Chapter 9

One of my favorite restaurants is right in the midst of the docks on Lake Union where pleasure craft are moored. The restaurant is called Tony’s Hidden Harbor and to reach Tony’s it’s necessary to walk down a long flight of stairs from street level until you reach a small waiting area at the dock. The owner Bernard is always at the reception desk dressed in a tux with a red flower in his lapel. Every evening, he bestows the flower on some lucky lady and tonight was Sanron’s turn. I asked him once why it was called Tony’s instead of Benard’s. He told me that was the name of the place when he bought it, and he promised the previous owner he wouldn’t change a thing.

Tony’s bar is located directly behind the waiting area, and it looks like a cave that’s been carved out from under the street above. The bar is dark with a nautical motif and is an excellent place to hang out. The drinks are large and not very expensive. The dinner tables are dotted around the docks and because there are yachts tied around you, it’s always a fun experience. Eating there has never failed to lift my spirits. Tonight’s visit was no exception.

As a youth, I spent the majority of my summers at my parent’s summer home on Whidbey Island in Puget Sound. As you can imagine, I’ve spent a good part of my life on, or around, boats. I’ve always found it relaxing sitting on the docks, eating among the boats, and watching them shift as they creak and moan in their slips from the wakes of other passing boats.

Dinner, as always, was good, and as we sat and ate, it seemed we were laughing a lot. I could tell Sharon was trying hard to bring me out of the dumps. At one point, Sharon slipped her shoe off and with her foot, started to massage the front of my pants under the table. I quickly reached under the table and removed her foot. It would be very embarrassing to try to walk out of a restaurant with a tent sticking out of the front of my trousers. She giggled.

Sharon asked me if I had any theories as to who would want Slim dead. I thought for a while and then responded if he’d made a habit of giving people problems like the one he gave me, then I could see why many people might want him dead. I really didn’t mean it, but I was still a little upset how he had dumped his houseboat on me.

“What are you going to do about the houseboat?” Sharon asked.

“That’s an excellent question, babe. First off, I don’t know exactly what proof I have that it’s mine. Several days after I won the thing, Scott started transferring the title and all the rest of the paperwork. But I have no idea where it stands legally. I know Scott sent Slim papers to sign and then Scott was to file them. At this point, I don’t know what Slim did with his paperwork. I have no idea if he turned his papers in to his attorney for review, or what he’d done so far.

“The reason I went to the houseboat was because he was going to give me any final paperwork he’d received from his lawyers. I guess at that point it was what I’d need to show the houseboat was mine.”

I hung my head, shook it, and continued, “I hope I don’t have to get statements from the others at the game, and end up having to file a claim against his estate. That would seem rather tacky, because it makes me out as a gold digger or whatever ... you know.” I shrugged my shoulders, shook my head, and continued, “I’m beginning to feel just about ready to bag the entire thing, and let his estate deal with it. About the only good thing that came out of all this, if you can call it good, was while the police are still investigating the murder they said we couldn’t move the houseboat. Period!”

Sharon smiled at me, and asked, “What does the houseboat look like?”

“It’s really cute. I think you’d find it adorable.” A thought occurred to me, “Now that I think about it, it seems odd that Slim lived there.” Sharon frowned and shook her head, confused. “No. Really, it’s true. Let me try and explain. I just realized the strange part of this thing with the houseboat is I really can’t see Slim living there.” Since the thought had never occurred to me before that moment I was treading water. I went on, “It’s like he just didn’t seem the type who’d live on a houseboat, especially one that looked like that. Ralph told me at one time Slim was worth a lot of money, but he didn’t know how much. Also, the thing was ... well, the houseboat wasn’t his taste ... I mean the houseboat isn’t a dump by any means, but he could’ve afforded better, a lot better from what I understand. Plus, I could see him living in a log cabin before I could see him in the houseboat. Does that make sense?” Sharon nodded. “Anyway, after we finished the game, he mentioned he was heading back to the southwest somewhere. I believe he said New Mexico. He really looked like someone from that neck of the woods. That houseboat isn’t Tex-Mex in any way, shape or form.”