MacMillan Wharf

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Thirty-One

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Thirty-One

by Richard Gifford

Angus watched the boat speed away from him after he dove overboard. He knew that the explosion would kill him if the bullets didn’t do it first. He thought for certain that the helicopter crew would see him in the water and try to finish him off, but to his surprise they did not. Angus treaded water as he watched the Jayhawk turn around and fly away. “First lucky break I’ve had all bloody day,” he muttered.

He could see the lights of Provincetown on the horizon. It was hard to judge the distance, but seeing that his options were limited to a sink or swim decision, he chose the latter.

After nearly an hour in the cold water, he reached the shore just north of Herring Cove Beach. He was thankful for his earlier decision to put on the second life jacket, as he was able to float and rest when he became tired.

He laid shivering on the beach, staring up at the starless sky. He knew his game was up, whether or not his true identity was known. He was, without a doubt, a wanted man. Except for one thing, he realized, “Everyone pursuing me thinks I’m dead.”

He could see a small bonfire and a cluster of vehicles a quarter of a mile away down the beach. He stripped off his lifejacket and walked toward the encampment, barefoot, dazed and soaking wet. As he got closer, he saw a row of fishing poles in the sand at the shoreline.

A small group of people were sitting around a campfire. There were two female couples, and three men, all with beer bottles in their hands. Angus smelled a pungent odor that he immediately recognized as marijuana.

He watched from a distance of about thirty yards and saw a bright orange glow rise to the face of each person gathered around the fire. Four cars were parked in the parking lot behind the group. Stealthily, he circled around them, and crept up to the first vehicle, a black Lincoln Navigator with New York license plates. He looked through the open passenger window and saw that the keys had been left in the ignition.

Carefully, he opened the door, slid across the seat, and softly closed the door behind him. He started the engine and put the car into reverse, hoping that the group was too far away and too stoned to hear him. Angus kept a watchful eye on them as he backed the SUV away from the beach, but no one seemed to stir. He shifted the transmission into drive and crept forward, the loudest sound coming from the crunch of the tires on broken shells in the parking lot. When he was sufficiently far away, he turned on the headlights and sped away.

If they think I’m dead, I’ve got a chance to get away from here, he thought. He didn’t like the idea of leaving unfinished business behind, but this entire escapade had gone wrong. What he really wanted was to be at home, soaking in his marble tub, smoking a Cuban cigar and listening to Mozart on his Bose stereo.

Angus had no idea where he was. He was driving through the dunes and forests of the Provincelands, part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. Finally he came to a three way stop. His headlights illuminated a sign pointing to Route 6. The sign indicated that Boston was 149 miles away. He calculated that he could be there in about two hours, leave this car in the parking garage, and head back to Canada in his own vehicle.

He turned left onto Route 6 and drove about a mile when he came to a stop at a red light. Angus looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and realized that it was 9:15 pm. He reasoned that even though his accomplice had proven himself to be inept, there was a chance that he had obtained the Whale Center’s report and was waiting for him on his boat. Besides, he was the only one in Provincetown who knew Angus’ true identity.

The light turned green, but Angus didn’t move. The sign directing him to turn right for Provincetown taunted him. He could get away, and leave a witness behind, or he could take just a few more minutes to ensure that his trail was completely covered.

The gun was lost when he dove overboard. Even if it hadn’t been, it would have been useless after an hour in seawater. Angus felt his pocket and found that he still had the knife he’d purchased earlier.

Sweat beaded on Angus’ brow. He had made his decision, and his heart started beating faster. He turned right onto Shankpainter Road and drove towards MacMillan Wharf. This was one loose end that had to be cut off.

He found a parking space at the end of the wharf and cautiously walked out towards where the fishing fleet lay at rest. Hundreds of people were gathering on MacMillan Wharf to watch the fireworks. Even though he was wet and barefoot, Angus blended in with the crowd.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a Coast Guard rescue boat dropping two passengers off at the Explorer’s dock. “My god, it’s Annie. Well, now she’s going to get what she deserves,” he muttered to himself as he fingered the blade in his pocket. Angus saw a young man embrace Annie as she stepped onto the dock. He held her hand as they walked up the gangway. Angus followed them as they walked down MacMillan Wharf toward the fishing boat slips. The two boarded the Lady J. in darkness.

Angus watched them as they talked on the boat. She was obviously crying, and the man appeared to try to comfort her. Angus smiled, and stalked his prey with confidence.

“I just can’t believe what’s happened,” Shane said as he handed an open beer to Annie. “I was cleaning the boat when I heard what was happening on the VHF. Do you know if the chief’s gonna be all right?”

“I don’t know. He was bleeding a lot when the helicopter picked him up. He was barely able to get into the basket. I think they’re flying him directly to Mass General in Boston.” Annie cast her eyes down as she absentmindedly peeled the label off the bottle.

Shane stared out at the harbor for a few minutes before speaking. “I feel so bad about all of this. I never should have left you alone.”

“It’s not your fault, is it?” Annie snapped. She could see that Shane was taken aback. “I’m sorry. Look, I’ve been going nonstop since 5:30 this morning. I’ve been a hostage negotiator, I rescued a whale, I’ve been shot at. Seriously, Shane, this has not been an easy day.”

“I understand. I feel the same way. So, what about the guy who shot the chief, is he dead?”

“I hope so. I just can’t believe that all this happened because of oil money.”

“There’s a lot of cash in oil, Annie. Better than lobstering, that’s for damn sure.”

Annie looked puzzled. “What do you mean?  I thought you loved lobstering.”

“Oh, come on, Annie, let’s face it, the fishing industry is on it’s last legs here. I bust my hump ten, sometimes twelve hours a day,” he shouted. “For what? By the time I’ve paid for diesel, maintenance on the boat, licenses, and everything else, I’m lucky to make $25,000 a year. That doesn’t go far these days.” He spun around and threw his bottle angrily toward the harbor.

“Shane, what’s the matter with you? You’re scaring me.”

“Annie, I know this guy from Nova Scotia. I met him at a conference I went to in college. He was said that after the fishing industry collapsed in Canada, oil and gas was all they had left. Those are good jobs, with benefits, pensions, everything a fisherman’s never going to see.”

“So, you think they should open up George’s Bank to oil exploration? I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Keep talking, lad. You’re making good sense,” Angus said as he appeared out of the shadows. He walked down the ramp to the Lady J and stepped on board.

Annie was too much in shock to scream. She looked at Angus’ bruised and swollen face, his wet clothes, and shook her head in disbelief. “I, I thought you were dead,” she stammered.

“I hope you’re not disappointed, Annie,” Angus said with a sinister chuckle.

“Shane, do you know him? What the hell is going on?”

“Annie, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Annie lunged towards Angus. “You sonofabitch, you killed Linda!”

Angus grabbed her arms, spun her around and threw her to the deck. “Not me, love, I had nothing to do with her. Why don’t you ask your boyfriend here about what happened?”

Annie looked up at Shane with a look of disbelief and fear. “Shane, tell me it’s not true. He’s lying, right? It’s not true, is it?”

Shane couldn’t make eye contact with her. “I’m sorry, Annie. It wasn’t supposed to work out this way.”

The first volley of fireworks exploded above their heads, as the Provincetown skyline lit up in flashes of red and purple.

“No, it wasn’t, was it?” Angus roared. “This was supposed to be really simple. You see, love, your boy here was supposed to get me the report that Dr. Hanscomb and you were working on, but he messed up, and she got killed. I was ready to give him a job as my local contact here. But now, well, plans have changed a bit, eh?” Angus pulled the knife out of his pocket and flicked open the blade. Shane’s eyes widened in shock as Angus plunged the knife into his abdomen. He screamed out in pain and slouched to the deck next to Annie.

Annie’s scream was drowned out by the next burst of fireworks. She tried to scramble out of his path, but there was nowhere to go. She had been backed into a corner and Angus was walking toward her with Shane’s blood dripping off the knife in his hand.

Annie reached frantically for something, anything, which she could use to defend herself, but her hands came up empty. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the silhouette of a large man jumping from the pier onto the deck of the Lady J.

Annie watched in complete shock as Johnny Souza, the Chief’s estranged brother, swung a long handled object at Angus. The gaff hook embedded itself deep into Angus’s right shoulder. He screamed in pain and dropped the knife. Johnny yanked Angus off his feet with the tuna gaff and Angus crashed hard onto the deck. With fireworks illuminating the boat, Annie scrambled to her feet and went to check to see if Shane was still alive.

He looked up into her eyes. “Annie. I am so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it.” Annie clenched her fist and punched him as hard as she could in the face. “You lied to me, you said you loved me, and you killed one of the nicest, most compassionate people I’ve ever known. Did you know she was pregnant? Did you? You’re nothing, Shane, a nobody. I can’t believe I fell for you.” Shane dropped his head and began to sob.

Johnny Souza pinned Angus to the deck of the Lady J with the heel of his boot. “Who the hell do you think you are? You shot my brother. We might have our differences, but he’s a good man. You don’t mess with my family. I’m gonna see to it that you pay.” He turned to Annie and said, “Miss, throw me that rope.”

Annie tossed him a piece of black nylon rope that was lying on the deck. She now recognized that it was the same rope used to tie Linda’s hands and feet. Johnny Souza lashed Angus’s hands behind his back, and with one hand picked him up by the back of his shirt.

“What are you going to do, kill me?” Angus moaned.

Annie could see flashing blue and red lights approaching as three police cars and an ambulance made their way through the crowd on MacMillan Wharf. They came to a stop at the end of the ramp to the commercial pier, and six officers ran to the Lady J with their guns drawn.

