The Maine Nemesis Read online

  “That sounds like a very decent plan.” He took a long sip of his beer. “I hated Rufus.”

  “Everyone did. Including me, it turns out.”

  “No guys for a while, Skyler. You need a break.”

  “Oh, I’m so done with them. No worries.”

  “Is Brenda finally getting her wish?” Tanner said with a sly smile.

  “Brenda is not into girls, Tanner!”

  “Are you sure? She’s never been married.”

  “I’ve never been married!”

  “See?”

  Skyler finished her first beer and moved onto the fresh one. “New subject.”

  “Okay, how about some gossip?”

  “As long as it’s not about me. Or Brenda.”

  “It’s not. It’s about Porter Maddox from over at The Lobster Shanty.”

  “I know who Porter is, Tanner,” Skyler said. “I haven’t seen him yet this summer though.”

  Tanner lowered his voice and moved in close. “That’s because he’s been in jail.”

  Porter Maddox went to the same high school as Tanner and Skyler, but he was a few years ahead of them. He was good looking, played on the lacrosse team, was elected class president, was voted homecoming king (twice)…basically the all-around, textbook popular guy. But unlike the stereotypical jerky jock that he could have been, Porter was a good guy who cared about people and had a wide variety of friends. He was popular because he was willing to sit at the lunch table with the girl in the wheelchair, the kid with the perpetual cowlick, or the nerds from the Audio-Visual Club. Of course, he dated the hottest cheerleader and his best friend was the quarterback of the football team, but he didn’t fit the mold. And everything seemed to be going his way until his senior year when a horrific car accident left him with third degree burns on most his once perfect body.

  As he recovered, he lost the girlfriend—who told him she was giving him time and space to heal—the best friend—who told him the same thing—and the lacrosse scholarship. And because he grew tired of people staring at his scarred face and mangled right ear, he dropped out of school and disappeared for several years.

  “Is he still running that restaurant?”

  “Well, not right now. He’s doing some time at the Southern Maine Men’s Correctional Institution.”

  “Before that, dummy.”

  “Yes. And you know how my family feels about The Lobster Shanty.”

  “Competition is not a bad thing, Tanner. So, tell me what happened?”

  “I’m all for competition, but in a town this small…”

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “He killed a llama. Allegedly.”

  Skyler put down her glass and wrinkled her face. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

  “You heard me,” Tanner said trying to stifle his laughter. “He killed a fucking llama.”

  “I didn’t know Southern Maine was home to any llamas to even kill. Whose animal was it?”

  “Gerald Gains’. He was apparently testing out a llama’s ability to weather a Maine winter before he bought more. He planned to shear them for their wool. It’s super soft and quite a hot commodity.”

  “I bet. And I suspect it would be something of a tourist attraction. They’re quite lovable and trainable, I understand.”

  “I don’t know about that. I just know Porter killed it.”

  Skyler was skeptical of the story as it was being told to her. Tanner was a known exaggerator. “You know that he killed it? Porter confessed to killing it?”

  “He allegedly killed the llama, okay?” Tanner said. One of the waiters appeared and gestured to Tanner. “Hold on. I’m needed.” He jumped off his stool, and the two of them disappeared into the restaurant’s kitchen.

  Skyler scanned the half-full dining room for a familiar face. Among the random tables of vacationers, she spotted Gerald Gains and his new wife Mary, a lovely, petite Asian woman many years his junior. They were busily working on whole lobsters and corn on the cob. Each had a plastic lobster bib tied around their neck. Skyler was about to climb off her stool and approach the Gains’ table to offer her condolences as a way of getting more details when Tanner returned and grabbed her arm.

  “Do not go over there.”

  “Why not? I’ve known Gerald for…”

  “He’ll start telling you about the case against Porter and you’ll be sucked into a 30-minute monologue. Trust me. I’ve learned to avoid him. He tells anyone that will listen all the sordid details.”

  “But I want to hear all the sordid details.”

  “You will. We’re going to see Porter tomorrow.”

