Strangers in the Night
Chapter 18

Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen

To say Wendy was ecstatic about the boats is an understatement.

"I LOVE sailing. Before momma died we went all the time. Daddy ... both of them ... has this inner ear problem ... do NOT put a blindfold on him and spin him around. It won't be pretty ... depending on what he had for dinner. See food seafood is disgusting.

"You weren't here when the two of you rolled and endoed when you were racing. It was very messy. You did know you have a weak stomach ... blood is the worst."

"Let's go look at boats ... do I have any money?" I asked. "I mean money I can access if need be?"

"In American dollars? A couple of million," she said. "Why?"

"My wanter is pretty bad when it comes to boats," I said. "Come to think it ... airplanes and guns are right up there."

"You shoot?"

"Olympic grade ... can't ski worth a shit though."

"Well, well, well ... me too ... except I ski." She paused, then, "Boats ... boats ... Hangontie 48. Go ... You're not going?"

"What is Hangontie 48 ... and where is it?"

"48 Hangontie Street ... harbor ... that a way," she pointed in a direction I had come to recognize as leading to the sea. "Come on ... stick your foot in it. 90 Right on Autotehtaankatu ... go go go... 90 Right Kalannintie ... straight through ... Laivanrakentajantie ... right, immediate tight circle left to Rantakatu ... right on Hepokarintie ... right on Telakkatie, first right follow it around sweep left." She opened the glovebox and pushed a button. " ... right ... through the trees ... NOW, left on the pavement, left at the drive ... oh good ... the gate still works ... there it is. Hangontie 48. Nice jump ... and you stopped in time."

She pressed the button again and I heard squealing tires. Evidently ... the gate closed.

"What do I say to the cops?" I stuck my thumb over my shoulder.

"Shit!" Wendy exclaimed, "Stay in the car ... I'll handle it."

I listened through the window.

"What do you know ... Miss Valmaat ... in Mrs. Valmaat's WRC Citroen ... and David Valmaat driving. This must be my lucky day."

"You know we never exceeded 54 miles per hour." Wendy explained. You can check the black box."

"Yes, yes, yes... 54 miles an hour ... you also never went under 50. In fact, if we do check the box ... you have set a record from the factory to here.

"We can settle this right here or we can go see the magistrate. Right here, I'll write a ticket for unsafe driving conditions, you pay fifty dollar and sign the ticket and we're done.

"The magistrate won't bother with the fact that this David Valmaat isn't the David Valmaat that recently paid a speeding fine of a tick over one hundred thousand dollars. It doesn't matter who is living inside the body ... it's a body she will fine double this time ... you choose."

Wendy looked askance at me. I raised my hands to ward off her wrath.

"I didn't do it."

"One hundred thousand?"

"According to Dal? One hundred and two thousand."

She turned to the patrolman, "Kristoffer? Two thousand dollars is just a tick over?"

"A thousand here and a thousand there ... it gets to be real money after awhile."

She fumbled in her purse and passed the cop fifty dollars... "One hundred and two thousand dollars?" she mumbled. "For speeding?"

Kristoffer offered, "The German paid six hundred thousand last week."

"What German? Never mind ... we lost a contract to build Audi's ... probably cost the country billions. You might mention that to her magistrate-ship.

"David?" she grabbed my shoulder, "Boats ... march!"

"Wait ... he needs to sign the ticket."

I kept a copy.

"Boats." I marched.

The big key fit the lock on the big door. I suppose that made sense. The electric was still on because the door rolled up without my assistance and the lights turned on.

Boats were not the only articles in residence. Every wrecked WRC car that Valmaat Motors ever fielded was displayed in all their wrinkled glory. It was actually hard to find the boats.

Wendy gave chapter and verse about every wrack and ruin ... the story about the melted tires on an otherwise normal looking Group B Lancia was interesting.

"Daddy went off the road in Italy and hit a hi-voltage transmission tower. In America you call them Dancing Ladies. They transmit power from the dams throughout the country. Daddy hit the base so hard it snapped the single leg and the 765,000 volts carried in the wires electrocuted Daddy and his co-driver ... that's when we got the Russian."

"How are we going to get a boat through this mess?"

"Door on the other end."

"Oh."

 
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