“I can only imagine. I’m super sorry. What’s going on in this town, man?”
“A lot of shit, man. A lot of crazy shit. Listen, I appreciate your help. And I’ll pay you back.”
Porter got up and went inside his apartment. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got it covered. My sister and I will keep your restaurant running smoothly until you…I don’t know…for as long as you need us to.”
“Thanks.” And he hung up.
Porter stripped down and started the shower. While he waited for the water to get hot, he texted his sister and told her the news. He’d have to put his own plans on hold for a while, whatever those might have been. He hadn’t decided yet. What he was happy about, is that Tanner might be finally going down for something. He kind of hated that guy almost as much as he hated Gerald Gains for ruining his face and his life.
While he showered, he cried harder than he’d ever cried before.
An hour later, he walked into The Lobster Shanty and got to work helping the crew get ready for the weekend lunch rush. For the first time in their long history, the restaurant was taking reservations and there was an actual waiting list for tables.
“If you ask me,” his sister Laura said, “you picked the wrong damned time to sell this joint. We’re going to make some serious cash this weekend.”
“It’s just money.”
Her eyes widened. “Money is a good thing, retard. It’s what makes the world go ‘round. I just wish you hadn’t sold it, is all. Luckily, Tanner wants to keep me on.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me a retard in front of the employees,” Porter said. “Or ever. You’re a grade school teacher, for God’s sake. What would your kids think?”
“I don’t talk that way around the kids, retard. And I only use that word in the most endearing way. Like a pet name.”
Porter turned to leave. “You are so mature.”
In the kitchen, he noticed a large trash bin left dangerously close to the lit main grill and he pulled it back to its intended spot near the back door. If left unattended, it could have been a real disaster.
“We wouldn’t want the place to go up in flames, right?” he asked under his breath to no one.
An hour and a half later, Deputy Kristin Grant, dressed in civilian clothes, arrived at the Shanty for her 12:30 reservation. She had her parents and younger brother meet her there and the four of them were seated at a banquette in the left corner of the restaurant nearest the open patio doors. They would have sat outside, but her father was a very pale redhead and couldn’t tolerate even the slightest bit of direct sunlight. It was her father’s birthday and he picked the place even after Kristin had strongly lobbied for the Chowder House. She very much wanted to avoid Porter Maddox until she could figure out what she was going to do about the information she’d become privy to over the last few days; information that very well could get her in some deep trouble with the town’s more powerful men.
She hardly touched her French fries and sipped just a few spoonfuls of lobster stew while the rest of her family ate ravenously.
“You guys are acting like you’re never eaten before,” she said as she watched them in near disgust.
“We skipped breakfast so we’d be extra hungry,” her mother, Jeri, said. “And you know how your father likes his Saturday morning pancakes.”
“That’s still a thing?”
“Duh,” her brother said. “Pancakes don’t go out of style.”
“Why aren’t you eating, honey,” her father said between bites of lobster salad. “Tummy hurt?”
“No!” Kristin said, sounding a bit too much like her former teenaged self. She remembered her current standing in the community and immediately changed her demeanor. “I’m fine. Just not all that hungry.” She scanned the busy restaurant for a sign of Porter and finally spotted him behind the bar filling two large glasses with draft beer. She wiped her mouth with her paper napkin and excused herself from the table. “Hey,” she said to Porter.
“Hey yourself,” he said without really looking at her. “Off today?”
“Yup. Eating with my family. It’s my dad’s birthday today and he wanted to come here. It’s his favorite place.”
Porter looked up from his task. “That’s nice to hear. Do you guys need anything? Should we do a cupcake with a candle or something?”
“We’re good,” she said. “Your sister is taking very good care of us. I was just wondering if I could talk to you later.”
“About?”
“I can’t get into it now. After lunch?”
“Is this you wanting to talk to me about something or the Wabanaki Police Department wanting to talk to me about something?”
“Just me. I’m not in that horrific brown uniform.”
Porter placed the beers on a tray and slid it down to the waitress station. “We have a lull between three and five.”
“Let’s say four o’clock. In the park across the street?”
“I’ll be there.” Porter was intrigued. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted. And as she walked away, he wondered if she had underwear on underneath her tight white shorts. She turned around and smiled at him over her shoulder, almost as if she had just read his mind. He blushed, lowered his head, and returned to pouring beers.
TWENTY-FIVE
With the design team gone, and Lois, Karen, and his son down for afternoon naps, Tanner slipped out of the manor house and walked next door to Skyler’s cottage. He rang the doorbell, waited a few beats, then rang it again. The dogs weren’t barking and he heard no one inside. When he turned to leave the front porch, the door flew open.
“I was upstairs,” Skyler said. “Sorry. But who rings doorbells, anymore? You could have just returned one of the 8,000 texts I’ve sent you.”
