Precious Cargo

The distance to Boston was just over 1100 miles, an easy two day ride.
Were this an ordinary job and an ordinary load of freight,Eric would be leaving Saturday.
But there was nothing ordinary about his new job. Besides, having never been above the Mason-Dixon Line, Kay was anxious to explore new territory.
Dan had given Eric an envelope containing his required credentials.
It also contained a credit card for fuel and lodging, along with $1000 cash for incidentals.
They departed Thursday mid morning. The plan was to arrive in Massachusetts Friday evening and settle in somewhere, giving them all day Saturday to do as they please. Kay was excited at the prospect of visiting Martha's Vineyard.
The excitement turned to disappointment when Eric announced at the last minute he didn't think it was such a good idea.
Although he knew it was an island, he had no idea it was accessible only by ferry until Kay announced this while searching for a Bed & Breakfast online while riding through Virginia.
Although he would not admit to having a phobia about riding in a truck on a boat, she suspected this was the case.
He insisted it would be irresponsible to risk an unexpected storm that could cancel ferry service, thereby causing a late delivery.
Kay knew he was being silly about it, but didn't press the issue, for they reached what she felt was a wonderful compromise.
They followed US Highway Six to the very end, or beginning, perhaps, to the tip of the peninsula that forms Cape Cod. They booked a room for two nights at Chauncey's Inn, in the town of Pilgrim Heights, only a few miles from Provincetown which was literally the end of the line.

 

Chauncey's Inn was built in 1695 and is one of the original homes listed on the register of historical sites.
It was the family home of Edward Chauncey, who was the owner and primary operator of the Chauncey lighthouse, visible from the second story window of Eric and Kay's room. Chauncey's Inn was among the few public establishments that remained open after Labor Day. It was understandable that tourism would soon become non-existant, for the wind coming in off the Atlantic Ocean carried a forboding chill.
Elizabeth Chauncey was an elegant woman of seventy, but could have been fifty.
She regretted she had no supper to offer, but of course breakfast would be available at eight A.M.
In the meantime she recommended the tavern across the street which appeared to be and old English style pub.
Not just a bar, she told them, they are locally famous for their steaks.
Eric figured it would be lobster, but on second thought, maybe lobster was as common on the coast as cornbread in Georgia.
Wanting to unwind a bit before eating, the couple sat at the massive polished bar for drink.
Eric was served possibly the largest mug of beer he had ever seen, earning him a disapproving look from Kay, who had a moderate serving of white wine.
"Just because we are near the ocean, doesn't mean you have to drink like a sailor." She mock scolded him.
"Har, lassie, you're acting like a land lubber." he joked.
As they sipped their drinks, the Friday night crowd slowly shuffled in, mostly an older crowd.
A crusty looking old gent made his way over and climbed onto the vacant stool next to Eric. "Evenin' folks. Welcome to our humble burg, they call me Pye." he said by way of introduction.
"Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Eric and this is Kay." Eric said, trying not to stare at the patch on the man's eye.
"Ayuh, from them deep south from the sound of ye. I'm not sensitive about the patch lad. The result of an unfortunate logging accident decades ago.
I spent most of my life in the north woods of Maine.
Hard life it was. Came down here fifteen years ago to finish out my years.
I suppose that's your rig at the inn."
"Yes, sir. Up here on business, got some time to kill."
"Ayuh. Some sights in these parts for sure. I have a private cab service.
Never busy this time of year. I can give you a very reasonable hourly rate." Pye said, sliding a card across the bar. "Miz Chauncey will vouch for me."

