EXCERPT
“From what I know of the story, there was a young woman who went out in search of her lover when the rain began. She took this here boat out against everyone’s advice. Not sure what happened after, but a big nor’easter came through and she never returned. Her lover came into port shortly after the Helga cleared the harbor buoy. Everyone came to call the story The Storm-Crossed Lovers. At least that’s the way I heard it. I don’t know all the fine details, but that’s one of the versions told and more often than not. Kind of sad really.”
A pickup truck pulled up alongside the gravel road, drawing Mikael’s attention. The driver exited and walked toward the two law enforcement officers. “Hey, Sheriff, Dennis.” The man nodded his head to add emphasis to the greeting. “So do you know who did this?”
“We just got here, Tom. What do you know?” Mikael asked.
“That’s what I’d like to find out. This here’s my property.”
“The boat.”
“No, man. The land you’re standing on. I heard the storm last night, lots of wind and rain, but not enough to drop this hunk of junk so far inland. At least not without more help than Mother Nature has in her cupboard.” The baritone voice of the husky man, who stood at least six foot and some, chilled Mikael to the bone more than the surrounding air. The man appeared an intimidating force, and Mikael had heard talk about town that Tom Berger fancied himself as Marneport’s honorary Sheriff. Mikael shifted his position.
Mikael met Tom a couple of times, mainly at Tide’s Inn and Bar, later discovering he owned the establishment. The tall man had to weigh over three hundred pounds and from what Mikael could tell, liked to intimidate people. As the new sheriff, he’d have to push back or never get respect. Even at five-ten, he could still bench press and arm wrestle with the best. Lots of practice in the Army. I can Alpha with the best of them. He snickered inwardly.
“We’re investigating. Are you suggesting you might know who did this?” the sheriff asked, shuffling his feet to stay warm. The wind grew teeth cutting through parka. He still wasn’t used to the cold weather of Maine compared to Alabama’s temperate winters.
“Yeah, the punks who came into the bar a couple nights ago did this, I’ll bet ya fifty bucks this was their idea. I had to call you guys to come and run them off. They are from Hammond and nothing but trouble.”
“Hmm,” Mikael said, glancing at his deputy. “You know anything about this Valberg?”
“I heard Jack and Carl had a call about a small skirmish the other night, but nothing to warrant an arrest.”
“I’m telling ya, those boys did this to piss me off. I told them never to come back and then this happens. You going to arrest them, Sheriff?”
“Tom, you want me to arrest the men without justification or proof?” the sheriff asked, getting an acknowledgement from the big man, and then continued. “Do you have their names? Tell you what. Come down to the station and fill out a report and—”
“I’m not wasting my time with your stupid paperwork. I have a business to run. I just want this piece of junk removed from my property. Get them boys to remove it. They put the damned thing here.”
The wind renewed the attack on Mikael’s exposed face, and the civilian was beginning to piss him off. If he didn’t think the situation was more than a couple of teenagers’ prank, he’d have agreed with the asshole, but in his gut, something didn’t seem right. All he wanted to do was get out of the cold and sort this out in the comfort of the station.
A pickup truck pulled up alongside the gravel road, drawing Mikael’s attention. The driver exited and walked toward the two law enforcement officers. “Hey, Sheriff, Dennis.” The man nodded his head to add emphasis to the greeting. “So do you know who did this?”
“We just got here, Tom. What do you know?” Mikael asked.
“That’s what I’d like to find out. This here’s my property.”
“The boat.”
“No, man. The land you’re standing on. I heard the storm last night, lots of wind and rain, but not enough to drop this hunk of junk so far inland. At least not without more help than Mother Nature has in her cupboard.” The baritone voice of the husky man, who stood at least six foot and some, chilled Mikael to the bone more than the surrounding air. The man appeared an intimidating force, and Mikael had heard talk about town that Tom Berger fancied himself as Marneport’s honorary Sheriff. Mikael shifted his position.
Mikael met Tom a couple of times, mainly at Tide’s Inn and Bar, later discovering he owned the establishment. The tall man had to weigh over three hundred pounds and from what Mikael could tell, liked to intimidate people. As the new sheriff, he’d have to push back or never get respect. Even at five-ten, he could still bench press and arm wrestle with the best. Lots of practice in the Army. I can Alpha with the best of them. He snickered inwardly.
“We’re investigating. Are you suggesting you might know who did this?” the sheriff asked, shuffling his feet to stay warm. The wind grew teeth cutting through parka. He still wasn’t used to the cold weather of Maine compared to Alabama’s temperate winters.
“Yeah, the punks who came into the bar a couple nights ago did this, I’ll bet ya fifty bucks this was their idea. I had to call you guys to come and run them off. They are from Hammond and nothing but trouble.”
“Hmm,” Mikael said, glancing at his deputy. “You know anything about this Valberg?”
“I heard Jack and Carl had a call about a small skirmish the other night, but nothing to warrant an arrest.”
“I’m telling ya, those boys did this to piss me off. I told them never to come back and then this happens. You going to arrest them, Sheriff?”
“Tom, you want me to arrest the men without justification or proof?” the sheriff asked, getting an acknowledgement from the big man, and then continued. “Do you have their names? Tell you what. Come down to the station and fill out a report and—”
“I’m not wasting my time with your stupid paperwork. I have a business to run. I just want this piece of junk removed from my property. Get them boys to remove it. They put the damned thing here.”
The wind renewed the attack on Mikael’s exposed face, and the civilian was beginning to piss him off. If he didn’t think the situation was more than a couple of teenagers’ prank, he’d have agreed with the asshole, but in his gut, something didn’t seem right. All he wanted to do was get out of the cold and sort this out in the comfort of the station.
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