“That this Beverly is no good. She’s as
phony as that Rolex you’re wearing.”
“You know, not everyone has mastered the
ability to communicate with children. So she
talked down to the kid. That’s a normal response
to meeting a child for the first time. They got
along fine.”
“What did Suzi say to her?”
“Well, you know Suzi can be shy with
strangers. She doesn’t even talk that much to me,
and I’m her legal guardian, her business partner,
and we’ve been living together for the better part
of a year now.”
“Peter, if there’s one thing you should know
by now, it’s that living with a female is no
guarantee that you either know or can
communicate with her. And your living experience
with both Suzi and me is living proof of that.” “I don’t think that’s it, Myra. The truth of
the matter is probably that she desperately wants
both a mother and a father to live with. She’s
finally found a satisfactory couple to fill those
parent positions, and we’re it. That means
anyone I bring to the boat socially is a threat to
her master plan, so she’ll try to sabotage the
relationship. She definitely loves you, and will
tolerate me as long as you’re part of the package.” This remark brings a brief stop to the
conversation as we both think about my
statement. Almost an hour has gone by now since we dropped her off, and the kid is coming back to the car. She gets in the back seat with Myra, smiles, and tells her that she thinks she did a
good job on the test.
I have no doubt that the kid knew she was
going to ace this test, and I have a suspicion that
this whole act of hers to have Myra to come along
for moral support has obviously been just part of
her plan to get us together more often. Truth be
told, I also think the idea is a good one, but no
way on earth would Myra ever consider it, so
that’s the end of that thought.
Myra’s driver dropped her off at the Marina,
so I take her to the Criminal Courts Building
where her office is, and then the three of us head
back to the Marina. Doggles have been refastened, so it’s now Peter, Suzi, and air ace
Baron von Snoopy, on the road again.
Back at the Marina, I see that the Asian Boys are working hard on our boat. They’ve completely removed the large full-width swim step, along with its attached ladder, and laid them both on the dock for varnishing. I drop off the dynamic duo, park the car and walk over to pick up the mail. The kid was busy with other things this morning, so the task rests with me because the dog has only been taught how to deliver the mail, but he doesn’t know how to pick it up yet. I spend a while shooting the breeze with the clerk at the mail place and then slowly start my walk back to the boat. Indovine and Uniman will be there when I get back, and they’re not the kind of guys I’d ordinarily think of going out with for a beer, so I’m taking my time.
Sure enough, the boat is buzzing. I hear a noise that sounds familiar. It’s the engines. I don’t know why they’re on, but I don’t stay curious too long, because Mister Uniman greets me with the answer. “Ah, captain Sharp. It’s about time you came back to the boat. We’re all here anxiously waiting for you to take us out for a harbor cruise.”
Is she kidding? Did the kid really plan this? I can’t believe it. She knows I don’t even know how to turn the engines on. How are we going to pull this off? Entering the boat, I see that both Uniman and Indovine brought their usual group of brown-noses. Each one has an assistant and a personal secretary, and they’re all standing around waiting for Captain Incompetent to give them some orders.
In the middle of the main salon, a table has been set with a beautiful buffet lunch, complete with kasha varnishka, lox, cream cheese, bagels, rye bread, an assortment of sliced cheeses, pastrami and corned beef. The Asian boys brought the stuff over from Jerry’s Deli. I’m surprised they even knew that place existed. From the looks of their white outfits and caps, they’re also going to be today’s crew. Two of them are already off the boat loosening up the dock lines in preparation for our harbor cruise, and the kid is getting the dog into his special safety harness.
Uniman is the leader of the guests. “Okay, skipper, where do you want us all?” I look past him and see that the kid has this thing all planned out. She’s pointing up in the air, so I guess we’ll be doing a repeat of our boat-handling test. I’ll be the shill topside, while she works the controls down below. I might as well get used to acting this part until I actually get up the nerve to learn how to drive this big boat on my own… a skill I’m not that interested in learning. I start to take command and issue my first order of the day.
“All right, everyone topside. The salon is off limits ‘till we get back. We’ll be seeing the harbor from up on the flybridge while our crew cleans up the mess you guys made down here, scarfing down your free lunch.
Uniman can’t let that one go by. “Free lunch, huh? I’ll bet it shows up on my next invoice.” That gets a good laugh out of everyone as they climb up the ladder to the flybridge. I know in my heart that Uniman is correct about his next bill.
Once we’re all comfortable up on the flybridge I decide to play the part, so I shout out to the Asian Boys on both sides of the boat down below. “Okay, cast off the dock lines, we’re about to get under way.” I sure wish I could see the kid’s face as she hears me give that order. The boys are following my instructions, probably because the kid nodded at them that it’s okay. The dock lines are loosened from their cleats and the loose ends are thrown up to the other Boys on the boat, while the two on the dock jump up onto the boat as it begins to slowly back out of the slip.
Both Uniman and Indovine walk up to where my helm seat is and compliment me on my obvious boat handling skills.
