Roche Harbor Rogue

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “Does it have anything to do with Eaton?” Lucas said.

  Roland didn’t look up from the wine that he was slowly swirling in his glass. “What about him?”

  “He contacted me recently and told me about the pending sale.”

  “The feds can go to hell. I’m sick of their meddling, the intimidation, and all their damn rules. It’s ridiculous how some empty-headed bureaucrats and their staffs on the take in Washington D.C. can pass equally empty-headed regulations that reach out all the way to our islands and force more and more costly compliance. Do you know how impossible it’s getting to do business in this country anymore?”

  It was the first time that night that Roland had been willing to open up, even if it was just a little, about his reasons for selling the bank. He put his wine down but continued to stare at it. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

  “Who does?” Lucas replied.

  Roland looked up. “You want to know what I do like, Sheriff?”

  “Sure.”

  “Eighty-seven million reasons to not have to listen to anyone telling me what to do anymore. That’s the offer that’s on the table right now—$87 million for my little bank. Eighty-seven million ways for me to tell all the Randall Eatons of the world to kiss my ass and leave me alone. That’s what I really want. For my days to be my own. I know you can understand that. I know there was a part of you that not so long ago thought of quitting being a cop because you felt the same as me. You were tired of people telling you to do things their way when you knew it wasn’t the right way.”

  “But I didn’t quit. I’m still the sheriff.”

  Roland grabbed his glass and raised it high. “Indeed, you are.”

  Adele noticed Fin fidgeting with his napkin. She watched him drop it and then he cleared his throat. “Uh, just to be clear, Mr. Soros, am I to understand you’re soon to be an $87-million-dollar man?”

  “It won’t be that much after taxes but in the end it’s still a very nice pile of cash, yes. More than enough to allow me to do all the things I could possibly want.”

  “And what exactly is that?” Tilda said.

  “I already told you—whatever I want. Would you like to know some of the things I have in mind?”

  After the others nodded Roland wiped the corners of his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “I had no idea my plans were of such interest to so many.”

  Now it was Tilda who swirled her wine. “It’s not that you’re so interesting, Roland, but rather that your plans so often impact others and not always in a positive way.”

  “Oh, now I get it. You’re worried.”

  Tilda’s response was immediate. “Exactly.”

  “Well, don’t bother. I intend to use the money for good to help protect places like Roche Harbor, make it self-sufficient so it will never need to succumb to outside influence. Did you know there are nearly twenty acres of undeveloped property between here and the main road? That’s like an unlocked back door where anybody could get in. I’m going to prevent that from happening.”

  Adele detected a hint of slurring in Roland’s words. The wine was getting to him, lowering his inhibitions, and making him feel more willing to talk. When Tilda reached across the table and refilled his glass, she realized that had been Tilda’s plan all along, which also meant Tilda had already suspected Roland was up to something.

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Tilda asked.

  Roland had a bite of cheese followed by more wine. “I’m locking up that back door to help keep people like you and places like this hotel safe. The property on the hill where my new house is being built was just one part of a much larger acquisition. Those twenty acres I just told you about? I’m buying all of it. It’s going to be subdivided and then made into rows of historically-accurate, Victorian-themed vacation rental homes. The revenue stream during the summer months alone will be hundreds of thousands of dollars and I estimate in another ten years it will be worth more than my bank is now but without all the regulatory obligations that come with owning a financial institution. It’s a win-win.”

  “A win-win?” Tilda seethed. “For you perhaps, but you said it yourself, Roland, I own a hotel and you now intend to put vacation rentals in my backyard? How in the world could you possibly see that as a win for me and my business? And while we’re on the subject, when exactly did you plan to notify me of your plans? Or was your real plan to use some of that $87 million to grease the wheels of county government and get this proposed monstrosity approved without any public input from impacted property owners?”

  “You haven’t let me finish, Tilda. I assure you this will be a good thing for Roche. The vacation home rentals will be high-dollar, well above what you charge for a room at your hotel. There won’t be any direct competition to you but rather just the opposite. It’ll further elevate the appeal of the resort and make access to your hotel even more valuable—all without you having to spend a single penny yourself to make that happen. And I promise, in nearly all my own marketing materials, and I intend to spend a lot of money on getting the word out about the vacation home rentals, your business will be prominently featured—with your permission of course. This hotel is the most iconic fixture of the Roche Harbor resort. I want to help make sure that doesn’t ever change.”

  To Adele it felt like the room was holding its breath while everyone waited to see how Tilda would respond. Tilda slowly tapped the table with the tip of her fingernail. “It appears you’ve thought of nearly everything,” she said. “Why the sudden keen interest in Roche Harbor?”

  “My interest in Roche is hardly sudden,” Roland answered. “I spent more days growing up here than anywhere else. You know that. How many times did you stand on your balcony and watch me lower the little Boston Whaler dinghy from my grandparents’ yacht and take off from the marina as happy and content as any boy could possibly be?”

  Tilda’s eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Many times. You were such a precocious, confident little thing. And just as often the other boat owners would shake their fists and tell you to slow down, but you never did.”

