until next Spring when I’m doing a movie. What do they say—have your people call my people? Literally. Have them call.”
“I will get right on it. We’re filming most of the Fall.”
“I am so excited,” Carissa started singing, “And I just can’t hide it.”
“You’re attracting attention. I think those girls over there are about to come over.”
“Let them come. I’m ready for them.”
“What was your big fat question?”
“Oh! I’m looking for a new public relations person. You must have one. Can you recommend someone?”
Brenda smiled from ear to ear. “It just so happens that I know of a very good person, indeed.”
TWENTY-TWO
Sheriff Maynard Little pulled up to Vice President Farr’s house and was immediately reminded how he felt when he was there the previous Saturday, facing the wrath of the man who owned the dog he accidently killed with his truck. It wasn’t pretty. And this wasn’t going to be a picnic either.
He was greeted at the door by the politician himself, as his wife was away visiting her mother in Augusta.
“I got a new dog,” Daryl said as he led the law man through the house and out on to the screened porch. “He’s away, too, at a sleepaway training class. Military style. They’ll whip him up good and hopefully he’ll stay in the yard and not get run over by a police cruiser.”
“If only I had a cruiser,” the Sheriff said, taking a seat and accepting a cup of coffee. “It was my truck and you know how bad I feel about Mondale.”
“The new one’s name is Reagan. And this time he’s actually named after a politician I admired.”
“A mighty fine one, at that.”
“You can say that again. We’ll never see another like him in our lifetime.” The Vice President sipped on his coffee and looked out at the water. “I can’t stop thinking about the other night, Maynard. I need this to go away.”
“I can’t help what Gerald’s wife heard. But I have to think that she doesn’t want to see her own life go up in flames by doing anything stupid.”
“Gerald thinks she’s going to leave him.”
“Over the prostitute thing? It was years ago.”
“Over the fact that that was the one night that Gerald and I got caught. We’ve been doing that pretty steadily for decades. I’m not proud of it.”
“Well, I hope not. Really? Decades?”
“It’s a vice. Like gambling, which I don’t do. Or drinking excessively, which I only do occasionally. And coffee. I need my coffee.”
The Sheriff knew he couldn’t do much about the confession. “You’re putting me in a very sticky situation. Again. There are things a Sheriff is better off knowing nothing about.”
“You crossed the line back at the accident all those years ago when you covered the shit up for us. You own us and we own you.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“In all the manners,” Daryl spit. “Listen, I don’t want to be mean to you but I’m running for governor next year and I have a pretty decent shot, given that our current governor is a nincompoop who spends money like it’s damned water. Did you see what he did with that new highway bill? The money he wants to spend will bankrupt the state. Maine can’t afford such a major infrastructure project right now.”
“The roads do need work. And a Wabanaki exit would sure help with the tourist dollars.”
“I don’t disagree. And I’ll work that in somehow if I get into office. But first, we need to put this hooker thing to bed once and for all.”
“Or get her out of the bed,” the Sheriff said.
“That too. Gerald and I were wondering if you’d have a chat with Mary and calm her the fuck down. Scare her a little, maybe. Do something to keep this between the four of us. Can that be done?”
“There’s a fifth. My deputy. We can’t forget her. She heard the whole damned thing. And she knows that I covered up the Porter Maddox accident.”
“That Kristin? Your deputy?”
“Kristin Grant, yeah.”
“Goddamnit, Maynard. How do we deal with her?”
The Sheriff didn’t say anything for a long minute. He watched as a lobster boat puttered into the harbor and tied up to a dock across the way. He wished he’d listened to his father and become a lobsterman. You might get screwed by a restaurant owner, but whores and slaughtered alpacas—or your son’s murdered wife—none of it has anything to do with a fucking job on the water.
“Sheriff?”
“I just don’t know. But I’ll think of something.”
The Vice President stood up indicating that the meeting was over. He reached out for the lawman’s coffee mug. “I have faith in you. And I have a tee time to get to.”
“Then I will get out of your hair,” the Sheriff said. He handed over his half-full mug of coffee and made his way to the front door. As he left the house, he made a mental note to vote for the incumbent in next year’s gubernatorial race.
* * *
At precisely 10 o’clock, Leonard rang Ricardo Solis’ doorbell and he waited next to Skyler for something to happen. Thirty seconds later, he pressed the button again. It was a full two minutes before the door opened and they were face to face with the man from the security video.
“I have no idea where my housekeeper disappeared to,” he said out of breath. He stood to one side and gestured for them to come inside. He closed the door and put his hands on his hips. He was an extraordinarily tall man, about 50 years old, with dark stubble on his face. He looked to Leonard like a Latin version of The Rock, very well-muscled and not a hair on the top of his shiny bald head. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Leonard Little of the Wabanaki Police Department in Wabanaki, Maine,” the deputy said, displaying his badge. He was playing this as professional as he could: “We have the cooperation of the Miami-Dade Police Department to conduct an investigation into the death of my wife, Patricia LuAnn Little. Patty, as most people knew her.”