“That would be too easy. No, I’m going to let you rot in a jail cell for the rest of your pathetic life.”

“Nobody move. You, drop what you’re holding,” one of the cops commanded Johnny. He let the tuna gaff drop to the deck.

“These are the guys you want. This is the one who shot Chief Souza, and this is the rotten, lying, bastard who killed Linda Hanscomb.” She said pointing to Shane. “They’ll both need ambulances. I wouldn’t want them to miss their trials.”

“Nice work, Miss,” Officer Silva said as he handcuffed Shane and yanked him to his feet.

Annie watched as Shane and Angus were led away to the ambulance. “Is there any word on Chief Souza?” she asked the officers.

“He was still alive when they got to the hospital. They took him into surgery. That’s the last I heard,” Officer Silva said.

Johnny gently laid his weathered hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be O.K. He’s a fighter. We Portuguese are pretty tough.”

“Damn right we are,” Captain Billy Souza said as he walked down the ramp to the boat. “Thanks, Uncle John. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.”

Billy put one arm around Annie’s shoulder. “Are you O.K.?”

On MacMillan Wharf, crowds of people clapped and shouted as the deafening finale of fireworks echoed over Cape Cod Bay.

“No,” was all that Annie could manage to say. Annie turned into his open arms, hugged his broad shoulders and let the trauma of the day flow out of her in tears.

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Thirty

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Thirty

by Richard Gifford

A

ngus could barely see the outline of the shore about two miles away. Even with one engine, he could make it to the beach and disappear into the night. He was still moving at nearly forty miles per hour, and would only need a few more minutes to land on the beach.

Angus heard the explosion of the Whale Center boat behind him. He turned around in time to see the fireball rise into the darkening sky. “That’s the end of them,” he said to himself with the faintest hint of a smile.

As he watched the burning pieces of wreckage sink into the water, he could see the Coast Guard helicopter bearing down on him. In the time he had to recognize what was happening, the Jayhawk’s powerful searchlight came on and nearly blinded him. Angus turned back to the boat’s controls and pushed the throttle on the one functioning engine all the way forward.
“This is the United States Coast Guard. Stop your vessel immediately,” Capt. Robert Cole ordered over the loudspeaker.

“He’s not going to stop, who are you kidding?” his co-pilot Lt. Leslie Cunningham said.

“I know, but we have to at least give him a chance to do what’s right. Keep the spotlight on him.”

Angus maneuvered the boat in an S-like pattern to evade the light. He turned the Wild Thing in a tight 180-degree arc and zipped underneath the helicopter.

“I told you he wasn’t going to stop.”

“I told you he wasn’t going to stop.”

Captain Cole spun the helicopter around so that he would not lose sight of the Wild Thing. “Stop your engines now or we will be forced to fire upon you. This is a direct order.”

“Fire upon me?” Angus puzzled. “It’s the bloody Coast Guard.” He drew the handgun out of his waistband and took aim directly at the spotlight. The bullet shattered the light and Angus was plunged into darkness. Satisfied, he turned and continued his run to the beach.

“Sir, he’s shooting at us! We’ve lost our searchlight,” Ensign James Martell yelled from the door position.

“Switch to night vision and prepare to fire,” Captain Cole ordered.

“Yes sir.” Ensign Martell swung the .50 caliber M-60 into position and fed a link of bullets into its firing chamber. All three crewmembers on board flipped down their night vision goggles. Through the green tint, they could clearly see the fleeing Wild Thing. “Ready to fire, sir.”

“Put three rounds over his bow. We’ll give him one last chance.”

“Yes, sir.” Ensign Martell pushed a switch on the side of the gun to change the firing setting from automatic to burst. Taking aim through his goggles, he squeezed the trigger once and fired three rounds.

Angus heard the shots and felt the bullets whiz past his head. He didn’t know that the U.S. Coast Guard carried heavy weapons on its helicopters, and he quickly reappraised his opinion of them. He whipped around to return fire, but couldn’t get a clear sight of the Jayhawk in the night sky.

“He’s getting ready to shoot back, sir. What should I do?”

“Take him out, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir.” With that order, he moved the fire selector to automatic and put the Wild Thing in his sights. His first twenty rounds hit the water behind the stern, but he then walked the fire up into the engine compartments. The hot lead shredded through the fiberglass hull and tore apart the fuel lines. In a matter of seconds, the Wild Thing’s fuel tanks exploded and lit up the night sky.
The helicopter crew hovered overhead, using their night vision goggles to assess if anyone had survived the explosion. There was nothing but a burning hull, and that quickly sank beneath the waves.

“No way anyone lived through that,” Lt. Cunningham said grimly.

“Probably not. Just to be sure, we should have the cutter come take a look once they’ve picked up the others. Let’s go home.”

“Roger that.”

Annie, Stan and Chief Souza watched the firefight in silent awe from their Zodiac. They heard the automatic weapon fire, and saw the explosion light up the underside of the clouds like fireworks. Stan just hung his head and moaned.

“I guess that’s the end of him,” Chief Souza said quietly while keeping pressure on his wound.

“And my boat,” Stan said as he slumped to the floor.

Annie shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t get it, Chief. What drives someone to do something like this?”

“Greed, power, hate, lots of reasons. I’ve seen all of them as motives for murders before, but they come down to the same thing.”

“What’s that?”

“People who commit crimes feel they’re entitled to do whatever they want without regard for anyone else. They’re selfish, selfish to the point where they can’t even see the value of a human life.”

“So, if Tom Lawrence was just being selfish, what was it that he wanted?”

“Well, if your theory is right that this was all about stopping Linda’s report, I’d guess he had financial interests at stake. Who would benefit from the report’s suppression?”

It was all making sense to Annie. “The oil companies.”

“Right. That’s what I’ve been thinking ever since you mentioned that idea. Do you know of any oil companies that want to move into this area?”

“I do,” Stan chimed in. “Some of the Canadian firms are already drilling natural gas off of Nova Scotia. The biggest player up there is Scotia Gas, that’s where I’d start looking if I were you.”

“How do you know that?” Chief Souza asked with a look of incredulity on his face.

“I’m a fund manager in Boston for New England Securities. We specialize in mid and large cap companies throughout the Northeast and Canada.”

“There’s good money to be made in that, isn’t there?”

“I just watched my $350,000 boat go up in flames, didn’t I? It’s OK, I’ll buy another one.”

“Huh.” Chief Souza mused about having that kind of disposable income. Some of the gadflies at Town Meeting said that his $90,000 salary wasn’t justified. Now here he was bleeding from a bullet wound, in the dark, two miles from shore, waiting to be rescued.

“Here they come.” Annie pointed to a searchlight scanning the waters. She and Stan stood up and waved, hoping to be noticed. The beam swung over them, then stopped.

“It’s like looking into the sun,” Annie said squinting.

“This is the United States Coast Guard Cutter Gosnold. We are dispatching a boat to you. Please remain in your boat.” The loudspeaker blared through the darkness.

The three castaways heard an approaching outboard motor, then saw a smaller spotlight approach. In a few minutes, the boat was right along side of them. It looked like a newer version of the Whale Center’s rescue boat that had just been sunk.

“Good evening. Is anyone injured?” the boat’s medical officer asked.

“He’s been shot in the shoulder. We’re both OK.” Annie shouted back.

“All right, let’s get him off first.”

“No need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Chief Souza insisted.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so stubborn. You’ve been shot for god’s sake.”

“You sound like my wife.”

“She’s right, sir. Come on, now, let’s get you out of here.” Two young Coast Guardsmen helped Chief Souza to his feet and into the new boat. Once he was seated, the others followed. One of the Coast Guardsmen tied the Zodiac to the stern.

“Let’s take a look at you, sir.” The medic switched on his flashlight and peeled back the fabric covering the chief’s wound. This was the first time Annie actually had a good look at it and the sight made her feel queasy. He was losing far more blood than she’d imagined. The wound wasn’t in his shoulder where she thought it was. Rather, the bullet had entered the top part of his chest.

The medic listened with a stethoscope. “Are you having trouble breathing, sir?”

“A little. I’ll be all right won’t I?” This was the first time Annie heard him express any concern for his situation.

“We need to get you to a hospital right away. I think the bullet may have punctured your right lung.” The medic reached for the radio transmitter. “Bring back the Jayhawk. We need a medical evac for a wounded police officer, stat.”

“Chief, my god, why didn’t you say anything? We could have used the helicopter to get you help.”

The chief’s breathing became labored. “I didn’t want him to get away. It’s too important.” He reached out and squeezed Annie’s hand. “Thanks for your help, sorry about your boat, Stan.” As Chief Souza’s grip loosened, he closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Nine

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Nine

by Richard Gifford

The Wild Thing passed the stone jetty that protects the inner harbor from severe weather. Beyond that was an area where many larger sail and power boats had anchored for the weekend. Angus opened his backpack and removed the Glock pistol that he had sealed in a plastic bag. He was satisfied that it was dry as he slid a loaded clip into the handle.

The boat’s driver looked down when he heard the click of the magazine. “Are you going to kill me?” he said with a lump in his throat.

“Not if I don’t have to.” Angus was genuinely trying to find a way to let this poor sod off the hook. If he were caught, he’d be facing enough charges. He saw two lifejackets under the seat and had an idea. “Put this on.”

The man donned the vest and buckled the straps. “Now what?”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out of the boat,” Angus demanded as he pointed the gun at the man’s head. “You can swim to one of those other boats. I really don’t want to kill you, but I’m taking your boat. I’ll leave it for you in Boston.”

Angus watched as the man stepped away from the controls and walked to the stern. Without another word, he turned around and jumped overboard and began swimming toward another boat moored 100 yards away.

