The House Lost at Sea

by R. J. Blain

  “We’re going to need a full list of everything disturbed, broken, and stolen,” the cops informed me, and they spent the next forty minutes poking through the wreckage, taking photographs, and otherwise documenting the extensive damage done to my home.

  I got the feeling they never expected to see any of my things again, nor did they intend to put much effort in locating anything. They didn’t even attempt to dust for fingerprints, claiming there was no way they’d find anything thanks to the very thorough destruction of my home. They took photographs of some footprints they found in the mud, took pictures and measurements of my shoes to confirm they hadn’t been made by me, and noted the fact my classic car and motorcycle remained undisturbed in my garage.

  After they left, I confirmed the most painful truth: not a single scrap of evidence of my life with Captain Louisa remained. My watch, my gun, and my cutlass were gone, as was my outfit, right down to my hat.

  I wanted to cry, but instead, I dialed Benny’s number and scowled at what I’d have to tell my long-time friend.

  “Cathy, welcome home,” he answered. “You doing okay?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I drew in a slow, deep breath. “Someone decided to come into my house and trash the entire place while I was gone, and since taking my shit wasn’t good enough for them, it looks like they did structural damage to the house, too.” I shook from a mixture of rage and grief. “The police just left. I know you wanted me to dress up for Halloween, but it isn’t happening. I’m sorry.”

  “They took your pirate outfit?”

  I wandered into my bedroom, pushing through the debris with my toe. I nudged the scraps of torn fabric, which I identified as having been one of my shirts. “Took isn’t the word I’d use. Shredded is closer to accurate. They probably took some of the stuff, but it’s a mess. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to dress up this year for you, sorry. I have to go. I need to call the insurance company.”

  Not in the mood to listen to his pity or deal with sympathy, I hung up, dug through my contacts, and began the process of filing an insurance claim, giving them the police report number. I also filed for a home inspector to judge the amount of structural damage to my house at the same time. To support my claim I hadn’t been home, I gave the insurers a full list of my whereabouts, including the police report from the South African police, my plane itinerary, and visit to the ER, all of which supported my claim and my inability to be the one behind the destruction of my home.

  It took three hours on the phone for me to force them to send a claims adjuster to my home, and I waited two hours on the front porch for their arrival.

  At least the man had been wise enough to bring a flashlight, as the thieves had managed to knock the power out. It didn’t take long for him to go through my home, whistling at the damage done. “I was told you had made a claim of extensive damage, but it seems their definition of extensive doesn’t match yours. This is far worse than I was led to believe.”

  I snorted. “You can always trust an insurance company to downplay the severity of an incident.”

  “I’m Henry Hughhaven, and this won’t take long to get situated, filed, and processed. I’ll have to photograph everything. Have you taken anything?”

  I shook my head. “I moved some things after the cops left to confirm what was missing, but everything is almost exactly as I found it.”

  “Your antique collection was the primary target?”

  “I think so. They left my Rolls-Royce and my Knucklehead in the shed, but tore up everything in the house. I found pieces of my couch all over the place. Looks like they were looking for small valuables.”

  “According to your file, you have small valuables in plenty. You can verify your location since you were last home prior to the theft?”

  “Easily. I already gave the insurance company the information, including a police report from South Africa, my flight itinerary coming home, and the reference numbers for my visit to the ER upon my return. I was staying with a business associate following my stay at the hospital—a stay your insurance company has on file, too. My co-workers can verify Mr. Bensen drove me to work this morning, and one of his associates dropped me off here. From the outside, nothing looked disturbed, so the driver left before I made it inside.”

  “Can you give me a list of names and numbers?”

  I gave him the requested information. “I’ll be staying at a hotel in the interim, as I suspect they’ve done enough damage to my house to make staying here rather unsafe.”

  “I don’t need an inspection license to make that call. If the building isn’t condemned due to the damage they caused searching inside the walls, I’ll be very surprised. The inspector will be by in the morning to make a full list of damages and estimate the cost for repair. I think it’ll be a complete write-off, which would be beneficial for you. Your policy easily allows for a complete rebuild, and the property would be better off as a result. The rest of the claim will be dependent on the police investigation.”

  “They said the place was such a mess they couldn’t even get prints.”

  Hughhaven shook his head and sighed. “Typical. Hopefully, we’ll be able to recover the pieces, but I doubt you’ll see any of the gold again. The more distinctive items, however, might be recovered; they are rather unique.”

  “That’s one way to put it. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “Of course, Miss Corona. It’s a rare time I’m able to say this, but I don’t think it will take long to process this claim at all, and I’ll make certain the head office is aware you were being upfront and honest regarding your situation. Please keep all of your expense receipts in the interim, as this is not a habitable space.”

  I thanked him and waited until he left to snarl enough curses to guarantee the spirit of my captain rolled in her grave over the foulness of the words spilling out of my mouth.

  I picked a hotel with an indoor garage near work as my base of operations. Using the tarps and canvas piled in my garage to protect my car, I barely managed to squeeze the Knucklehead into my Rolls-Royce for the trip, unwilling to leave it easy pickings for someone to take.

