Storm of Suspicion - 1. Chapter 1

Fall had arrived early to the small New England town of Provincetown, Massachusetts. Summer tourists had already left the wet and usually bustling Commercial street empty, spare the occasional shop owner scurrying by to run a final errand before nightfall. Typically Provincetown would see another week or two of prosperity with leaf-peepers but the weather had only enhanced the dismal mood of the day. Karla glanced at her watch as she passed the Atlantic house. She was supposed to meet Steven at the Pilgrims Landing at 5pm, but the weekend traffic out of Boston was worse than she ever expected and she didn’t know her way around Provincetown at all. She had only scribbled out the directions Steven had given her when he called her late the night before. Karla was half awake when he called; babbling something about a murder earlier at the Griffin bar and the police seemed convinced that he did it. Karla had heard him speak of the Griffin a few times in the past but it didn’t seem like the type of place he would ever even go to, at least not with any regularity.

As she pulled out the scribbled directions, Karla’s attention was drawn to several police cruisers with flashing lights parked alongside the street, next to a building resembling an old strip mall. “That must be the Griffin”, she thought as she continued walking, making a right turn onto Commercial street. Looking back at her directions, “go up the hill about 1⁄4 mile, The Rose and Crown is on the right, the Pilgrims Landing is on the left”, Karla read aloud as she shoved the paper back into her pocket and pulled her coat tight up around her neck to shield the drizzling rain now beginning to fall.

Steven paced impatiently behind the registration desk at the Pilgrims Landing. “Where the hell is she?” he pondered. Having been up all night and then half the day dealing with the police had left him somewhere between being in a zombie-esk state of stupor and a nervous wreck. “Was this actually happening?”, he muttered. “This must just be a bad dream…. Where the hell is Karla?” Steven was the full time manager of the Pilgrims Landing Hotel Resort in Provincetown, known mostly for their pool partiesevery afternoon during the summer months and the world famous ‘dick dock’ beneath the pool deck. He had worked there for several years now and had established himself as a well known and even respected fixture in this eccentric town.

Just then the door flew open with a burst of cold salty air as Karla entered. “Oh Karla, I’m so glad you’re here!”, Steven began sobbing as he ran to hug her.

“What the hell is going on here ?”, Karla began. “I could barely understand you on the phone this morning. It was so late but I got on a plane as soon as I could…”.

Steven swallowed hard as her let her go, “I barely even know where to begin…”.

“You said something about a murder”, Karla prompted. Karla had worked as a criminal investigator for the military years ago, when she had first met Steven. They had become close friends over the years but surely Steven couldn’t be suspected of committing a murder let alone actually doing it, she thought.

“I really don’t even know what happened”, Steven began. “Everyone was partying last night, going from club to club celebrating the unofficial end of the tourist season on the cape. I had come back here to close out the registers when johnny 5-0 showed up saying they needed to talk to me about a murder and that it couldn’t wait”. Steven helped Karla out of her wet coat and escorted her to the office behind the registration desk. Handing her a towel to dry off with, he began pouring them both a cup of coffee and then led her to a couch which overlooked the harbor.

“Ok Steven, stop stalling and tell me everything that happened last night; and don’t leave out anything, no matter how trivial it may seem.''

Steven continued to gaze out the window towards the darkening sky. “Looks like quite a storm coming”, Steven sighed, uncertain where to begin with his story.

§

In the center of town, a crowd had gathered outside the Griffin as if waiting for the doors to open for a sale at Filene’s Basement. Inside Thom sighed with disgust at seeing the crowd, “Damned queens, they can’t even wait for the body to get cold”. Thom was a well defined man for his 40 plus years, standing at just 6’, muscular but not overly defined with slight graying hair, a strong silent demeanor, and manly attributes; which made him a well liked and popular character in this quaint New England town full of artists, drag queens, and ‘free-willed’ liberals. Thom was typically known for being logical and level-headed, even under the worst conditions.

“Why were you working the door last night?”, Detective Wallace demanded. Thom was one of the owners and general manager of the Griffin bar. On a typical night he would either be in the back office tending to the books or circulating the club checking on the patrons.

“Last night was our last bash for the summer, I wanted to be sure to greet everyone that came by,” Thom explained. “Besides, Danny already went back to Boston to start school.” Danny had now worked summers at the Griffin for about three years as the doorman and was training as the assistant manager. During the off-season he had been working on a business degree at Boston College.

“So you checked every single ID that came in here?” the detective edged on.

