Houseboat

by Paul Shadinger

  He gazed intently at the board for a very long time as he whistled through his yellowed teeth. Finally, he grunted, reached out, and tapped the board, without turning around he mumbled, “Next ta last row, seven cars in da middle.” And with that, he made a long, wet fart, grunted again, and shuffled to the back of the shack where he came from, slamming the door behind him. I decided I’d just met the grossest person of my life.

  It took a while, but I finally located Slim’s car in the next to last row, with Rockingham written in some sort of white paint on the windshield. I could see the car was covered in dust and one of the tires was starting to go soft. The wire-wheels had a lot of dust and some mud on them, and the entire car showed it had been there for some time now. I never had given it much thought, but somehow the thought that Slim would be a Jaguar sports car kind of guy had never crossed my mind. But then, the more I thought about it, there have been many surprises about Slim.

  The Jag XKR was far from stock material. It had a custom paint job, a beautiful shade of a metallic brown, and even through the dust, you could see the flecks of gold in the paint. The car had a light tan convertible top with very tasteful tan pin stripes on the doors, front hood, and rear deck cover that matched the tan color of the top. When I opened the door, the smell of expensive leather filled my nostrils, and even though it was very dusty, the wood dash gleamed back at me in the light.

  Since there were still smudges of white dust all over the car from when the technicians had looked for fingerprints, I knew the car had already been carefully looked over by the boys from the lab. I really didn’t expect to find anything. I guess you could say I was just wasting my time, but I still wanted to look at the car anyway.

  When I reached up to the visor over both the drivers’ side and the passenger’s side and pulled them down, nothing but dust fell off. I opened the glove box, and noticed a key sitting in the bottom. I picked the key up, and tried putting it into the ignition. It slid right in. I didn’t plan to start the car, just turn the key. When the key turned, the cellular phone between the seats powered up, and attracted my attention when it chimed.

  I know with the cell phone in my rig that there’s a way you can recall the last phone number called. As I looked at Slim’s phone, I wondered if his phone worked the same way. When I pushed the menu button, I looked under call history, and then pushed the outgoing calls button. His phone had some of the same features, allowing me to see the number of the last caller and then I could hit the redial if I wanted to reach that number again.

  I pushed the buttons, and then jotted down the number displayed on the screen. Afterwards, just for “why not,” I pushed the SEND button. One ring, two rings. A male voice answered, and I could feel fear in his voice, “Wheeler here.”

  When I heard the voice, I quickly pushed the END key. I was so stunned to hear Wheeler answer the phone that my hands shook as I tried to return the phone to the cradle. I turned off the key and threw it in the glove box and shut it. My thoughts raced. I tried to recall what, if any, links I knew of between ol’ Wheel and Slim. I knew Slim had mentioned at one time or another his interest in possibly buying a slip for his houseboat, but I didn’t recall hearing if Wheel had said if either one of them had followed up on it.

  Even if Slim were planning to buy a slip, I’d think his calls should go through the front office. This was not making any sense.

  Why would Slim have Wheeler’s private number programmed in his cell phone?

  Why was Wheeler’s the last number he’d called?

  What time had Slim called Wheeler?

  Why had Wheeler’s voice sounded so frightened? Had Wheel recognized the number and been scared to see it appear on his Caller ID?

  The few times I’d called Wheeler to set up one of our poker games I called his office and this was not a number I recognized. I realized the number hadn’t even gone through Wheeler’s front office.

  The first thing I wanted to know was when he’d made this last call to Wheeler. I wondered if Jeff or Sakol would let me look over Slim’s cellular phone bill. I also wondered if anybody had even checked it out.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Slim’s cell service was the same one I used, so I had an idea on how to check his number out. I’ve been with my cell service for a long time, and from the beginning, I’ve had just one cell number with them. It rather feels like it must’ve been one of the first numbers ever issued. I got my first cell phone in late 1986, and every time I call the company to check on something about my bill, they kid me about how long I’ve had my number. What I’ve found is that over the years this usually gets me fairly good service. After all, in this era, how many people have had the same landline phone number for such a long time, let alone a cellular one?

  I recalled that the last time I had a problem with my cell phone bill I’d received excellent help from a very pleasant gal at the home office. So I decided to return to my place to see if I could find where I’d jotted down her name and extension.

  In this era of diminishing service, I find that it’s a good idea always to ask for the name of anyone who’s helping you, and to make sure they know you’re writing it down. The next time you have to call and do more work on a problem, you’re at least a step ahead if you have the name of the last person you were talking with. Or, as in this case, if you have found the one in a million who actually cares, and is willing to help, you want to know whom to call again.

  Luck was with me, and I found her name and number. I called, and since she was out I left a short voice mail message leaving my name and telephone number, and that I’d like her to return my call.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Since I didn’t want to go too far with Jeff and Sakol’s investigation, and more importantly since it was not really my business, I didn’t want to upset Jeff and his office. I still hadn’t been able to repair the broken bridges from my last meeting with the two of them. I called Jeff.

  “Sergeant Jeff L. Davenport. May I help you?”

