MacMillan Wharf
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"MacMillan Wharf": Chapter One

“If you look off of the starboard bow, you’ll see a humpback whale named Stormy and her calf, Squall” said Annie Macalister
MacMillan Wharf: Chapter One
by Richard Gifford
“If you look off of the starboard bow, you’ll see a humpback whale named Stormy and her calf, Squall” said Annie Macalister. One hundred and twenty-seven tourists leaned against the railing. The ninety foot whale watch boat Explorer heeled over to one side so that they could all snap spectacular pictures that would later appear as nothing more than a vast expanse of ocean with two barely discernable, wet black lumps above the water. Fourth of July weekend was always busy in Provincetown, and the Explorer was nearly filled to capacity with visitors looking to escape the oppressive heat back on land.
This was Annie’s fourth trip of the day out of Provincetown. There were so many things running through her mind that the whale sightings just seemed routine. Annie had seen scores of whales since she arrived in May. Not just the entertaining humpbacks with their acrobatics and curiosity, but finbacks, minkes, pilot whales and porpoises by the hundreds. Annie’s most exciting day was when she caught a glimpse of a North Atlantic Right Whale, the most endangered cetacean in the world.
This summer, she was interning at the Whale Center in Provincetown, which meant that she was out on the boat six days a week, four trips each day. In the mornings, she would help out at the center, sometimes answering phones or filing reports, but her favorite job was working alongside Dr. Linda Hanscomb who knew more about the demise of the right whale than any other living person.
The scream from the stern snapped Annie out of her daydream. A nasally, New Yorker was shrieking “Ohmygod! There’s a body in the watah!”In just a few weeks, she will have to move out of her tiny room off Commercial Street and cram everything she owned into her battered 1992 Honda Civic, then drive ten hours back to her final year at the College of the Atlantic in Bar Harbor, Maine where she majors in Human Ecology.
“Whatever the hell that is,” as her father is fond of saying. She’s tried to explain to him many times that she is interested in studying whales, and that you can’t possibly study whales without understanding the history and economics of the whaling industry, both past and present. Annie doubted that he would ever understand. It would be easier after graduate school, she hoped, when she could just say that she is a marine biologist.
Annie felt sad about leaving Provincetown at the end of the summer. When she arrived in May she didn’t know what to make of this quirky, beautiful town at the end of Cape Cod. A hodgepodge of artists, scientists, fishermen and shopkeepers, Provincetown had become the best known gay vacation spot on the East Coast. Annie was at first surprised at the openness on the streets, but she was used to it now, even comfortable with it.
When she told her parents that she was going to spend the summer in P-Town, they immediately became suspicious. Her father Roy just sighed “Jesus Christ” and went back to his newspaper in the den.
Her mother Martha said, “Oh that sounds nice dear” and hurriedly cleared the dishes from the dinner table. Later, over coffee, she quietly said to Annie, “You know I love you no matter what you are, but if you think you are gay, I don’t think you should tell Dad, you know how he is.” Annie assured her mother that she wasn’t a lesbian. Just the spoken word made Martha wince. Annie didn’t want to tell her about her boyfriend Shane who owned a lobster boat and his own house, but he could certainly testify that what she said was true.
The scream from the stern snapped Annie out of her daydream. A nasally, New Yorker was shrieking “Ohmygod! There’s a body in the watah!” There was a scramble on the bridge as Annie and Captain Billy Souza grabbed for the yellow Nikon binoculars at the same time. Annie learned over the summer that she may know a little bit about whales, but this was sure as hell Capt. Billy’s boat. He grabbed the binoculars and scanned the water. Below them, two dozen sunburned arms were pointing to the same object bobbing in the waves.
Nervously, Annie hurried down the two flights of stairs to the stern with Juicy.“Shit”, Billy muttered. He could see the body floating face down about fifty yards off the port stern. He took the boat out of neutral, where they had been idling to allow everyone a look at the whales, and nudged the throttle into forward. The twin Caterpillar diesels snorted awake, and using the bow thruster, Billy spun the ninety foot vessel around in its own length. “Annie, Juicy, grab some boat hooks and get down to the stern,” he shouted over the noise of the engines.
“Yah, mon,” said Juicy Freeman in his lilting Jamaican accent. He moved with a great deal more urgency than Annie had ever seen before.
Nervously, Annie hurried down the two flights of stairs to the stern with Juicy. As the big boat inched up on the body, Annie could see that it was bound with rope at the wrists and ankles.
“Hold it!” Juicy yelled over the diesels while putting one hand in the air with the universal signal to stop.
Capt. Billy put both engines in neutral and let the momentum of the boat close the final few feet, so that the two could snag the body.
Annie’s stomach churned in knots as she reached out with the boat hook. She missed and splashed the water, but Juicy’s hook caught the rope binding the corpse’s feet. As he pulled the body in, Juicy passed his boat hook to Annie so that he could grab the back of the shirt and heave the body onto the deck. In one swift motion, he pulled the body out of the water. It dropped onto the steel deck with a sickening, wet thud that echoed through the hull.
Annie couldn’t believe what she saw. At her feet was a woman’s body. Her long blonde hair was matted with seaweed and her lifeless pale blue eyes stared into Annie’s. She felt queasy and light-headed, as if she were going to faint. Her eyes rolled back into her head and Annie’s entire body went limp. Juicy must have seen the look in her face as he caught Annie before she collapsed. He laid her down gently next to the body of Dr. Linda Hanscomb.
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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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