  When I found out who was responsible, I’d turn the sea red with their blood. I’d enjoy dangling them overboard and playing tug-of-war with the local shark population. If I had my way, I’d use my new frigate for the expedition.

  I showed up to work two hours late in clothes so new their tags burned a hole in my pocket.

  My boss took one look at my face and decided against yelling at me for my tardiness. “Cathy?”

  “Since a near death experience wasn’t enough, someone decided I’d just love to come back to my home thoroughly vandalized with everything of worth inside either trashed or stolen. At least they weren’t interested in my garage.” I somehow kept my tone even, just on the right side of professionally acceptable. “I’m at the hotel down the street while the insurance company deals with the inspection.”

  “For a robbery?”

  “It seems the thieves believed I had things hidden in the walls. When they didn’t find anything, they continued searching and destroyed the studs, but I had nothing hidden in my walls.” I sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late. They shredded my clothes, so I had to go shopping this morning.”

  “They shredded your clothes?”

  “I found pieces of my couch all over my house. Compared to my clothes, the couch got off lightly.”

  “Do you need to take a personal day?”

  “No. There’s nothing I can do, so it’s better if I at least get something productive done here. You’re off the hook for the Halloween party, I suspect. What wasn’t destroyed of my costume was stolen, and there’s no way I can replace it in time, so I’m out. I already told Mr. Allen.”

  “I heard. He seemed quite unhappy someone would ruin your apparel. I told him I’d still host the party. Maybe you can find something else to wear?”

&n
bsp; I sighed and shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  Maybe buying a sewing machine and all the right fabrics would keep me busy. If I got too bored, I could sew the whole damned thing by hand. It wouldn’t replace what I’d lost, but it’d be a start, and maybe I’d figure out a plan while working my needles and threads.

  If all else failed, I’d at least be dressed to kill, so if I crossed paths with the thief, I’d be ready to show them a pirate’s version of revenge.

  Twelve

  Turnabout was always fair play

  Instead of restoring my pirate attire, I fixated on the past. Unwilling to trust anyone with Captain Louisa’s pocket watch, I systematically dismantled it, photographed every last screw and gear, cleaned the gold inner workings, and put it back together again, muttering prayers while I worked, hoping I wasn’t doing irreparable damage to it. The task kept me from other thoughts, including the others I’d lost in my long life.

  Working on the watch almost kept Ricardo’s memory at bay.

  And so I worked, and I muttered prayers. I didn’t even know who I prayed to, but it didn’t really matter to me. Religion was for those with a chance of seeing the heavens, something I’d discarded as a possibility centuries ago.

  After a week and a half of spending four or five hours a night meticulously cleaning the inner workings of my captain’s watch, I put it back together again, using tiny tweezers to work each delicate piece back into place. I wound it up, bit my lip, and muttered one final prayer.

  The second hand began its slow, steady journey around the clock’s face, and its gentle ticking, a sound I hadn’t heard in so, so long, cut me to the bone. I cupped it in my hands and held it close to my chest, swallowing several times so the heat in my eyes wouldn’t turn to tears.

  Some god out there must have pitied me, and for once, I didn’t even mind. Maybe my captain’s bones had decayed away to nothing, but her two most prized possessions lived on. I would focus my attention on claiming Captain Maritza's key and returning to the House Lost at Sea.

  If my gun, my watch, and my cutlass surfaced, I would track down those who had stolen them from me, and they would regret their theft. If they showed up before I had Captain Maritza's half of the key in my possession, I would bide my time.

  If someone suspected who I had once been, I wouldn’t make it easy on them. I would turn it into a game, one where I would feign disappointment over the loss of antique treasures with little other value. I’d take my time and savor my revenge.

  I’d also plunder from them, because turnabout was always fair play.

  A week and a half after informing Benny I wouldn’t be dressing up, he called me on my cell, and I glowered at the device before answering, “Cathy.”

  “Any luck recovering your pirate costume?”

  I snorted. I expected the insurance check in the mail soon, since replacing my belongings wasn’t possible. “No.”

  “A pity. Is there no way you’ll be able to make a costume in time for Halloween?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll wear a black sheet, cut some eye holes in it, and buy a scythe from the farm equipment store. I’ll go as the grim reaper.”

  “You are far too beautiful to cover up with a sheet.”

  “You’re full of shit, and it’s leaking out, Benny.”

  “You have such a way with words. How about two beers and a batch of cookies, and they’ll involve coconut and limes, just for you. No one else will get a single one of your cookies. I’ll even pay for whatever supplies you need for it. You made that all yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Damn it, Benny. I don’t have the time. I have work.”

  “I’ll get you a few days off. I’ll tell that witch if I don’t have you for my museum gala, everything’ll be ruined. Where else am I going to find someone who looks the part of a pirate so damned well?”

  “I thought this was for a Halloween party.”

