Houseboat

by Paul Shadinger

  The soft, gently accented voice came on the phone after the second ring, “Hello, this is Jennifer Rockingham.”

  I told her who I was and she paused for a moment before answering, “Thank you for returning my call. I…ah,” she laughed nervously, “have a small favor to ask. Actually, it’s a rather large favor. Would it be possible to meet with you? I’ve something I need to discuss with you, and—uh…”

  “And you’d rather not discuss it over the phone?” I interrupted, trying to help her along.

  “Well, it would be a lot easier if I met you. I believe you’ll understand.” I agreed to meet her at a well-known watering hole that overlooks the Sound where you can watch the ferries coming and going. As I hung up, I looked at my watch and saw that I had over an hour and a half before I was to meet Ms. Rockingham.

  My next call was to Scott and I asked him what he wanted. He informed me he had an old buddy who has a good friend who is someone important down at the zoning commission. His plan was to have lunch with his friend and his friend’s friend to see if he could find out why there was this sudden push to close Wheel’s marina. Scott had contacted some of the other marinas around and had heard only Wheel’s place was being looked into. It seemed a bit strange. So I told him about my upcoming meeting with the Rockingham woman. We agreed to meet later to discuss what each of us had uncovered.

  After we hung up, I decided it might be a good idea to look a bit more presentable for Miss Rockingham, so I headed off to the bathroom to clean up and pondered the wisdom of wearing a suit. I thought it might help to make a good impression so I went to my closet and pulled out one of my custom-made jobs. I also found a nice clean freshly starched French cuff shirt. After I was spruced up I stopped in front of the mirror on the way out. When I looked at myself I thought that I didn’t look so bad for a man of my advanced years. Still need to lose a few pounds, but hey, don’t most of us?

  I took the Eldo convertible, and it seemed like BJ was asking what’s up with the suit and fancy car. I told her to act cool, since normally when I wear a suit she usually doesn’t go along with me. She promptly lay down in the passenger seat, and nodded off to sleep.

  I arrived at the restaurant a bit early, left my name at the reception desk, and headed back to the bar to grab a good table looking out over the water. Just two minutes past our agreed upon time, I glanced up at the entrance, and saw a tall, slim, dark-haired and very attractive woman enter the place. I was pleased to note that this time the voice and the person seemed to go together. The receptionist was standing next to her, and when I waved my hand, she pointed me out to the tall woman.

  Her stride was long and graceful. She was wearing an unbuttoned dark grey suit with a sheer black blouse underneath. The thin blouse revealed underneath a well filled out black bra. The skirt to the suit had a slit on one side, and when she walked, one leg would show a little. The suit was tailored to fit her perfectly. As she walked, her long dark hair swung back and forth. A few of the other males in the room turned to glance at her as she passed. There was no denying this was one very classy, gorgeous dame. God was I glad I decided to do the suit. I was standing by the time she got to the table, and I extended my hand, “Miss Rockingham?” I asked.

  She reached out, took my hand, and in her soft accent said, “Yes, and I do appreciate that you agreed to see me.” I motioned for her to take a seat, and I sat down across from her.

  She had a beautiful wide face with deep soft brown eyes. Her lashes were very long, and when she blinked, they brushed creamy cheeks. She also had a wide and generous mouth, with straight white teeth and a great smile when she wanted to share it. I tried to see any of Slim in her, but I didn’t. She was at least five-feet nine inches or a bit taller, contrasted with Slim who’d been a very short man. I assumed her mother, Mrs. Rockingham, had been tall. Somewhere this lovely lady had gotten great genes, and it didn’t appear she’d picked up too many from her father.

  We both ordered something to drink, and she turned to admire the view. There was a ferry just pulling away from the dock leaving a white wake in the blue-green water. In the distance, you could see some of the Olympic Mountains. The setting was perfect, and she commented on the view. When our drinks arrived, I took a sip of mine, and then leaned back in my seat, waiting for her to tell me why she wanted to see me. “Ah, Mr. Preston. I…uh …”

  Chuckling, I held up one hand, “Excuse me,” I interrupted. “Grandpa was ninety-five when he died, and they called him Mr. Preston. If I make ninety-five, then everyone can call me Mr. Preston. For now, how about Matt?”

  Jennifer nodded, “Okay!” That great smile came and went. I waited patiently through a long pause. She continued, “Matt,” followed by a little more of her great smile. Hesitantly, she started, “I asked you to meet with me to talk about, well about someone I never knew existed until very recently.”

  I interrupted, “Are you referring to the Bottomsley woman?”

  Her hand slipped up to her throat as her eyes widened. I hadn’t seen the gesture since 1940s films. For some reason, on her it really fit. She really resembled a movie star from a long time ago.

  “How did you know about her?” she asked.

  “I’m fairly good friends with the detectives who are working on your father’s case. They told me a lawyer by the name of Green had called them, and that he represented the stepsister. I called Mr. Green to talk to him and also to inform him I owned the houseboat, and I didn’t want any problems.” I waited a few seconds while she considered what I’d just told her. Hearing nothing, I continued, “I’d like to ask you a question, if you don’t mind. I hope you won’t think this is a rude thing to ask, but,” as I paused to collect my thoughts, and she nodded her head for me to continue, “How come you didn’t know your father had a stepsister?”

