MacMillan Wharf

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Two

by Richard Gifford

Provincetown Police Chief Tony Souza’s phone rang just as he was about to take a bite of what once was hot kale soup that he picked up from the Portuguese Bakery on Commercial Street three hours earlier. It was his direct line. “This is Chief Souza”.

“Dad, it’s Billy” said the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “We’re about two miles off Race Point, and we’re heading in early. Some of the passengers spotted a body floating in the water. Juicy and Annie managed to haul it on board. It looks like Linda Hanscomb from the Whale Center.”

The Chief sat up straight in his vinyl swivel chair, grabbed a pen, and started writing furiously on the legal pad that he always kept on his desk. “OK, Billy, how long until you’re back?”
“I’m running flat out at just under forty knots, so I should be at the dock in half an hour.” Captain Billy shouted over the hum of the twin six hundred horsepower diesels.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there. Have you called the Coast Guard yet?”

“No.”

“I’ll let them know then. I’m sure there will be some paperwork for you to fill out.”

“OK, dad, I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

“Hi ,Chief, what’s going on?” asked Betsy. “I heard on the scanner that the Explorer found a body at sea. Do you know anything else?” Chief Souza didn’t have a chance to reply. There was too much that needed to happen. He opened his door and walked over to Officer Carla Thompson, the dispatcher and only other person in the station, and told her what was going on. Carla called the Provincetown Fire Department to request an ambulance, the Coast Guard to report a death at sea, and the district attorney’s office in Barnstable. She also radioed for all available officers to meet the Explorer when it arrived at its berth.

The Chief jogged out the door to his Crown Victoria. He slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. Dropping the transmission into reverse, he flipped on the lights and siren, pulled onto Shankpainter Road, and made his way to MacMillan Wharf to meet his son, Annie, Juicy, one hundred twenty-seven distraught passengers, and the body of Linda Hanscomb.

Anthony “Tony” James Souza was born in the winter of 1952 in his parents' home on Bradford Street in Provincetown where he still lived. At the time, Provincetown was primarily a Portuguese and Cape Verdean fishing port with an active artists’ colony in the summer. Everyone got along pretty well, although times were much harder then. In 1970, Tony was inducted into the United States Army and was sent to Vietnam. He saw enough bloodshed in two years to last a lifetime.

When he returned from the war, he joined his brother John on the fishing boat that they inherited from their father Pasquale. John and Tony fished together for a year and a half, but Tony never got his fair share of the profits, and felt that he did more than half the work. After one nasty disagreement that ended in a fist fight six miles off shore, Tony quit fishing and joined the Provincetown Police. John still lived and fished in Provincetown, and when they saw each other around town, they simply nodded to one another, but only exchanged words on rare occasions.

He was barely on the force for three months when he was called to the scene of his first murder. In the summer of 1974, the entire region was shocked by the case of what has come to be known as “the lady of the dunes”.

A woman was found with both hands severed.After thirty years, this case still haunted him. A woman was found with both hands severed. No one ever reported her missing or claimed the body. No name, no next of kin, no suspects, nothing. It was as if she had never existed, but Tony Souza knew indeed that she had. The woman’s lifeless face was permanently etched into his mind.

Every time he heard about an unsolved murder within a hundred miles, Chief Souza wondered if the same killer had struck again. He always had a suspicion that the lady of the dunes’ killer was a local.

As he crossed over Commercial Street, his car was enveloped in the colorful chaos that marks the Fourth of July weekend in Provincetown; shirtless bodybuilders with tattoos and piercings, male and female couples walking hand in hand, gawking tourists, overtired kids, drag queens on scooters, and all the usual sights and sounds of this unusual place.

He could see that the ambulance had just arrived at the Explorer’s pier on MacMillan Wharf. Two of his bicycle officers were already on scene. “That’s the best way to get around here in the summer” the chief thought to himself. “How the hell did she get here so fast?” he said aloud.
Leaning against the Explorer’s ticket booth was the familiar sight of Betsy Gilmore, Provincetown reporter for the Cape Cod Telegraph.

The chief shifted the car into park and turned off the engine, but left the flashing blue strobe lights on. A crowd had already gathered while the boat had yet to round Long Point, the entrance to Provincetown Harbor. He stepped out of the car, swept his silver hair back with his left hand and placed his mesh summer cap on with his right. Betsy Gilmore was already moving towards him like a hyena stalking its prey.

“Hi ,Chief, what’s going on?” asked Betsy. “I heard on the scanner that the Explorer found a body at sea. Do you know anything else?”

“Sorry Betsy, that’s all I know right now. I’ve got a lot of work to do here, so if you’ll excuse me…” Chief Souza tried to brush past her, but Betsy managed to step in front of him in the crowd.

“Sure Chief, just one quick question. Isn’t your son Billy captain of the Explorer?”

“Yes he is.”  Chief Souza was very proud of his son. After graduating from Provincetown High School second in a class of 32, Billy enrolled at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy in Buzzards Bay where he earned a degree in marine engineering. He also earned his 100-ton captains’ license. “Little Billy”, as he was known to the family, was hired as Captain of the Explorer one year ago at the age of 23.

“OK, thanks Chief,” said Betsy. “Will there be a press briefing later?”

“I’ll let you know. Now if you’ll excuse me…” he said as he walked away.

Pain in the ass reporters, Chief Souza thought. Always trying to get a story before they have the facts.

Officers Matt Costa and Cheryl McGuire were chatting with the EMT’s in front of the Explorer’s ramp. Their Trek police mountain bikes were perched on their kickstands on either side of the ramp. With the battery-powered strobe lights on, they made for an effective barrier to hold back the growing crowd.

“What’s going on Chief?” asked Matt.

“Billy called me and said that they found a body floating off shore. He thinks it might be one of the scientists over at the Whale Center”Matt and his son Billy were friends growing up and played football together at Provincetown High School. Matt applied for a summer officer position last year while working on his associate degree in Criminal Justice at Cape Cod Community College. Chief Souza immediately hired him and kept him on year round.

“Billy called me and said that they found a body floating off shore. He thinks it might be one of the scientists over at the Whale Center,” the Chief responded in a low voice.

“Was it an accident?” asked Officer McGuire.

“Don’t know” said the chief. He knew from experience that he needed to be careful when stating unsubstantiated facts, even to his own officers. People like to make assumptions and quick judgments, but Chief Souza knew that real life is usually far more complicated.

“Here comes the boat” said Carol Anderson, a compact, powerful woman who, in addition to being an EMT, was a competitive triathlete. She moved to Provincetown two years ago to live and train with her partner Susan, who she met while competing in local triathlons around New England. The two could be seen biking, running, or swimming together throughout the year.

“All right,” said the chief, “when the boat docks, we’ll let the passengers off first, then we’ll take the body. Let’s try not to let this become a circus.”

Between the crowds, Betsy Gilmore, who had now been joined by a photographer, the flashing red, white and blue lights on the ambulance, the lights on his car, and the bicycles, Chief Souza glanced around and knew that it was too late.

Read it from the beginning:
Table of Contents