  “Jeffers, Matt here.”

  “Hello Matt,” I felt good since his voice sounded like he was happy to hear from me.

  “Jeff, I’m sorry the way our last meeting went. It was not how I would have wanted things to happen. Forgive me?”

  “Yeah. We were all a little pissed about the feds coming in here like they did. It’s okay.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “Hey, you, I hear that you were down lookin’ over Slim’s car. Find anything?” I knew that Jeff was aware of my car collection.

  “Yeah, a big case of envy. Nice ride.”

  “Agreed. Not really my style, but it is a beautiful car. But that’s not why you called, is it?”

  I laughed. Good ol’ Jeff L., right to the point, “Yes, Jeff. That’s not why I called. Have you guys gotten a copy of Slim’s last cell bill?”

  There was a brief moment of silence, and then Jeff’s voice asked coldly, “Cell bill? No. Why would we want to see that?”

  “Just an idea. I was wondering who he called the last day he—well—his last day.”

  His voice still didn’t warm much, “Not a bad idea, actually. Who was his service with?”

  I told him, and mentioned I knew somebody who worked there, and I was trying to obtain a copy myself. Suddenly his voice got very cold, “Why?”

  “I was just wondering who Slim talked to that last day.”

  “Why?” Again, more of the cold tone.

  “Jeff, mellow out. All we have are quite a few open questions. I’m just looking for the beginning of an answer. Jennifer keeps asking me if we’ve learned anything new, and I have to keep telling her we have nothing. I thought this might lead somewhere.”

  Jeff’s voice still was a bit cold, “I’ll put in a request for the bill.”

  “Can I see it when you get it?”

  “Maybe.” His voice was still cold. “Let me get the bill, and I’ll see wh
at I can do. OK?” There was frost coming through to my end of the phone by now. Hey, what was I gonna do at this point? I said good-bye and hung up.

  BJ was pawing at my leg to let her out, so I got up and grabbed a leash to take her for a walk. Actually, I was the one who needed the walk, but it would be to her benefit, too.

  When I got back to the apartment, I glanced at the clock on the stove, and realized I’d been gone for over an hour. When I walked in the front room, my answering machine was demanding my attention. There had been two calls during my absence. The first was from my friend at the cellular phone company returning my call, and the other was from Jeff. His message was short, terse and not terribly enlightening. “Matt, call me at once! I need to talk you.” I decided to call my friend at the cell company first.

  I lucked out, and reached Marsha, the gal with the cell phone service, right away. I figured that if I tried to play it cute I might not get anywhere, so I just told her flat out that I was wondering if there was any way I could look at someone’s cell bill. She said that unless I had some sort of legal jurisdiction, I really didn’t have much of a chance. I asked her if she’d tell me just one thing.

  “You know, I really shouldn’t. I can get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Let me ask you two or three yes or no questions. OK?”

  “Ask one and I’ll see.”

  I gave her Slim’s number, and asked her if she would pull it up on her computer screen. She told me when she had it in front of her.

  “On the last day there were any phone calls made from that number, was there more than one call made to the same number as the very last call?” I gave her Wheelers’ number.

  “Yes. There were six calls that day.”

  My pulse quickened and I wondered what was going on. “Thank you very much Marsha. Oh, and the last call, what time was that made?”

  “Looks like it was around 10 PM.”

  “That’s all I need to know. I really appreciate this, and I won’t tell anyone you helped me. OK?”

  “That’s it? Gee, I thought it would be tougher,” She giggled, and we rang off.

  I called Jeff L. next. He must have had his hand resting on the receiver since he caught it before the first ring had stopped. There were no pleasant greetings and I was getting tired of never knowing if I was going to speak to a friendly Jeff L. or Jeff L. the cop. As soon as he knew who was on the phone his tone was angry and demanding. “Matt, get down to the station. Right now!”

  “What’s wrong now? Why do I need to come down to the station again, “I paused and tried to imitate his voice when I said, “Right now?”

  The authoritative tone in his voice came through loud and clear, “Matt, you have a choice, come right now on your own, or I’ll have you picked up.”

  “I’ll think it over baby doll!”

  As I hung up the phone I knew it was time to call Albert again. I called and lucked out again; he was still in his office. Albert started to give me a hard time, “What is it with you? Can’t you leave them alone? Do you lay awake at night just trying to come up with ways to piss them off?” Even though he was laughing, I could tell there was a serious tone to his voice.

  “Albert, all I did was go look at Slim’s car. I originally went down to try and make peace with the two of them but they weren’t there. I had permission to look at the car. Next thing I know is I am being summoned again to the station.”

  “Okay Matt, meet me there in half an hour. And I have the same advice I gave you the other day; make yourself very scarce until we meet at the parking lot downtown.”

  “Thanks Albert.”

  “This time it’s gonna cost you fellow. See you in half an hour.” I noticed there was no good bye. I think Albert was a little pissed at me!

  I called Jeff L. back, told him I’d be at his office in half an hour, and then hung up. Just like the other day I turned my cell off.

