Houseboat

by Paul Shadinger

  Today was one of the very best Seattle has to offer considering it was early December. Many people think it rains all the time in Seattle, but early December can be beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. Everything that day was blue and clean. The smells that permeate a salt-water city get in the blood of anyone who lives there for very long. It was gorgeous. By the time I pulled Faithful out of the garage I knew even though it was cool outside, the day was going to be nice enough to take out the Corvette. I headed for the storage building, pulled out the ‘Vette roadster, and put the top down. As we headed off down the road, BJ stood on the seat with her head hanging out her side of the car, and we both had big grins plastered on our faces.

  On the way over to Wheeler’s office, I pulled up at a stoplight next to a very attractive dark-haired lady with sliver streaks in her hair. Her expensive European sedan was spotless and the woman looked exactly like the kind of lady who should be driving such a vehicle. She happened to glance over at us, and then turned her head away. Evidently she must’ve seen BJ, because immediately she looked back at us. This time she had a huge grin on her face. It never fails. I have more women glance at me, and then look back a second time after they see BJ. I smiled back at her but I doubt if she even noticed. Women’s reactions aren’t the reason I keep BJ, but her magnetic attraction sure does help, even when I am ignored.

  I’d never visited Wheeler’s office before, though I knew its location. The front of his office faces the street but that back end of the building looks out over the lake. His marina is only about a block away on the same side of the lake. When I pulled up in front, I spotted Wheeler’s sleek silver Teutonic sports car squatted down in his stall. After I parked and walked up to the front doors, I looked up the street, and saw a Seattle undercover police vehicle parked in the fire lane. As soon as I entered the lobby, I could see all the way back into Wheeler’s office. The young lady sitting at the front desk was gorgeous and I couldn’t help but notice Wheel was not skimping on his selection of a receptionist.

  When this stunningly attractive lady asked me how she could help, I told her that I needed to speak to Wheel when he had a few moments. I’d no sooner told her what I wanted when Sakol came out the door of Wheeler’s office. We looked at each other for a moment. By the look on his face, it was obvious that he was surprised to see me. Sakol muttered some pleasantry, and I returned the same. By then, Jeff L. had rounded the corner, and expressed his surprise to see me. “What the hell are you doing here?” Good old Jeffers, right to the point.

  “I wanted to have a chat with Wheeler. I just found out from Scott yesterday that Wheeler owns the marina where the houseboat is moored.”

  Wheeler was now standing in the doorway, his frame filling the opening. “Morning, Matt. Yes, as I was just telling these detectives I do own the marina where Slim’s houseboat was, or is tied up. I’ve also told them I didn’t know Slim except from our card games.” Both the detectives nodded their heads in agreement. Wheel continued, “If you’re here to talk me in to letting you stay, the city says we have to have all houseboats moved out in a hundred and twenty days.” Wheel folded his arms across his chest and glowered at me. “Besides, why should I do you any favors? You didn’t do a fucking thing to help me at the last game.”

  I was going to put a stop to this right now. “Bullshit, Wheel, you aren’t going to put that on me. You knew no one would take the ring! You also know about table stakes and the rules, and...anyway, it wasn’t your first time at the game. Right?” I kept looking Wheeler in the eye until he finally looked down. I asked him, “Are you really going to hang that on me?” Wheeler looked back up at me for a second, then shook his head no, and smiled sheepishly at me.

  “You know I tend to blow up…sorry about that. But I still can’t help you with the houseboat mess. Honest! The city has taken it out of my hands for now.”

  I nodded my acceptance of his apology, thought for a moment, and then asked, “How come you never mentioned that you owned a marina to anyone, especially the one Slim had his boat tied up at?”

  “It never came up. Later, after the game, I’d heard you’d won the boat. I knew Slim was planning to move out and he was going to sell the thing off, and give up his space. I was still pissed at you, so I didn’t tell you.