“My phone just died. I forgot to charge it last night. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” She led him into the kitchen and he sat on a bar stool. “What can I get you?”
“Bourbon. Neat.”
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. How about a crisp and clean brunch-time mimosa? I have fresh squeezed O.J. and a cold bottle of bubbly in the fridge. The expensive stuff, now that Brenda is staying here.”
“I was kidding,” Tanner said. “I better keep my wits about me today. Coffee?”
“Iced coffee?”
“Yeah.”
She poured them each a tall glass and leaned on the countertop to bring her face in line with his. “How are you?”
“Horrible, obviously. It’s not looking good.”
“What isn’t looking good?”
“I haven’t heard for sure yet,” he said, “But I can’t imagine that I’m not suspect Number One in Wanda’s murder. They are already trying to pin all the Gerald Gains crap on me because my finger prints were on the knife they found out there. I didn’t even do that.”
Skyler straightened up suddenly. “Why did you emphasize ‘that?’ Does that mean you did do something else?”
“No,” he said sheepishly.
“Tanner?!”
“I may have accidently killed my wife.”
Like a lightning bolt, Skyler felt her heart speed up and her fists tightened. She convinced herself that she didn’t hear what she thought she just heard. “I’m sorry. Please say that again more slowly.”
“Why? Are you recording me?”
“Tanner! What the fuck are you saying to me?”
He looked around the great room. “Where is Brenda?”
“We’re alone. She took the dogs and went downtown to get some lobster meat and to run some errands. What did you just say? What did you do!?”
“I don’t know that I did anything,” he said, standing up. He went to the bar. “On second thought, can I have that drink?”
“Whatever you want,” she spat. “Make it two. Oh my Go
d, Tanner. This is serious. I don’t know if I can help you if you…”
“I didn’t intentionally kill her!”
“Did you unintentionally kill her?”
“I honestly don’t remember. I told Sheriff Little that I found her in the closet, that I pulled the knife out of her, and then tried to revive her before I called 911. That’s what I told him, but all I can really remember is sitting on the floor in a pool of blood with the knife in one hand and my phone in the other. Apparently, I made the call. I don’t remember driving home, entering the house, or finding her. It’s all gone.”
Skyler was stunned. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was at a loss for words. If she was hearing all of this correctly, her best male friend was confessing to the murder of his wife. To her. In her kitchen. “It explains a lot,” she said finally.
“Why’s that?”
“I just got off the phone with Leonard. He was at your house well into the night with the forensics crew. There’s not one single finger print in that house that doesn’t belong to your family. And you have a security system.”
“Yeah,” Tanner said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It monitors every time the doors are opened and closed whether the system is armed or not. Surely you knew that. There’s a log.”
“I guess I did know that, sure. We have the same system at the Chowder House.”
“The front door opened once when your wife got home and only once more when you got home. Unless someone was hiding in the house for some eight hours, the murderer either entered when your wife entered. Or he, or she, entered when you entered. All the windows were closed and locked. No other doors were opened or closed yesterday. According to the security system logs, at least.”
“I entered alone.”
“How do you know that?” Skyler screamed. “You just said that you can’t remember anything.”
“I can’t.”
“Then stop saying things that you don’t know are facts or you’re going to most certainly end up in prison because you’re going to implicate yourself unnecessarily.”
Tanner took a long pull from his drink. “Why is the Wabanaki police giving that kind of information to you, anyway? Are you working for them now or something?”
“No.” She thought about her next words carefully. “I’m helping you, remember? I signed on to do PR for the restaurant.”
“But you went to Miami with Lenny.”
“Leonard and I went to Miami, yes,” she said, “but I was just there to help him investigate. He’d never flown on an airplane before. He’d never been to Florida, for goodness sake. He was out of his element.”
“Then perhaps Sheriff Little shouldn’t have sent him in the first place. It’s insanity. Sending the widower to investigate his own wife’s murder? That’s just so stupid.”
“It does sounds crazy when you say it like that.”
“That’s what happened. I can’t imagine any other police force in the country could be so inept.”
“Then, if they are that inept, perhaps you won’t be pinned for your wife’s murder.”
Tanner went to the bar to top off his drink. “There’s that. Except that they got the forensics team from Portland involved again. They know a tad bit more about what they’re doing and what to look for.”
“I wonder whose idea it was to check the security system logs,” Skyler thought out loud.
“I don’t know, but the world is becoming more like 1984 every day. You can’t go anywhere or do anything without there being a record of it. It’s very Big Brother.”
“One only really needs to worry about all of that if they are doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Right?”
“It’s a matter of privacy!” Tanner yelled. “There’s no such thing anymore. Every time you buy something online. Every time you go into a store. When you buy a plane ticket. You’re watched and recorded. All the time. Everywhere. There is no privacy. We’re all logged every minute of every day. Logged, logged, logged. Every fucking minute.”