  She paused for a second, searching for the best way to explain everything to me. “I really don’t know very much about my father. Perhaps it sounds a bit strange, but the subject was totally taboo with mother. As I told you the other day, father and I were just finally putting away what had transpired between them so long ago. We were only discussing matters which related to the two of us.

  “I’d never discuss mother with him, and I don’t think he ever mentioned anything about any of his family. I was going to ask him about my grandparents, and if I had an aunt or uncle, but we never got that far. I never told him much about my life, and he never told me much about his life, except that he now lived in Seattle on a houseboat. All over Europe many people live on houseboats, but they actually move about. I understand that he had his houseboat tied up; moored?” I nodded my head. Jenifer continued, “So he couldn’t move it. Is that correct?”

  “Well, more or less, you can move it if you have to; however, in order to do it you would have to have it towed.” Boy did I know about that. “But yes, it usually does stay moored in just one place. Are you sure you don’t want to see it sometime?”

  Jennifer shook her head, “I think not. However, might I reserve the right to change my mind?”

  “Of course. Any time!” I waited for a moment, and then decided to help her get to the point. “Ah, I don’t think you wanted to see me about the houseboat. Was there something else?”

  She gave a short bark of a laugh, “I’d forgotten how blunt Americans can be. Yes, there’s something else. It’s about my, what exactly do I call this woman? Is there such a thing as a step-aunt? Or is it my half-aunt? What do I call her?” I shook my head back and forth as I grinned at her; I really didn’t know either. “This has taken me so much by surprise…” I could see she was searching for the words to continue.

  After a lengthy pause, I leaned forward and said softly “Go ahead. Take your time and tell me the rest.”

  She gave me a very small piece of the breathtaking smile, and then continued, “I don’t know anyone here in town, so I asked one of the police detectives—the one with the funny
accent—if I could trust you, and he said I could.”

  She paused, and once she’d decided to ask me she blurted out, “What I want to know is, will you find out if this Bottomsley woman is really related to my father? I know you must think me terribly selfish, and not to want to share any of father’s money with her, but it’s not the case. It’s more than that. Part of it is the way her lawyer spoke to me on the phone, and well, he was very rude. Also, I have a strange feeling that not everything is…I’m not certain how to put this, but well it just doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “Miss Rockingham, I, um…”

  Now she held up her hand, “Fair is fair, you insist I call you Matt, then I insist you call me Jennifer. Just never call me Jenny. All right?”

  “Okay, Jennifer!” I stressed her name, “I’m very flattered you’ve asked me to help. But I’m not a private investigator. Your father’s demise is a matter for the police to resolve. I’d think they consider anything remotely related to it would fall under their purview. I’m friends with several members of the Seattle Police Department, but I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate me getting involved in their investigation. Also, I don’t really understand what you want me to do about your, um—your—Ms. Bottomsley.”

  Her cheeks flushed red and she spoke fiercely, “Please, she’s not MY Ms. Bottomsley!” I quickly held up my hands palms out, with a mock ducking of my head. This at least brought a small smile to her lips.

  “I’m told she wants to take this entire thing to court. That nasty solicitor of hers as much as said I was lying when I said I was Elmo’s daughter. He said that the estate belonged to Bottomsley, especially since she’d taken care of my father over the years. I don’t know how she accomplished that, since she lives most of the time in California and he lived in Seattle.” As she spoke, she’d started to speak faster, and then two silver tears slipped out and began to slide down her cheeks. I reached inside my suit pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief. I silently thanked my mother for being such a nag when I was young, making sure that I never left the house without a clean one in my pocket. She dabbed at her eyes, and then smiled her great smile at me.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I had it all under better control. It’s just that I never expected someone to call me a liar, and then to be treated so rudely on the telephone.”

  I explained to her how I too had been on the unpleasant end of the same jerk. I asked her if she had a local attorney. She said she didn’t, and she’d planned to use her father’s. I carefully explained why it was perhaps not such a good idea. She really needed someone who, so far, did not already have so much tied up in the entire case. She needed someone who’d be there to represent her interests and hers alone. When she asked me if I knew of any, I told her that I’d call and set up an appointment with my wolves. She looked at me strangely.

  “Sorry, it’s what I call them. I think of the legal profession as animals, and of all the animals I’ve read about, a wolf seems to fit them the best.”

  That brought a big smile to her face, and she told me she liked that name for them. I told her I’d try to arrange for her to see them in the next day or so. She requested I go with her, and even though it was not something I was wild about, I felt I could at least do that for her. We agreed once I set up an appointment, she’d see the attorneys first and then we’d discuss if I could provide any further help. In the back of my mind, I was silently hoping she’d forget about me trying to investigate the Bottomsley woman.

  After I paid the tab, we walked out together. As we were walking out, I inquired how she’d gotten to the bar. She responded she’d taken a cab. I asked if she wanted a ride back to her hotel, and she agreed.