  “Gala. At my museum. The office party was just a good excuse to get you dressed up for my gala. We can do the photoshoot at the same time.”

  “Look, they stole my cutlass, they stole my flintlock, and they took my watch, too. My hat’s gone. The rest of the costume was cut into tiny pieces. I really don’t feel like rebuilding it, okay? That was years of effort. I’m done with it.”

  “Two batches of cookies, and the second one will be chocolate chip with hazelnut?”

  “If you feed me that, I’ll be too fat to fit into the costume.”

  “I’ll beg, Cathy. I made arrangements for the photoshoot weeks ago. You’ll be the star. There’s just no one else who can fit the role like you.”

  I frowned, thinking it over. A slow smile spread over my lips as I considered my options. “All right. I have a price, and it isn’t in cookies or beer.”

  “Name it.”

  “You want me to pose for your museum gala? My whole collection was taken, stolen.” I paused so I could rub it in a bit. “Lost. Irreplaceable. I want a piece from one of your cases. A token piece no one will probably care about. My choice. Nothing interesting or too distinctive, of course, but pretty. Obviously not something excessively valuable, but if I’m going to have to do this, it better be worth my while. Nothing stupid. If you’re going to talk me into this, then you can let me restart a collection with something you cherish.”

  Silence.

  “Well?”

  “You drive a hard bargain. Dare I ask if that’s all you need?”

  “I don’t have the time to find a cutlass or flintlock, so I’ll have to go without. You’re responsible for any accessories you want me to wear. I’ll see if I can put together a hat, but I make no promises. Period accurate, authentic hats aren’t exactly easy to make or find.”

  “All right. What do you want from the collection? I’m sure you already have something in mind.”

  “That necklace from the captain’s case—it had a gold chain and the broken key pendant on it. I want that. It was a bit unusual, but no one will miss it. It’s pretty, and at least I can wear it. That way it’ll be difficult for someone to steal.”

  “Interesting choice. I would have thought you’d want the pocket watch or something more distinctive from the collection.” Benny sighed. “I have a condition. I would like a replica of it made, but whenever I need it for study or for the exhibit, you would need to loan it to me.”

  “Bring it to me by tomorrow, and we have a deal. I’ll start the work on making the costume. Do you have a pen and paper handy? I will need a lot of supplies to make this.”

  “I do. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure I can get everything for you.”

  I began rattling off materials, yardage, and the supplies I would need to recreate my pirate attire. Because I was annoyed he had asked me to posture for him, I demanded only the best, right down to gold buttons and exotic feathers for my hat.

  I turned my hotel room into a sewing station, and true to his word, Benny arrived ten minutes after I got off work. It took him three trips to bring all the material I had ordered, and he even brought two machines, one of which could handle working with leather. When he had everything situated to his liking, he held out a blue and gold jewelry box to me. “This is the piece you wanted.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed, took the box out of his hands, and set it on my lap. I opened it, and my breath caught in my throat.

  Captain Maritza's half of the key waited on black velvet, and Benny had taken care to clean every last link of the gold chain so it gleamed in the room’s light. “It’s lovely. So mysterious. Why would a pirate captain bother to keep something like this? It’s not useful for anything. What’s the point in having a necklace like this?”

  I asked the question to maintain the illusion of ignorance layered on top of the natural curiosity of a collector of eccentric items.

  “You like collecting things that make you ask questions, don’t you?” Benny chuckled before he turned to the massive pile of bags taking over my hotel room. “I find it incredibly hard to believe this wi
ll become a pirate costume.”

  “If I were being truly authentic, I would be doing everything by hand, but I don’t think I have the time. So, I’ll make an unauthentic outfit first—something made with the sewing machine so I have an outfit. If I have time, I’ll make something a bit more authentic.”

  “How many days off work would you need to make the costume fully authentic?”

  I frowned, grabbed my cell phone, and checked the calendar. With a little over two weeks until Halloween, I could sew the entire outfit if I took a few days off, but I needed to give the appearance of lacking the skills—it took longer for those without practice to craft anything, and there was no way I could reveal I had hundreds of years of experience making my own clothes. “A week, I guess. I doubt my boss would give me the time off, especially after the disaster trip to South Africa.”

  “Ask her, and I’ll see what I can do to encourage her to give you the time off. I’ll also ping Franklin and get him to give her a nudge in the right direction. He’ll be attending the gala, too. He was quite upset to hear you’d lost your collection. Your pieces were exquisite.”

  I grimaced. “It is what it is. I doubt I’ll be able to replace them. The insurance company sure doesn’t think so; they cut the check for the policy on it already. It should arrive this week.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how much was your collection worth?”

  “Over six hundred thousand.”

  Benny stared at me, and his mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? Did you just say six hundred thousand?”

  “Yes. I had a valuable collection. The cutlass, watch, and flintlock were only twenty or so thousand of it. The insurance adjusters expect the rest of my collection will be melted down, but I have a no-liability policy should the pieces be recovered. They’re currently looking at antique markets to see if they turn up.”