Angus tucked the gun into the waistband of his soaking wet trousers and pushed the throttles forward. He was pressed into his seat as nearly 600 horsepower came to life. The sound of the engines was deafening as he headed towards open water at seventy miles per hour.

“C’mon Annie, he’s getting away,” Chief Souza shouted.

She turned the key in the ignition and both engines immediately started. “Clear the lines!” she yelled.

“Clear!”

Chief Souza threw the ropes onto the dock and nearly lost his footing as Annie slammed the motors into reverse and backed out of the slip.

“Hold on,” she said.

The chief turned the VHF radio to channel 16 which the Coast Guard monitored around the clock.

“U.S. Coast Guard, this is Chief Souza, Provincetown Police. We are in pursuit of a speedboat with an armed suspect on board. Can you provide us with backup? Over.”

“Roger that, Chief. This is Petty Officer 2nd Class Richmond. We’ll certainly help you out. Give me a minute and I’ll find out what assets are available. Over.”

“Thank you. I’ll be standing by.”

Annie cleared the breakwater and could see the Wild Thing rounding the tip of Provincetown at Long Point, nearly two miles out. She pushed the throttles all the way forward and felt the boat respond immediately.

“Hopefully the Coast Guard can help us out. That’s a really fast boat he’s got and he’s got quite a lead,” Annie said.

“What’s that in the water?” the chief asked.

“It’s a man. He’s waving for help. We’ve got to stop.”

Annie pulled the boat alongside the floating man and Chief Souza reached out to grab hold of his hand and helped pull him on board.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Annie asked him.

“Some nut stole my boat. He pointed a gun at my head and told me to get out and swim. Says he’s taking it to Boston.”

“So there’s no other hostages on board?” Chief Souza asked.

“No. It was just me. I brought my family over for the weekend. My wife and her sister are shopping in town. I was just getting ready to watch the fireworks.”

Chief Souza turned his head and looked at Annie. “Hit it. We’ve got a boat to catch.”

She quickly pushed both throttles forward again and they were on the move.

“How fast can that thing go?” she demanded of her new crewmate.

“ I’ve had her up to eighty-five on a flat calm day, but with this chop, he’d be crazy to open her all the way up.”

“Unfortunately, this guy’s crazy.” Chief Souza sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Stan Goldman.”

“OK, Stan. You’re with us now. We’ve got to catch the man who stole your boat, not just so that you can get it back, but he’s wanted on charges of assault and he’s now the lead suspect in a murder investigation.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “OK. Do whatever you need to do.”

The VHF radio crackled. “Coast Guard to Provincetown Police Chief, do you copy?”

“Yes, I copy. What have you got for me?”

“Sir, we have a cutter near the east end of Cape Cod Canal, but it will take nearly an hour to get to Provincetown. Do you know the direction the suspect is heading?”

“Apparently, he’s trying to get to Boston. Can you head that way and try to intercept?”

“Yes, I’ll let the ship know. In the meantime, we’ve launched a Jayhawk helicopter from Air Station Cape Cod. That’s a very fast bird, sir. They ought to be on him in about twenty minutes.”

“Very good. Thanks for your assistance. I’ll let you know if we need anything else. Out.”

“How’s a helicopter going to stop him?” Annie asked.

“Ever since the Coast Guard became part of Homeland Security, they’ve been armed. They didn’t used to, but now they carry 50-caliber machine guns, just like the Hueys did back in Vietnam. And they’re fast too, they can reach nearly 200 miles per hour. Once they catch up to him, they can force him to stop, one way or another.” He paused, “Stan, do you have insurance on that boat?”

He moaned his reply, which Chief Souza took as a no.

“We’ll see what we can do,” he said, patting Stan on the shoulder.

The trio rounded Long Point and could see the rooster tail wake of the Wild Thing in the distance. Even though they were over a mile away, they could hear the engines screaming.
Chief Souza looked over his shoulder and in the dwindling light could see a column of thick, black smoke rising nearly as high as the Pilgrim Monument. He pressed his radio transmitter button and was instantly connected to the Police Dispatcher.

“Carla, we’re in pursuit of the suspect and waiting for Coast Guard backup. I can see smoke coming from town. What’s going on?”

“There’s a building fire on Commercial Street in the East End. The Dharma Gallery just exploded. All the windows for a block around it are blown out. The fire department is there now, but there’s nothing much left.”

“That’s Mary Ellen’s place. What the hell is going on?” Chief shouted over the whine of the motors.

“Oh, my god. I was just there,” Annie gasped.

“What do you mean you were just there?”

“Mary Ellen called and asked me to stop in to feed her cat. I did, and then I tried to find the backup copy of the report on Linda’s laptop computer.”

“Did you?”

“No, it’s password protected, and I don’t know the password.”

“Did you leave the gas on or smell anything burning?”

“No, nothing. I just fed the cat and sat down at the computer. I was only there about twenty minutes before I came to meet you.”

“Did anyone follow you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. There was a weird guy outside my apartment just before I went to the gallery.”

“I don’t know what’s going on Annie, but I don’t like it. It’s not just a coincidence that Linda was killed, and then two days later, her house goes up in flames. Someone’s out to cover his tracks.”

“I’m scared, Chief, I’ll admit that, but right now all I want to do is catch this guy and find out if he’s the one behind all of this.”

“You and me both.”

Angus looked down at his instrument cluster. He was doing a steady seventy-five miles per hour. At this speed, he would be in Boston in about fifty minutes. He was planning to scuttle the boat, get to his car, and leave this whole mess behind, but as he felt confident that he would get away, a red light started blinking next to the oil pressure gauge for the port-side engine.

“Damn it,” he shouted.

Turning around, he saw grey smoke pouring out of the engine hatch. Angus watched the needle on the oil pressure gauge drop and the temperature rise. He would have to shut down one engine.

He pulled the left throttle all the way back to cut the power. As he did, he heard a loud blast and saw the engine cover blow off and smoke pour out. The explosion knocked him off his feet. As he fell, Angus gashed his head on a chrome grab handle next to the cabin entrance.

“Bloody hell!” he shouted as he got back onto his feet. He pressed his hand to the wound above his right eye and it came away covered in blood. The other engine was still running, but he knew that his speed would be half of what it had been before, at best. He looked toward the stern, and was relieved to see that there was no fire. What he could see, however, was a boat closing on him at a high rate of speed.

Annie pointed towards the darkening horizon. “Look, there’s smoke coming from his boat!”

“What do you think happened?” Chief Souza asked.

“Probably blew an engine driving like a maniac. And that’s not his boat, it’s mine,” Stan reminded Annie.

“He’s still moving, but I think we’ll catch him,” Annie shouted.

“Look, at ten o’clock. Here comes the chopper.” Chief Souza pointed to the sky.

Angus saw the helicopter, too. “Uh oh.” he muttered. He slammed the throttle all the way forward, pushing his one good engine to its limit. He knew that he couldn’t outrun the helicopter and that his best bet was to make it back to land. He turned the wheel hard to the right and held on tight as he spun the boat around to face his pursuers.

“He’s turning around. What’s he doing?” Annie asked.

“He’s trying to scare us. Don’t let him, just keep going,” Chief Souza ordered as he unholstered his gun.

The two boats closed on each other with a combined speed of nearly eighty miles per hour. From fifty yards away, Angus saw who was chasing him.

He gritted his teeth and snarled, “You stupid little girl. You’ve no idea who you’re messing with.” With his gun in hand, he took aim at Annie.

The windshield in front of her shattered as the bullet just missed Annie’s head.

“Get down, he’s shooting at us!” Chief Souza yelled. Stan hit the deck as Chief Souza leaned over the side of the boat to return fire. “Annie, are you OK?”

“I’m fine. Don’t let him get away.”

“I’m not planning on it.” Chief Souza fired three times, but all three shots missed.

Angus ducked down, then as he was about to pass the other boat, fired a shot directly at Chief Souza.

The bullet hit him in the shoulder. Annie screamed as she saw Chief Souza drop his gun and fall backwards onto the deck.

As the Wild Thing passed them, Angus kept shooting until his clip was empty. He put his final shots directly into the outboard motors. Both engines immediately stopped running and caught fire. Annie watched with disbelief as the Wild Thing roared by.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god” Stan kept repeating. He was covered in the chief’s blood.

Without hesitation, Annie grabbed the VHF radio. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, We need help!” she shouted. “A police officer’s been shot, and our engines are on fire.”

“Copy that, Provincetown PD. We see you. Do you have a life raft?”

Annie looked around and saw the Zodiac lashed to the deck. “Stan, untie that inflatable boat.”
He scrambled to his feet and followed her orders as the flames grew higher behind him.
Chief Souza groaned from the deck. “I’m okay Annie, tell them to catch that son of a bitch and come back for me later.”

“Like hell, Chief, you’ve been shot.”

“Give me that.” He sat up and took the microphone in his good hand. “This is Chief Souza. We are launching a life raft right now. My wounds are only superficial. This suspect is armed and dangerous, don’t let him get away.”

By this time the helicopter was hovering almost directly over them.

“Roger that, Chief. We have a cutter on the way to your location now. They’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes. Don’t worry Chief, this guy’s not getting away.”

“It’s ready,” Stan called out.

“Let’s go.” Annie helped lift Chief Souza to his feet and Stan guided him into the Zodiac. Annie started the outboard motor and as soon as all three were sitting, she revved the engine to put some distance between them and the burning boat. When they were about two hundred feet away, the fuel tanks on the rescue boat exploded sending a huge fireball into the night sky.

The three of them watching in awe as pieces of burning wreckage sank into the ocean.

