Cape Cod Noir - By David L Ulin Page 0,70
to shops. This was a town of money. Quiet, well kept up. But the first day Michael showed up, he had seen a couple of tiny cracks in the town’s veneer. A sign advertising psychic readings. Another advertising Gold Bought Here. Only slight, tiny cracks, but still, it made Michael feel better.
Up until three days ago when he had come down from Somerville, Michael had never been to Sandwich or Cape Cod. He told Cheryl he was going to Atlantic City for a week to decompress after his first semester at medical school, but instead he drove here. Cheryl was his fiancée, had been for three years now. A blond, attractive girl with clear blue eyes and a nice shape, although maybe ten pounds too heavy. She would love this town. Even though there were only a couple dozen shops, she’d love each one of them, with their shelves of antique dollhouses and rocking horses and teddy bears. She’d love the glass museum, and even in this frigidly cold December weather, she’d probably love the boardwalk and the beach. There wasn’t a chance that Michael would ever take her to Sandwich now.
The reason he was here was because of Fred Schwartz, one of his classmates at medical school. Schwartz and one of their other classmates, Joan Harris, would occasionally talk about Cape Cod, and Michael would eavesdrop on their conversations. Schwartz would always talk up Sandwich; about how quiet and peaceful it was, and how cheap this certain inn was during the off-season. Harris would always counter with Hyannis, about how much she enjoyed the bars and the rowdier atmosphere there. Hyannis sounded seedier to Michael, which was more to his liking, but when he decided to drive to the Cape, he thought he’d be better off in a quieter area. He knew there was a state forest nearby, as well as a scenic beach, and he had images of himself bundling up in the cold and taking long walks by himself in both the forest and along the beach so he could soak up the solitude they’d provide. The first day he was here, he drove out to where the boardwalk was, which looked like a good half-mile over marshlands. Most of the boards had inscriptions carved in them, quite a few with little hearts, and he walked over about a hundred of these before he decided he’d had enough, and returned to his car without bothering to see the beach. He hadn’t been back since then, nor had he bothered driving to the state forest, and instead spent most of his time in his room.
When Michael approached the liquor store he saw a scene that didn’t fit with this quaint little town. Standing in the shadows was a feral-looking man in his late twenties wearing a hooded sweatshirt. He was thin and unkempt, with scruffy facial hair and long greasy locks hanging out from under his hood. Michael couldn’t see the man’s neck because of his sweatshirt and the darkness, but he guessed it was covered with tattoos. There was a wild, hyped-up look in the man’s eyes, as if he was anxiously waiting for something. Seconds later the door to the liquor store opened and the girl who worked in the sandwich shop walked out carrying a package. She had taken maybe four steps when this man moved toward her. There was ill intent is his manner, and when the girl noticed him she froze, too startled to scream, not that it would’ve done her any good. Michael reacted without thinking, blasting his horn and then hitting the gas so he could accelerate forward and bring his car to a stop between the girl and the feral-looking man. The guy gave Michael a hard, angry, sullen looking before stepping back and disappearing into the shadows. Michael pressed the button to lower his passenger-side window.
“I hope I didn’t scare you,” he said, “but that didn’t look good.”
Her color had paled and she was visibly shaken. “Oh God,” she said. “That was so bizarre. I think he was going to attack me.”
“Do you know him?”
She shook her head.
Michael peered into the darkness where the feral sweat-shirted man had disappeared. “I think he’s gone, but I don’t want to take any chances. Can I drive you somewhere? Make sure you get home safely?”
“My car is three blocks away,” she said.
“At the sandwich shop.”
She squinted at him. As recognition hit, her lips pulled into a slight smile. “I thought you looked