MacMillan Wharf
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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Fourteen
MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Fourteen
by Richard Gifford
Chief Souza pulled up to the curb in front of Mary Ellen Johnson’s house and gallery on Commercial Street. “What’s the situation?” he asked Officer McGuire through the lowered window of his Crown Victoria.
“Neighbors heard two or three gunshots around 9:05 this morning, about twenty minutes ago. When we got here, we saw Mary Ellen walking around the house with a handgun, but she won’t let anyone in to talk to her and she won’t answer the phone.”
“She didn’t shoot herself?”
“We don’t think so. She appears OK.”
“Who did she shoot?”
“That we don’t know. We haven’t gotten an officer close enough to look through the windows yet.”
“Do you think we should call the SRT?” asked Mark.
Chief Souza pondered this for a second. The police departments on Cape Cod had a trained regional Special Response Team to call on for potentially dangerous incidents like these. Although they were effective, they were anything but subtle. With all of the media in town already, the last thing he wanted was another event for them to capture on camera.
“No, not yet. I’ll try to talk to her and we’ll see how this plays out. When was the last time anyone called her?”
“We’re calling every two minutes, but she hasn’t picked up yet,” answered Officer McGuire.
“I…I don’t know. There’s a lot of cops here, outside my house. Am I in trouble? I didn’t do anything.” “Have you used the loudspeaker?”
“OK, I’ll try that.” Flipping the P/A switch on the control panel of his car, Chief Souza picked up the microphone and depressed the call button. “Mary Ellen? This is Chief Souza. I’m worried that somebody might be hurt in there, or that you are going to hurt yourself. I’m going to call you on the phone. I want you to pick up so that I know everybody is safe.” He released the call button on the side of the microphone as Officer McGuire placed a cell phone in his free hand.
He placed the phone to his ear and could hear it ringing. With his other hand holding the microphone, he again used the loudspeaker on his car.
“Come on, Mary Ellen, pick up the phone.” He could see her moving through the house slowly and raise the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” she said in a quiet voice that sounded very distant.
“Hello Mary Ellen. It’s Chief Souza. What’s going on?”
“I…I don’t know. There’s a lot of cops here, outside my house. Am I in trouble? I didn’t do anything.”
“We had calls from your neighbors saying they heard gunshots from inside your house. Did you shoot anyone?”
“Just the damn television, with all the trash talking about Linda.”
“You shot the television?”
“That’s right. Lucky I wasn’t there, I’d shoot that bitch reporter, too,” she said with a chuckle.
Chief Souza knew this wasn’t the time to admit that the same thought had crossed his mind.
“Mary Ellen, I need you to listen to me. I need you to put the gun down and come outside so we can talk. Can you do that?”
“We’re talking now, aren’t we?”
“Yes, yes we are. But I want to see that you are all right. Have you taken any drugs or alcohol?”
“Not really. I had a few drinks last night to settle me down.”
This confirmed the Chief’s suspicion. She was probably drinking all night.
“OK, listen. Put down the gun and walk toward the front door. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t want to go to jail.”
He could hear the rising hysteria in her voice. “You’re not going to jail. We just need to make sure that you’re safe.”
“You cops are lying. You’re always lying. Is Annie there? I want to talk to Annie.”
The chief could now see Mary Ellen clearly through the kitchen window. She was pacing around like a crazed animal in a cage. As she passed by the sliding glass door in the dining room that led out to the patio, he could see that she was carrying a small, shiny revolver. Probably a .38, he thought.
“Annie’s not here, Mary Ellen. We can talk this out, though, just us. Can you put the gun down?”
As he said that, Mary Ellen raised the gun to her head and screamed into the phone, “I want to talk to Annie, goddamn it! I mean it! Put her on the phone!”
“OK, OK, hold on. I’ll try to get Annie on the phone and you can talk to her. OK?”
Chief Souza unclipped his own cell phone from his belt, and scrolled through a list of calls to retrieve Annie’s call from last night. Finding it, he pressed the send button.
“I want to talk to her now!” Mary Ellen screamed loud enough to be heard outside.
“OK, hold on, hold on. I’m going to hand the phone to Officer McGuire, just for a minute, OK? Don’t hang up.”
But as he finished his sentence, he heard the line go dead.
Annie had her hand on the throttle of the Lady J. They had a system worked out. Shane would snag a lobster trap with a boat hook, haul it up through the winch, flip it open to retrieve the lobsters, pick out any spider crabs that got inside, refill the bait bag with a chunk of mackerel, and then close the trap and slide it off the stern into the water. Each trap took Shane about forty five seconds. Annie’s job was to keep the boat moving at three miles per hour, just above idle speed, and follow the line of green and yellow buoys in the water that marked Shane’s traps. She was amazed that he was able to do this by himself. Each time she came out with him, she became more aware of the many inherent dangers of commercial lobstering.