  Roland smiled back. “And I never will. I have a new Whaler dinghy on order right now due to be delivered in a few weeks. Some say you can never go back but you know what? Eighty-seven million dollars says different.” He turned to Lucas. “And it’s not just Roche. You’ve been forced to operate with a skeleton crew of a department since you took the job of sheriff. I’m certain the county thought you’d fail working under those conditions, but you haven’t. I haven’t yet told you how much I respect that, Lucas, and I apologize for not doing so sooner. You work long hours, complain little, and get the job done. Imagine how much more you could accomplish with some new equipment and more staff. I’ll be in a position to help make that happen. Keeping law enforcement local has always been a top priority of mine.”

  “But keeping our bank locally controlled isn’t?” Lucas said.

  “It’s only a matter of time before an outside financial institution sets up shop here. When that happens, the value of the bank goes down. This is the last best opportunity to sell. Nearly everything is being done online these days. There’s less and less practical viability for a small brick-and-mortar community bank like mine. I’ve fought against that fact for a long time just as my grandfather did. At some point you have to put your fists down and accept reality. It’s a good offer. No, it’s a great offer, the kind of offer that won’t come around again. I’d be crazy not to take it. Besides, I’ll retain ownership of the building and property both in Friday Harbor and the branch office in Eastsound. The new owners will be required to sign a 99-year lease for both locations above and beyond the $87 million purchase price, guaranteeing yet another revenue stream. And despite new ownership the look of the bank will remain the same. The transition for the community will be minimal.”

  Lucas shook his head. “How much is enough, Roland? All this money, property, rental income, and lease agreements, will it ever be enough for you?
”

  “Don’t be jealous, Lucas, just because I’m in a position to find out.”

  “I’m not jealous. I wouldn’t trade places with you for all the money in the world.”

  Roland glanced at Adele before his eyes settled back on Lucas. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  When she saw his mouth tighten and his jaw clench, Adele acted quickly to intervene before Lucas lost his temper again. “What about your employees, Roland? Will they keep their jobs?”

  “That won’t be my decision to make. Regardless of whether they do or don’t, I’m setting aside funds to give them each a generous severance payment after the deal closes—enough to make them all very happy.”

  Lucas grunted. “Must be nice to be able to pay for a clean conscience.”

  “Will the both of you just shut up already?” Fin took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Right now, I don’t understand what Adele sees in either of you. It’s bitch and moan about this and bitch and moan about that. Look around. You’re among friends sitting at a table with good food and drink in a place most people can only dream of calling home. If some big bank wants to give Roland $87 million for his little bank, where I come from that’s a blessing not a curse. You sure as hell wouldn’t have to ask me a second time. Stop trying to beat the man down for doing nothing more than being a success.” Fin raised his glass. “Good on you, Roland. I say well played.”

  Tilda raised her glass as well. “To Roland’s success. May none of us be harmed by it.”

  Adele lifted her glass and then looked at Lucas. “To Roland’s success.”

  “C’mon you grumpy turd,” Fin said as he leaned over and bumped up against Lucas with his shoulder. “Toast your friend with us. Make it unanimous.”

  “You’re lucky annoying isn’t against the law,” Lucas grumbled. “You’d all be facing a life sentence.” He stared at Roland, shook his head, and sighed. “Don’t blow this, Roland. Do some real good with all that money. These islands need it.”

  Lucas raised his glass. Roland smiled. Lucas didn’t.

  The toast was unanimous.

  28.

  “I had no idea how much you enjoyed going fast,” Roland said as another wave crashed over the Lancer’s bow.

  “Oh, she’s a speed addict for sure,” Fin added. Both he and Roland shared the passenger seat while Adele sped them all toward Orcas Island. Roland had walked out of his yacht that morning just as Adele and Fin were preparing to leave and asked if he could tag along. They both said sure and a trip for two turned into three.

  Adele pointed up at the heavy gray clouds that hung over the islands. “Rain’s coming,” she said. “Trying to get us there before it does.” She hugged the shoreline at Diamond Point that marked the entrance into the long and wide body of water that was East Sound, casually avoiding the large rocks even as she increased the boat’s speed.

  A long, crooked finger of blue-white lightning hissed across the sky followed quickly by the rumble of nearby thunder. Adele turned on the wipers. The sound of rain hitting the boat’s hardtop mixed with that of sea spray striking the hull. The Lancer’s bow would lift, settle into the trough, and lift again as it carried over and into the next wave. They sped past Rosario and headed toward Madrona Point until the town of Eastsound came into view.

  Adele only slowed a little as she spun the wheel hard, put the Chris Craft into reverse, bumped the throttle a few times, and then came to a smooth stop alongside the visitor dock. “Wow,” Roland said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks,” Adele replied as she jumped onto the dock and helped Fin to tie the boat up.

  The rain dripped off the brim of his cap. “Where to now?” he asked her.

  “There’s a restaurant overlooking the water just up the road. We’ll hunker down there until the weather passes and then head to the museum to see if Prunella is there. How’s that sound?”

  Fin shrugged. “Anything is better than standing in this mess getting soaked.”