  “My idea was to try to sell all the spaces off instead of leasing them. Then if there’s a problem with the city, it’s up to the tenants to deal with it. Besides, the taxes keep going up, and it’s getting too damn expensive to run a marina. Matt, the sewer bill on those units is unbelievable. You know the city is always trying to figure ways to shut down the houseboats. In reality, I only charge the tenants a pittance of what I should. To me the best option was to sell the spaces off and do something else with the money.”

  I wondered how much Wheeler knew about Slim’s net worth. “Did you ever talk to Slim about buying into your idea? How much do you think Slim knew about all of this?”

  Wheeler scratched at his chin as he responded, “He’d asked Margie, that’s the gal who runs the marina for me...ah…he asked her if she’d help him sell his houseboat. She told him I was thinking about selling off the slots, and that it might be difficult to sell his house without a moorage space.”

  “Dirty bastard,” I thought. Here I was feeling sorry about taking away his home, and he knew all the time he was going to stick me with a worthless piece of junk.

  Wheel continued, “He told her he’d consider buying a couple of the slips as an investment. It was in my court to contact him and discuss it, but after the game,” Wheeler paused, “Well, I was a bit pissed at all of you, and then by the time I got over it he was…well, you know.” I noticed Wheel was a bit red in the face now.

  “All I really know is he told Margie he wanted to move back to the Southwest, and he never talked to me about buying anything. Actually, the only time I ever spoke to him was at the games. Like I said before, I just knew him from the card games. We never talked to each other away from them.”

  I asked Wheeler, “Tell me about this city deal. Can they really throw everyone out? What will happen to the marina if that happens?”

  “They can’t exactly throw everyone out. They can rezone the land surrounding the place. The idea is to leave the marina with no place to park your car. They put out signs that there’s no parking between midnight and 5 AM. If you do park there, they’ll tow your car.

  “Think about it, if you don’t have a place to park, who’d live there? You already knew that if you have a boat and live aboard that it’s not okay for you to put any sewage in the water. We have had our houseboats hooked up to the sewer system for a long time, but the city is always trying to put stiffer laws in effect about what pipe you have to use…shit like that. The idea is they’re trying to make it so expensive you can’t afford to have a houseboat. They think the rezoning idea with no parking spots is going to shut down the marinas, I guess.”

  Somewhere back in the gray matter I remembered that once upon a time, I’d heard of an association for houseboat owners. “Won’t the houseboat owners association or whatever they call themselves try to file something against the city?”

  “Oh, yeah, they already had their day, but all it does is make sure that nobody can sell their houseboat until the damn thing gets resolved. Who knows how long that will take? I think the city just hopes people won’t want to buy anything so volatile. What the city’s doing is to create a moratorium without having to have a real law on the books. I really don’t know how this will turn out. I thought I had a way out of this mess, but now I see I might be stuck with the marina for a lot longer. Since Slim was moving on, I thought his spot was sold and the other tenants would want to purchase as well. Now...”

  “As I understand it, as long as the fight with the city is going on, the houseboat gets to stay where it is? Is that correct?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. But with the police investigation, nothing can be done anyw
ay.” Jeff grunted agreement. Wheeler continued, “Actually, as long as there’s any legal litigation the city can’t really do much. Of course you can’t do much either. I don’t see how it’s going to help you, though. As I understand it, one of Slim’s relatives is going to fight you about the damn thing. You’re all going to end up with nothing if the city wins.”

  I saw that Wheeler seemed to have found out quite a bit about Slim’s financial situation, for someone he claimed he didn’t know very much about. Wheel continued, “I need to get going, was there anything else, Matt?” I shook my head no, and I headed out the front door.

  During our entire conversation, Jeff L. and Sakol had both stood quietly in the hall listening to the two of us. Jeff smiled as I passed by and then he shook his head as he offered, “Sorry the boat thing turned in to such a problem.”

  I grinned ruefully at the pair, and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know if I should see if I can give the thing to charity, and then just walk away and bag the situation, or should I fight for it.” Looking at Jeff I asked, ‘It ain’t like I need the damn thing, do I?” Jeff smiled. “I’ll tell you one thing, that stepsister’s attorney really pissed me off with his shitty attitude and all. I don’t know what to think about all of this. But somehow, something isn’t right, and I can’t figure it out. I’ve no idea how the houseboat thing fits in all of this.” I gave them both a big smile, as I asked, “Do you guys have time for a cup of coffee? I’m buying!”

