by Wes Markin
“Well, most out-of-towners are. Where do you come from?”
“Wiltshire. South of England.”
“I’d love to say I’ve heard of it.”
“Stonehenge?”
She nodded. “Impressive. It’s on my bucket list.”
“Take it off. They fenced it off years ago. They won’t let you up close any more.”
“Well, we can’t offer you history like that, but you could take a look at the River Skweda. The main reason tourists come is to fish. Is that why you’re here?”
“No, never heard of it.”
She pointed at an oil painting of the serious-looking elderly man in a red military uniform on the wall behind Jake. “Captain William Ross. He was awarded Rosstown Plantation in 1765 for services in the Battle of Quebec. River Skweda ran through the heart of it. This painting is from 1801, the year our town, Blue Falls, was established on the Skweda. The first of three towns.”
“Well, he doesn’t look too happy about the establishment of Blue Falls. Maybe that’s why he set up two more?”
“No, not him. Blue Falls was his swansong. He died this same year. He drank a lot. As many did.” She scanned the Taps. “As many do. History books say he was lucky to have made it as long as he did. The next two towns, Sharon Edge and New Lincoln, came much later. The Skweda divides them.”
In the background, George and his acoustic band had broken into “American Pie.” The locals had responded in kind and taken to the dancefloor.
“A bit easier on the ear, I admit,” Jake said.
“Wait for the second verse when the crowd joins in. So, who are you, and why’re you here?”
Jake laughed. “Straight to the point. My name is Jake. I’m descended from a family who used to live in Blue Falls.”
“Who?”
“Way back when, in the times you’ve just been talking about. They’re long gone now.”
“Try me. The suspense is killing me.”
“Heard of the Bickfords?”
“The family who founded here? The Taps?”
“Yes. You know a lot.” He pointed at the swelling crowd. “Unfortunately, it didn’t stay in the family. It looks as if it’s quite profitable.”
“Yes. It weathered the downturn well and, despite declining tourism and being practically isolated from the rest of Maine, it does good business.”
Jake had noticed the dancefloor was covered in peanut shells on the way in. “Why the shells?”
“A custom since your ancestors opened the bar. Barrels of peanuts. No need to use a bin.”
“Don’t they slip over?”
“Some do, but that is more likely down to the drinking than the shells.”
Jake nodded. “Well, I was about to head off. Thanks for the conversation. It’s the only decent one I’ve had this week. You really know your history.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Why would I be?”
“Maybe you just see a barmaid.”
He laughed. “Look, I come from a liberal place. I see an educated woman doing a job to pay bills, like the rest of us.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Actually, my knowledge of history isn’t that great. I know the Bickfords founded Blue Falls Tap, but I’ve no idea why they left.”
“Don’t think anyone really does. There’re lots of rumors. None of them pretty, so we’ll leave them alone for now. The good thing is … sorry, I haven’t asked your name.”
“Piper.”
“The good thing is, Piper, that some of the Bickfords stayed dotted around Maine and Vermont, right down to my mother’s parents. So, I have a passport.”
“So, you’re here to stay?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Piper.” He leaned in. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”
Here came the second verse. The guitarists hit their acoustics hard, and the crowd soared into song.
Jake said loudly, “Well, there goes the conversation!”
“I have to get back and serve anyway. You see my grumpy colleague?”
“Would that be the one staring right at us with the forehead like a freshly plowed field?”
“The very one.”
“I’ll walk with you. All this talking has made me thirsty. I think I’ll give the IPA a miss though.”
Piper Goodwin pulled a glass of Stinson IPA, placed it on the bar for old Isaiah, took a handful of dollars from his worn-out laboring hands and stared at Jake. Until this point, Chief of Police Gabriel Jewell was one of the tallest men she’d ever come across, but this man right here had just stolen the accolade. He was broad, strong-looking, and attractive.
She refocused on her customer. “Thanks, Isaiah.”
“You keep the change now.”
Piper smiled. “I was planning on doing so.”
“Feisty as ever,” Isaiah, who was deep into a retirement filled with late nights and strong drinks, winked and shimmied toward his friends congregating in front of George and the band as they prepared to deliver their trademark final set—acoustic rock ballads from Bon Jovi and Aerosmith to wind down the crowd.
Piper stole a glance at her cellphone—10:15 p.m. and still no sign of Maddie. She texted her for the fifth time and tried to ring her mother again. Still no answer. She hoped all was well at the Thompsons’ and set off from behind the bar to collect the glasses Maddie would normally be swooping for.
As she neared the dancefloor, she felt peanut shells crush under her sneakers and thanked her lucky stars, as she always did, that she wasn’t the cleaner who’d be sweeping up this mess come Saturday morning. After she’d circled the Taps and greeted a few locals who were still sober enough to greet her back coherently, she eyed Jake again. She noticed that his long, chiselled face was not unlike Captain William Ross’s face depicted in an oil painting from 1801 on the wall beside him.
He caught her staring, and she looked away, embarrassed.
Piper reminded Jake of his ex-wife, Sheila—slight, long black hair, green eyes with a feisty, no-holds-barred temperament. She was also very attractive.
