H.J. Gaudreau - Jim Crenshaw 02 - The Collingwood Legacy (13 page)

Chapter 33

Donna’s chest entered the room before she did. An ability that always fascinated Cole. A woman had to walk with her shoulders way back to do that, yet she made it look natural, like a girl from a fifties sweater movie. “Cole baby, Alan Wisecup is on the phone.” He had called five minutes ago. Donna had let him stew before she connected him to Cole. Not smart this time Cole thought. It only served to make Wisecup mad. Or maybe he enjoyed being a low life bill collector. He certainly acted like he did.

Cole had been waiting for the call. He had given some thought to taking the check to Wisecup in person just to see his face when Cole handed him seven thousand dollars. He could make the payments. Wisecup was wrong. But then Cole decided it was better if it all appeared routine.

Cole eyed the phone and smiled. “Lets see how Wisecup eats crow,” he thought. He was sure Wisecup was going to thank him for the payment.

Wisecup didn’t even say hello. “Mr. Prestcott, we haven’t received a single payment since my visit. Nor have you made any attempt to contact myself or members of the bank. Sir, we are very concerned about this loan.”

Cole’s smile disappeared. This wasn’t possible. His hands began to shake. “What’d ya mean I haven’t made a payment? That’s bullshit! I sent you a check for seven thousand dollars. I sent it last week. What about that payment?”

“Mr. Prestcott, we did not receive a payment.”

‘Then you’d better find it buddy. Don’t think you can jerk me around.”

“Are you saying you sent us one? If so, we’ll search our mailroom. But, honestly Mr. Prestcott, I doubt that we received such a payment.”

“Are you calling me a liar? You little sonofabitch!” Cole’s composure was cracking.

Wisecup kept applying the pressure. “Your current outstanding balance is….”

“I KNOW MY OUTSTANDING DAMN BALANCE. You don’t have to keep telling me.” Cole was bouncing his knees up and down under his desk.

“Mr. Prestcott,” Wisecup cut in. “I did not call you a liar. I simply expressed my doubts. Sir, we will be forced to begin foreclosure proceedings on your business and other assets this coming Monday. I will personally search our mailroom and all associated employee’s desks. However, should I not find that check you will be hearing from our attorneys. I am sure you realize seven thousand dollars does not come close to making your loan current. As I said, we will need…”

“I KNOW, you’ll need some money. I’ll find it. Now go screw someone else.” Cole slammed the receiver down and leaned back in his chair. The dream was fading, in a few weeks he would be the bum on the street that everyone always thought he’d become. Panic swept over him. The eyebrow over his left eye began to twitch. The urge to run, just get away was overwhelming. Cole stood and walked to his office door, decided against whatever it was that had caused him to walk there in the first place and returned to his desk. He paced the floor. His hands were in constant motion, in his pants pockets, out, back in. He wiped them with an imaginary towel.

Was Wisecup screwing with him? Of course he had a check. Cole had signed it himself. How could he not have a check?

“DONNA!” Cole screamed.

She burst into his office a moment later. “No need to yell honey, I’m right here,” she purred.

“Get me the check register.” Cole was nearly hysterical.

Donna scurried to the accounting room, rummaged through the file cabinet and came back with an old fashioned green ledger. Cole yanked it out of her hands and laid it on his desk. Without sitting down he quickly paged to last week’s checks. There it was, a seven thousand dollar deduction, check number 8487. His balance now stood at four hundred twenty six dollars and seventy-two cents. He couldn’t fill the cabin cruiser with gas for that.

Cole sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. Wisecup was a thief. He was taking everything and there was no way to stop him. He was going to lose it all. He’d be back to working for someone else for peanuts. He’d have to sell the house, the boats, everything. He’d end up in some low rent studio apartment over some retired farmer’s kitchen smelling the liver and onions every Friday night.

The day passed slowly. Cole didn’t go home. Night closed in. He walked through the office into the shop behind. Carefully he examined the tools, machines and parts room. It was gone, all gone, the bank just hadn’t come and taken it yet. It was just a matter of time.

Returning to the front of the building he stopped by the company kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a can of Coke. In his office, Cole opened the desk drawer and took out a bottle of rum and a glass.

