risen above the larger and more affluent of the entire state of Maine. They even beat Portland.” The drama queen ramped it up for the finale. “On game nights, at the sound of the whistle on center court, Alex Aldridge is the most loved golden boy. Nick Dow, now standing on the bench and slurring loudly through cupped hands, had managed to disgrace this gymnasium where folks at a Friday-night game are more reverent and community-spirited than in church.”
I thought I heard one of the Old Maids sniffle.
“The shouting and shoving escalated. A man in a plaid shirt passed by us holding a bloodied nose. Someone had to do something. Someone had to get the instigator out of our beloved gym. Brave Alex grabbed the sleeve of Dow’s salt-stiffened sweatshirt and jerked him down from the bench.
Pulling him close to be heard, Alex spoke directly into Dow’s ear. ‘Come on, Nick, let’s get out of here. We need to sober you up. Dad’s expecting you aboard the Sea Hunter first thing in the morning.’ ” I had not personally heard what was said, so I could neither challenge nor confirm Audrey’s younger ears.
“Nick placed both hands in the middle of Alex’s broad chest and pushed him away with uncanny whiskey-bolstered strength. Alex tripped over someone behind him, went down onto his rear end quite abruptly, and slid on the seat of his jeans across the polished hardwood, skidding to a stop at mid-court.” A pause for effect left us breathless. “This motion in the middle of the chaotic sidelines hushed much of the noise.
Nick Dow staggered close and stood over Alex as if to help him up. Speaking loudly and clearly enough for everyone to
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hear, Nick said, ‘Why are you here? You’re not old enough to vote. Besides, no matter what the state decides, you’ll be supported by one of your daddies.’ Poor Alex looked horrified.
He sat, unable to get up, soulful black eyes blinking wildly.
Dow did a very crude bump and grind. Thrusting his pelvis, he bellowed, ‘Who’s your daddy?’ ” Audrey actually did a great Dow impersonation, I thought.
“Most of the crowd was disgusted by the obscene display, though a few degenerates were amused. Alex sprang to his feet and ran from the gymnasium, totally humiliated.
“And that, gals, is the gospel.” Audrey made another quick sweep through the dining area and into the kitchen, returning before the doors stopped swinging. The more I learned about Nick Dow suggested that he had many possible enemies, regardless of the “syndrome” Audrey had pinpointed so accurately. Dow had certainly upset everyone who’d attended the meeting. Any fisherman in the area must have been aware of the letter he had written denigrating their livelihood. Between his outburst at the meeting and the campaign button he’d worn, he would have generated enemies on either side of the wind farm issue. The list of nonsuspects was shorter than the suspect list at this point. Handy, I thought, that everyone assumed Dow’s death had been a drunken misstep. Otherwise, all of this relevant background information would have to be pulled through clenched teeth.
Most of the customers had left by now, and the Old Maids were making preparations to get across the street to work, mumbling about being lucky to have missed the meeting, and verbalizing sympathy for Alex Aldridge. “Alex will be fine,”
s l i p k n o t
[ 5 1 ]
Audrey said protectively. “He’s getting a basketball scholarship from Boston University. Ticket out of town! He can tell his new friends that his mother died during childbirth.” This last was kind of rough, I thought. But not knowing Lucy Hamilton, I delayed judgment. I thought about all that Audrey had revealed of Green Haven’s community and wondered if her beloved Alex was capable of murder. Or what about his mother?
I knew better than to ask Audrey her opinion of what Alex or Lucy may or may not have been capable of. Given all she had
I thought I heard one of the Old Maids sniffle.
“The shouting and shoving escalated. A man in a plaid shirt passed by us holding a bloodied nose. Someone had to do something. Someone had to get the instigator out of our beloved gym. Brave Alex grabbed the sleeve of Dow’s salt-stiffened sweatshirt and jerked him down from the bench.
Pulling him close to be heard, Alex spoke directly into Dow’s ear. ‘Come on, Nick, let’s get out of here. We need to sober you up. Dad’s expecting you aboard the Sea Hunter first thing in the morning.’ ” I had not personally heard what was said, so I could neither challenge nor confirm Audrey’s younger ears.
“Nick placed both hands in the middle of Alex’s broad chest and pushed him away with uncanny whiskey-bolstered strength. Alex tripped over someone behind him, went down onto his rear end quite abruptly, and slid on the seat of his jeans across the polished hardwood, skidding to a stop at mid-court.” A pause for effect left us breathless. “This motion in the middle of the chaotic sidelines hushed much of the noise.
Nick Dow staggered close and stood over Alex as if to help him up. Speaking loudly and clearly enough for everyone to
[ 5 0 ]
L i n d a G r e e n l a w
hear, Nick said, ‘Why are you here? You’re not old enough to vote. Besides, no matter what the state decides, you’ll be supported by one of your daddies.’ Poor Alex looked horrified.
He sat, unable to get up, soulful black eyes blinking wildly.
Dow did a very crude bump and grind. Thrusting his pelvis, he bellowed, ‘Who’s your daddy?’ ” Audrey actually did a great Dow impersonation, I thought.
“Most of the crowd was disgusted by the obscene display, though a few degenerates were amused. Alex sprang to his feet and ran from the gymnasium, totally humiliated.
“And that, gals, is the gospel.” Audrey made another quick sweep through the dining area and into the kitchen, returning before the doors stopped swinging. The more I learned about Nick Dow suggested that he had many possible enemies, regardless of the “syndrome” Audrey had pinpointed so accurately. Dow had certainly upset everyone who’d attended the meeting. Any fisherman in the area must have been aware of the letter he had written denigrating their livelihood. Between his outburst at the meeting and the campaign button he’d worn, he would have generated enemies on either side of the wind farm issue. The list of nonsuspects was shorter than the suspect list at this point. Handy, I thought, that everyone assumed Dow’s death had been a drunken misstep. Otherwise, all of this relevant background information would have to be pulled through clenched teeth.
Most of the customers had left by now, and the Old Maids were making preparations to get across the street to work, mumbling about being lucky to have missed the meeting, and verbalizing sympathy for Alex Aldridge. “Alex will be fine,”
s l i p k n o t
[ 5 1 ]
Audrey said protectively. “He’s getting a basketball scholarship from Boston University. Ticket out of town! He can tell his new friends that his mother died during childbirth.” This last was kind of rough, I thought. But not knowing Lucy Hamilton, I delayed judgment. I thought about all that Audrey had revealed of Green Haven’s community and wondered if her beloved Alex was capable of murder. Or what about his mother?
I knew better than to ask Audrey her opinion of what Alex or Lucy may or may not have been capable of. Given all she had
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