  They nodded affirmatively.

  CHAPTER 16

  The three of us followed the shoreline around to the point of land sticking out into the lake a little way and then we crossed some abandoned railroad tracks paralleling the lake. At one time, these tracks serviced all sorts of industries that once surrounded the entire lake. Now most of the businesses are gone but the tracks still remain, reminding one of how industrial the lake had been at one time in Seattle’s history. Today there are only two things left from all of the bygone industry: the abandoned tracks and the poisonous lakebed due to all of the contaminants being dropped into the lake over the decades. The businesses are all gone, but the city still has to deal with the dangerous mud under the lake. We continued across the street to the small greasy spoon restaurant set back on the hill on the far side of the street from the lake. It looked old and it had been at its location for as long as I could remember.

  The waitress took our orders and then left. I proceeded to tell both of them about my two phone calls. I talked about how weird I thought it was that the daughter would call me, and not the lawyer. I almost believed her when she said the reason she was calling was because she wanted to return to Europe as soon as possible and wanted to make sure the houseboat situation was resolved. But was her true reason that she was trying to screw the Bottomsley bitch or exactly what?

  I continued on and told them how I was having a hard time believing that neither one knew about the other. It was easy enough for me to understand how the daughter might not know about the stepsister. On the other hand, I sure as hell didn’t buy Bottomsley not knowing about the daughter. That just didn’t fly. Sakol smiled at me and nodded, giving me his wise old owl look. I wondered what he was trying to tell me. Finally, I had to ask, “OK, what gives?”

  “Finally think proper.” He tapped his forehead with his finger and smiled. “Stepsister say her lawyer talk to deceased’s lawyer,” I nodded my head. “You say Mr. Slim’s estate discussed between two lawyers,” I nodded again. “Seem logical Rockingham lawyer mention sometime payment to a Jennifer Rockingham. Everyone know wife dead. Slim never marry again? Who Jennifer Rockingham?” We both grinned at each other. It was exactly what I’d been thinking, but up to now, I hadn’t put it that logically.

  “Do you think the stepsister and her lawyer are trying to pull a fast one and have the estate settled before the daughter has a chance to come forward?” I asked, totally befuddled.

  Jeff commented, “It still wouldn’t make sense. I’m no lawyer, but I’d think, as soon as the money stopped coming from Slim, the daughter would try and find out the reason why. Once she found out dear old dad had shuffled off the planet, I think she’d demand her share of the loot. I also think she has a good case to collect some of the dough. I don’t see how the stepsister thought she could get away with it.”

  A flash hit me, “Is there any way you guys can demand to see financial records to see if Bottomsley was somehow getting money from Slim? Maybe her lawyer had some way of getting to the money. Maybe they needed time to cover something up. I know I might be reaching, but it all seems so confusing. Besides, is this helping you catch a murderer? Speaking of that, has anyone found out who was in my pad last night?”

  Jeff leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest and from the way he looked at me, I could see something was not right. I didn’t know what he was going to tell me, but something told me I wasn’t going to like it. Jeff looked at Sakol, cleared his throat and spoke slowly, “That’s why we wanted to have coffee with you. Matt, they found an interesting tattoo on your late night caller during the autopsy.” I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Jeff continued, “And, it matches the tattoo you have on your upper arm.”

  My right hand jumped to my left shoulder and I wrapped it around the place where I have the tattoo as if it would somehow make the thing disappear.