Going along with the act, I keep my hands on the controls, because it would be very embarrassing if anyone saw one of them move while my hand wasn’t on it. Once the boat is slowly backed out of the slip and traveling down the basin at almost five miles and hour, I sit back and relax with only one hand on the wheel. The clutch and throttle levers won’t be moving again until close maneuvering is required when we go back to the slip. That much I know, if nothing else.
The harbor cruise is enjoyable. We go down C Basin to the main channel, and then turn left to pass by the California and Del Rey Yacht Club facilities. After pointing out those two landmarks, we turn around and head towards the breakwater, giving our passengers a good look at Fisherman’s Wharf, the local tourist attraction that’s built and decorated like a small East Coast fishing village. Uniman mentions that they were promised a brief spin out past the breakwater, so I guess that Suzi has one planned. This doesn’t make me too happy, because it looks like there are some waves out there, and it’s probably pretty deep, too.
Once we pass the Harbor Patrol station, the five-mile-an-hour limit is raised to eight, so we pick up a little speed and head toward the breakwater. Out in the distance we see a couple of medium-sized sailboats practicing some racing techniques and tacking around each other. They’re about three miles offshore, so I’m not worried about any collision today. This is the middle of the week, so we’re one of the only boats out of its slip, and we’ve got the whole ocean to ourselves.
Going around the breakwater the boat goes up slightly as we encounter the first open ocean wave. Because the water was shallow where we were, there’s usually a nice wave waiting to welcome you as you leave the harbor. This Grand Banks is one heck of a boat. It’s really heavy and handles the waves like a true ocean-going ship. I can see that Suzi wants us to be at least a
halfmile offshore before she turns the boat back to return thru the other side of the breakwater. From the reading I’ve done in boating magazines, she’s doing the correct thing. Too many times I’ve heard of people who go out one side of the breakwater and then drive its full length to the other side’s opening, being only fifty feet away. That’s a dangerous way to do it, because if anything should happed to cause a loss of engine power, you’ll only have a minute or two to try and drop an anchor before the boat gets dashed onto the rocks, wrecked, and sunk. As an old boater once told me, “the experienced sailor knows that the sea isn’t his enemy, it’s the hard stuff around the edges.”
He probably knew exactly what he was talking about. I even played his part by telling that to our guests. I couldn’t resist continuing my act by adding the three main rules of safe boating: keep the peoplein the boat, keep the water out of the boat, and don’t bump into anything.
Now that I’ve been firmly established as the most knowledgeable boater that they know, I’m looking forward to getting back to the slip before they start to ask me questions about boating and find out what a fraud I am. Here I am entertaining a boat full of people out past the breakwater, and I have no idea what all these levers, switches and gauges in front of me are for.
Just when I’m starting to feel like a success this afternoon, one of our guests shouts out, pointing toward the sailboats. “Hey, look, those boats out there ran into each other. I think one of them is starting to sink, and the other one’s mast is down in the water.”
I look out using a pair of binoculars from the rack next to our steering wheel. Our guest is correct. One of the boats is definitely sinking and the other one isn’t doing that much better. I hear a voice on our VHF radio, which has an extra set of controls up on the flybridge. It’s the kid down below, who also knows what’s going on out there.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the Suzi
B., whiskey tango four, three, seven, niner, niner. There are two sailboats sinking about three miles due west of the breakwater. People are in the water. We are responding, over.”
“Suzi B, this is the Coast Guard, can you assist them? Our cutter is still being serviced and won’t be ready to roll for about an hour, over.”
“That’s a Roger, Coast Guard, we’ll do what we can. Suzi B out.”
As the emergency radio messages are being exchanged, I feel the large steering wheel being turned to the right, the engines roar louder, and we are now heading out towards where the sailboats are.
I have absolutely no idea what we’re doing. I know she’s a genius, but if she can pull this off, it’ll be unbelievable. We’re now heading toward the survivors at full speed, which is probably a little over ten miles an hour. If those people in the water are three miles out, then it should take us at least twenty minutes to get there, so I hope they can hang on for a while. When we get there we’ve got another problem. With no swim step on the back of the boat, there’s no way for the people to get up and into our boat from the water.
I hear some commotion below. It sounds like a Chinese fire drill. People are running around shouting at each other. We’re getting close to the sailboats now, so I hope that Suzi has a plan, because I certainly don’t. All of our guests are silently sitting on the edges of their seats. They’re in awe of this suspenseful event that they think I’m in charge of.
The flybridge deck of our Grand Banks extends all the way to the back of the boat, so there’s no way of knowing what’s going on directly below on the rear deck, but I know that something’s going on down there because I can hear the activity. There’s a lot of rapid Chinese chatter being exchanged.
The people in the water are only about five or ten minutes away, and I see that she’s steering the boat off to the side. If she keeps on this course all the way, she’ll miss them by about twenty feet.
We finally get to where the survivors are. By this time, both sailboats have completely sunk under the water and there must be almost thirty people treading water waiting for us to rescue them. Just as I think that the kid has blown it by missing them completely, I understand what’s going on. The Asian Boys have gotten all of the boat’s life jackets out of the storage compartments, along with a piece of nautical rope that must be at least two hundred feet long.
