MacMillan Wharf

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Eighteen

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Eighteen

by Richard Gifford

Angus strode across the intersection at the end of MacMillan Wharf to a payphone. He picked up the receiver and punched in ten numbers from a slip of paper he’d retrieved from his pocket.

“Hello?” the voice on the line answered.

“It’s me. I’m in Provincetown, and we need to meet.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to clean up the mess you caused. Where are you now?”

“I’m here to clean up the mess you caused. Where are you now?” “I’m out on my boat. I won’t be back until tonight.”

“You keep your boat at MacMillan Wharf, right?”

“Yeah, on the commercial pier. Do you have my money?”

“You’ll be paid when the job is finished. That’s our deal. Meet me at your boat at ten tonight,” he growled, slamming down the receiver.

Angus glanced at his Rolex and saw that it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. He stepped into the tourist information center next to a place that sold foot-long hot dogs and looked for a map of Provincetown.

“Can I help you sir?” a perky teenager said.

Angus looked her up and down. He guessed her to be about nineteen, with curly brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore a white polo shirt and tight-fitting khaki shorts that accentuated the graceful form of her legs. Just above her left breast was a pinned-on badge that was imprinted with the Provincetown Chamber of Commerce logo, and the name Wendy.
“Yes, um, Wendy,” Angus said as he leaned in to steal a closer look at her breasts. “I hope you can. I’ve just arrived in town and will be meeting a friend later tonight, but I have the afternoon free. I’m hoping you can provide me with a map and maybe a few sightseeing suggestions.”

“Oh, sure. First let me get you a map.” She turned around and walked to the counter in the back. Angus watched as Wendy’s shorts swayed rhythmically from side to side. He noticed a small butterfly tattoo on her ankle. Angus nearly got caught staring as she turned and approached him.

“Here you are. Now, depending on what you’re looking for, there’s lots to do. If you like art galleries, just go out onto Commercial Street and turn right. Walk about ten minutes and you’ll be in the East End. There’s lots of galleries there. If you turn left, you’ll find all kinds of other shops and restaurants. There’s a shuttle bus that can take you out to the beaches, too. Is there anything else you’d like to see while you’re here?”

Angus repressed what he was really thinking. Wendy stood so close to him that he could feel the heat of her body.

“There is one thing. I’ve heard about the Whale Center here in Provincetown. Where is that?”
“Sure, let me circle it for you.” Wendy pulled a pen out of the front pocket of her shorts. “Just go left onto Commercial Street and keep going until you get past all the restaurants. It will be a residential area of old houses. Their building is right next to the Coast Guard Station.” She lowered her voice and said, “but I think they’re probably closed today.”

“Why is that?” Angus queried.

“It’s really sad. One of the biologists there died. The police said she was murdered.”

“Murder? That’s terrible,” Angus said as a twinge of remorse made his stomach muscles tighten.

“Everybody in town is talking about it. No one can believe that something like that would happen here. Sorry to bum you out. I’m sure you’ll have a good time here.”

“I’m sure I will. Thanks for your help.”

“Have a nice day!” Wendy chirped as Angus stepped outside into the bright sunshine.

He walked to Commercial Street, which was jammed with tourists. He felt drawn to see where the murder took place, maybe he could then understand how things went so terribly wrong. He walked on the one side of the street which provided some shade from the glaring sun overhead. He passed countless shops selling everything from fudge to T-shirts with witty messages, such as “Nobody knows I’m Gay!!!” and “Jesus is coming, look busy!”

One store in particular caught his eye. The sign on the front said they carried military surplus and collectables. Angus went in, hoping to find some British insignia from his old regiment. He passed through the cramped racks of new and used fatigues, and eventually found himself in the back of the store facing an entire wall covered with swords, knives, and medieval looking weaponry of every description. This was his kind of place.

His eyes were drawn to a glass display case full of knives. Some were for obvious practical uses, and contained screwdrivers, bottle openers and pull-out tweezers. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with what he saw.

