Houseboat

by Paul Shadinger

  Thankfully when I took BJ out for her morning walk she did her things fairly quickly. It wasn’t raining yet, but I could tell it wasn’t far off. After we returned, I poured a cup of coffee, and then I called Jeff L. It had been a couple of days since we talked and I wondered if they had gotten any word back on the identity of the John Doe who was killed in the back lot. Jeff L. caught the phone on the first ring. Once he knew who was on the phone his tone of voice went cold and demanding, there were no pleasant greetings. “Matt, I’m glad you called. I was just getting ready to give you a call. We would like you to come down to the station. Right now!”

  I was thinking he needed to lighten up a little, but said nothing. This was not the way to convince me to come down and see him. “Why, good morning Jeff L..” I paused and got no response. I continued, “Okay, why? Why do I need to come down to the station right now? And what is this ‘we’ thing?”

  There was a pause, and his voice softened a little, “Matt—ah—as an old friend, I’m asking you to come here on your own. Please don’t make this difficult.”

  I couldn’t help it. He was badgering me and my voice was taking on an edge, “Jeff L, if you’re going to play the old friend card, remember, this is me, Matt! I’m playing the same card buddy, what the hell is going on?”

  Now there was no masking the authoritative tone in his voice, “Matt, you have a choice, come here on your own, or I’ll send out a car to bring you in.”

  I was pissed, and I made no effort to keep my voice from showing it. “Oh, really! So, are you telling me I’m under arrest?”

  The voice of authority was still there, “Not exactly. What I’m saying is we have some questions we want to ask you.” There was a slight pause and when he continued I thought his voice was a bit softer. “If it were up to others here at the station, this whole thing would be done a lot differently if you catch my drift.”

  I was not going to back down, “And I still want to know Jeff L., who are ‘we’? If you want me to come in so bad, why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Jeff L.’s voice sounded as if he was almost begging, and was as soft as it had been during our entire phone call. “Matt, please do both of us a big favor, and get your ass down here. Now! I am begging you and this is my last request!”

  I’d had enough of this bull; it was time to end this phone call. I popped off, “I’ll think it over, buddy! Ciao.”

  As I slapped the phone down, I could hear Jeff L.’s voice shouting over the phone, “Matt, do not hang up!”

  I wondered what was going on. This was the first time I had ever had Jeff L. pull his cop routine on me. That made me feel a bit concerned and I decided it was time to call Albert Bradson. I had no idea what was going on, but it sure felt like I needed some kind of legal counsel in my corner.

  I called Albert’s number and found he was in his office, I’d lucked out. I gave him a quick rundown on what had happened since I’d seen him last. I told how when I asked Jeff L. if I was under arrest, he avoided the question and how he had threatened to send out a squad car to bring me in. I asked Albert if he thought I might need someone there to represent me.

  Albert asked me if I had told him everything and after a moment’s thought I said I couldn’t think of anything more. He told me he’d meet me at the station in an hour. Albert ended our phone call with a word of caution, “I’d make myself very scarce until we meet downtown. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t want the police to pick you up and bring you in. You do realize they could take their time letting me in to see you, and we don’t want that. Okay?”

  “Thanks Albert. Thank you for everything.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Matt. We still don’t really know what’s going on down there and what’s caused this sudden change in attitude. See you in an hour.”

  I called Jeff L. back. When I told him who it was and he started in, “Don’t you ever hang…” I interrupted him by telling him to shut up. I proceeded to tell him I’d be at his office in an hour, and then quickly hung up again before he had a chance to say anything else. Next I pushed and held down the end button again on my cell and turned it off. The next time I spoke to Jeff L. and company I wanted legal counsel sitting next to me. The change in attitude down at the station had alarmed me

  Exactly one hour later Albert met me in the parking lot in front of the Seattle Public Safety Building. After we checked in with the desk sergeant, we found ourselves escorted to a small room with two very old metal chairs and a badly scarred ancient wooden desk. We were told to wait in the room for Jeff L. and whoever else “we” were. Finally, Jeff L. came to find us and escorted us to a larger room where Sakol and Frank, the Captain of Detectives, were waiting for us. When we entered, Frank glanced at Albert, pointed at him, and asked me, “Who’s that?”

  Albert answered his question as he handed him his card, “I am Albert Bradson, Mr. Preston’s attorney.”

  Frank seemed to know who Albert was, and he looked very unhappy about my companion. His voice was a growl, “I know who you are,” Frank turned and looked at me, and asked, “What I want to know is who told you needed a lawyer? We just have a few questions to ask you.”

  I paused for a moment, and then carefully worded my response. “It was the way Detective Davenport made his…ah…request on the phone for me to come and visit you folks that alarmed me. When he told me I was required to come down here immediately, and if I didn’t come here straightaway, the insinuation was a squad car would be dispatched posthaste to pick me up. Overall, that didn’t sound very good for me. To me, those words indicate you’ve discovered something you feel you can arrest me for, which sounds as if I need representation Looking around the room now, at three against one, it seems like it was a good idea I invited Mr. Bradson. Doesn’t it?”