By midnight he was drunk. The check; he’d signed the check and Wisecup had the money. Cole knew it. The thieving bastard had to pay. Wisecup was going to make Cole a laughing stock. He’d be working at some fast food joint in three months wiping up snot from the same shit teenagers he’d hired to sweep floors. Cole emptied the bottle into his glass, flavored it with Coke and poured the mixture down his throat.

Money. Money was the root of all happiness and he needed more of it. Cole had no illusions. He knew the business wasn’t going to generate the money he needed. Where could he get it? In his mind Cole made a list of the businesses in town. No one had the kind of cash he needed.

Stupid, stupid idea, robbery would just be stupid. Those blood suckers were just as broke as he was now, no matter how fancy a car they drove.

He glanced at the empty bottle. There was another around here somewhere. After a quick, semi frantic search Cole remembered. He opened his wall safe and found a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red. Behind the bottle lay a snubnose .32 pistol on top of a brown accordion file.

Probably the loan or tax papers Cole thought. He picked up the pistol and studied the gun. He didn’t remember having a pistol. This could end all his problems. Cole smiled and pushed the barrel against his temple, one quick squeeze would do it.

He held the pistol there for what seemed to be a long time. Gradually his hand began to shake. Suddenly Cole threw the pistol across the office. He grabbed the bottle and poured two fingers into his glass.

He sat on the office couch. He needed cash and now. Suddenly, from a head fogged with booze and despair the picture of Gerry’s boat appeared. Gerry’s boat had money in it. Maybe lots of it. He needed to get back inside that boat. The money he had seen began to grow, soon it filled the bilge, and was right there, just out of his reach. It would be so easy, just cut open the boat and scoop it out. How could Gerry object? There was plenty for both. He could see the money, it was…right…there. Cole collapsed on the couch.

Chapter 34

Don Harris, driving a Kenworth T660, stopped his truck in front of Gerry and Sherrie’s driveway. Behind Don’s empty flatbed trailer were his two sons Bert and James. Bert, the oldest, drove a smaller truck pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with an assembly of specially built axles and wheel sets. James, barely out of high school drove a three axle mobile crane. Sherrie greeted Don as he walked toward the house. The two had become friendly on Don’s previous visit and they exchanged pleasantries.

“Don that’s the prettiest truck I’ve every seen,” Sherrie exclaimed. “Is it new?”

“Well, kinda, it’s new to me, and it’s only two years old,” Don grinned. He liked a woman who liked trucks.

“Are you going to show it to me?” Sherrie was already headed for the cab. Don smiled as she climbed up the side of his truck. This woman was certainly a fireball.

“Okay, now be careful. I’ll be right there, just hang on.” Don hurried over to the truck and quickly gave Sherrie the grand tour.

Back on the ground Don said, “I’ll need to get the crane in first, then we’ll position the wheels. After that, I’ll lift the boat, slide the axles under and then pull it back. Easy as pie. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

“So you say Don…” Sherrie laughed, “…but I’m glad it’s you and not me doing this!”

Gerry heard Don’s truck from the orchard’s office and was soon standing next to Sherrie. “Don, I’ll get the tractor and meet you back there.” With that both men were headed in different directions.

Thirty minutes later Gerry watched as Don’s sons laid two-inch by six-inch boards across the ground for the next phase of the move. That task completed, their attention turned to moving four sets of wheels into position at the front of the barn. Next, a set of bumpers were placed around the cradle which held the boat.

Bert then directed Gerry as he positioned his tractor’s forklift arms under the bumpers. When all was ready, the signal was given to lift the cradle. Quickly James pushed a single, small axle with only ten-inch wheels under the cradle and Gerry lowered the forklift. The boat cradle now sat with one end on the ground and the other on the small axle.

Bert then attached a cable to both sides of the cradle. The other end was attached to the tractor and they pulled the entire assembly forward over the axle. The physics couldn’t be denied. The front of the cradle came up and James quickly pushed another axle under the cradle. The process was repeated and soon the boat cradle was equipped with three sets of axles.

Bert quickly showed Gerry where to position the tractor and a few moments later two cables were being reattached to the tractor. Soon James gave a wave and signaled Gerry to pull the cradle forward. Carefully they worked the cradle out of the barn into the daylight.