 

Over a fine breakfast prepared by Ellen, the live in cook/housekeeper who had been employed there forever, Elizabeth assured the couple that Pye was indeed reputable, and knew of some interesting sights not found in the tourist guides.
Kay was delighted at the prospect of a leisurely ride down the coast, if nothing else.
Eric preferred to loaf the day away, but wisely kept this to himself.
Elizabeth dialed the number from memory and spoke breifly to Pye, who said he would be there within the hour.
He arrived in fifty minutes driving what was surely an old hearse. It certainly was he said, a 1972 Cadillac, long and black.
Pye was dressed in black dress slacks and blue chambray shirt. Both old, but clean and neatly pressed.
He first took them to the Pilgrim Memorial Monument & Museum, which was open on Saturdays only through September and would then be closed until spring.
"Not tending to your affairs, mind you, but I just thought it a bit odd to be hauling eggs this far." Pye said.
"I don't blame your curiosity. It's a small family business, and the egg trade has suffered somewhat over the last few years.
The boss has been branching out, hauling some general freight, furniture and such." Eric answered smoothly.
"Ayuh." Pye said, noncommitally.
"I have a delivery up here around Boston, then I make a pick up up in Maine."
"Ayuh, where abouts?"
"Place called Eustis. You know it?"
"Ayuh, the north woods. You best be careful." Pye said, instantly regretting his tone.
"And why is that?" Eric asked.
"Never know when an early snow pops up. Roads not so good up there." Pye answered evenly.
"Oh yeah, I won't be wasting any time up there, that's for sure."
The rest of the day was uneventful, with Pye taking them down the old Highway 28 through South Yarmouth and Hyannis Port.
"I imagine there's some hard winters up here." Eric said, just making conversation.
"For sure. Snow is not a problem here on the coast, but the wind off the water just cuts through ya, it does.
Especially when ya get to be my age.You're in a good place, down there in Georgia, young man."
Arriving back at Chauncey's Inn five hours later, Pye told them their bill was seventy-five dollars.
Eric thought he was undercharging for his services and gladly paid him one twenty-five.
Pye made a show of protesting, but was pleased with the tip.

Pye was sipping on some straight Scotch whiskey in front of his ancient black and white television when his telephone rang.
"Good evening, Pye residence." he answered formally, as was his custom.
"Hey, Pye Pye. You alone?" It was Ellen, from the Inn, his longtime friend, lover and confidante.
"Now just who do think would be here, lassie?" he teased.
"Never know, fine gentleman like you. Now Pye, you know I'm not one to snoop, but I ran across something interesting today."
"Ayuh, and what would that be?" he asked, curious.
"Well, I was cleaning up behind the counter, like I normally do, mind you. Dusting and straightening and whatnot.
And you know the couple staying here?"
"Yes, lassie. Go ahead." thinking it was a dumb question, since he had spent five hours with them today and they were the only guests, but kept silent on this.
"It seems Elizabeth forgot to file the credit card slip away and I couldn't help but notice it laying there.
What I noticed was the name on the ticket didn't match the name on the truck."
"That's not so unusual." Pye explained. "Plenty of companies operate under different names. Or maybe it's the parent company. What is the name on the card?"
"I thought of that too. Then I got on the computer and did a little poking around.
I just don't believe this Hornsby Locators would have the slightest interest in some little egg company."
She then went on to explain in detail what she had unearthed about Hornsby and how she could find no evidence that Hermes Southern Poultry ever existed.
This alarmed Pye, but not for the same reason it did Ellen.
"You don't suppose they are criminals, do you Pye? Ya think they're up to no good?" she asked, clearly worried.
"No, no, now calm down sweetie. Nothing to fear. They are a nice couple. Are they there now?"
"No, they just went over to the tavern, reason I waited to call."

Eric and Kay were enjoying some clam chowder when Pye came into the tavern, looking troubled, and headed straight to their booth.
"Howdy, Mr. Pye. Is everything all right?" Eric asked.
"Don't mean to bother you two, I really don't. Just concerned is all."
"Concerned about what?" Kay asked.
"I know I can't talk ya outa going up north. Ya got your job to do. Just be careful.
You have my card. Call me when you get to Eustis. I know that is a strange request, but humor me, please.
Just call and let me know you're ok? Will ya do that?"
"Why sure I will, Mr. Pye. But I don't know why you're fretting so. I can handle myself. We'll be fine, I'm sure."
"Like I said, just humor an old man, ok? Promise me?"
"I promise. Just don't be worried about us, please."
Pye gripped Eric's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then walked away.