  Skyler raised her eyebrows. “We are? You’ve decided this for me?”

  “Yeah. Now that you’re here, I don’t have to go alone.”

  “And why exactly are we going to the jail? We’re not exactly buddy-buddy with Porter Maddox.”

  “I have my reasons. I mean, I can’t work here for the rest of my life, now can I?”

  “I thought that was the goal.”

  “It is not.”

  “So, you want to go work at Porter’s restaurant?”

  “Not exactly, but kind of.”

  Skyler sighed deeply, unable to mask her frustration. “I’m too tired to ask any more questions or listen to your cagey answers.”

  * * *

  Across town, Deputy Leonard Little pulled over a tiny red convertible. It was reported that the twenty-something drivers had been seen throwing beer bottles from the vehicle as they crossed the short Wabanaki drawbridge connecting the town square and the marina area.

  As he approached the car, it sped away, leaving him in a literal cloud of dust. Too tired to pursue, he walked back to his Camaro and headed home to his dog and his Jack Daniels.

  FOUR

  The correctional institution was about a 45-minute drive from Wabanaki and served the lower half of the state. It was a massive facility that spanned several dozen acres. Skyler experienced chills as they pulled into a guest parking spot just before noon.

  “I have never been to a prison before.”

  Tanner grabbed her hand as they walked slowly toward the building. “Not true. You’ve been to Alcatraz in San Francisco.”

  “I have never been to an operational prison before. Now, why exactly are we doing this again?”

  “I tried to explain this last night, but you shut down on me.”

  She squeezed his hand tightly in order to inflict some pain. “I just flew across the damned Atlantic, Tanner. Just tell me now.”

  He yanked his hand out of hers and shook off the ache. “I’m not believing a thing that’s come out about Porter. I want to hear it from the horses’ mouth.”

  “Or the llama’s mouth, as the case may be,” Skyler said.

  “Right.”

  After a lengthy check-in process that included stowing their cell phones, watches, jewelry, and keys in a small metal locker, Skyler and Tanner were escorted to a brightly lit visiting room about the size of a basketball court. Red plastic picnic tables took up most of the room and one wall was lined with a score of vending machines. Children played on the floor as their mothers visited with inmates. An elderly couple sat talking to their heavily tattooed son. A teenage girl cried as her incarcerated boyfriend apparently was giving her the boot. Skyler was drinking it all in and she was formulating back stories for each scene she encountered.

  She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t realize Tanner had led her to a table where an incredibly haggard-looking Porter Maddox sat with his scarred hands clasped together. She managed a tight lipped smile as they sat down across from him. He hadn’t looked chipper in years, but this was something entirely different. He somehow looked broken beyond repair.

  “What the fuck are you two doing here?”

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Porter,” Tanner began. “How are you?”

  “What the fuck are you two doing here?” he repeated through clenched teeth.


  “We don’t believe you killed that llama.”

  “It wasn’t a llama. It was an alpaca. And I didn’t kill it. I found it lying in the side yard next to my restaurant with a knife sticking out of its side. It was still breathing and I pulled…” He cut himself off. “Wait. Why am I telling you this? You guys don’t even like me. Why are you here?”

  Skyler placed her hands on top of Porter’s and was immediately admonished by a correctional officer who was standing nearby. “No physical contact, ma’am.”

  “No physical contact, ma’am,” Porter repeated. He placed his hands in his lap.

  “We like you, Porter,” she began. “I’ve been trying to get you to understand that for several summers now.”

  “Uh huh. Okay. I’m sorry I haven’t been so receptive.”

  “He keeps to himself,” Tanner offered.

  “Wouldn’t you if you looked like this?”

  The tight, yet ridged skin on his face reflected the harsh florescent light from above, giving him a ghostly look. He was wearing his hair a bit longer now and it covered most of the mangled, literally melted ear. “I don’t think you look that bad,” Skyler said as convincingly as she could muster. “I mean that.”