  Frank shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever!” But he still looked pissed off about something. “I want some answers from you, and I want them now.” Frank had some papers lying on the table that he now picked up and reviewed. His hand shook the papers a little, as he explained, “A few hours ago we heard back from the military, and now it has turned into a rather ugly situation, a very ugly situation for us. Without any warning, several federal agents swooped in here with all sorts of federal warrants.” At that point, Frank shook the papers in his hand again, and continued, “They confiscated every scrap of evidence we had on the John Doe down in the morgue, as well as the body. Before they left, two agents took the three of us aside,” Frank indicated Jeff L., Sakol and himself, “And told us we are not to discuss this matter ever again—with anybody. And they finished by telling us if we didn’t cease and desist, we’d find our asses in a federal pen for a very long time.” Frank threw the papers that were in his hand back on the table, and leaned towards me. “Now I want to know just what the hell you did in the service, and what authority did those clowns have to come rolling in here on us like that?”

  I looked at Albert, and with just a subtle nod, he shook his head negatively. Cautiously I started in, “My first reaction is to mention I thought you just told me you were all told not to discuss any of this with anybody. Asking me what is going on is not obeying what you were told.” I could see all three men were really pissed at that comment. I continued, “I’d like to know why you’re asking me these questions? What makes you think I’d know how the government works? You should have asked them what authority they thought they had to come and confiscate John Doe, because I wasn’t here to ask.

  “And, as far as what I did in the service, as much as I’d like to answer that question, I’m still not at liberty to tell you a thing. Just as you have received orders not to discuss everything that has occurred with John Doe, I also have my orders. They are very specific. I’m not to discuss the places I saw, or any of the things I did in those places I can’t tell you I saw.”

  Frank’s entire body trembled as he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Bullshit
! That was years ago. I want to know what you did over there that was so important it allows people in my town to murder people in vacant lots, and then I’m told to just leave it alone. I want some answers God Damn it, and I want them now. Talk!”

  I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m just doing what I was told. I am not supposed to discuss what I did in the service. Unless you can provide me with a document that changes that, I have nothing more to add.” I turned to Albert, “If this is all they have, can I leave?” Albert looked at the three of them. Frank shouted a few swear words, turned and then stormed out of the room.

  Since I failed to see where I’d done anything wrong, I just looked at Sakol and Jeff L., and then smiled at them. “Bye guys, I’m outta here!” I glanced at the lawyer, and I made a ‘let’s move’ motion with my head.

  As we walked out of the little room, Sakol and Jeff L. glared at us. Looking at them, I actually didn’t care how upset they were. I still felt I had nothing to hide, and had done nothing wrong.

  I walked Albert to his car, and as he opened the door, I asked him if he thought I’d done anything wrong. He shook his head. We continued our conversation. He thought, as I did, that something else was going on of which we weren’t aware. I was sure having the feds come storming into his jurisdiction and shutting him down had something to do with how upset Frank had been, but that was just my guess. I thought they had overreacted. I thanked Albert for coming down, and he told me he’d send his bill. After a few seconds, he chuckled and we both realized he was poking fun at me. We shook hands and parted ways. Since I’d left BJ at home, I decided that it was time to rescue her.

  As I was pulling in my parking slot, the door to the garage went up and Sharon drove in. I waited until she’d gathered her stuff from her car, and we rode up in the elevator together. She made mention that we hadn’t seen a lot of each other the past few days. I apologized. I asked her if she had plans for dinner, and when she told me that she didn’t I corrected her and said that she did now. We agreed she’d shower first, change, and then come up.

  When the elevator door opened, BJ came barreling out of her hiding place. She started pawing at my legs, her way of showing that I should pick her up, and give her some love. I held her in my arms as I walked through the kitchen, and didn’t put her down until we’d reached the vacant lot.

  She explored the entire lot just to make sure nothing new had transpired since her last visit. Once satisfied her inspection was complete, she found the correct spot, squatted down, and did her business. There was a pale, sickly sun and even as feeble as it was, it felt good as I sat on the back stair waiting for BJ. Finally, she walked over, sat down beside me, and banged her nose against the bottom of my elbow to signal me that she wanted me to pet her.

  That’s how Sharon found the two of us when she finally came up. I was happily soaking up what little there was of the rays, and BJ was happily soaking up the lovin’ I was bestowing on her. Sharon walked down the bridge and nudged me to move over so she could sit next to me. BJ lay across our laps, and we both petted her as I told her about the past few days’ strange events. After I finished she looked at me and commented, “I don’t see any reason for everyone to act so upset today. I agree that everybody was not real happy to have the feds come storming in and take their case away, but I agree with you, they were overreacting. Are you sure that you told me everything?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, “I think so—everything I can remember…why?”

  Sharon shook her head, “There’s something else going on there, something that you know nothing about.”

  I nodded my head, “That’s what Albert and I thought. But what?” Again, all I seemed to be coming up with were more questions. Questions without any answers. I was not a happy camper.