“Are you here to see if I let in any minors or solve a fucking murder?”, Thom snapped back. “I’ve been up for two days straight now and I’m really bushed”, Thom half heartedly apologized. Thom had worked here long enough to know everyone up and down the north-east coast that would have been in P-town, especially this late in the year. “There was only one drag queen here that I didn’t recognize”, Thom continued. It was common knowledge that he didn’t particularly care for drag queens, saying they were mostly messed up in the head. They were however a staple in P-town but they rarely patronized the Griffin. A leather bar wasn’t really the type of place for drag queens to hang-out at, particularly with all the cabaret shows in town. It was sort of a haven away from that scene for its patrons. Not knowing this one had particularly stuck out in his mind. “Johanna came in shortly after her and then the incident happened so I lost track of her”, Thom commented to the ever growing impatient detective. “Johanna was supposed to be working in Orlando this winter, headliner at the Parliament House, did you know that? I’m actually going to miss her…”. Just then the crowd outside began to part as a hearse pulled up onto the sidewalk and stopped outside the door. “Shit, can’t they use the back door? Just look at those damned vultures out there!”

Two EMT’s then emerged from the back of the room pushing a stretcher with a large white plastic zippered bag on it. “Got the old fag loaded up”, one EMT commented as he snapped off a bloody glove against the wall behind the bar, nearly tipping over a bottle of Glenlivet before it dropped into the sink below.

Wallace sighed as he approached the medic, “Pipe down, you gotta watch that stuff around here”, he warned.

“Sure, whatevah. You signing for ‘it’?”, the medic replied as he handed a clipboard to him.

“Yes, now take ‘her’ down to the morgue. Your gonna meet up with a Mr. Fitzgerald, he’s the forensic on duty this weekend”, Wallace directed, pushing the clipboard back to the medic.

§

A flash of lightning in the window brought Steven back to consciousness. “So...talk to me”, Karla edged on. “What the hell happened?”

“There was a murder at the Griffin bar last night and they seem to think I did it”, Steven replied.

“But I wouldn’t think you’d be caught dead in a place like that”, Karla stated firmly but now becoming more confused by the nights events then she had been before. “Go on.”

“I didn’t, I don’t. I mean I wasn’t there. We had a full house here last night and I only went out for supper at Daddy Jack’s after all the rooms had been rented out. I even rented my room. All the crew from Boston was here for the end of summer. About 8pm some guy came in looking for a room. He said it was a last minute decision to come to P-town and didn’t want to have to sleep in his car, so I rented my room. I had the desk all night so I was going to sleep in the office anyway.

“What’s that got to do with your being a murderer?” Karla puzzled.

“They found my room key and one of my wigs at the bar and a bloody stiletto here in my room.”

“Can’t you just show them the room receipt with his name and credit card number showing you weren’t even in the room?”. Karla was now trying to simplify the situation even though she knew there had to be more to this story yet.

“ I actually didn’t get a name”, Steven continued. “He was cute and paid in cash. He was anxious to get showered and head out for the evening and I needed to grab supper too before it got too late. Besides since it was MY room I was renting, I get to keep the money. No need to have a name and mess up the bookkeeping. I do it a couple times a month in the summer when we’re booked up”, he explained, as if trying to justify his actions.

“Where did he go?” Karla asked as she went to her coat to retrieve a small notepad. “What about the car? Did you see the plate? Where was he from?” Karla began firing off questions, hoping to evoke some potential information.

Steven just sat there and shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno, I suppose he parked up on the hill by the Pilgrim monument where I had you park. I know he wasn’t anyone I’ve seen on the Cape before, I would have remembered him!” Despite the current situation, Steven couldn’t resist a sly grin as he recalled the mystery man. “He was about 5 '11”, 185 lbs of lean man, not an ounce of fat anywhere as near as I could tell. He had tightly cut blonde hair and intense green eyes. Not brownish green but deep green like the waters slapping against the Irish isles. He had a flawless complexion and his white teeth could have lit up the night sky like a full harvest moon”.

“So how big was his basket?”, Karla interrupted.

“Hell if I know,” Steven snapped back, both realizing and being slightly embarrassed that his description may have had been a little ‘too’ descriptive.

“Now what about your room”, Karla redirected the conversation. “You said they found a wig and a shoe here?”

“Yeah,” Steven sighed with disgust. “My outfit from spring fling this year. I had it and a bunch of stuff in a box for the Goodwill. Doesn’t anyone know that chiffon isn’t appropriate for fall? And just my luck to wear the same size pump as the murderer. The cops don’t even believe I rented my room out! Apparently I’m the only person that even saw this guy. Well, out of drag anyway”.

“So where are the police now?” asked Karla. “Obviously they can’t be too concerned about it since you’ve not been arrested”.

“They have that guy over by the door and two more outside to ‘keep an eye on me’” Steven explained, “So you might say I’m under house arrest. I guess the rest are down at the club. With the storm coming in, I don’t think the staties are this far out on the Cape. So far I’ve just seen the local yokels working the case. I would imagine the main road was closed right after you came through. They must figure I can’t go anywhere. Nobody can. Too bad the real murderer has probably already left town and I’ll end up going to prison! Do you have any idea what they’d do to me in prison? And God knows I don’t do stripes!”