“Are you really OK, Chief?”

“He just caught the top of my shoulder. I’ll live.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Stan asked.

“Wait for rescue,” responded the chief as he gripped his shoulder.

Annie added, “And hope they kill that bastard.”

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Eight

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Eight

   The Governor Bradford is a great place for criminals and law-abiding citizens to grab a beer.

by Richard Gifford

Juicy Freeman lay unconscious at his feet. He felt bad having to hurt him, but the stakes were too high. It wasn’t elegant either. He walked up to Juicy and said “Hi”, then asked him if he’d seen the blimp hovering over the Pilgrim Monument. Of course, there was no blimp and, when Juicy turned around to look for it, he smacked him in the back of the head with a lead-filled leather blackjack. He waited behind the bushes until he was sure Annie was out of sight.

He retrieved the key from under the stone and let himself into the house, just as he had watched Annie do. He looked around to make sure that no one had seen him, closed the door, and sat down at the computer. Ray Charles hissed at him from the other room, but he had bigger concerns on his mind than an unfriendly house cat.

In order to get the $25,000, he would have to deliver both the report and Annie to Angus Black tonight. He had mixed feelings about bringing Annie into this, and possibly getting her killed, but he saw no other way out. Too much had already gone wrong. If he wanted to stay out of jail he needed to make sure that all of his tracks were covered.

He scrolled through the files on the hard drive and came to the same password protected area that Annie encountered. He didn’t see Annie leave with anything in her hands and he hoped that she hadn’t printed the report. He looked around to see if he could see any visual clues as to what the password might be. After nearly a dozen unsuccessful tries he gave up.

Knowing that the longer he stayed in the house the greater the risk he had of being caught, he unplugged the laptop computer and put it inside a shopping bag he found in the kitchen. He would take the laptop back to his place where he could spend more time trying to guess the password, and find the file. If he failed, he could just hand over the entire computer to Angus Black and let him deal with it.

The idea struck him that the laptop would be noticed if it were missing, and that his fingerprints could be found where he had touched objects in the house. Not wanting to take any more chances, he decided to make sure that no evidence was left behind.

He found a large candle in the bathroom and a book of matches. He set the candle on a counter in the kitchen and lit the wick. Making sure that all the windows were closed, he turned on each of the four burners on the gas stove after blowing out the pilot lights. He’d never done anything like this before and he wasn’t sure how long it would take for the gas to ignite, but he wasted no time getting out the door. As he did, Ray Charles sneaked past his feet and ran out into the garden.

Nine lives, there goes one, he thought.

Nervously, he looked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching him. Satisfied that there were no witnesses other than the cat, he pulled the visor of his cap down low and walked away under a brilliant crimson sky.

Briskly, he made his way towards the center of town. Sweat was trickling down the inside of his shirt as he entered the cool darkness of the Governor Bradford tavern. He made his way to the far end of the bar and ordered a beer. With his head down low so that no one could see his face, he quickly downed the pint and ordered another. By the time he’d finished his second beer, the glasses at the bar rattled with the boom of the explosion. Most of the patrons ran to the window or out into the street to see what had happened, but he remained fixed to his seat, clutching the bag tightly. He saw no point in gawking. The threshold had been crossed. There was no looking back.

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Seven

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Seven

by Richard Gifford

Angus knew that Annie had spotted him on the whale watch boat. He assumed that she didn’t know his real identity, or the true reason for his visit to Provincetown, but even so, she was able to pick him out of a crowd, and that was a problem.

Since the exchange with the captain, Angus suspected that a crew member was watching him. Maybe I’m being paranoid, he thought for a moment, but experience had taught him better. Angus watched a deck hand change the garbage can liner for the third time in half an hour. Each time, he glanced at Angus as he took the near empty bag away.

As the Explorer approached the inner harbor of Provincetown, Angus stepped onto the deck and noticed a fellow passenger with a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck.

“Mind if I borrow those for a moment?”

“What? Oh, these? Yeah, sure, here you go.”

“Thanks.” Angus scanned the crowd of people waiting on the dock. It was difficult to see clearly since the sun had set, but in the twilight he could see Annie standing next to the police chief.

“Are you looking for someone?” the stranger asked.

“Yes, I’m supposed to meet someone for dinner. They’re there. Thanks.” He handed the binoculars back.

“No problem.”

Actually, big problem, Angus thought. Big, stinking problem. My cover’s been blown. But how? There’s no way Annie could have found out who I am, or my connection to Linda’s death. Maybe those blokes from the bar turned him in, damn it. He felt trapped.

The voice inside Angus’s head was racing. Don’t get ahead of yourself mate, you’ve been in a few tight jams before, you just need to find your way out.

Angus was looking for a way to avoid Annie and the police. In a few minutes time, the boat would be docked. He assumed that he would be arrested as soon as he ascended the gangway. He decided that it was time to abort his mission and get out of town before anything more could go wrong.

He glanced around the harbor for options. At the pier opposite from where the Explorer was docking, lay a fast-looking boat with the name “Wild Thing” emblazoned on its bright yellow hull. Not very subtle, he thought, but it will have to do. He could hear the engine idling as the person whom he presumed was its owner polished the chrome railings.

Angus assessed the situation and realized that his options were slim. Either get that boat and get as far away as possible, or certainly face arrest, and whatever charges came with it.

He felt the Explorer bump against the dock. All of the passengers moved quickly towards the exit ramp en masse. Now was his only chance. Angus quietly made his way to the stern of the ship and, when he was sure no one was looking, slipped over the railing.

Annie waited nervously next to Chief Souza as they watched the passengers disembark.

“Have you seen him yet?”

“No, not yet. There’s still a lot of people to go.

“Something doesn’t feel right. I’m calling Billy.” Chief Souza pulled out his cell phone and pressed Billy’s number on his speed dial.

“Billy, it’s me. Is the guy still on board?”

“I just saw him a minute ago. I’ve kind of lost him in the crowd now. Do you want me to check and see if he’s hiding anywhere?”

“No, don’t do that yet. I don’t want to raise any suspicions. Annie and I have been watching the passengers and we haven’t seen him yet. There’s only one way off the boat. If they all depart and we don’t see him, we’re coming on board. Keep your eyes open. I don’t know who the hell this guy is, but he’s sneaky.”

Angus only dropped about three feet into the water, but the weight of his clothes and his backpack made it hard for him to reach the surface. When his head broke above the surface of the water, he checked to see if anyone had noticed. Satisfied that they hadn’t, Angus moved quietly across the harbor in the gathering darkness.

He approached the stern of the Wild Thing, and called out to the man on board. “Help, help me! I fell overboard!”

When the startled man didn’t see him at first, Angus called out again. “Over here! Help me up!” Angus extended his hand as he approached the swim platform of the boat, which he recognized as a Fountain, a fast vessel indeed.

“Oh, my God. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m not hurt. Just help me up.” Angus extended his left hand to the man while he fished his knife out of his right pocket and opened it with a flick of his thumb.

The man reached out his hand and pulled Angus up onto the deck. His facial expression changed from concern to fear as Angus pressed the point of the blade against his abdomen.
“Don’t scream, don’t say a word, or I will kill you. Understand?”

The man nodded silently, his eyes wide open in terror.

“Is this your boat?”

He nodded.

“Is there anyone else on board?”

He shook his head no.

“Good. Let’s go then.”

“Go? Where?”

“I said don’t talk.” He pressed the blade harder into the man’s shirt. “Just untie the boat and get us out of here.”

Angus kept a firm grip on the man’s arm as he untied the dock lines from the cleats. He kneeled down on the deck next to the man as he put the engines into reverse. Angus kept the knife firm against his ribcage.

“Good, now take us out of the harbor, nice and easy.”

The man obliged and pushed the throttles forward. The twin 454 engines rumbled at idle speed. Angus was impressed.

“How much fuel do you have?”

“About 50 gallons.” The man answered nervously.

“Is that enough to get to Boston?”

“Yeah, sure. Is that where you want to go?”

“No questions from you mate. Just drive the damn boat.”

The Wild Thing rumbled past the Explorer into the fading darkness. Chief Souza saw it moving. He raised his binoculars, and could barely see the top of Angus’s head. “That sonofabitch,” he muttered.

“What? What do you see?” Annie asked.

“He’s getting away. He’s hijacked that boat.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He picked up the microphone to his walkie-talkie. “All units be advised, suspect has commandeered a civilian boat called the Wild Thing. He appears to have a hostage onboard. Dispatch, call the Coast Guard, we’ll need their help to catch this guy. They’re the only ones with a boat fast enough to catch him.”

“Roger that, Chief,” Dispatch Officer Thompson responded.

“They’re not the only ones,” Annie said.

“What do you mean?” He looked down at Annie’s outstretched palm and saw her holding the keys to the Whale Center’s rescue boat. Their eyes met for a moment, then without hesitation Chief Souza said “Let’s go.”

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Six

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty Six

by Richard Gifford

Annie walked up the wooden steps to her second-story apartment just off Commercial Street. The entrance to it was down a narrow side alley between two buildings. She turned the key in the lock and pushed, but the humidity had caused the wood to swell, making the door tight. She leaned her shoulder into it and the door opened. Just out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw someone else coming down the alley, but when she turned her head to look, no one was there.

Once inside the shoebox of an apartment, Annie closed the door and locked the deadbolt. She immediately plugged her cell phone into its charger, then she checked her answering machine which was blinking with four messages.

The first was from her mother. “Annie, I heard about the murder of the scientist at that place you work. It’s just terrible. I hope everything’s ok. Call me when you get this. Love ya, bye.” Beep.

