“I just found all of this out yesterday afternoon after I filed all the papers with the title agency. Please understand that I’ve tried to reach you to tell you this, but I keep missing you. I knew I could find you here this morning. I’m really sorry I told you to take the damn thing on that bet. Anyway, if they do cut the thing loose, then the city will cite you. I’ll admit I know nothing about maritime law, but my guess is it has to do with being a hazard to navigation or something. Anyway, the coast guard will have the boat impounded, for which they will also bill you. We need to find you a new spot, and arrange to have a tug move the boat.” After his spiel he took a long sip of his coffee.
This guy was just a fount of happy news. I could just see how every dollar I had won at that game was going into that hole in the water, and possibly a lot more. I knew that I sounded as if I was whining, which I was. “How am I going to find a new spot? You know, I am going to beat the shit out of that little bastard Slim. I’ll bet he knew this all along. I’d go down there now and whale on him except I think he’s out of town until tonight. What am I going to do, Scott?” I thought about this for a moment, and a flash of insight struck me. Scott was a Realtor, so why couldn’t he find me a new spot? “Are there any spots available anywhere?”
Since Scott is in the reality business, and since he does have his own company, I was confident that he could come up with some ideas where I could move. Seeing him shake his head back and forth while he told me, “I’m sorry to tell you this Matt, but there’s no place in the entire city to tie up. I had every possible lead searched on the computer. I have calls in to two small slips, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope.” This did little for my attitude.
“What?” I exploded again. “Once again I ask you, ‘what am I going to do with the…” I knew the word I wanted to use, but I didn’t, “damn thing?’”
“I’m working on it. The good thing is we have over six weeks to find a spot.” Scott sounded a bit chagrined. “For what it’s worth, I tried to call Slim all weekend as soon as I found out about your slip. But he isn’t around or just isn’t answering.”
Seeing how badly Scott was feeling made me feel a big sheepish about how I had treated him. I needed to make up for my nastiness. “Thanks for coming right over, Scott, I may not sound like it, but I do appreciate what you’re trying to do. I hope you understand how I might be feeling to get all this wonderful news at one time?” He smiled. “But what if we don’t find a slip? What do we do next?”
He seemed to ignore the “we” part of my last statement. It seems he can use “we,” but I can’t. “It’s my understanding when you contact one of the tug companies to tow the houseboat, you might ask if they’ll let you store it in one of their holding areas for a few weeks. I believe that Foss Towing has a very large repair area up near the locks. If you talk with them, you can probably arrange a place to store it for a while. I really don’t know what else to tell you. Right now it looks as if finding a slip will be real tough.”
My cup was empty, so I wandered into the kitchen and poured myself some more while my mind raced. When I picked up the carton of half & half, I noticed it was empty. Great…just great, now I had to drink black coffee, which I hate. This day was getting better by the moment. Ha! I didn’t mind that I might be out some of my winnings. I just didn’t want to have to deal with disposing of the thing. Too bad it wasn’t made entirely of wood, I could just take it out somewhere, and let the thing sink to the bottom of the bay.
I asked Scott if there was any way the marina owner would let me stay another month, or if I could pay more rent. He shook his head, “I don’t know who the owner or owners are, yet. I have a call into the woman who manages the marina, but she hasn’t called me back. Her secretary told me she thought the slip was already spoken for, and somebody was going to move in a big concrete float, and build a new home on the float.”
I almost dropped my cup of coffee…a concrete float? Come on now! First off, the last I heard, concrete does not float. The idea of building anything on floating concrete doesn’t seem very bright to me, but what do I know? I’ve heard something about concrete boats, but that didn’t sound like a good idea either. So what’s next, concrete planes? I blurted, “You have got to be shitting me. A concrete float?” Scott nodded his head and I just shook mine.
I‘d had enough of Scott and his wonderful news, so I tossed him out, and told him I needed to go catch up on my much needed sleep. Tomorrow Scott and I planned to see Slim anyway and I was just going to lay it at his feet. I was not going to assume possession of that damn houseboat. That was all there was to it. From my perspective, the little bastard still owed me on the bet.
I recalled what Scott said when he had the title transfer papers couriered over to Slim. Slim was going south for the weekend, but I remembered Slim said he’d be back early this week. The deal was once he signed the papers, I would take actual possession of the houseboat the following day. You can bet I would see if there was any way to get my money from him instead of the boat. No way I wanted to get stuck with that headache!
With that, I headed back to the sack. I wondered if I could get back to sleep what with all the shit from the houseboat running though my head. BJ settled in at her corner on the end of the bed while I curled up next to the warm soft body snuggled down in the middle of the bed.
~ ~ ~ ~
The next thing I knew I was alone in my bed, and from the high position of the light coming in from outside, I guessed it was well past noon. I was thirsty, so I got up to walk to the kitchen. As I passed the window, I looked out at a weak sun trying valiantly to break out, but without much success. Shuffling back to the kitchen, I reflected on why all of this was happening to me.
I found a note from last night’s date telling me she was sorry, but she had to run. She said she was late, and thanks for a great evening. Blackjack had gotten up, and was now scratching at the back door. I pulled on some old sweats to take her out.