  “Thanks. What’s up, guys? This is a very inconvenient. I’m only allowed a handful of visitors a week, so now some of my hundreds of other friends won’t be able to come.”

  “He’s being sarcastic,” Tanner said.

  “Thanks, Tanner, what would I do without you?” Skyler said. She turned back to Porter. “Who killed the alpaca?”

  “I have no fucking idea. But as it lay dying, I pulled out the knife and called 911. I didn’t know the number to the animal hospital. Sheriff Little showed up about a half hour later and the thing was dead. I guess he’s the one who called Gerald because he arrived minutes later in utter hysterics and demanded that Little arrest me. The Sheriff wasn’t exactly sure what the charges were, but he complied—because when fucking Gerald Gains barks everyone in Wabanaki jumps for some reason unknown to me—and then I spent a night in that tiny closet they call a cell in the basement of city hall.”

  “Geez. Was there a trial?” Skyler asked.

  “No trial. There’s some mandatory minimum for animal cruelty. I represented myself and I didn’t really fight it. It was easier. And cheaper.”

  “This is all so insane, Porter. Who killed the alpaca?”

  “I have no idea. It was a very sweet animal. It kept escaping and eating neighbor’s flowers and shrubs and stuff, but I don’t think anyone ever complained about it.”

  “Who’s running the Shanty while you’re in here?” Tanner asked.

  Porter closed his eyes for a moment. “My sister Laura. Probably running it into the ground. She sucks as a waitress, so I can’t imagine how she’s managing the whole place. My dad checks in, but he’s on his lobster boat eight days a week so…you’re probably loving this, Tanner.”

  “No, man. I want you guys to succeed. The Chowder House has been around forever. I think we’ll be okay.”

  “When do you get out?” Skyler asked.

  “Next week.”

  “Next week? I thought you were doing six months.”

  “Over-crowding. I guess murdering an alpaca is lower on the totem pole than homicide. Or a real crime”

  “Alpaca murder is a real crime, I would think. But I also suspect that you’re the only one ever convicted of it in Maine.”

  “I suspect that’s true.” Porter stood up and placed his hands behind his back. The correctional officer approached and placed handcuffs on his wrists. “Thanks for caring, guys. Come have lunch on me late next week. We have a lobster roll to die for.”

  “No more dying,” Tanner said.

  Porter was led away. Skyler and Tanner headed back to the entrance and retrieved their belongings. Once outside in the cool afternoon air, Skyler realized that she was soaking wet.

  “It was mighty hot in there.”

  “Yeah. I think we need a few beers.”

  “I need to pop up to Portland and pick up Brenda. She’s due in at four o’clock.”

  “Private?”

  “Of course.” Skyler got into the passenger side of Tanner’s car and adjusted the air conditioning vents to point at her face. “That was so strange.”

  “Indeed. I do like that guy. I just think he gives up way too easily.”

  “Obviously,” Skyler said. “So, why’d you really want to go see him?”

  “I want to buy the Shanty, but I need Porter to like me first.”

  Skyler shot her friend a squinted side-eye then slowly shook her head. “I knew you had to be up to something because you only like a handful of people.”

  * * *

  Lois Millhouse was 87 years old and lived, most capably and independently, on her own in a large white house next door to Skyler’s cottage. She’d been a widow for a few years and she was enjoying her freedom—in the years before he died, she’d grown to hate the controlling and mean-spirited Elrod Millhouse and she didn’t even attend his funeral when he passed. It was the talk of the town at the time, but she didn’t care; she’d been ready for a new chapter and was happy to finally call her own shots.

  Her new life included painting with water colors, eating what and whenever the hell she wanted, and running for Mayor of Wabanaki, an office that had been vacant for a decade because no one else in town had the slightest desire for a thankless job that paid a whopping $22,500 a year.

  Not that Lois needed the money.