“Hey babe, it’s Shane. It’s like, four o’clock. Sorry about earlier. I was stressed about getting the traps done. I’m back at my place now. I tried you on your cell, but I remembered it’s dead. Give me a call when you get in, maybe we can go out tonight. There’s a good reggae band playing at the Beachcomer in Wellfleet. OK, talk to you later.” Beep.

“Idiot,” she muttered. “My life’s in danger, I’m about to break into someone’s house, and he wants to go out drinking.”

“Hi, it’s Mom again. I didn’t hear back from you, I’m getting worried. Please call me when you get in. I love you. Bye.” Beep.

“Hey babe, me again. I called Billy, and he told me you were out on a whale rescue. That’s cool. I bet you’re pretty tired. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll come over in the morning.” Beep.

“You clueless moron!” she shouted at the machine. Annie pressed the delete button with vengeance. While she did, the phone rang. If it was Shane again, she was going to let him have it for being so, well, Shane.

“I thought something horrible happened. It’s so good to hear your voice.” “Hello?” She barked into the receiver.

“Annie, it’s Mary Ellen. Are you OK?”

“Oh, my God, Mary Ellen. Yes, yes, I’m OK. How are you?”

“I’m pretty sore, but other than that I’m all right. I didn’t know what I was doing this morning. It was like I stepped out of my own body.”

“I thought something horrible happened. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Thanks Annie, that’s sweet. I’m wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure, anything you need.”

“Could you go over to my house and feed my kitty Ray Charles? There’s a key hidden inside a rock by the birdfeeder.”

Annie couldn’t believe the timing. “Actually, Mary Ellen, I was hoping I could go over to your place. Linda kept a copy of her environmental impact report on the gas drilling on her home computer; I need to get a copy of it as soon as possible.”

“Why? Can’t that wait?”

“I don’t think it can. Chief Souza thinks that someone might have been after that report when Linda was killed. There’s a creepy guy in town named Tom that might be connected to all of this. I’m the only one who knows what’s in that report, and the only copy is on the computer at your house. The sooner the report is made public, the better.”

“Annie, do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe. I don’t want Linda’s death to be in vain, so get that report. But be careful, that Tom guy sounds dangerous.”

“That’s what the Chief says, too. Don’t worry, we’ll get him, and the report too.”

“Thanks Annie. Good luck. Oh, Ray Charles gets one can in the morning and one at night. Just make sure he has plenty of dry food and water, too.”

Annie laughed. “If he doesn’t, he’s likely to eat me!” She’d never seen a cat as large as Ray Charles. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. You can get calls at the hospital, can’t you?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for everything. You’re a good friend. Bye-bye.”

“Bye Mary Ellen.”

She immediately stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While she waited for the hot water to come, she stripped off her foul smelling clothes, dumped them in the trash and stepped into the steaming shower. She felt the grime of the day start to wash off. She watched as the water at her feet changed colors from pink to brown and finally become clear. She would have liked to linger there, but she knew she had to meet Juicy.

She stepped out the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. When she opened the bathroom door, she let out a scream as she saw a large man’s silhouette peering through the front door window.

“Who are you!” she shouted. “Get out of here!”

The shadowy voyeur retreated hastily down the steps. Annie heard the footsteps fade as he ran up the alley.

She quickly double-checked the lock to make sure it was bolted, then went into her bedroom to dress. “Who was that?” she wondered aloud.  “God, Annie, what have you gotten yourself into?” She put on a clean T-shirt and transferred the contents of her shorts pockets into a pair of jeans. She unplugged the cell phone which was just barely charged, and slipped it into her back pocket.

The little voice inside Annie’s head, which she usually attributed to her grandmother, told her to be extra cautious. She rummaged through her purse for the can of pepper spray that her father had given her as a going away present in May. At the time, Annie thought he was greatly overestimating the dangers she might encounter in Provincetown, but now she was thankful for his foresight.

She opened the door slowly and looked around to see if there was anyone hiding in the alley. When she saw that it was clear, she slipped the small canister into her pocket and locked the door behind her. She moved as quickly as she could down the stairs and through the alley, feeling a little safer once she was in public view on Commercial Street.

Annie picked her way through the Saturday evening madness of Commercial Street. She’d forgotten that it was Fourth of July weekend, a time when just about anything could happen with tens of thousands of tourists in the streets.

Every few hundred yards, Annie looked over her shoulder to see if she was being followed, but with all of the people milling about it was impossible to tell. By the time she reached the East End Gallery district, the crowds had thinned out considerably. She saw the hand-carved, lotus shaped sign at the Dharma Gallery and her heart beat faster. Juicy was nowhere in sight.

She decided it would be safer for her to wait inside than out on the street, so she looked around the base of the birdfeeder by the side door and found the hollowed rock containing the house key.

Annie opened the door and was greeted by the enormous black bulk of Ray Charles purring at her feet. She quickly closed the door behind her and locked it.

Annie suppressed the lump in her throat and sat down at the computer. “Hi, Ray,” she groaned as she picked him up. “Good kitty. Let me get you some food.” Annie hurriedly fed Ray and gave him fresh water, then went into the home office that Linda shared with Mary Ellen. There were pictures all around of the two of them with their friends. Annie had seen them before, but never paid much attention to the vacation photos of San Francisco, New York, London, and a Caribbean cruise that Linda and Mary Ellen went on last winter. Now, the arrangements of pictures seemed more like a shrine to Linda’s memory.

Annie suppressed the lump in her throat and sat down at the computer. She turned it on and waited while it warmed up. Ray Charles, who was starved for affection,  climbed up into her lap, kneading her denim jeans with his giant double paws.

“Ouch! That’s enough, Ray,” she said as his claw dug into her leg.

She clicked on “Documents”, and saw a list of many different folders. Finally, she found the Whale Center folder and tried to open it. Annie hadn’t accounted for it being password protected.

Uh-oh, she thought, what could it be? Looking down at the pile of black fur curled up on her lap, she tried the obvious and typed in Ray Charles. She once heard that using a pet’s name for a password was a bad idea because it could be so easily guessed. Apparently, Linda had heard this, too.
Annie typed in password after password, trying to think like Linda with no luck. Her head throbbed from the stress. “Where is Juicy?” she said to Ray Charles.

A thought occurred to Annie to do a Google search for Thomas Lawrence. She spelled out the name and hit enter, and was surprised at how many hits she had for Lawrence of Arabia. No luck there either, she thought. Annie made a mental note to come back to this later.
She looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly seven. She needed to get down to MacMillan Wharf to help identify Tom Lawrence when the Explorer came in.

“OK, Ray, I’ll be back later.” Annie looked out the window on the side street to see if there was anyone watching her. Satisfied that she wasn’t being followed, she opened the door wide enough to slip outside and pull it shut behind her. She checked to make sure that it was locked and then placed the key back under the rock. After one final glance around, she made her way through the crowds on Commercial Street to MacMillan Wharf.

*                *                  *

Once he could see that Annie had left, the shadowy stranger who was watching her stepped out of the bushes of the house next door, and retrieved the key from its hiding place. He calmly let himself in, shut the door, and sat down at the computer.

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Five

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Five

by Richard Gifford

Angus stood at the rail of the Explorer with a crowd of tourists, enjoying the whale watch cruise. Where the other passengers saw whales feeding at the surface, Angus envisioned drilling platforms extracting millions of cubic feet of natural gas. With the demand rising throughout the US, and the cost of Middle Eastern oil skyrocketing, he knew that this deal would be worth billions to Scotia Gas. There was no way he could let the Whale Center’s report reach the EPA in Washington.

He decided to keep his sunglasses on after seeing his black eye in the men’s room mirror. Knowing that Annie Macalister spotted him on the boat made him uncomfortable, but he’d decided that he posed far greater threat to her than she did to him.

He felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrate. It was an odd sensation that took him a moment to recognize. He walked away from the crowd at the railing so that no one would overhear his conversation.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Black?” a gruff sounding voice croaked.

“Yes, is that you?”

“Yeah. Listen, I just overhead a conversation between the director of the Whale Center and some girl. She knows all about the report. She says there’s another copy.”

“Where?”

“Back at the house where Hanscomb lived with her girlfriend. It’s on her computer.”

“We have to get to it before anyone else does. Tell me about the girl. Who is she?”

“Her name is Annie. She’s young, still in college.”

“We’ve got to get rid of her and the report.” “I know her. We’ve got to get rid of her and the report.”

“You mean kill her? Look, Mr. Black, you asked me to get you the report, not go on a killing spree. The first one was an accident. You want this one done, I want twenty five thousand.”

“Our initial agreement was five thousand for the report. Since you bollixed that one up, this has become much more complicated. Bring the girl with you when we meet tonight and I’ll pay you ten thousand cash. You don’t have to get any more blood on your hands, I’ll take care of her myself.”

“How am I supposed to get her there?”

Angus gritted his teeth and raised his voice. “Listen, mate, my patience with you is running out. Have her there tonight or I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Angus hung up in disgust. He knew that in all likelihood he would have to kill both of them.  There was simply too much at stake.

“Everything  OK here, sir?”

Angus nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around and saw no one. Then he looked up and saw a large man wearing a light blue shirt with a captain’s insignia on the lapel staring down at him from the stairway to the bridge. He tried to compose himself.

“Yes. Everything is fine thanks, just some bad news, that’s all.”

“I heard some yelling, and I wanted make sure everybody was all right,” Captain Billy Souza said while sizing up the man his father had just described to him as the primary suspect in Linda Hanscomb’s murder.

“Oh, yes, fine. Thanks for your concern.”