Ricardo’s face dropped. “Patty is dead? I mean, I assumed something horrible must have happened when I learned you’d stopped by yesterday. Officers, what happened?”
Skyler exhaled for the first time since entering the grand house. “Sir, she died of blunt force trauma to the head in the ladies’ restroom at a popular seafood restaurant in Wabanaki the very day that you paid for her airplane ticket home. That’s how we’ve come to stand in your front hall.”
The man looked genuinely crestfallen and weak. “Let’s go sit in the living room.” They followed him into a cavernous space that looked more like the lobby of an upscale hotel than a home. They all sat. “I’d offer you something, but I have no idea what we have or how to get it. And, yes, I realize how wretched that sounds.”
“We’re fine,” Leonard said. “We’d really like to know how you came to know my wife.”
“First of all,” Ricardo said, “
I had no idea that Patty was married at the beginning. We met online. In a chatroom for…this is embarrassing…it was a chatroom for sex addicts who, let’s just say, don’t get the satisfaction they crave at home. And I honestly can’t believe I said that out loud.”
Skyler coughed. Leonard bristled.
“I love my wife, officers, but we haven’t had sex in years. Patty and I formed a relationship of sorts. A long distance electronic one, at first. We talked for many months before it was even suggested that she come visit me. I was separated from my wife at the time and living in a condo that I own in Coconut Grove. I impulsively invited Patty and to my surprise she came down. I offered her air fare, whatever accommodations she needed, but she paid her own way. She insisted on it.”
“But the relationship didn’t last long,” Skyler said.
“A few weeks. But you already know that much. I reconciled with my wife during Patty’s stay here and I sent her home. As you know, I paid for her ticket back to Portland. First class, of course.”
“I’m sure that was the first time she’d ever flown first class,” Leonard said. “Actually, that would have been her second time in an airplane.”
“I didn’t mean to upset your marriage, Officer Little. That was not my intention.”
“I’m not blaming you, Mr. Solis. Not for that.”
“Thank you,” Solis said. Then he blanched. “Wait. Wait a moment, officer. Are you blaming me for her death? I was not in Maine on Saturday. I’ve never been to your state in my entire life. I’ve never been north of New York City, as far as I can remember. And I can certainly prove that I didn’t venture anywhere last Saturday. I was on my boat that entire weekend with my wife and a number of guests.”
“We’re not doubting that, sir,” Leonard said. “But someone killed my wife and we had to do our due diligence to find out what she was doing up until her death. Until now, the trail was mighty cold.”
“Were you afraid that she’d tell your wife about the affair?” Skyler asked.
“It never crossed my mind, no,” Ricardo said convincingly. “We talked a lot. For many months before we met, and while she was here those three weeks. She understood my situation. She wasn’t happy that I was going back for another try with my family, but she accepted it.”
“She was crying when you bought her the plane ticket. We have video of that from the United Airlines ticket counter.”
“Which is how you have come to be here in my living room today.”
“That’s right,” Leonard said. “Why was she crying?”
“Because she was upset about what she did to you, Officer Little. She was upset that I was going back to my life and she feared that she didn’t have anything to go back to. She didn’t tell you where she was going, correct?”
Leonard nodded. “That’s right. She just disappeared.”
“Did you look for her?”
Leonard waited a few seconds before answering. “She’d done this kind of thing before, Mr. Solis. I didn’t look for her because she always came back. She always came back with a good explanation. We had a different kind of a marriage, but…” Leonard’s voice trailed off.
“She always came back,” Skyler added.
“Except this time, she did not,” Leonard said. “She got off that plane, drove to the restaurant where she used to work, and got killed in the bathroom. We have no prints, no leads, and, apparently, no motive.”
“I had no reason to kill her—or have her killed, if that’s what you might be thinking. I wouldn’t even know the first step toward getting something like that done nor would it ever cross my mind. I greatly admired Patty, we had our time together, and then it was over. And she never indicated to me that she had any animosity about what we shared.”
“Someone had a problem with Patty,” Leonard said flatly.
“And I hope you find out who did this horrible thing. I really do.”
Leonard made some scribbles in his notebook, but he wasn’t really writing anything legible down. He wanted this to be somehow neater. Easier. Like on television. “Mr. Solis, can we contact you again if we come up with more questions?”
“You may,” the man said, “but I hope you will continue to use some discretion. For my family’s sake.” He handed Leonard his business card. “This is my company card. Please contact me at my office.”