“Well, not all the time, or we’d know who killed Patty in the Chowder House bathroom and we’d know, without a doubt, who stuck a knife in your wife.”
“The wife I was in the process of leaving. It doesn’t look good for me, Skyler.”
“Where were you between the time we went to visit Porter in jail last Saturday and when you walked through the door of the Chowder House to find out Patty was dead?”
Tanner couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I just want you to remind me.”
“Skyler, come on. I didn’t kill Patty Little.”
Skyler crossed her arms and waited for an answer.
“I went home for a few hours. I played with my kid. If I remember correctly, my wife was pissed at me for not being at the restaurant all day on a holiday weekend. So, at some point I threw up my arms and left to be there for the dinner rush. I didn’t want to go at all, you know that. I’d already checked out and had my eye on the Shanty.”
“Okay.”
“You think I killed my wife and Patty. Great!”
“I didn’t say that,” Skyler said softly. “I did not say that.”
“You probably think I killed Gains’ llamas, too. Psycho killer Tanner Millhouse loses his mind and wreaks havoc on sleepy old Wabanaki, Maine. Story at eleven. Jesus Christ almighty God, Skyler. I thought you were my best friend.”
“They were alpacas.”
“What?!”
“The animals are alpacas, not llamas.”
“Whatever they are, or were, I didn’t kill them. Or Patty. Or my wife.”
“I thought you weren’t so sure about that last one.”
Tanner slumped down on the stool again and played absently with his empty glass. He looked broken. “Okay. That part is true. I can’t be sure about that last one.”
* * *
With an iced coffee in each hand, Kristin took a seat on a bench in the town park that faced The Lobster Shanty and waited patiently for her four o’clock appointment. She worried a bit about being seen talking to Porter in public, so she wore her long hair up inside one of her father’s Boston Red Sox baseball caps and a pair of large sunglasses despite the overcast skies overhead. And she waited, sipping unintentionally on both drinks.
He approached 10 minutes late and she held up one of the partially consumed cups. He took it, eyeballed it skeptically, but took a sip nonetheless.
“So,” Porter said, sitting down next to her. “Why all the cloak and dagger?”
“It’s not like that, really,” she said, looking around. “I’m just being careful.”
“What’s up?”
She started into the whole sordid tale of things she’d overheard, including the Sheriff’s cover-up of the accident that disfigured Porter all those years ago.
“I feel like what I’m telling you could get me in a lot of trouble. I mean, not legally, but physically. I don’t know what these men are capable of. One of them used to be the fucking Vice President of the United States, for God’s sake. He’s connected.”
Porter was stunned, but not altogether surprised. He knew that Maynard Little grew up with Gerald Gains and the former Veep. And he’d always known that there was something especially fishy about Gerald getting off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and a miniscule fine for reckless driving. His parents had pushed the issue at the time, but they very quickly gave up fighting the system to concentrate on nursing their son back to health.
“What do you expect me to do with this information?” he asked the off-duty deputy.
“I don’t really know, Porter. But I thought you should know about it. And I especially wanted someone else in the world to know what I know in case something happens to me.”
“Are you really afraid for your life? One
of these men isn’t going to kill you. Do you actually think that could happen? In Wabanaki?”
She was silent for a few moments until she started crying.
“Oh, babe,” Porter said, throwing an arm around her back. “It’s not that serious.”
“Sheriff Little, the Vice President, and Mr. Gains all know that I know about the cover-up. And then there’s Mary.”
“Mary Gains?”
“Yeah, she knows now, too. She heard the same shit I did.”
“Well, they aren’t going to kill both of you.” He wasn’t sure what to say next so he stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the restaurant. My sister needs to leave early. Um…”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. And I suggest you do nothing for the time being. Keep your nose clean, do your job and nothing more than your job, and I think this will blow over. But I’ll think about it some more.” He handed her his smartphone. “Put your name and number in here so I can text you.” And she did.
Porter returned to the Shanty and Kristin threw away the drinks. She walked back to her car in a haze of confusion. Just as she was unlocking the driver’s side door, she noticed Sheriff Little’s pickup truck parked a half block up the street. She felt her heart skip a beat.
* * *
Back at the Shanty, Porter busily prepared for the dinner rush while he replayed the conversation with Kristin in his head. He did feel slightly vindicated. He decided that he’d been justifiably terrorizing Gerald Gains, but he needed to add Maynard Little to his little list of those who had done him wrong; the Sheriff had it coming. The Vice President deserved equal treatment, but he wondered if that would bring unwanted attention from the Secret Service or something worse. And while Porter promised himself that he was going to turn over a new leaf and stop being the town pariah and a self-destructive perv, he felt energized for a new kind of fight. He fantasized about embracing the young deputy and including her in his revenge plots.
But she probably wouldn’t want to get as dirty as he liked to play, he decided. Plus, she was too pretty for prison.
The Maine Nemesis Page 19