“Well, if you want to see some whales, there’s three finbacks feeding over there. You can see them just fine from the stern.” Billy pointed to the stern.

“Sure, right. Well, thanks.”

“So, what do we do?” Jack asked. “You have a nice day, sir.”

Billy Souza turned and ascended the metal stairs that led back to the bridge. “That’s him,” he said to his first mate Jack Taylor.

“So, what do we do?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. I’m going to call the chief back.” Billy pressed the speed dial number for his father’s cell phone.

“Chief Souza.”

“Dad, it’s Billy. I just saw the guy you described. It’s definitely him. Looks like he’s got quite a shiner, too. He’s trying to cover it with sunglasses.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He was just on the phone with someone. Sounded pretty angry, too. I couldn’t hear the whole conversation but I think he was threatening to shoot someone. What should I do?”

“Nothing. I don’t want you to do anything that will arouse his suspicion. We don’t really know who this guy is yet, or what he’s up to, but he’s armed with at least a knife and he isn’t afraid to pull it out in public.”

“Great. So I’ve got an armed suspect on board my ship, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Look, Billy, just bring the boat in at the regular time, and I’ll have my officers in street clothes to pick him up. Could you hear anything else he said?”

“He said something about bringing her with him when they meet. But I have no idea who he’s talking about.”

Chief Souza paused. “Annie,” he said with a sigh.

“What’s Annie got to do with this?” Billy was clearly concerned.

“I’m still not sure, but she thinks this has something to do with Linda Hanscomb’s research. I’m starting to agree. She knows the contents of the report, and someone wants it stopped.”

“I’m not following you, Dad. Linda was killed because of research about what whales eat and now the same guys are after Annie? There’s got to be more to the story than this.”

“I know, but that’s all I’ve got for now. Look, I have to go. Keep an eye on that guy. We’ll be waiting for him when you get back.”

“Roger that. Be careful, Dad.”

“You too, Billy.”

Chief Souza punched the off button on his cell phone and parked his cruiser in the small plaza near the end of MacMillan Wharf. He turned and walked the 150 feet to the Post Office Café where he saw Annie and Juicy sitting at the front table looking nervous.

“Chief, what’s going on? Is Bruce a suspect too?” “Hi, Annie, Juicy. Where’s Bruce?”

“I don’t know,” Annie replied. “I stepped outside to call you, and Juicy said he excused himself to go the men’s room.”

“But he’s not in there. I checked.” Juicy finished her sentence.

Annie was confused about the entire situation. “Chief, what’s going on? Is Bruce a suspect too?”

“I just want to ask him a few questions, but his disappearing like this does raise some concern. I need to establish if he saw Linda the night she was killed.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bruce said tersely from behind them.

Annie shot him an angry look. “Bruce, where did you go? What’s going on?”

“I just went to my car to find a better sling for my arm.” He motioned to the towel that he had tied around his shoulder.

“What happened to your arm?” Chief Souza inquired.

“I dislocated it. The whale flipped me out of the boat, and as I went over I smacked into the outboard motor. Annie here did a good job of popping it back in place, but I’ll need a few more beers before the pain goes away.” He sat down in his chair and took another sip from his bottle.
Chief Souza wanted to get back to business. “So, you said that you didn’t see Linda Thursday night.”

“No, the last time I saw her she was working in her office on the EPA report. I had to leave early to go to a fundraising dinner at Napi’s with the board of directors.”

“What time did the dinner finish?”

“Around eight, but some of us stayed for drinks until nearly midnight. I went home after that.”
“You live right across the street from the Whale Center, did you see or hear anything when you got home?”

“No. It looked like all the lights were turned off, so I just went to bed.”

“You didn’t check to see if the door was locked or anything?”

“No, why should I? Everybody there knows to lock up if they’re the last ones out of the building.”

“And everybody remembers?”

“Pretty much. Don’t you think so?” He glanced at Annie and Juicy. Both nodded.

“So, if the door was locked, how did someone get in? There was no sign of forced entry, no broken windows, no pry marks on the door.”

“I don’t know. It’s possible that Linda was there working. She sometimes worked late at night. Maybe the door was open and the guy walked right in.”

“Why would someone want to steal her research?”

“Why? Simple, money. In all likelihood there’s as much oil and natural gas out there as in all of Texas. If the EPA allows drilling, whichever oil company gets the contract will make billions. People don’t care much about what happens offshore if they can’t see it. That’s why this report is so important. The public has to be made aware of what’s out there and what’s at stake. If you want to find out who killed Linda, you need to find out who has the most to lose in this deal.”

Chief Souza thought about this for a moment. He reconsidered his initial decision to arrest Bruce. “That’s what I intend to do. But I’ll need your help. Will you come back to the station with me and answer some questions about Linda and this report? I’d like to record it so that we don’t miss any details.”

“Sure, Chief. Whatever it takes, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Chief Souza helped him to his feet and led him out the door. “I hope you’re right.”

Annie and Juicy sat quietly as they watched Chief Souza walk Bruce back to the police car. His alibi made sense to her, but it was obvious that Bruce was being treated as a suspect.

“Juicy, I’ve got an idea. We need to get into Mary Ellen’s house and make copies of that report. If we can get it out to the media now, whoever is trying to stop it will be too late.”

“And they won’t be after you or anyone else, right?”

“Hopefully. I’ve got to go back to my apartment and change my clothes. Can you meet me at Mary Ellen’s in half an hour?”

“Sure, mon, but what do you want me to do?”

“Help me get in, and be a lookout.”

“Yah, OK, but we need to be careful. I got a feelin’ there’s some bad folks around. The sooner the police catch that Tom guy the better.”

“That’s why we need to do it now before he gets back. OK, I’ll meet you at the Dharma Gallery at six.”

“You want me to come with you now?”

Annie stood to leave. “No, I’ll be all right. I just want to shower and change out of these clothes. Hey, wait a minute. Bruce left without paying.”

“It’s okay Annie, I got it.” Juicy pulled a surprisingly large wad of cash out of his pocket and peeled off two twenty dollar bills.

“Whoa, Juice, where’d you get that kind of money?”

“Billy pays me in cash. I don’t have a bank account here, so I just keep it with me.”

Annie shrugged her shoulders. She’d heard that Juicy always had more money than a deck hand would make. Rumor had it that he was supplying designer drugs to tourists, but she’d never believed it, until now. She and Juicy walked out the door and into the late afternoon sunshine. Squinting, Annie said “Thanks for paying, see you in half an hour.”

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Four

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Four

by Richard Gifford

The ringing phone on his desk startled Chief Souza as he combed through the details of Linda Hanscomb’s autopsy report.

“Chief Souza,” he answered gruffly.

“Hi Bill, it’s Mark O’Neil. I’ve been talking to Mary Ellen Johnson, she says she’ll cooperate with the investigation.”

“That’s good news. Did you get anything out of her?”

“A little. She said that Bruce Waters isn’t the baby’s father. Linda went to a clinic in Boston and had an anonymous donor. She was on her way to tell him the night she was killed.”

“Interesting. There’s something about that guy that doesn’t feel right.” “Interesting. There’s something about that guy that doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Yeah, last night I stopped by the Whale Center to look for some leads.  I bumped into him. It was pretty late. He was cooperative, but I get the feeling he’s hiding something. After we talked, I saw him go straight back to his house across the street.  Not a minute later he was on the phone to someone and watching me from his window.”

“Does he have access to a boat?”

Chief Souza could tell where the DA was going with this theory. He was heading in the same direction himself. “Sure. He has that old Coast Guard speedboat and a couple of Zodiacs.”

“Well, let’s see, ex-wife leaves him for a woman, then tells him she’s pregnant. Guy goes into a rage, since he wasn’t able to have kids with her himself, slams her head into the wall and strangles her, then dumps the body out at sea. You’ve got both motive and opportunity.”

“Who told you that he couldn’t have kids with her?”

“Mary Ellen. Said the guy was basically shooting blanks. I think you’ve got yourself a suspect there, Chief.”

“Maybe so. I definitely want to talk to him. What’s Mary Ellen’s status?”

“She’ll be OK. Two broken ribs, but it could have been worse.”

“Good. Do you think she’s a hazard to herself?”

“I think she’s more of a hazard to whoever killed her girlfriend. She told me about what happened in Florida. She killed a man in cold blood to protect her family, with no regrets. I could only imagine what her revenge fantasies must be like. The hospital wants to keep her at the Psych Center for forty-eight hours to evaluate if she’s a further danger. After that, who knows? They’ll either release her or ship her up to the psychiatric hospital in Brockton for a couple of weeks. Either way, she’s not going anywhere until at least Monday morning.”

“All right, thanks for everything. I feel like we’re starting to get somewhere. I’ll talk to you later.”

“OK, Chief.”

As he hung up the phone, Dispatcher Carla Thompson knocked on the Chief’s door.

“Come in. Hi, Carla.”

“Hi, Chief. FYI, about thirty minutes ago there was a fight at the Below Decks lounge. Some guy pulled a knife and held it against another patron’s neck. He took on three big men and left them all on the floor. No serious injuries, though one guy had a broken foot.”

Chief Souza immediately had a hunch. “Was he English?”

Carla looked impressed. “Actually, the witnesses said he was Scottish, how’d you know?”

“Right, we’ve got a good description, so I’ll let all patrols know who we’re looking for.” “I saw that guy earlier today, with his knife. He was hanging around the Whale Center watching the State Troopers collect evidence. We’ve got to find him, ASAP.”

“Right, we’ve got a good description, so I’ll let all patrols know who we’re looking for.”