  Chapter 24

  Things were getting to be monotonous; same tune, just a different day. I got there a little early and exactly half an hour later, Albert pulled into the parking lot. We checked in with the same desk sergeant as last time and surprise, surprise, we found ourselves escorted to the same dumpy little room. This time when we were left, nobody told us to wait for Jeff L.. I figured they thought we knew the drill by now.

  When Jeff L. opened the door to get us, there was no greeting. We were led to a different room from last time. Sakol and Frank were waiting for us and when we entered, Frank glared at Albert and pointed at him, “What are you doing here again?” Frank turned to me and sneered, “Is this your buddy? Afraid to go anywhere without him?”

  Albert answered his question, “Remember, I’m Mr. Preston’s attorney. He has the right to have me here.”

  Frank’s voice was a growl, “I know all about you,” Frank turned and scowled at me. His voice was a snarl as he asked, “Why you always feel you need a lawyer? We just have a couple of questions to ask.”

  I was not appreciating Frank’s mood at all. I snapped back, “Same reason as last time, the way Davenport demanded my presence here,” I stressed the next word, “Immediately! It alarmed me. Anyway, I thought we were done with this crap the other day. Not that I don’t like to see you guys, but you know, this is really getting old.”

  Frank lowered his voice a little, “That’s not why I wanted to see you today.”

  I feigned indifference, “Sorry, I thought that was the reason. So, what’s today’s reason?” I asked.

  Frank stood there glaring at me, and then came to the point. “Just what were you doing out in the impound yard? You had no business being out there.”

  I glanced at Bradson, and he nodded for me to answer. “I asked Jeff L. and Sakol if I could go and look at Slim’s car. Sakol gave me permission.” Frank glared at Sakol and Sakol nodded his head yes.

  Frank snapped at me, “Our lab people went over the entire car, very carefully I might add. Why the hell do you think you know more than my lab people do? As far as I’m concerned, you’ve no business here or there. Neither Davenport nor Sakol has done shit to convince me you aren’t interfering in things that are none of your business. I was all in favor of putting your fat old butt in jail the other day. Convince me I should let you walk out of here!” His dark face was getting darker, and I could tell from the tone of his voice he was growing even more upset with me.

  I realized I needed to defuse the situation a little, and my voice took on a softer, less confrontational tone. “Look, I don’t want to end up in a pissing contest here, I just wanted to see the car. I came here to make amends with Sakol and Jeff L. but they weren’t around. I was bored and since the two of them had given me permission, I went out to look at the car. And, actually I didn’t expect to find a thing,” I couldn’t help it, but there was still a silent “but” at the end of my sentence.

  “And did you?” Frank snapped.

  “Well, kinda.”

  “What does ‘kinda” mean?” Frank exploded.

  Again, I looked at Albert and he gave an affirmative nod. “I looked in the glove box and found the valet key. You know when you park in a parking lot, it’s for the attendant. It starts the car and— ”

  “I know what a fucking valet key does,” Frank shouted, “Get to the fucking point.”

  I really had so many things I wanted to say, but I also realized being a smartass right now was not a wise idea. Quickly I continued, “When I turned the key, the cell phone powered up and made a noise, and I picked up the handset. I have the same model in one of my cars and I know the phone has a feature which shows both outgoing and incoming calls. I pushed the menu button, and looked at the displayed numbers for both.” I sat there wondering if I should tell them about the call I made and who answered the phone, or if I should let them find out for themselves.

  When Frank realized I wasn’t going to tell them anything more, he l
eaned forward, and hissed at me. “Preston, if you want to walk out of here today, you had better tell me what you found and the number you reached.”

  I didn’t even look over at Albert, I ain’t gonna cover for anyone. “Wheeler!”

  Frank turned to Jeff and barked, “Who or what’s a Wheeler?”

  Jeff jumped in, “David Wheeler. He owns the marina where Rockingham had his houseboat moored. We talked to him, and he said that he barely knew Rockingham.”

  I decided I might as well let the cat out of the bag, “Actually, Slim and Wheeler called each other six times the last day he was alive. All the calls either went to, or came from Wheeler’s private number. And he made the last call around 10 PM the night he was killed.”

  And with that, the whole room exploded into angry shouts. Finally, Frank got the room under control, and turned to me. “How the fuck do you know all of this?”

  “I have a friend at the cell phone company. She looked up Slim’s account, and told me the two of them had called one another six times on that day alone. I’ve called Wheel several times to set up card games so I know what his business number is. The number displayed on Slim’s phone was not one that I recognized and I’m just assuming it was his private number.”

  “What’s the person’s name at the phone company you talked to?” Frank growled at me.

  “I don’t remember the name.” I lied.

  “Bullshit. I want that name … now.”

  “I don’t recall the name. Besides, I’m sure you have your ways to get even more information than I can.” I countered.

  Frank’s face was so dark I was afraid he might have a heart attack. “I don’t need for you to tell me how to do my business. What I do need is the name of the person you spoke to at the phone company.”

  “I don’t remember.” I repeated.

  “If you have any hope of walking out of here today Preston, you had best tell me right now.” By now, Frank was screaming at me.