In the car, Leonard seemed to exhale for the first time. He started sweating and soon his shirt was soaked.
“Do you believe him?” Skyler asked.
“I think I do, yes.” He shifted in his seat and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
“Me, too. Unless he’s an amazing actor, that was all genuine. I believed every word.”
“Unless he’s been doing this for so long that he’s convinced himself he isn’t a killer. I mean, Captain West said that the man has been suspected of having mob ties. Maybe he did put a hit out on Patty.”
“And how would we ever in a million years be able to prove that?” Skyler asked.
“I have no fucking idea.”
They drove back to the hotel in silence. When they arrived, Skyler made arrangements for the two of them to fly home on the 2:35pm flight to Portland while Leonard packed their bags.
“I assume we don’t have time for one more round?” Leonard asked, desperate for something to distract him from his frustration.
“We do not,” Skyler said, “But, luckily, we’re both going back to the same place and your new house is a stone’s throw away from my cottage.”
“And what exactly would Brenda say about all of this?”
Skyler smirked. “I already told her.”
“I guess that doesn’t surprise me. And Tanner? He’s going to die. I mean, he’s literally going to die. If he doesn’t kill me first.”
“Tanner doesn’t need to know about this,” she said, pointing back and forth between the two of them. “We want him to stay alive. And I want you to stay alive.”
* * *
Pleased with her Las Vegas trip, Brenda decided to treat herself to a little bit of luxury. She called the number on the back of her American Express Platinum card and ordered a jet to take her back to Maine. She looked forward to a direct flight without having to deal with the masses at McCarran again.
As luck would have it, a new Hawker 900XP had to be in Boston that evening and was going to be ferrying empty across the country, so she got it for a relative song. Inside, she was greeted with a rich beige leather interior, eight seats to choose from, and a flight attendant who dutifully stocked the galley with all of Brenda’s favorite airplane snacks including Gummi-Bears, pizza flavored Goldfish crackers, and cucumber spears with ranch dressing. She didn’t remember telling anyone; they just knew.
At 10:45am Pacific Time, the jet lifted off from the desert runway and climbed effortlessly to 40,000 feet. Cruising at just a hair over 500 miles an hour, they’d make the Portland International Jetport in five and a half hours. Brenda used the time to catch up on her email, make some extensive notes about both the Wabanaki on-location and the Carissa Lamb episodes, and to take a much-needed nap. Somewhere over Ohio, a text message came through from Skyler.
Will you be home in time for dinner?
Meet at the Chowder House at 8?
Brenda checked her watch, which she’d already adjusted back to Eastern time. She texted back.
I’ll just make it. Flying to PWM now.
See you there.
She was very excited to tell Skyler about her new superstar friend and explain how the two of them could make beautiful music together, in a public relations kind of a way. Proud of herself, she nodded off and didn’t wake up until the wheels screeched on the runway. She may have let out a little scream when she woke up because the flight attendant was looking at her like she was a crazy person. Brenda was also sure she peed herself just a tiny bit.
Skyler and Leonard’s commercial flight touched down in Portland a few minutes before six o’clock and Leonard used his police strobe lights to get them down to Wabanaki in record time. At 6:30-something, Skyler walked through the front door of the police department and approached Kristin who was sitting at the front desk.
“Leonard is parking the car,” she said, “and when he gets in here, we want to talk to Tanner Millhouse.”
Kristin looked at her sideways. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Is that a problem? Detainees are allowed to have visitors in Wabanaki, are they not?”
“Tanner Millhouse is not currently detained at this facility, ma’am,” Deputy Kristin stated quite snootily. “For further information, you’ll have to file a Freedom of Information Act request.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Leonard walked through the front door. “What’s going on?”
“Your friend here is being difficult,” Kristin said.
“Come on you two,” Leonard said. “What happened?”
“Tanner isn’t here,” Skyler said.
“Where is he, Kristin?”
“I’m not sure I can divulge this information in front of a civilian.” She was standing firm.
“For fuck’s sake, girl,” Leonard said, pushing through the swinging half-door that separated the lobby from the administrative area. “Where is Tanner Millhouse?”
“He was never here and as far as I know he has not been arrested. Your father went right over to the Millhouse place when the 911 call came in. I have no idea where Tanner may be right now, but I know for a fact that he’s not at home with his wife.”
“And how do you know that for a fact?” Leonard asked.
“Because his wife is dead.”
* * *
Across town, Sheriff Maynard Little sat in the driver’s side of his idling truck. A crestfallen Tanner Millhouse sat next to him. Tanner himself had made the 911 call when he found his wife lifeless in her walk-in closet, a large kitchen knife sticking out of her chest. Their son was, most thankfully, spending the day at Wanda’s mother’s house.
The Maine Nemesis Page 17