the trial. He’s a bad one. And he’s getting
out?”
“ It’s my boat.”
“ I’d better take your title home for
safekeeping. Call me when you’re through with the repair work. I’ll
find a lawyer. I’ll research it tonight on the web.”
Kaye snatched the title, waved, and was
gone.
“ Hey,” I yelled, but Kaye kept going.
All of a sudden my little boat had become poison. Why?
Because Snapdragon once
belonged to a scary guy? Because my boat had been ransacked? Maybe
not for the title. The intruder couldn’t take it because it wasn’t
there. But, did he take away some other prize?
Or not? I hadn’t thought of the can dumping
as retaliation. Maybe Kaye was right.
Was something hidden? Where hadn’t anyone
looked? What wasn’t messed up?
I had pulled the seat out and opened the bed
earlier. Now I took it apart, yanked everything off: the sheets,
pillows, cushions underneath, and those behind. I rubbed my hands
over every inch I couldn’t see. Felt underneath the top.
Nothing but dirt and dust balls.
Anywhere else to look? I glanced around the
cabin. Every drawer had been opened, every shelf swept clean, and
the V-berth was a disaster zone.
There must be something about the boat.
“ What is it, Nicole? Is there a
secret?” I asked aloud, but no one answered.
~ ~
Saturday, July 22, 6:21 a.m.
Six, he’d said six sharp. Why had I rushed?
My supplies were lined up: tool kit, teak oil, buffing compound—but
nothing to repair an ailing engine. Finally I heard the clunk of
the boat cart with the wobbly wheel. Wes had arrived.
“ See you’re ready,” he said and
started off-loading his tools. “What’s she need again?”
“ Filters for one thing. Don’t know
what else.”
Wes pulled the cabin sole hatch open and got
on his knees to look into the engine. “They expect you to be a
contortionist,” he muttered. He squatted and moved around, poking
and rubbing with his rag. “Okay, hand me that Phillips head screw
driver, and not the....”
I handed him the screw driver, trying not to
listen to his description of anything metric. He kept muttering,
swearing, and asking for things.
“ Three quarter inch wrench,” he
said.
I scrounged among his tools, handed him what
he needed and waited for further instructions. He replaced hose
clamps, removed screws to clean and oil before replacing them. “One
of these hoses might give you problems in a few months,” he said.
“Want a new one now?”
“ Um, no. Not right now.” However, I
added a mental note to my check list. Something else to consider if
I couldn’t sell Snapdragon .
A good while later, after I’d handed him
nearly all the tools in his kit, he said, “Get some diesel in my
fuel can. Gotta prime the filter.”
I lugged the can to the fuel dock, returned
with a gallon of diesel, and saw Wes smoking a cigarette—on my boat
deck. “Hey, this is a non-smoking boat. Do you see any ash
trays?”
He took another puff, went inside, and
stubbed the butt out in the sink. “Just be glad I’m working on your
boat. Should have been a couple of weeks before I got around to
this job. Do you know how many others I’ve got waiting?”
“ I’m thinking you’d rather they wait
than for me to stay in your marina.” I ran water over the mangled
cigarette and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”
“ Hah,” he said and grabbed the fuel
can.
I followed him. “What could happen to
you if Snapdragon is still
here next month?” Obviously, he didn’t care what happened to me.
“You think this Pop guy will come after you when he gets out of
jail?”
“ Him, yeah. Not his
nephew.”
“ Nephew?”
“ You know.”
“ Wes, I don’t know anything except
somebody broke into my boat, messed it up, but didn’t take anything
that I can see.”
“ Well, there you go.” Wes started
pouring the diesel and added, “Stand ready to turn her
on.”
He was through talking, but I wasn’t through
asking. “You think the nephew broke
out?”
“ It’s my boat.”
“ I’d better take your title home for
safekeeping. Call me when you’re through with the repair work. I’ll
find a lawyer. I’ll research it tonight on the web.”
Kaye snatched the title, waved, and was
gone.
“ Hey,” I yelled, but Kaye kept going.
All of a sudden my little boat had become poison. Why?
Because Snapdragon once
belonged to a scary guy? Because my boat had been ransacked? Maybe
not for the title. The intruder couldn’t take it because it wasn’t
there. But, did he take away some other prize?
Or not? I hadn’t thought of the can dumping
as retaliation. Maybe Kaye was right.
Was something hidden? Where hadn’t anyone
looked? What wasn’t messed up?
I had pulled the seat out and opened the bed
earlier. Now I took it apart, yanked everything off: the sheets,
pillows, cushions underneath, and those behind. I rubbed my hands
over every inch I couldn’t see. Felt underneath the top.
Nothing but dirt and dust balls.
Anywhere else to look? I glanced around the
cabin. Every drawer had been opened, every shelf swept clean, and
the V-berth was a disaster zone.
There must be something about the boat.
“ What is it, Nicole? Is there a
secret?” I asked aloud, but no one answered.
~ ~
Saturday, July 22, 6:21 a.m.
Six, he’d said six sharp. Why had I rushed?
My supplies were lined up: tool kit, teak oil, buffing compound—but
nothing to repair an ailing engine. Finally I heard the clunk of
the boat cart with the wobbly wheel. Wes had arrived.
“ See you’re ready,” he said and
started off-loading his tools. “What’s she need again?”
“ Filters for one thing. Don’t know
what else.”
Wes pulled the cabin sole hatch open and got
on his knees to look into the engine. “They expect you to be a
contortionist,” he muttered. He squatted and moved around, poking
and rubbing with his rag. “Okay, hand me that Phillips head screw
driver, and not the....”
I handed him the screw driver, trying not to
listen to his description of anything metric. He kept muttering,
swearing, and asking for things.
“ Three quarter inch wrench,” he
said.
I scrounged among his tools, handed him what
he needed and waited for further instructions. He replaced hose
clamps, removed screws to clean and oil before replacing them. “One
of these hoses might give you problems in a few months,” he said.
“Want a new one now?”
“ Um, no. Not right now.” However, I
added a mental note to my check list. Something else to consider if
I couldn’t sell Snapdragon .
A good while later, after I’d handed him
nearly all the tools in his kit, he said, “Get some diesel in my
fuel can. Gotta prime the filter.”
I lugged the can to the fuel dock, returned
with a gallon of diesel, and saw Wes smoking a cigarette—on my boat
deck. “Hey, this is a non-smoking boat. Do you see any ash
trays?”
He took another puff, went inside, and
stubbed the butt out in the sink. “Just be glad I’m working on your
boat. Should have been a couple of weeks before I got around to
this job. Do you know how many others I’ve got waiting?”
“ I’m thinking you’d rather they wait
than for me to stay in your marina.” I ran water over the mangled
cigarette and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”
“ Hah,” he said and grabbed the fuel
can.
I followed him. “What could happen to
you if Snapdragon is still
here next month?” Obviously, he didn’t care what happened to me.
“You think this Pop guy will come after you when he gets out of
jail?”
“ Him, yeah. Not his
nephew.”
“ Nephew?”
“ You know.”
“ Wes, I don’t know anything except
somebody broke into my boat, messed it up, but didn’t take anything
that I can see.”
“ Well, there you go.” Wes started
pouring the diesel and added, “Stand ready to turn her
on.”
He was through talking, but I wasn’t through
asking. “You think the nephew broke
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