  As the sole owner of the Millhouse Blueberry Company, she had more income than she knew what to do with. Elrod had also left her a little over a hundred million dollars with strict orders that his children and grandchildren shouldn’t receive a dime of that, or proceeds from the company. She didn’t think that was fair at all—he had inexplicably become a mean, spiteful bastard in the last quarter of his life and she was lucky he hadn’t written her out, too—so she had a team of lawyers working to find creative ways around the stipulations. She had one grandchild, Tanner, and she intended to direct as much of the money to him as she could. But for the moment, her hands were tied.

  She stood gripping her large white pocketbook on the front porch of the Chowder House when Tanner pulled into the parking lot and walked up to greet his grandmother.

  “Gramma,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her delicate frame. “How are you?”

  “I am quite well, young man,” she said sweetly. “And how are you?”

  “I am quite well, as well. What’s up?”

  “Up is the beautiful Maine sky. And I am about to go inside with Shelby. We’re going to have the lobster stew and some of that sourdough.”

  “Yummy.”

  “Yes. It’s a business meeting.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “Shelby has been down on Cape Cod for the last few weeks with her son and his family and we missed our quarterly budget meeting.” Shelby was the town’s treasurer.

  “You don’t miss a beat.”

  “I am a sworn officer of Wabanaki. I don’t want to let my people down.”

  “But you’re letting Sheriff Little down.”

  She threw up a dismissive hand and turned her body a quarter turn away from her grandson. “Tanner, I will not explain this to you again. Wabanaki just does not have the funds to buy police vehicles.”

  “For God’s sake, you have a half a billion in the Camden National Bank, Gramma!”

  Lois' eyes widened and she quickly looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “For one thing, young man, it’s no where near that much money. And you know better than anyone that I can’t just give money away willy nilly,” she said. She sighed deeply and clutched her purse close to her body. “I would if I could, Tanner. I would if I could. My hands are tied as tight as the rubber bands on your lobsters in there. Your grandfather saw to that.”

  “I know,” he said, sheepishly. “And I’m sorry.”

  “But, I’m still fighting,
honey. You know that. The stipulations will get dropped.” Her eyes suddenly lit up as she spotted Shelby climbing the front steps. “Shelby, honey!”

  Shelby Taralavi was a fright of do-it-yourself dyed red hair—ala Lucille Ball, her idol—and carried around a near-skeletal frame that made Gramma Millhouse look damn near fat in comparison. Tanner wondered how she had the energy to get up the steps.

  “Tanner Millhouse,” the woman nearly screamed, “you look more and more like your father every day. When I was walking up I could have sworn that you were him.”

  “He’s been gone for 15 years, Mrs. Taralavi.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss.” She turned to Lois. “For your loss, too, Lois. I am so deeply sorry.”

  Lois turned to Tanner. “This is the woman that we trust to count the Wabanaki funds.”

  “I think you two should go inside and have a big lobster lunch. On me.”

  “Oh no,” Lois protested. “I always pay for my meals. That’s one of the things I am allowed to do with my own damned money.”

  “Have it your way, Gramma,” Tanner said as he watched the two old friends disappear into the restaurant. He crammed his hands deep into his pants pockets and slowly exhaled. He knew the answers to his mounting problems wouldn’t be solved with the loosening of his grandmother’s purse strings…but it sure would make things a bit easier to manage. He silently cursed his late grandfather, then continued into the restaurant with his best manager’s smile on his face.

  FIVE

  Skyler was obsessed with airplanes, so she arrived at the airport an hour before Brenda was due to arrive. Although she lived comfortably, she didn’t envision that she’d ever be ‘private jet rich,’ and envied people who could afford to never deal with the mess of commercial air travel. She pulled up to Advanced Aviation, a private fixed-base operator on the south side of the Portland International Jetport, and made her way through the building and out onto a small covered patio. She found a bench and enjoyed the cool, summer day and bustle of activity around her. There were all sorts of planes, props and jets, parked by the runway and she found that she enjoyed watching a ground crew wash a newer model Gulfstream painted in a stunning white and teal with a large cursive ‘M’ on her tail. Skyler daydreamed that Madonna would pull up at any moment to board the beauty.