  Chapter 23

  It was Friday morning and I had no idea why I was heading back downtown to visit Jeff L. and Sakol’s office again. Yesterday’s visit with them hadn’t turned out very well and when I left, I knew they’d been rather upset with me. Even though I didn’t have anything new to tell them, I still wanted to see if I could patch up our disagreement. We had all been friends for a long time and the last thing I wanted to do was harm our friendship beyond repair.

  The same facts were still there: I didn’t know what I was looking for, I just knew I was frustrated. All I was coming up with were loose ends, lots of loose ends and a ton of questions. I hoped if I kept pulling on the various ends, or kept looking for more ends, maybe I’d find one of them attached to something important. There was a slight possibility that just maybe, something would start to make sense. And having the two of them upset with me was not going to help provide me with any answers from them.

  When I checked at Jeff L. and Sakol’s office, I discovered I’d struck out as they were out of the office on a call. On a whim I decided to wander over and check out Slim’s car in the impound lot. A few days before, Sakol had given me a special permit which allowed me access into the yard. My thought was if Sakol or Jeff L. didn’t want me to go snooping in the yard, why give me the pass? At least, that was the logic I was using.

  Since I had no idea where they might have stored the car in the huge yard, I decided that the best plan was to check in at the operations shack by the front gate and ask. There was a tall chain link fence surrounding the shack with lethal looking barbed wire circling the top and somewhere from the back of the structure I could hear the deep baying of what sounded like several large dogs.

  The ramshackle shed was a sad looking affair, with the roof listing a little to one side and several cracked or missing windows in front. Someone had replaced the missing glass with pieces of raw plywood that were now silvered, delaminating and checked from age and weather. The little shanty presented a sad sight indeed.

  I pushed open the filthy gray door, which at some point was probably painted white, but was now covered with so much grime and grit I didn’t think it would be possible for paint to stick to the door ever again.

  When I opened the door, I could see a floor that was grubby and covered with dust and dried mud. I spotted dust bunnies lurking in the corners of the little room along with the thick coating of mud. The heavily gouged old counter was even worse than the floor, if that was possible, so I stood there being very careful not to touch anything.

  Covering one complete wall were pictures from old calendars and magazines. The pictures consisted of nudes and semi-nude women; most of them of ladies of improbable sizes and caught in impossible poses.

  One of the things I’ve noticed of late is many of the young lasses who grace the pages on men’s magazines are now young enough to play the role of my daughter. I’m sorry, but I find it difficult for children to stimulate me. If something lucky should happen to befall me, and I was to take one of these lovelies to bed, what would we talk about afterwards? Let’s face facts, at my age IT only works when IT wants. That seems to equal around one time per episode. After that, all I have left is talk! What common interests would a lassie barely out of her teens have with an old fart like me?

  There was a bell on the desk with a hand-printed sign, “Ring bell for servus.” I banged on the bell and chuckled about the misspelled sign. After a long wait, the impound yard caretaker came out of the back room, and waddled up to the counter.

  His overalls were stretched taunt across his massive girth and he looked as filthy as the room. The custodian’s fat unwashed hands had ragged fingernails, and the cuticles were grease packed. The man’s head resembled a large round ball balanced on top of a grimy, porky neck. All of his features centered in a tight cluster on his face, his eyes were watery, and when he opened his mouth I noticed several teeth were missing. Those teeth that remained were just yellowed stubs. It took me a moment before I realized who this guy reminded me of; he looked like a filthy version of Audrey Bottomsley. I wondered if there was some type of family relationship. The grey stubble on the custodian’s face looked as if it
was several days old, but due to his grimy condition, it was difficult to tell the difference between where the dirt ended and the whiskers began. Even from across the counter I could smell the odor of his drinking along with several other pungent odors issuing from his mouth.

  He belched before he addressed me, “Watcha’ want?”

  “I would like to look at a vehicle you have locked up in your yard.” I tried to be as friendly as possible.

  “You can’t go back there, too dangerous.” He snarled.

  “But I have permission. I have a pass.” I countered.

  He continued to snarl at me, “Not from me.”

  “Yes sir, I know,” I thought perhaps a little respect might help. “One of the detectives in homicide gave me a pass, which they told me would allow me to go out in the yard and look at a vehicle. I am sorry if I should have first checked this out with you. Perhaps the detectives didn’t understand how things work.” I was trying as hard as I could to be as respectful as possible.

  “Let me see that pass,” he said suspiciously.

  I handed him the piece of paper Sakol had given me. The contrast between the piece of white paper and his hand made it fairly gleam. I knew what was written on the note and I was appalled how long it took him to read it. I watched his mouth move as he read each word and when he was finished, he looked up at me and asked, “So, what’s this for?” I had to explain several times more before he understood exactly what I was after. He still wasn’t going to let me in his yard even with the pass from Sakol but I kept badgering him until he changed his mind.

  Finally, he turned and stared at a blackboard hanging on the wall behind him. I tried to make some sense of the board, but it looked like some form of Asian writing to me.