The phone ringing in her hip pocket startled her. With the tranquility of the calm water and the warm sunshine, she was annoyed that anyone would interrupt the peace of her day. She flipped the phone open, but her caller ID only said Private Caller. Annie noticed that the low battery warning was flashing, and she immediately regretted not charging the phone overnight.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello, Annie MacAlister?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Chief Souza. Sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency.”
Annie’s heart started to race.
“Mary Ellen Johnson has barricaded herself in her house and is threatening to hurt herself. She has a handgun and has fired shots already this morning.”
“Oh, my god. Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so. She’s asking to speak to you. You’ve got to help us out.”
“Who is it?” Shane called out.
“Hold on Chief” Annie put a hand over the phone. “It’s Chief Souza. Mary Ellen’s gone crazy or something. She has a gun and she wants to talk to me.”
“Oh man, I told you she was trouble,” Shane said as he splashed another lobster trap into Cape Cod Bay.
“OK, Chief. What should I do?”
“Can you get down here to Commercial Street?”
“I don’t think so. I’m out on Shane’s boat right now. We’re about a mile off Sesuit Harbor in Dennis. It’ll take at least an hour for us to get back.”
“I understand. Could you call her? She needs to talk to you for reassurance. I’m trying to get her to put the gun down and come out without hurting her or any of my officers. I suspect she’s been drinking or using drugs. This is potentially a very dangerous situation, I don’t suppose you’ve ever done anything like this before?”
“Remember that damn reporter from yesterday?” “No,” she replied. She understood that he was placing Mary Ellen’s and possibly other people’s lives in her hands. “Look, Chief, I’m just a college student studying whales, not a hostage negotiator. Are you sure about this?”
“Right now I’m not sure about anything, but she is asking for you. If this doesn’t work, I’m going to have send people in after her, and I don’t want to do that.”
Annie thought for a moment. “OK, I’ll do it.”
“Great. Thank you. I’m going to hang up, and let Mary Ellen know you’ll call. Give me about thirty seconds, then call her, OK?”
“OK. Um, what should I say?”
“Just keep her talking and try to get her to put the gun down.”
“OK, I’ll do my best. So, I’ll just wait a few seconds then call her, right?”
“That’s all you need to do. That should buy us some time. Thanks Annie.”
“Sure. Good luck, Chief.”
Annie lowered the phone and pressed the button to end the call.
“Shane, I’m going to need you to drive for a while.”
He looked annoyed at having his work routine broken. “I kinda figured that. So, what are you going to say to her?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” Annie scrolled through her list of cell phone numbers and found Mary Ellen’s home number. With Shane steering the boat to the next line of lobster traps, she pressed the send button.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. “Please, Mary Ellen, pick up. Don’t do this to me.”
On the fourth ring, Mary Ellen answered the phone. “Annie? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Mary Ellen, what are you doing? The chief said you shot a gun in your house? They think you’re going to hurt someone, or yourself.”
“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m just really pissed off.”
“Everybody’s upset about Linda, Mary Ellen. I can’t believe she’s gone either.”
“That’s not the whole of it, Annie. Did you see the news this morning?”
“No, I’m out on Shane’s boat. We’ve been out since six o’clock.”
“Remember that damn reporter from yesterday?”
“Oh, the one on the bike? The one that looked like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Yeah, that one. She announced at the news conference that Linda was pregnant.”
Annie was momentarily stunned into silence. “What? Pregnant? How is that possible? Is it true?”
“Yeah, it is. We wanted to have a baby, so we got a sperm donor back in June.”
“Are you serious? I had no idea.”
Neither did Chief Souza, who had tapped into Mary Ellen’s phone line so that he could hear the call.
“Well, we’d been talking about it for a while. Linda was the healthier of us, so we decided that she would be the one to carry the baby. Now, I’ve lost everything, Annie.”
“I, I don’t know what to say Mary Ellen. I’m so sorry.” As Annie listened to the silence on the line, she wished she could be there to comfort her. “Mary Ellen, do you still have the gun?”
“Yeah, I guess I overreacted.”
“I think it’s time you put it down before someone gets hurt. There’s been enough hurting around here the past few days.”
“You’re right Annie, No more hurting. This needs to be over with. Now. Goodbye Annie, thanks for all your help.”
“Wait a minute, Mary Ellen. Don’t hang up. Put down the gun and go outside. Mary Ellen, are you still there?”
Annie didn’t get her answer. Instead, she heard a popping sound that sounded like a firecracker. Then her phone beeped twice and the battery went dead.
“Oh my God, I think I just killed Mary Ellen.”
Read it from the beginning:
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About This Blog
Richard Gifford is the author of the new mystery
novel MacMillan Wharf. Enjoy the suspense of this new
Provincetown murder mystery as a new chapter debuts each week.
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