“Tell everybody to be very careful. This guy’s armed and dangerous. If he took on three men by himself, he’s probably got some kind of military or martial arts training. If anyone spots him, they’re not to engage without backup. Is that clear?”

“Roger that, Chief. I’ll put out an APB right now.”

“Thanks, Carla.”

Chief Souza closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh as soon as she shut his office door. Half of his summertime police force were college students with little training. They were fine for traffic duties and giving tourists directions, but the idea of one of them trying to subdue an armed suspect with hand-to-hand combat experience made him shudder. I need to find this guy myself, he thought, if this damn phone would ever stop ringing.

“Chief Souza.”

“Hi, Chief, It’s Annie Macalister.”

“Annie, I’m glad you called. I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

“Me, too. About this morning, I thought Mary Ellen killed herself, but I heard that you shot her with a beanbag or something? Is she hurt?”

“You did a great job this morning, Annie. Thanks to you, she’ll be fine. I just spoke with someone who talked to her at Cape Cod Hospital.”

“She’s not a suspect in Linda’s murder, is she?” “She’s not a suspect in Linda’s murder, is she?”

“I can’t say that anyone is not a suspect right now. We just don’t know enough about what happened yet, but there are some other leads that we’re investigating.”

“Chief, I really want to talk to you was about Linda’s research.”

“Her research? Wait a minute, I hear a lot of noise on your end of the phone. Where are you?”

“I’m at the Post Office Café. My cell phone battery went dead this morning when I was talking to Mary Ellen. A friend of mine who’s a waiter here is letting me use his phone. Hold on, let me step outside. Is that better?”

“Yes, much better. What about Linda’s research?”

“Well, all summer I was her research assistant. We were compiling this big report for the EPA to put the entire Gulf of Maine off limits to oil drilling. It’s possible that whoever killed Linda was trying to stop that report from becoming public.”

“That would explain why they trashed her office and smashed the computer. So, you know everything that’s in that report right?”

“Yeah, Linda and I spent all summer working on it.”

Chief Souza felt another hunch coming on, “By any chance have you met a guy with a Scottish accent in the past few days? Somewhere between 50 and 60 years old?”

Annie was stunned. “You mean Tom? The guy who helped me when I fell this afternoon? What about him?”

Chief Souza pulled a silver Cross pen from his pocket and started to make notes on a pad of paper in front of him. “What did you say his name was?”

“Tom Lawrence.”

“I think he might know something about Linda’s murder. Do you have any idea where he is right now?”

“Are you kidding? He’s on the Explorer. I just saw him less than an hour ago. He seemed so nice to me. He couldn’t have killed Linda, anyway he said that he just came into Provincetown on this morning’s ferry.”

“I don’t know if he killed Linda or not, but he’s very dangerous. He assaulted three guys in a bar about an hour ago. The good thing is, we know where he is, and he can’t get away. I’ll call Billy on the Explorer right now, and we can have officers arrest him when they return. I think you’re right, Annie, someone might be after that report.”

“Do you think I’m in danger from Tom?” Annie said nervously.

“Tom Lawrence is a danger to everyone until we bring him in which we’ll do soon. Will you help us identify him when the Explorer comes in?”

“Sure. Are you going to have them come back early?”

“No. I don’t want to raise any suspicions. Just meet me at the dock around 7:30. Until then, just lay low. Anyway, I thought you were with Shane all day?”

“I was this morning, but after the whole Mary Ellen thing I came back to town. He went back out to pull lobster traps, then I ended up on a whale rescue with Bruce and Juicy.”

Chief Souza paused. “Are you with Bruce Waters now, at the Post Office Café?”

“Yes, we came back about half an hour ago. We’re having something to eat.”

“Do me a favor, Annie. Keep him there a little while longer. I’m on my way downtown, and I’d like to talk to you together.”

Annie thought this was a little weird. “Um, OK. Hold on, I’m looking inside. I don’t see him. He must have gone to the men’s room or something.”

“I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and quickly left his office to avoid answering another call.

On his way out the door, he poked his head into the dispatch room and said, “Carla, put out an APB for Bruce Waters. He was just seen at the Post Office Café. Tell the patrols that if he doesn’t come in voluntarily for questioning, arrest him.”

“Roger that, Chief.”

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Three

Macmillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Three

by Richard Gifford

Annie was at the helm of the Whale Center rescue boat as they rounded the tip of Provincetown. She looked to her left and saw the old weather-beaten Coast Guard Station near Race Point Beach. This was nearly the exact spot where yesterday she and Juicy hauled Linda’s body onto the deck of the Explorer.

She looked around the boat. Bruce sat next to her, holding his arm in the sling that Annie fashioned out of a T-shirt. Juicy leaned against the stern, staring out at the water. She wondered if he, too, was thinking about what happened. For a moment, their eyes met. From the sad look he gave, she knew instantly that he was. All three were silent as the boat skipped over the waves.

When they were off shore of Herring Cove Beach, the large white hull of the Explorer came into view about a mile away. Annie knew that Captain Billy always kept his VHF radio on channel 11, so she made sure that her’s was on the same frequency.

“Whale Rescue One to Whale Watch Vessel Explorer. Do you copy?” Annie had spent a lot of time on the bridge next to Billy and she learned the nautical protocol.

“This is Explorer. That you Annie?” She heard Billy’s voice over the speaker.

“Yeah, Billy, we’re on our way back in.”

“Already? How’d you do?”

“It went pretty quickly. We freed her in about three hours.”

“Nice job guys. Come up alongside us, I’ll have the passengers give you a cheer.”

“OK.” Annie said with a nervous laugh.

Annie backed the throttle down as she approached the Explorer. She enjoyed the power and agility of the rescue boat and appreciated Bruce’s reluctance to give up the controls. She could hear the voice of Joyce Eldredge, a Whale Center volunteer in her late seventies using the public address system on the Explorer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are some real heroes. This is the whale entanglement rescue team from the Provincetown Whale Center. They just helped free a finback whale that was entangled in lobster gear off  Truro. Let’s show them our appreciation and give them a round of applause.”

Annie looked up at the open top deck and saw hundreds of people waving, clapping, and recording them on video. Annie and Juicy waved back to the crowd while Bruce smiled and nodded.

Angus Black was staring right down at her. Annie squinted, recognized him, and  waved to him.

“Hi, Tom! Hey, Bruce, look, that’s the guy who helped me earlier today.” Annie pointed directly at Angus.

“Tom Lawrence, what a charmer. Hi, Tom, enjoy the trip! Huh, why isn’t he waving?”

“That’s enough of the limelight, let’s get back to the dock. Go ahead and open her up, Annie.”

“You got it!” she replied with a big grin on her face. She pushed the twin throttles slowly forward and lowered the trim tabs to keep the nose of the boat level. The acceleration was immediate. She and Bruce were nearly pinned to their seats while Juicy braced himself against the aluminum frame of the boat’s canopy.

Annie looked down at the GPS which also registered the forward speed of the boat. They were going fifty-eight miles per hour. She thought that on a weekend day in August, there probably wasn’t a single car on Cape Cod going that fast.

“Why would the Coast Guard ever give up a boat like this?” She shouted into Bruce’s ear.

“Because the smugglers have even faster ones.”

Annie just shook her head in disbelief as the wind whipped past her. Their burst of speed was short-lived, as they reached the Long Point Lighthouse in less than two minutes. She slowed the boat to a more respectable twenty miles per hour as they entered the outer part of Provincetown Harbor. Once past the breakwater, she backed the throttle to idle speed as they approached the dock they shared with the Explorer.

“You want to dock it, Annie?” Bruce asked.

“You trust me?”

“So far so good. Just ease it right in.”

Juicy had already dropped the white rubber bumpers over the side so that the boat wouldn’t rub against the dock. Annie turned the wheel and let the boat drift sideways to the pier.

“Put it in reverse and swing your ass end around,” Bruce said matter of factly.

“Excuse me?”

He realized he was sounding a little too local. “Sorry, bring the stern around.”

“Gotcha.”

Annie inched the boat into position and felt a soft bump when it contacted the floating dock.

“Nice job.” Bruce said. “You too, Juicy. Good work today, both of you. Let’s get everything tied up and I’ll buy you both dinner.”

“Sounds good, mon! Where we eatin’?” Juicy asked as he secured the dock lines.

“How about burgers and beer at the Post Office? What do you say, Annie?”

“Fine, I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m starving.”

Annie and Juicy finished putting everything away on the boat while Bruce waited for the handful of painkillers he took to kick in. Once everything was stowed away, Annie locked the cabin door and put the keys in her shorts pocket. She made a mental note to hang them up in the key locker back at the center.

The three walked down MacMillan Wharf and turned left onto Commercial Street. They walked into the Post Office Café and sat at a table next to the window. This was a prime spot for people-watching which was, by far, Annie’s favorite pastime in Provincetown. It was from this very spot that she once witnessed a drag queen on roller skates, dressed as Scarlet O’Hara, glide by while reciting: “with God as my witness, I’ll never go hungry again!” The image was indelibly etched into Annie’s mind.

When a waiter approached their table,  Annie immediately recognized him. She was one of Brad’s regular customers.

“Hi, Annie, jeez, what happened to you? You look like a chainsaw murderer!”

Annie looked down at her shirt and realized it was spattered with blood from the whale. She hadn’t seen herself in the mirror since 6:00 a.m., and was suddenly feeling very self conscious.

“Annie freed a whale today, but it got a little messy,” Bruce said with pride.

Brad was duly impressed. “No kidding! I feel like such a slacker. I slept till noon, then came to work. Saving whales, that’s so awesome.”

“Thanks,” Annie said sheepishly.

“So, can I get you three some drinks to celebrate?”