“Excuse me, could I see this one, please?” Angus said to the man behind the counter.

“This one?” The clerk held up a long, thin stiletto. “This has a thumb latch, it opens as quick as a switchblade, but it’s like, totally legal.”

Angus smiled. Considering what he had in mind, he was not very concerned with the legality of the knife’s opening mechanism. “May I try it?”

“Sure.” The clerk pressed a button on the side which released the lock on the blade, then folded it into its handle. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.” Angus was surprised by the lightness of the knife. Holding it in his right hand, he placed his thumb against the latch on the blade and pushed it forward. It snapped open in a split second and securely locked into place. The long, thin blade reflected the sunlight from the skylights overhead. He tested the blade by shaving a few hairs off the back of his arm, which it did effortlessly.

“This will do nicely. How much?”

“$19.95, plus tax.”

“That’s all?” Angus said as he peeled a few bills from the roll in his pocket.

The clerk handed him his change. “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No thanks.” Angus turned to leave the store, his newest weapon clinking lightly against the change in his pocket.

He noticed an antique Union Jack hanging from the ceiling above him. When he looked up at it, he also noticed a security camera trained on the cash register at the knife counter which had obviously recorded his entire transaction. “Damn,” he muttered. Angus discretely pulled his baseball cap lower to cover his eyes and quickly made his way to the door where he was able to disappear once again into the throng on Commercial Street.

There was no use feeling angry with himself, Angus reasoned. His mission needed to continue. As long as he didn’t draw attention to himself he should be able to cover his tracks and find out how the Whale Center report could impact his business prospects.

“Can I help you?” a deep voice behind him said. After walking for about ten more minutes, Angus saw two Provincetown police cars and a blue Massachusetts State Police van parked on the street. He saw the Whale Center sign hanging above the door, and was surprised that it was an old house and not a commercial or academic-looking building.

“These are the people who are standing between me and a multi-billion-dollar gas deal?” he wondered in disbelief. He sat on a split rail fence and lit a cigarette as he stared at the Whale Center.

“Can I help you?” a deep voice behind him said.

Angus turned around quickly and was startled to see a very large policeman holding a sandwich in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. In a glance, he noticed the name on the officer’s badge, his rank, and the sidearm that he carried; a Glock 9mm, just like the one he had in his knapsack.

“No, I just wanted to visit and learn about whales, but I guess they’re closed, right?”

“Right” Chief Souza said. “They’ll probably be open again tomorrow. For now, this is a crime scene. Why don’t you try one of the whale watch boats? My son’s the captain of the Explorer.

They have a four o’clock trip.”

“Oh, right, well that’s very helpful. Thanks. I’ll look into that.”

This was getting too close for Angus’ liking. He quickly stood up and started walking back in the direction from which he came.

“Excuse me, sir?” Chief Souza called after him. “I think you dropped something.”

Angus’s blood ran cold as he turned to see the police chief holding the knife he’d just purchased. “Right, thanks.”

“Where’d you get this?” Chief Souza asked.

“I just bought it at a store in town.”

“The Surplus Store?”

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s just a souvenir.”

“I see. Be careful with that, you could hurt yourself,” the Chief said as he handed the knife back to Angus.

“I will, thank you.” Angus turned again and walked briskly away, trying not to look any more suspicious than he felt he did now.

“Who was that?” State Trooper Stan Larchowski said to Chief Souza as he stepped out of the van.

“Some tourist, sounds English. Claimed that he came here to find out about whales, but he doesn’t look like the crunchy type, not with the knife he’s carrying. God, I wish they wouldn’t sell those.”

“Should we watch him?” Officer Larchowski asked.

“He hasn’t done anything illegal. Besides, I got a good look at him. He shouldn’t be too hard to find if we need to.”

Angus could hear their conversation echo down the street.

“Damn” he said under his breath as he walked away from the officers. “Damn, damn, damn.”

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