They’ve tied a life jacket onto the rope about every five or six feet, and they’re now feeding the line and jackets off of the rear deck of our boat. I watch as the complete line stretches out over a hundred feet behind us and then hear the engines slow down, as the boat make a slight turn to the left. Wow. What a plan this kid cooked up on the spot. She knows that without a swim step we can’t get anyone out of the water, so she’s tossed out a two-hundred-foot floating rope. Now she’s going to circle the swimmers and surround them with the rope until everyone in the water has grabbed onto a lifejacket.
I hear noises above us and looking up, see that there are four helicopters circling. I recognize the wide red stripe on one as being a Coast Guard chopper, another one has a Los Angeles Sheriff’s marking on it, and the other two are from local news stations. They must have picked up Suzi’s mayday call and came out to see what’s going on.
By this time all the people in the water have firmly attached themselves to our lifeline and Suzi, having completed her circle, is now slowly heading back toward the breakwater with the survivors all safely in tow. She’s going to tow them in the water all the way back to the Coast Guard Station.
We finally get back inside the breakwater and I see that every one of the survivors has successfully hung on for the whole ride. They’re all smiling and giving us the ‘thumbs-up.’ It’s just a little way to the Coast Guard station. As we approach the police docks, I see that there must be at least a half-dozen news camera crews standing by. Added to the curious onlookers, friends and families of the survivors, and emergency support people, there must be more than fifty anxious people lining the dock.
Suzi pulls as close to the dock as she can safely get and then, just as we’re about ten feet in front of the Coast Guard station, the Asian Boys cut the lifeline loose, and the survivors all float toward the safety of the dock, with many outstretched hands waiting to pull them up out of the water.
As the first survivor gets pulled out of the water, there is a loud round of applause for us. Suzi keeps going, steering the boat back into the middle of the main channel and back towards our slip. She did it.
As we approach our slip, my perspiring hands go back to the control levers. Suzi is now maneuvering us into the slip, and several news camera crews are covering the heroic return. When our boat is safely back in its slip, the Asian Boys jump off and tie off the dock lines. There’s another round of applause for us. A Coast Guard helicopter circles over us and uses its loud speaker. “Nice job, Suzi B. you really got the job done today.”
For the next two hours our boat is like a madhouse. Indovine and Uniman are both holding their own separate press conferences, mentioning the names of their firms over and over again. Now I can see why Tiger Woods wears that Nike hat all the time. It’s fantastic publicity.
No one bothers to ask the Asian Boys anything, because they pretend to not speak English, which is probably not much of a stretch for them. Suzi and the dog have disappeared into the forward stateroom. Each time I’m interviewed on camera, I make sure to let the public know that I couldn’t have done it without my young ward and her friends. I tell them that she was down below coordinating the entire rescue operation. All I did was stay up on the flybridge and steer.
The local news changes Suzi’s status, reporting the rescue as having been carried out by a boat-owning attorney assisted by his young daughter. I receive an e-mail from Myra, congratulating me on my new role as a parent.
I am now a certified hero. It’s a good thing the kid shut down the boat’s engines, because I wouldn’t know which knob to turn for that task. Everyone in the Marina now knows how great I am. Too bad George isn’t around: if he was, I’m sure he’d be over here sh
aking my hand and trying to be friends with a real celebrity hero.
8
After that strenuous day at sea I’d like to spend some time on land, so I’m now heading out to Palm Desert. A friend of mine has a house there and when he saw me on the evening newscasts, he must have thought that it would be nice to have a hero as a guest for a few days. My decision to leave the boat is also a much easier one to make knowing that Myra felt like spending some time at the Marina, so she’ll be hanging out with the kid while I’m gone. I think they enjoy each other’s company much more when I’m not around.
First is a stop at the Union station on Maxella, where I helplessly watch a portion of my life’s savings spin by on the gas pump. While my money is flowing down into the tank I notice that there’s a voice mail waiting for me on my cell phone. I press the correct button and hear Stuart’s voice excitingly announcing what he considers to be the best business idea he’s ever had. Sorry, Stu, it’ll have to wait until I get back in town. Just to make sure I’m not bothered on my trip, I press another button, and the cell phone is now off. The kid knows where I’ll be if she needs me.
In the past, I would never have the nerve to disconnect myself from society, worried that the ‘big case’ might be missed. What if Bill Gates couldn’t reach me, to tell me that he was rearended by Warren Buffet, who was driving while drunk? What if some Sheik of Brunei couldn’t ask me to bail him out of jail after being wrongfully arrested for something?
Well, I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I realize that the big case just isn’t going to come along that way. I’ll turn the phone on every couple of hours to see if there are any emergency voice mails, and if it’s not a call from the kid who needs me then it’ll have to wait. During my last year of law school I had a part time night job covering the telephones for a bail bondsman. All I had to do was let his answering service put emergency calls through to me from guys in jail. If someone needed bailing out, I would qualify him financially over the phone first, and then call my boss to go over there and bail the customer out.
Conspiracy of Innocence Page 9