Bruce ordered a Sam Adams and Annie had the same. Juicy was pleased to see that they carried Red Stripe, his native beer from Jamaica. All three ordered cheeseburgers with French fries. They quietly stared out the window for a few minutes while they waited for the cold beer to arrive.

Annie learned in her first few days in Provincetown that the front table at the Post Office Café was one of the best seats in town. Behind their heads was a row of old post office boxes next to the bar. Looking out the window was like watching a microcosm of the entire world pass by. Annie enjoyed the constant parade, there were all sorts of couples strolling arm in arm, guys riding bicycles with parrots on their shoulders, people walking dogs with matching leather collars. She made a point to stop in at least every other day for a drink or meal.

When the beers arrived, Bruce offered a toast to Annie. They clinked bottles and drank in the hoppy coldness with gusto. In their efforts this afternoon, none of them had taken time to eat or drink anything.

Bruce thoughtfully peeled the label off his beer bottle. Finally, he turned to Annie.

“Do you think Mary Ellen killed Linda?”

“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that a hundred times today.”

“She certainly was acting guilty this morning. Do you think she really would have killed herself?”

“That’s what the cop said that I talked to this afternoon. That reminds me, I need to call the chief, he wants to talk to me.”

“About what?” Bruce sounded nervous.

“About Mary Ellen, I guess. I don’t really know for sure.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“Who? Mary Ellen?”

“No, Linda.  I didn’t know either. I heard it on the news conference this morning.”

“Oh, my God. I had no idea. Who’s the father?”

“I don’t know. They asked me to be a donor about six months ago, but I said no way. They must have gone to a clinic or something.”

“Now there’s two murders aren’t there? Linda and the baby,” Juicy said sadly.

Brad came back with a tray full of cheeseburgers and fries. Despite their gloomy mood, all three of them were starving and began to eat immediately.

Bruce continued, “I just hope they find whoever did this soon. I’ll tell you guys something that I haven’t told anyone else, I don’t think it was Linda they were after, but her research.”

“Her research?” Annie sounded alarmed.

“The report that she was going to present to the EPA in a few weeks would have put the entire Gulf of Maine off limits to oil and gas exploration, or so we hoped. She established that the entire ecosystem was critical habitat for right whales. The increase in ship traffic alone is enough to wipe out the species. We had ten whales killed by ship collisions last year. That’s over three percent of the species killed in one year. The biggest threat comes from the exploration. The oil companies use low frequency sonar to determine where to drill. These same frequencies disorient the whales, and some studies the Navy did showed that they caused them to beach themselves.”

“I know all about this,” said Annie. “I’ve been working to help Linda compile the research for her report.”

“That’s good because it all has to be done again. The hearings in Washington won’t be postponed. We need to sort it all out and write a new report. Without Linda’s testimony, the only ones to speak about oil drilling in the Gulf of Maine will be the oil companies. Whoever trashed her office smashed her laptop. She was very careful not to leave paper copies of the report lying around, so the only copy is in a secure file on her hard drive which is now dead.”

Annie looked across the beer bottles at Bruce, then Juicy, then back to Bruce. In a low whisper she said,

“That wasn’t the only copy.”

“What? Are you sure?” Bruce’s hushed voice matched Annie’s.

“Yes. She kept a draft copy on her computer at home, too.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“Mary Ellen must know about it. Sometimes Linda and I would go to her house to work on it there. Mary Ellen’s in jail and I’m sure the house is all locked up. I’ll talk to the chief and see if he can let me in their house to get the report.”

Lurking just outside the window, but out of Annie’s view, Linda’s murderer was listening intently to their entire conversation. He knew that the report was the bargaining chip he would need later that night and Annie would lead him right to it.

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MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Two

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Twenty-Two

by Richard Gifford

District Attorney Mark O’Neil was buzzed through the secure doors at Cape Cod Hospital’s Psychiatric Facility. The low-slung building was separate from the main part of the Hospital, where those with a high risk of suicide were monitored under twenty-four hour care while also having their illnesses or injuries treated.

“I’m Mark O’Neil and I’m here to see Mary Ellen Johnson,” he said to Attendant Donna Gomes at the front desk.

“Oh, right. You called about an hour ago. Just sign in and we’ll bring her to Room 3. You can wait for her there. It’s the second door on the left.” Donna pointed down the hall.

“Thanks.” Mark walked down the hall to another secure door and waited for Donna to buzz him through. He entered the undecorated room through a shatter-resistant glass door and sat down at a round wooden table. After nearly ten minutes, Mary Ellen, wearing only a hospital gown and slippers, entered, escorted by a nurse.

He stood to greet her as she entered the room. “Hello, Ms. Johnson, I’m District Attorney Mark O’Neil, please have a seat.”

“I understand. You’re completely right; you don’t have to talk to me. But I think you should.” Mary Ellen averted his eyes as she shuffled in and sat on the wooden chair. Mark wondered if she had been sedated.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” the nurse said.

“So, how are you feeling?” Mary Ellen just sat in the chair, staring down at the table. “I understand you’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. Chief Souza showed me your criminal record, but he also said that you haven’t been in any trouble since you moved to Provincetown, until this morning, that is. How long have you been living in P-Town?”

“About three years,” Mary Ellen muttered. Mark was pleased that she talked.

“And before that, you were incarcerated in Florida, right?”

“Yeah. Look, I don’t have to talk to you without a lawyer here.”

“I understand. You’re completely right; you don’t have to talk to me. But I think you should.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you give us full cooperation in finding out who killed Linda Hanscomb, Chief Souza and I are willing to drop the firearms charges against you.”

“So I don’t go back to prison?”

“You don’t go back to prison, but, we need you to cooperate with us 100%. If we find that you are withholding any information, we’ll file the firearms charges, as well as obstruction of justice, and anything else that we can think of. Do you understand?”

Mary Ellen finally looked up and met Mark’s gaze. “I understand. I’ll tell you everything I know. Believe me, nobody wants to find who killed Linda and our baby more than I do.”

“Good, so long as we understand each other. Let’s start with Florida. You killed a man and served 10 years for manslaughter. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about Florida.” Her head drooped again.

Mark slammed his briefcase shut and started to stand up. “That’s what I thought. I’ll see you in front of the judge in a few hours.” He was playing hardball and both of them knew it.

“Wait. OK, I’ll tell you what happened.”

Mark sat back down in his chair.

“I did the best I could to raise my little brothers. I was barely eighteen when we had to move out of my aunt’s house. It was fine at first, but I think we wore out our welcome. I got an apartment with the money I’d saved waiting tables, but it wasn’t enough to buy food, clothes, and pay the utilities. I answered an ad for a bar that was looking for dancers. They were promising $500 a night. I was young, pretty and stupid, so I did it.  After a few weeks, the owner, Jimmy, told me that I wasn’t bringing in enough money, and he was going to fire me. I begged and pleaded, because I really needed the money. He said OK, but he wanted me to do him some favors.”

“What kind of favors?”

“He was selling coke on the side. A lot of the girls were buying it. He asked me to let him keep a stash at my apartment. Jimmy said the cops were on to him, but if I let him keep it at my place, I could keep my job, and he’d give me an extra $50 a night.”

“So you did it?”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t know what else to do. After a while, I started using cocaine myself. Jimmy accused me of stealing from his stash, which I was. He threatened to kill me and my brothers if I didn’t turn tricks for him. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He beat me almost every night, telling me that I didn’t bring in enough money, or that I was stealing his coke. One night, I came home and I found Jimmy sitting in the living room with Wendell, my youngest brother. It was obvious that he had gotten Wendell high and he was trying to recruit him to sell drugs at his middle school. I freaked out. I’d bought a gun not long before to keep in my purse after I got beat up pretty bad by a john. I didn’t even think twice. He’d already ruined my life and I wasn’t going to let him ruin my brother’s. I shot him three times in the chest. By the time the police got there, he was dead.”

“You don’t sound very remorseful.”

“I’m not. I did the world a favor by getting rid of a piece of trash like Jimmy.” “I’m not. I did the world a favor by getting rid of a piece of trash like Jimmy.”

“Was it worth going to prison? That was ten years of your life taken away.”

“You don’t understand Mr. O’Neil, those prison years were the ten best years of my life. I had a clean bed every night, food to eat, doctors if I needed them. I got sober, I got an education, I figured out who I really was. In some ways going to prison was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Mark nodded. He’d heard other people say the same thing before, but he could still never comprehend it fully.

“How about your brothers?”

“They’re both fine. Wendell’s a firefighter in Winston-Salem and Tony went to Morehouse on a football scholarship. He’s practicing law now in D.C. They both learned from my example, what not to do.” Mary Ellen almost smiled at the thought.

“So, how did you end up in Provincetown?”

“Same way a lot of people do. It’s the end of the road, there isn’t any further you can run. The day I got out of prison I headed north. The south is no place for a black lesbian with a degree in art history. I ended up in Boston and worked at a couple of galleries. I spent a weekend in P-Town and that was it. I went back to Boston, quit my job, packed my things, and never looked back. I had some help to get a business loan and I leased the gallery building on Commercial Street. I met Linda not long after that.”

The D.A. paused to process her story, and decided to believe her before pressing further. “I have some questions about Linda.”

“OK,” she mumbled.

“Was she still married to Bruce Waters when you met her?”

“She was, but she wasn’t happy. We were friends at first, but became more than that after a few months.”

“How did Bruce take it?”
“He was furious, hurt, depressed. I felt bad for him, but you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“Did he ever threaten Linda, or you?”

“No. I think they knew that they still needed to work together, so they tried to be friendly.  Bruce doesn’t like me much, I&rs