After making eye contact with Piper, he looked away. He was supposed to be keeping his head down, but, as had so often been the case in his thirty-five years, he was failing miserably. He kept his eyes down while he drank his Jack Daniels and Coke until raucous laughter and loud voices drew his attention to the bar.
Three drunken men. At this distance, they looked to be around mid-twenties, the same age as Piper. One of the men made a beeline for Piper at the opposite end of the bar. He announced his approach to not only her but most of the patrons in the Taps. “Pipes!”
Jake watched Piper shake her head, making it clear she had no time for him. So like Sheila!
Even though the band had finished, Jake couldn’t hear the conversation at this distance. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the unpleasantness though when Piper regularly scowled at him and shook her head. When the idiot grabbed hold of her hand, Jake stood.
From the corner of his eye, Jake saw the two drunken friends had focused on him, and he felt his adrenaline levels rising.
Piper snatched away her hand and shoved three drinks toward him. Her eyes flitted to Jake, and she shook her head to warn him off. But it was too late; her antagonist followed her gaze to look at Jake too.
The cocky fool strolled toward the table, grinning. He had a rather patchy goatee, making Jake wonder why he’d even attempted to grow it.
His two friends tracked behind him.
When he reached Jake, he looked up at him. “You like her?”
“Who are you?”
“Do I need to repeat my question?”
“Do I need to repeat mine?”
His forehead creased as if stunned. He held this expression for a moment before bursting into laughter. He turned his head to look at his friends, who looked uncomfortable at first but obliged him by forcing some laughter. He pointed at Jake’s chest. “I’m Justin Stone, tall boy. You’re from out of town, so
you probably don’t recognize the name. It would be better for you if you did.”
“And why’s that?” Jake leaned over, grabbed his glass and took a mouthful.
“My dad’s first selectman.”
Jake swallowed and put down the glass. He creased his brow. “Is that like a mayor?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Good for you.”
“That’s a big deal. This is his town.”
“Like I said”—Jake reached for his drink again—“Oh.”
“I’ve not met many British before. I can’t say you’re impressing me much.”
Jake finished his drink in one large mouthful. He swallowed, put his glass on the table and shrugged.
Justin’s face reddened. He prodded Jake in the chest. “Listen, tall boy, me and Piper go way back.”
Jake nodded then looked down at Justin’s finger.
“So you stay away from her.”
Jake enveloped the finger in his large hand.
“Get the fuck―”
Jake forced his finger backward.
With Justin’s face folding in pain, he reached with his other hand to pry away the hand.
“Listen,” Jake said. “I don't care who you are, but seeing you getting forceful with that young lady, now that interested me.”
“I can handle myself,” Piper said from beside him.
Jake didn’t look at Piper. He continued to stare down at Justin. “I don’t doubt―”
“So cut the hero bullshit.”
Jake released Justin’s finger.
The prick staggered backward into his friends, gasping. His face glowed, and he clutched his sore finger with his other hand. “You won’t get away with that.”
Piper stepped in front of Jake and pointed at Justin. “You three need to leave.”
“You are fucking joking―”
“No, or I’ll call your father myself so he can come to your rescue.”
Justin released his finger, stood up straight and narrowed his eyes.
“Yes,” Piper said. “As I thought. You’ve called on him one too many times this month already. You don’t want him stopping your allowance again, do you?” Piper glanced at Jake. “For your information, this happens every Friday night. Justin gets drunk then comes in here to declare his undying―”
“Fuck you.”
Piper raised her eyebrows. “—love for me. He reminds me several times of how rich his family is.”
“The richest.”
Piper nodded. “Yes, the richest. And I remind him about the hashtag me-too movement and the fact I don’t want a powerful man to sexually assault me.”
“Powerful?” Justin asked, his expression lightening slightly.
“Yes, but that’s kind of the point. That’s why this makes you such a dickhead. But you’re just not getting it, are you?”
“I can help with that,” Jake said.
Piper raised her hands. “Right, fuck this. Testosterone overload. Justin, take your friends, leave, and when you return tomorrow night, sober, I’ll repour the three drinks you paid for.”
Justin pointed at Jake and narrowed his eyes. He turned to his friends. “Come on.”
Jake and Piper watched them leave.
“Someone else who just sees me as a little barmaid.”
Jake spied her stern profile and smiled. You’re anything but.
On Piper’s next break, she sat with Jake and tried to explain the dynamics of Blue Falls to him. “So even though Charles Stone is first selectman and is, as Justin loves to tell everyone, rolling in it, he’s more of a figurehead these days. It’s the chief administrative officer, Alex Whittmore, who runs things at a more detailed level.”
“Police?”
“Among other things.”
During their conversation, Jake noticed Piper regularly checking her cellphone.
“Is everything okay?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our glass collector, Maddie, didn’t show up tonight.”
“How old is she?”
“Fifteen.”
Jake shrugged. “She probably got a better offer.”
Piper sat back, shaking her head. “No, she’s not like that. She’s conscientious. She also keeps to herself, more bothered about school than boys, which is a good thing. Wish I’d followed the same path.”