Gerry was even more impressed with the Chris-Craft now that he could see it from a slight distance. Don and his boys took a moment to walk around the boat. “Gerry this thing is impressive!” Don shouted. Gerry couldn’t agree more. It was an impressive yacht to be sure.

Bert and James then placed two sets of straps under the boat and cradle. These were attached to the hook suspended from the crane. As Gerry watched, the Harris crew gently lifted the cradle and placed it on the flatbed trailer.

Loading complete Don climbed into the truck’s cabin and stepped on the accelerator. The engine woke from its idling snore and roared. Don expertly slipped the truck into gear and crept away from the barn. A sharp right turn and the behemoth slowly moved away from the barn, across the new property and out of the orchard. Gerry climbed into his pickup and followed closely behind, cringing as the truck’s wide load broke off several precious tree branches on its trip to the gravel parking area in front of the processing barn.

Don stopped the truck, shifted to neutral and set the parking brake. Sherrie opened the door of the orchard’s office and called, “Everything all set Don? You ready to hit the road?”

Don climbed down from the cab and held out a clip board. “Just need you to sign this bill of lading and I’m off. It’ll be dark by the time I get to Clare. I’ll drop it there and we’ll go home for the night. We’ll leave Saginaw early, shoot up to Clare, hook up then take it down to Jim’s. The boat should be off loaded and in place by noon.”

“Sounds great Don, thanks so much.” Sherrie signed the documents, took her copy and watched as Don and his sons drove off the property and turned south.

Chapter 35

On Friday Harris Trucking Company delivered the Chris-Craft. The boat was moved into Jim’s barn in essentially the reverse order of how it had been removed.

Jim was ecstatic. He had a project for the next winter, and he intended to make it a work of art. Eve wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, but found the entire project to be interesting.

The obvious starting place, at least to Jim’s eye, was not the repair of the bow section. Rather, Jim decided he first needed to overhaul the boat’s mechanical section, the engine, transmission and propeller drive housing. While those components were out he would have access to the internal portions of the stern and could inspect, repair and refinish the area much more easily. After replacing the engine components he would begin work on the damaged bow section.

With those three major tasks complete he would move on to the boat interior and deck. Replacing, repairing or sanding the interior wood and deck planks looked to be a significant amount of effort. In addition, the devil was in the details. Things like deck hardware, cushions, curtains, and galley hardware were small but obviously time consuming.

Jim scheduled the exterior as the last major task, thus preventing the possibility of damage to an already completed work effort while moving about the boat. He intended to strip the finish from the boat’s exterior, caulk and reseal the seams and refinish the beautiful mahogany.

It was a major effort and Jim had budgeted a year for the process. Eve, more understanding of the perfectionist streak and occasional loss of interest Jim displayed in these types of projects, guessed closer to three.

Both Jim and Eve agreed the entire process would be much easier if Jim had access to a complete set of plans for the boat. With that they began a detailed search of the local library for clues on where they could locate the documents.

This was the type of task that Eve reveled in. She spent hours at the home computer and called several boat dealers in Detroit, the western Michigan city of Holland, then the eastern city of St. Clair Shores and even Chicago. No one could provide copies of the original drawings for the boat.

“Jim this is nuts!” Eve cried one evening. Jim was trying to sleep in a large chair in the living room.

“What’s nuts?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

Eve sat at the kitchen table, a lap top computer opened in front of her. “I’ve got five emails from marinas and boat yards telling me they’re more than happy to work on the boat, but they don’t have any drawings.”

“That’s not a help babe,” Jim said. “I can do that. In fact, that’s what we are doing.” Jim still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Well, I did find out the company was bought out in 1962.”

“By who? Jim now had one eye open.

“Shields and Company,” Eve said, checking her notes.

“That can’t be right.” Jim sat up.

“Why not?” Eve asked, slightly offended that her research had been dismissed so quickly.

“Well, I’ve always heard it called Chris-Craft Industries. Never heard of Smith and Jones,” Jim replied.

Eve walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. “Who’s Smith and Jones?”

“The company that bought Chris-Craft,” Jim replied, suppressing a grin.

“Trying to get me again! Very funny, I said ‘Shields and Company’ not ‘Smith and Jones’. Give a girl some credit.” Jim just grinned. “As I was saying, Shields and Company eventually became Chris-Craft Industries. They got into radio and television stations, even owned part of a movie company. The boat division was just part of it. Eventually boats weren’t important, and they sold the Chris-Craft boat division several years ago. I’m going to call them tomorrow to see if they still have the plans from boats sold in the past. Who knows, I might get lucky.”