I’m sure it would be safe to let her out alone, but she had become such a treasured friend that I didn’t want some creep stealing her or something worse. There are many weirdos in the world, and I sure didn’t want her to fall victim to one of them. BJ did her thing and we both headed back inside.
For the rest of the day I tried to call Scott without success. I knew he’d be at Slim’s floating nightmare at eight on Wednesday morning (I still thought of it as Slim’s) so I wasn’t too worried. That evening I sat on my balcony nursing my scotch and ice. I was contemplating what I was going to do with my new possession, if in fact I was truly stuck with it. The lights were reflecting off the lake, and I wondered which one of those lights was the houseboat.
In the end, it came down to two reasons I really didn’t want the houseboat. The first reason was obvious, I didn’t need, or want, the problems that were starting to develop over the damn thing. The other reason was much more philosophical. Up to now, I feel that I’ve been a very lucky man. From my inheritance from pop’s estate and through the proceeds of careful investing, I have more than enough income to support my current lifestyle. I certainly don’t need any more ‘things of value’ to clutter my life. I earn more than enough to keep myself happy, and to take care of my various hobbies. Every morning when I wake up, I thank the universe and the divine power that created the universe in all its immaculate beauty, and that same power that provides me with the lucky life that I am now living. I am grateful for what I have, and want to make sure I show my gratitude. To tell you the truth, I don’t need more toys or things in my life. I am very happy with my life just as it is.
This new screw up with the houseboat had left me feeling a bit out of sorts. I felt sad that Slim didn’t like the Puget Sound area more than he did, but I could understand his feelings about the weather. The end of the year was nearing, and with that comes four months of rain. Let’s not sugarcoat it, the months of January through April usually are rather bleak around Seattle
. If you were used to a very different climate, I could see why anyone would want to leave. But I still felt badly about the houseboat.
I decided I needed some downhearted music, so I put on a Ray Charles CD, and let him cry some blues for both of us. Finally, I decided it was time to take BJ out one more time, and then crash and burn.
CHAPTER 5
My alarm went off at 6 AM and as I grumpily headed to the shower I noticed it was still dark outside. Before I hit the shower I tried one more call to Scott, but still no luck. This didn’t alarm me. Not only was he an early riser, he was also a runner. I think it’s great there are people who want to run and stuff like that. I jokingly tell people that I don’t run as a courtesy to others. When folks see me run they know if I’m running, there must be something terrible happening behind me and therefore they turn and start to run as well. Rather than cause a panic, I do not run.
God knows I should do a bit more to improve my shape, but I am also cursed with a streak of laziness. Besides, as I often point out, round is a shape. Food tastes so good, and I do enjoy my small but nourishing Scotch in the evening. I keep telling myself someday…someday, I should work on making some of my tummy disappear, but I think I’m starting to realize that part of my anatomy will be with me for a while. So far, it hasn’t killed all my chances with the ladies, but I’m sure I’d do a lot better without the love handles. You remember, the procreation thing we discussed?
I headed down to the garage and decided to take my ol’ truck instead of the car. I have a habit of naming cars I think it goes back to my junior high school days when guys used to give their cars names and then paint the name on the side. At least I don’t paint the names on the side.
Anyway, I have named my truck Faithful Steed, which over time I have shortened to just Faithful. Faithful is a late 80’s Japanese pickup with 194,000 miles on it that still runs great. In the morning it makes a few funny noises, but I keep rationalizing with myself that, as we age, all of us make funny noises in the morning. Someday I will most likely have to do something about it, but after so many miles, we have bonded.
As I pulled Faithful out of the garage, I tried to call Scott again on the cell phone. He answered on the second ring. His greeting was nauseatingly happy. I growled a little, and asked him if he was going to meet me at Slim’s marina. He told me that, as promised, he would be there by eight, and we hung up.
I had about half an hour to kill. So instead of just sitting in Faithful, I pulled over and bought a latte from one of the many coffee stands that seem to pop out of the ground in Seattle. I swear more of them grow every time it rains. And since it does rain a fair amount around here, you can only imagine the abundance of stands on the street. As to what the exact count is, I’m not sure, but it’s close to one stand for every two people living in Seattle, (or was it two stands for every person living in Seattle?).
I took my grande latte and stopped at a grassy area where I could turn Blackjack loose. I’ve mentioned it before, I take BJ with me everywhere I go, when I can. She seems to like going with me, and she doesn’t mind waiting in the truck when she has to since she doesn’t have to sit alone at home. I really enjoy her company, so it works out well for both of us. Too bad my marriages weren’t as great as my relationship with BJ. I wonder what dark psychological fact that tells people about me?
When I pulled into the marina around 7:55, I saw Scott’s Cad coming from the other direction. Scott drives a little red Cadillac sports car that they stopped building a few years back, and I’ll admit that I think it’s very attractive. He wheeled the car in next to mine, and we headed out to the dock to see how and if there was some way for me to shed my new possession.
As we headed down the pier, an older gentleman with white flowing hair stepped out from one of the other houseboats. Since this was a private dock he stopped and asked us what we wanted.