  Adele asked Roland if he was ready to go. He smiled and nodded. “After you, Captain Plank.”

  They found the restaurant, went inside, and sat themselves at a table overlooking the water. The place was a mix of dark wood and nautical themes with fish nets and crab pots hanging from the ceiling. The rain was coming down even harder than before. “I think we’re gonna be here for a while,” Fin said.

  “How you folks doing today?” The waitress looked to be no more than a few years out of high school. She was dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. The tips of her short hair were dyed pink and a small crystal hung around her neck. Fin pointed at it. “That from around here?”

  The waitress fingered the crystal. “It was a graduation gift from my mom. She probably picked it up from the shop down the street about a block from here. They sell a ton of them to the tourists, but I’m pretty sure this is one of the good ones.”

  Adele looked up. “Good ones?”

  “Sure,” the waitress replied. “You know, one of the real ones. I heard a lot of the rocks they sell to people are actually shipped here from Mexico or something. But some of them, especially the ones they sell to the locals, those are the real crystals.”

  “Besides location,” Adele said, “what’s the difference between real and fake?”

  “I don’t know. They’re from the island. The old Indian gets them from a cave or something.”

  “Indian or Native American?” Fin asked.

  The waitress rolled her eyes. “Indian, Native American, whatever. His name is Karl and he’s like a thousand years old. I mean, not really, but he’s supposed to be super old. Like, even before cell phones and computers and stuff.”

  Roland cocked his head and smiled. The waitress smiled back. “And this old man named Karl goes into a cave somewhere around here and then comes out with these crystals to sell like the beautiful one you’re wearing?”

  The girl’s smile got even bigger as she rubbed the crystal. “You like it?”

  Roland nodded. “I do.”

  “Are you three like crystal hunters or something?”

  “Sort of,” Roland answered. “So, can you tell us what’s the difference between a real crystal like that and the fake ones you say they sell to the tourists?”

  “They’re supposed to have some kind of power. Like, they keep you from getting sick and stuff.”

  “Well,” Roland said, “you do look pretty darn healthy.”

  The girl blushed. “Really? Thanks. I used to come down with these terrible sinus infection headaches all the time, but since my mom gave me this crystal, I hardly get them. And she says when she was not much older than me and living in Bellingham, she developed bad arthritis in both knees from all the house cleaning work she did, but now they hardly bother her at all so who knows? Maybe there really is something to it. You probably think I’m really stupid for saying that.”

  “Not at all,” Roland cooed. “If there’s one thing I know it’s that I don’t know much but I’m learning more every day.”

  “Wow,” the girl said. “That’s like really smart. You kind of got it going on for an older guy.”

  The smile fell from Roland’s face. “Older?”

  The girl nodded. “Yeah, like older than me so that’s not necessarily old but it’s older. That’s okay. I’m down for some.”

  Adele scowled. “Down for what?”

  “Oh,” the girl said. “Are you with him? I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . .”

  Fin put his arm around Roland. “She’s not with Roland. I am. And yes, I don’t appreciate you flirting with him right in front of me. It’s humiliating. I suffer from a terminally fragile ego and you’re certainly not helping.”

  “I wasn’t the one flirting. He was.”

  Fin turned his head, so his nose was nearly touching Roland’s “Is she right about that, my love? Was it really you who was doing all the flirting?”

  “You know I only have eyes for you,” Roland replied.

 
With his bluff called, Adele expected Fin to pull away. He didn’t.

  “Ah,” Fin said. “That’s my lovely Roland. Let me have a taste of those lips.”

  Now it was Roland who Adele was certain would end the joke. She was wrong again.

  Roland stroked the stubble on the side of Fin’s face, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.

  Fin pulled away. “God, man, you were actually gonna do it.”

  The waitress pouted. “You two were pretending?” Then she snapped her fingers. “Wait, he called you Roland. As in the rich guy from Friday Harbor? The one the reporter said was selling the bank. You’re him?”

  Adele and Roland shared a glance and then Roland looked up at the waitress. “What reporter?”

  “She was in here yesterday asking me and the customers what we thought about the bank being sold and how we felt about you.”

  “Was her name Marianne Rocha?” Adele said.

  “Yeah,” the waitress replied. “I think that was it. Pretty lady with a real banging bod. Said she did the news for one of the Seattle stations. I don’t remember which one. I don’t follow the news much except when I catch it on Comedy Central. Anyways, are you going to order something? I’m supposed to ask because if not then you’ll have to leave—paying customers only.”

  Fin held up three fingers. “Three Guinness. I know you have it on tap. I saw the sign.”

  The waitress nodded. “Guinness? Sure. I’ll get that for you. Be right back.”

  “It’s not even noon yet and we’re drinking beer?” Roland said.

  “A Guinness is alright morning, noon, or night,” Fin replied. “It’s far more than just a beer. It’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner in a glass. Besides, the way that rain is dropping outside we’re gonna be here for a spell. Might as well get comfortable.”

  The drinks arrived. Fin held his up, sipped from the layer of creamy foam at the top of the glass, and grinned. “Well poured, young lady. It’s almost like I’m back home at the pub.”