“You’re kidding. Wow, I’m impressed. How’d you find all that out?” Jim asked.

“The brand name Chris-Craft is still around. I called one of their dealers today during lunch,” Eve smiled.

“Who knew the boat world could get you into the movies,” Jim sighed.

Eve returned to the kitchen. A moment later Jim heard her shout, “Jim take a look at this!” Eve was already back in the living room. “Listen to the email we just got!” and she began to read.

“Dear Mrs. Crenshaw, We would be more than happy to provide a quote for work on your boat. However, your note stated that you and your husband intended to restore the craft yourselves. We do not recommend a project of that proportion for the average individual as the task can quickly become overwhelming.”

“Of course he doesn’t recommend it…” Jim said, “it means he’s not getting paid.”

“Listen to the rest,” Eve explained.

“However, should you elect to pursue the project, and you wish to ensure your Chris-Craft is of the highest quality, we recommend becoming a member of the Chris-Craft Owners Association and purchase a complete set of plans from the Mariners’ Museum. They hold all records, plans and hull cards for boats produced by Chris-Craft prior to the company’s sale in 1980.”

“That’s it babe!” Jim explained. “We need to visit the Mariners’ Museum …wherever that is?”

Eve was sitting on the sofa and pounding the keys of her computer. After a moment she looked up and smiled, “Looks like we’re going to Newport News, Virginia.”

“You’re kidding, that place is great!” Jim was excited. “They’ve got some big Civil War museums there. I love that place.”

“When were you ever in Newport News?” Eve asked completely forgetting about Chris-Craft boats.

“I couldn’t talk about every trip I took hon, you know that,” Jim replied, referring to his active duty days in the Air Force. “I had a trip to the Norfolk one time, we finished early and everybody went to the clubs. I went to the Civil War museum.”

Eve started to laugh. “Like I’ve always said honey, you really are a nerd.”

In the morning they dropped Molly at the kennel, drove to Detroit and boarded a flight to Richmond. A delayed takeoff, one transfer and more groping hands than Jim cared for and they arrived in Newport News, Virginia.

“I can’t believe it takes six hours to get from Detroit to here,” Jim complained as they approached the rental car desk. “We could have driven here faster.”

“I don’t like all those people padding me down when we get to the airport,” Eve added.

“Oh well, the days of arriving thirty minutes before a flight are long gone I guess,” Jim said, and they settled in to wait their turn in the line for a car.

After checking into their hotel they headed to the museum. The museum had closed just as they arrived at the hotel so this was just a ‘recon’ trip. They drove around the parking lot, ensured they knew how to get to and from the hotel to the building and then went to dinner.

The next morning Jim and Eve were walking into the Museum’s main lobby ten minutes early for their appointment. As they entered the building through a double set of glass doors under a modern art depiction of a globe with a sixteenth century sailing ship at its top Jim wrinkled his forehead.

“What’s the matter?” Eve asked, knowing full well what bothered her husband.

“That’s a stupid statue…” Jim muttered, “…why not make a nice globe and a realistic frigate, like the Constitution?”

“Jim, no one would ever call you a progressive,” Eve grinned.

“Well, does that really look like a boat to you?” Jim insisted.

“It’s art babe, it’s supposed to invoke your imagination.”

Jim looked at her, “Maybe…but I still think…”

“I know you do. Make sure you tell them to get a different statue before we leave. I’m sure they’ll get right on that. Now, where are we supposed to be going?” Eve studied her map of the building. They walked the length of the glass-enclosed entrance way and entered the main building. A long low desk with several museum staffers sat on their right and a seven-foot gold statue of an Eagle screamed from its perch on their left.

An attractive young woman was seated next to a cash register selling tickets to a retired couple. Eve waited her turn as the couple completed their purchase then approached the woman and said they were to meet a Ms. Claudia Wells, a docent with the Museum.

“That’s me.” The girl said, offered her hand and a smile. Eve smiled back, shook the proffered hand and introduced Jim. After a brief discussion of their trip Claudia presented them with a clip board and pen. Eve completed the necessary information and Claudia handed them two visitor badges.