  When we arrived at the car, BJ started to wag her tail. She was elated to see me, and was even more excited to meet new company. BJ greeted Jennifer with a quick lick, and then she came over to say hello to me. After we all settled in, BJ curled up in Jennifer’s lap, and gave a happy little grunt. Jennifer was all smiles. It looked like BJ had made another conquest.

  I drove Jennifer to her hotel, and when she tried to exit from the car BJ tried to settle in harder. It would appear she’d become most fond of Miss Rockingham. Jennifer leaned over and put her hand on top of mine on the steering wheel. “Thank you for helping me. I know that thank you really isn’t enough. I had no one to turn to.”

  I was a little embarrassed now, “Let’s see what I can do first. Then you can thank me. OK?”

  “Call me when you hear from your—how did you put it, wolves?” She turned her great smile on me.

  As I pulled away from the curb I glanced in my rearview mirror; Jennifer was still standing at the curb watching me drive away. I picked up my cell phone, and put in a call to the wolves. The earliest I could get Jennifer into see somebody at my lawyer’s office was Monday afternoon. As I pushed the end button on the cell, I remembered it was Thursday and the weekend was just around the corner. With no special plans for the weekend, I headed back to the barn and wondered what I was going to do with myself. I just hoped that my nightmares about Slim were going to soon be over.

  CHAPTER 18

  Monday morning, bright and early as the old saying goes, I headed down to the Seattle Municipal Building where Sakol and Jeff L. have their offices. As I was driving down to the Public Safety building, I saw that today was going to be another gorgeous day and the mountains were out in all their glory. See, contrary to popular belief, Seattle does have more than one nice day in a row. I really needed a nice day since my weekend had been such a bust. Try as I might, I was still spending too much time brooding about Slim.

  By now I was past the shock of the grisly discovery of Slim’s body, and what I was working on was putting Slim’s death in some kind of context. His death made no sense as far as I could see. Could it really just have been some hopped up kid stoned out of his ever-lovin’ on some weird drug? I had a hard time buying that idea because of the way he was killed. I can’t see any stoner cutting anybody’s throat the way Slim’s had been slashed. I needed more information and Jeff L. and Sakol were going to give it to me. They just didn’t know it yet.

  Striding down the building’s hallways, I was getting depressed while looking at the décor. I decided that someplace, somewhere, there is some drab little person whose sole function in life is to design buildings for various government agencies. All these designers do are design buildings just like this ugly one, complete with their dreary little interiors, and their goal is to try and make municipal buildings as depressing as possible. Every time I visit Jeff L. and Sakol’s office, I feel shock, dismay, and some depression at how dismal and lifeless their entire building appears. To make matters worse, Jeff and Sakol have to do their…whatever it is that detectives do...in that environment. I understand it’s just an office building and that the city built it to service the needs of our community. But was it necessary to make it so depressingly ugly?

  What I thought was even worse was Sakol’s pathetic attempt to liven up their office with a half dead plant. The poor thing consisted of one very yellow, one brown, and one pale green leaf. In reality, the plant did very little to cheer up their cramped quarters. My hope is the person responsible coming up with the decor must have figured most of the occupants should be out of the office and working the streets, not luxuriating in their dinky holes. Therefore, they didn’t need a nice office, or an aesthetically pleasing building, just a stone block was would suffice. Even their window, which most cubicles on the floor didn’t have, looked out at the brick wall directly across the alley. Woopty do!

  Another thing I’ve noticed about police buildings is the odor. I don’t know if it’s the doubt, the worry, or maybe just plain fear, but if you visit enough police stations and jails, you’ll soon notice the same smells. Needless to say, as much as I enjoy Sakol and Jeff L.’s company, I try to spend as little time as possible in their bleak building and I try to spend even less in their depressi
ng cell. Excuse me, their office.

  Neither one of them were at their desks when I arrived, so I decided to hang around and wait a few moments, hoping that one of them might show up. I’d asked the desk sergeant on the way in if he knew if either of them was in the building. He thought they were still somewhere on site. As I sat there waiting, I noticed a folder lying on Sakol’s desk marked “John Doe.” Curiosity got the best of me and I picked it up and flipped it open.

  My assumptions about the contents were correct. It was the autopsy of the man murdered in the vacant lot behind my place. One photo of his face was very clear. I know this sounds strange, but for a moment I thought I recognized him. But the person I thought it might be looked somewhat different. I stared at the photo for quite a while, trying to see through the memories of way too many years past. The face was so tantalizing…but it remained so elusive.

  Another photo was of victim’s left upper arm. The tattoo on the arm in that photo was identical to mine. As I examined it carefully, I saw it was faded, like mine. The two tattoos seemed to be from the same time period. I looked at it in hopes it might tell me something, but no such luck. I looked over the small packet of dental x-rays, which were informative. Under remarks, I read that the coroner had noted the deceased showed signs of plastic surgery. I picked up the picture again to see if knowing about the plastic surgery might help me recognize the man. It didn’t.