BJ was a rescue dog. I got her when she was around three years old and somewhere along the way someone on the male side of humanity had badly abused her. It took me a long time to make friends with her, and because of her mistreatment she tends to bark at most men when she first meets them. If you just ignore her she will eventually come to you, on her terms. In that regard, I guess animals have it easier than humans do. If someone mistreats us, the world teaches us to forgive and forget. But we allow animals to remember and we even consider it acceptable for them to show that they remember. Truth be told, I’ve met a few people over the years I wished I could still bark at. Anyway, true to form, BJ started dancing and barking at the old fella and wouldn’t stop. Finally, I had to reach down and pick her up to make her stop fussing. Once she was in my arms, I started to explain to the old gent that I was the new owner of the houseboat in slip C-14…or at least until I could put my hands on Slim.
The old man’s voice trembled with anger as he spoke, “I’m telling you now,” the white-haired old fella shook his finger at me, “I almost called the police last night on that damn dog of yours. Barking the entire night like that! This is a nice quiet dock, and a good place to live. We will not tolerate the noise from any dog, even your dog!” His face was now a picture of total fury. “Do you understand me, young man?”
I held up one hand to quiet him down. “Hold up there, old timer,” I told him, “This is the first time Blackjack has ever been here. This is only my second visit here. If you heard a dog last night it couldn’t have been her. Okay?”
The old gentleman still had an angry look on his face as he continued to shake his finger at me. He exclaimed, “I heard a dog barking over in C-14, along with all the shouting. And buster, it sounded just like that dog in your arms. It barked exactly like that dog did just now! You might think I’m old, but my hearing is still good!” Scott and I were trying to step backwards and get away from the angry old man but he kept on shouting at us. “I’m telling you again, we don’t hold with any loud noises here at the marina, especially after eleven. You keep that damn mutt quiet, and you’d better keep down your noise, too.”
With that warning the old fella turned, and muttering to himself, shuffled back towards his houseboat. Scott and I looked at each other as we walked down the dock. Scott shrugged, “I wonder what that’s all about? Were you over here last night?”
“Get real, I was asleep.”
“I tried to call you once last night, and the phone just kept ringing. I hung up before your answering machine kicked in.”
“I was out for with BJ for a few minutes, maybe you called then.”
We continued down dock C until we came to slip 14. I hate to admit it, but the houseboat was very attractive. I liked it more this time than the first time I’d seen it. The sides of the house were finished in small wooden shingles that had been painted an interesting shade of dark green. The doors and window sashes were a light, clear wood, and well varnished. Any visible metal parts were made of brass and the windows were made up of small panes set in a larger window frame. They were hinged at the top and could be opened outwards. The entire place looked clean and attractive. The front door was slightly inset from the side of the houseboat. On each side of the door, set in deep pots, there were two handsome Bonsai trees, and above those were brass ship’s lanterns. If I had to have the thing torn apart, it would really be a shame.
I stepped onto the small deck in front of the door and knocked. The door swung open under my knock and I looked back at Scot in alarm. I stuck my head inside and called out Slim’s name twice, but after hearing no sounds, I stepped into the front room. BJ charged on ahead of me through the open doorway and even though I called her to come back, she just ignored me.
Suddenly, from the back of the house, I heard her start barking wildly and I followed the noise. I was concerned because in all the time I’d had BJ, she had never barked that way before. All of a sudden she burst from the back of the place and ran straight to me leaving tracks on the carpet. Red paw prints.
I wondered if
she had cut herself on something so I started to examine her paws. Scott went on ahead of me and as he entered the next room I heard him mutter, “Oh shit! Oh shit…shit…shit!” Then I heard the back door open and what sounded to me like someone retching. I left BJ on the floor and hurried around the corner.
The first thing that struck me as I entered the kitchen was the smell. A large amount of blood gives off a metallic smell like sheared copper and there was a large amount of blood. Slim was kind of sitting at the kitchen table, tied to a chair, with his head tilted forward, his chin resting on his chest. Between ‘Nam and my years of knocking around, I’ve seen a few dead people, but this was without a doubt one of the worst sights I’d seen. Someone had slit Slim’s throat from ear to ear, and from all appearances, the only reason his head remained atop his torso was his spinal column.
The front of his shirt was soaked with blood. On the floor there was a very large, fairly dry pool, except for a single wet spot where BJ had stepped. I thought from the color of his shirt that the blood looked dry around the edges. A fleeting feeling of déjà vu hit me. Although I didn’t spend a long time looking at him, I knew that it would take a long time for me to forget what I’d just seen. After just a few seconds I needed to step outside and smell some fresh air. I wasn’t going to throw up, but I was damn close to it.
As I took deep breaths, I thought somehow the problem of finding a new slip for the houseboat didn’t seem so important anymore.
Actually, I found that my anger at Slim had totally dissipated.
For the time being that is…
CHAPTER 6
Scott went out to his Cad and called the police to report our gruesome discovery, and for his trouble, they demanded that we not leave the scene. Perhaps it was best that he made the call because I would have retorted with a smart assed comment when the operator told us not to leave.
Houseboat Page 3