Claudia then pushed her wheel chair from behind the counter and rolled to the front. Eve’s eyebrows lifted a bit in surprise. Then her life as a military spouse took over. “If there’s an elephant in the room say hello,” she’d been told by one of her husband’s first Wing Commanders.

“How did you lose your legs?” she asked.

Claudia didn’t hesitate. “Shore duty in Basra with the Brits. I’m Navy, well…used to be…but was assigned to drive a truck on a road I guess I shouldn’t have been driving on.” Claudia said as if she were talking about the weather.

“I’m Air Force. Never got down to Basra, did see a bit more of the Green Zone than I wanted to.” Jim replied.

A short discussion of the heat, camel spiders and the stray dogs that seemed to be everywhere in Iraq followed. In a few moments they had completed their trip through a display of survival gear and shipwreck stories to a locked set of doors. Using a key held to her wrist with a mariner rope bracelet she unlocked one door and led them into a small office behind the main gallery.

“I understand you folks found a boat, how exciting!” Claudia exclaimed. “We have records on just about every Chris-Craft built up until 1980. Your boat was built before then right?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “We think it was build in the 1920s because it looks like bootleggers from the Prohibition Era used the boat.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. I’d love to see it,” Claudia enthused.

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” Eve asked.

“Of course not! Did you bring pictures?”

“Absolutely!” Jim announced, and they spent thirty minutes pouring over a set of pictures that Eve and Sherrie had assembled.

Claudia really did want to see pictures. She examined each one in detail, several times using a magnifying glass from her desk drawer to examine various areas of the boat.

“It looks great! Those smuggler’s holes are the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” Claudia announced. “Okay, so, we’ve got to do some detective work. You showed me a picture that had the manufacture’s plate. Can I see that again please.”

“Yup, wait one…” Jim fell naturally into ‘military speak’. “Ahhh….here it is.” He produced a picture of a plate riveted to the inside of the engine hatch cover. “Are you looking for the hull number?”

“Yes, exactly,” Claudia said.

“It’s 5055. We figured you’d need that,” Eve offered.

“Okay, great, now let’s see if we can find any records on the boat. If you’ll come with me we’ll go back to the archives and I’ll show you what we have. On the phone you talked about needing more than the research package. I think you’ll want the drawings, wiring diagrams and some of the engine documents. We can provide a lot of that. We do have to charge for most of this stuff, but its not terrible.”

Jim smiled “I expected you would. But it’s okay. We’re just glad to find the drawings.”

“Do you have the hull card for this boat? I’d really like to have that too,” Eve asked, referring to the name given to a card used by the original Chris-Craft company to record all the equipment, maintenance and sales data for a specific boat hull.

“Certainly, we have hull cards on every boat. We have a standard package we sell to collectors and people interested in specific boats. It’s called ‘the research package.’ I’m going to bet you’ll want that,” Claudia replied. “I’ll need a little time to hunt the drawings and other items down. Why don’t you tour the museum. I’ll page you when I have them.”

“Sounds like a plan, thank you so much,” Jim answered.

An hour later their names boomed over the museum’s speaker system: “Mr. and Mrs. Crenshaw please report to the docent’s office.”

After a few wrong turns and asking directions twice Jim and Eve found the proper office and knocked. The door quickly opened and Claudia greeted them with a wide smile. “I’ve found almost everything. This is really good, you’re not going to believe it.” She rolled her chair behind her desk and grabbed a computer mouse. A few clicks later they were looking at pages of boat drawings.

“Claudia, this is great, but how do I get a copy?” Jim’s concern was evident.

She gave a slight laugh, “Oh, that’s not a problem! I just wanted you to pick out which drawings you needed. Then we’ll print those out. It’s a bit pricey because these are blueprint sized drawings, but this way you get only what you need.”

Claudia motioned to a desk chair and moved her wheel chair to the side. “Just take my mouse, click here.”

She pointed at a computer generated box on the monitor’s screen. “You’ll get a total at the end. Double check your order and hit print.”

Jim sat at the computer and began scanning drawings.

“And Eve, here’s the data that we have on the boat’s outfitting.” Claudia pointed to a cardboard box sitting on a table. “Let’s go through that real quick and see if you want copies. We can do color copies too by the way.”