“I’m sure she’s just sick.”
“She’d have called. Honestly, Jake, this girl is as straitlaced as they come. I kind of love her for it too.”
“Have you spoken to her parents?”
“They’re not answering, and I’ve sent countless texts.”
“Anything I can do? I can head around to the parents.”
Piper considered it then shook her head. “Thanks for offering, but no. There must have been a family emergency. I’ll try again in a bit. I’m sure there’s an explanation.” She checked her watch. “That’s almost my break. You sticking around?”
“I think I’ll call it a night. I should be in town for a while longer though,” Jake said, realizing he had no idea if that was actually the case.
Piper stood. “You know, the only time I see tourists out of tourist season is when they are looking to get away from their partners and get laid. And that can be male or female.”
“I’m divorced.” He almost added that he had a little boy named Frank but left that out for now.
“Okay.” Piper smiled. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting laid.”
2
JOTHAM KNELT TO ALLOW Bo Peep to lick his face. Then he eased his favorite American pit bull terrier into her cage by her flanks. Bo paused to regard him with close-set eyes before she turned, padded to her bowl and sank her teeth into a chicken breast.
Jotham’s other dogs whined from the adjacent cages.
“Wait your fucking turn,” he said, and they quietened. While locking Bo’s cage door, he sensed Ayden behind him. “Not when I’m with my bitches, you know that.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. It’s important.”
Jotham stood but faced away from his boy. “Speak.”
“It’s Kayla.”
“What about her?”
“She’s not in her room.”
Jotham turned. “What do you mean?”
“She’s not there. I searched the whole house. She must have gone somewhere.”
When the dogs whined again, Jotham kicked Bo’s cage with his heel. “I said, wait your fucking turn!”
His son’s top lip quivered.
Pathetic. He checked his watch. “It’s past eleven. Where would she have gone?”
“I’ve no idea.”
Jotham pushed back his long, thick hair. “She’s thirteen.”
“I can check the house again.”
“And if she’s not there?”
“I’ll search the land.”
“All two thousand acres of it?” Jotham scratched his beard. “Why do you think she would leave the house?”
“She’s needy. Trying for attention.”
Jotham rubbed his beard. “Do we not give her that?”
“We’ve been busy recently. Too distracted―”
Jotham slammed his fist hard into Ayden’s stomach.
His boy slipped to his knees and vomited at his feet.
Bo barked.
“For fuck’s sake.” Jotham hopped to the side and lifted his steel-toed boot to check for any sick on it. When he was happy there wasn’t, he kicked his son hard in the face.
Ayden collapsed onto his side, and the other dogs barked.
“Mr. MacLeoid?” Jenna Hanson came through the back door wearing a blue paper oversuit. She had her four colleagues with her. They weren’t too far away and could see what was going on. Not that it mattered. They wouldn’t say anything. They valued their work too much.
Jotham again kicked Bo’s cage with his heel. “Shut the fuck up, all of you.” He brushed hair from his eyes, raised his hand and called back to Jenna.
“Done?”
“Yes.”
“And all locked up?”
“Yes, Mr. MacLeoid.”
His son moaned on the floor.
“If you wait by the van, I’ll let Oliver know you’re ready.”
Jenna, the oldest of his workers at forty-two, led the girls in the opposite direction from where he was currently trouncing his only son.
He knelt beside Ayden. “Jesus, are you fucking crying?”
“No. You just kicked me in the eye.”
“You lost your sister. Get up. Let Oliver know that Jenna and the girls are ready then get a team together.” He rose. “Cover every inch, you moronic fuck. What’re you waiting for?”
Ayden sat upright.
“Pathetic. Stand up! You know my daddy beat me a lot harder and for a lot less. Your sister! Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ayden stood in front of him, one eye swelling.
Jotham prodded him in the chest. “Every inch. Do you hear? And if she went over the fence and drowned in the Stinson, you’ll sleep with my bitches tomorrow night.”
As Jake walked to the motel, it became clear that Blue Falls had seen better days. On Main Street, most storefronts were boarded up, several of the streetlamps had blown, and hazardous cracks in the sidewalk could send inattentive pedestrians to the ground. Jake wasn’t surprised. With a population of barely three thousand and following a rather steep recession, extreme wear and tear was to be expected. Piper had also mentioned tourism was at an all-time low. “For years, it has mainly attracted older tourists, but that number is shrinking, and what is there here for the younger traveler?”
Jake had almost quipped, “Fishing in the Skweda?” but had held back in time. It wasn’t his home to criticize.
Compared to the poverty-stricken areas he’d policed in Wiltshire, Blue Falls was remarkably peaceful. At first, he’d kept his eyes on the side alleys and the darkened storefronts, but relatively few suspicious characters were about. Attached to the Rogers General Store was a gun shop.
A weapon wasn’t something he’d considered until now, but it would probably be a good idea. Justin Stone had just introduced him to the edgier side of Blue Falls, and he could be leaving himself vulnerable. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get one at the moment, not without a Maine state ID. He’d have to organize that, preferably when he’d found some employment and a decent residency.