  Do you remember the Uncle Sam part I mentioned earlier, and my involvement in the rice paddy-land wars? One night a bunch of us got rather drunk and had our special insignia tattooed on our left upper arm. Most of the guys did it, the tattoo I mean. I don’t know about the drunken part. Back then, we belonged to a very elite group. Even though we weren’t allowed to discuss it, several of the guys wanted to commemorate a kindred spirit with a tattoo. I’ve always wondered if it was due to how drunk I‘d been that night, or if I truly wanted to belong to some type of special club like from when we were all kids. The tattoo is rather faded, and the lines aren’t very distinct, but if you look at it closely, you can still make out the design. Nowadays I usually wear a t-shirt and not a tank top, because over the years, I’ve become rather self-conscious about it.

  What the tattoo meant was the man who’d died in the vacant lot last night behind my apartment had served in ‘Nam. Not only that, he’d served in the same unit I’d served in, perhaps not at the same time, but the same unit nevertheless. It also meant that this cat had been through the same schooling I’d been, and he could have wasted me the second I stepped off the elevator, if that was what he’d wanted to do. During the training we had been taught never to run out of fear, but instead to face our enemy and deal with it as efficiently as possible. That way you don’t end up running through a vacant lot and slip in a pile of dog shit while someone decides to whack you.

  But, who would want to whack him? That thought brought me up short. I blinked and looked at the two cops sitting in front of me, “Do you think I had something to do with his death?” I exclaimed.

  I was very surprised Sakol was the one to answer. He usually let Jeff do the talking and sifted through what he was hearing. “No, Matt. We not believe you involved with death. We believe you walk in too soon, he scare and run.”

  I still was not buying any of the scared part. I can’t describe what hell the training was like, but when I tell you they taught those who went through it not to panic out of fear, believe it. The one thing they taught us was to keep our cool. Examine your options first, make your decision and then act. Those who couldn’t keep their cool washed out real quick.

  No, my mysterious caller ran for other reasons than panic. I never got a real good look at him. Maybe I’d known him. Long shot, but…I asked the boys if they had a good picture of the guy and they told me they’d get one. I told them what I was thinking, that I might recognize him. It was dark and because of all the excitement, I never looked at him before they put him in the wagon. Who knew? We agreed that when they got back they’d pro
vide me with a picture.

  When I asked them to run his prints through the government banks Jeff L. politely informed me that even though I might think they were bumbling clods, occasionally they did something right. Once he spoke those words, I realized my error, so I apologized and we stood to leave. I covered the coffee, said my goodbyes and left.

  As I opened the door to the ‘Vette, I let BJ out and let her take a run. I trudged along after her while I kept pushing the past few days around through my head. It seemed to me perhaps someone had dropped in out of my past and I’d caught him prowling my place. The more I worked with that idea, the more it didn’t seem to fit anywhere, either.

  I remember when I was a kid I used to love working on jigsaw puzzles, however, without the cover picture, it was almost impossible to put them together. It’s tough to work on a puzzle if you don’t know where to start, or even worse if you don’t know what the picture looks like, and let’s not even consider not having any idea how many pieces make up the puzzle.

  I decided that it didn’t make a difference how nice the day was, I just didn’t feel like driving the roadster anymore. So the next step was to return the ‘Vette to its storage place. I headed back towards my storage, pulled the car onto the lift and engaged it to move the car to the top story.

  Once I’d carefully covered the ‘Vette I rode the lift back down to Faithful. After I got in, I noticed someone had tried to call me while I was out of the truck. When I’m away from my rig, if anyone calls me on the cell phone it will show “call” on the display telling me someone has called me while I was out. I checked with my voice mail and found two messages. The first was from Scott and the second was from Jennifer Rockingham.

  At least there was one call I was looking forward to returning.

  CHAPTER 17

  I am positive I’m not the only one who wonders what a person looks like just from hearing their voice on the phone. When you talk to a stranger on the phone, don’t you form some kind of mental image of what they might look like? I remember reading once that one of the best-paid 1-900 phone sex women was actually a man. He could make his voice very sultry and sensual, and he made a lot of money fulfilling many a guys fantasies. Even though I had only heard Jennifer Rockingham’s voice, I was fairly sure Slim’s daughter was not a man. However, she did have one sexy voice. My mental image of her was a cross of Miss June, Miss July, and Miss August, and well, you get the idea.