Chapter 44

“Why? I have more money than I can spend,” I said.

“You do?” Bill Williams asked.

“Yes, I’m making 15 grand a night playing in the band. No matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t out spend the interest on my bank account. My taxes are supporting half the local governments in my neck of the woods ... and it still doesn’t make a dent. I spent like a sailor on liberty in Hong Kong and I have 50 million more than I started out with ... and that’s just one year!”

“What? How?” Bill said.

“I won 200 million playing the Monster Millions ... split between two jackpots. I’m afraid to go to the casinos ... I keep winning. I just spent 89 grand on a small sailboat and one of my investments split triple shares. I had a hundred thousand shares ... now I have three hundred thousand. How much is what you have for me?”

“Same as Annalise ... Nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine a month ... for life.”

“Either I give it away, buy horses for my ranch or a bigger gold dredge. I don’t want a bigger dredge ... I like my little one. So far ... every hobby I’ve had has turned into a job.”

“What kind off hobbies?”

I began to explain ... black powder rifles and teaching, tipis and blanket trading, aircraft lessons and restoring old aircraft, old cars and restoring them, guitar playing and the band. “I intended collecting rocks ... I’m selling decorative boulders ... and restoring army tanks. I used the tanks and tank retriever to move the rocks. I moved the rocks and I’m into the gold. The gold dredging has improved my stream and water flow. Improving the water flow has improved the fishing. Out of staters come for the fishing have started coming back for the hunting because the improved water is bringing in bigger bucks. I’m 19 years old ... I just want to have fun.”

“Band? My daughter tells me there’s a great band at the Laudermist.”

I tootled my fingers. “Bobby and the Silver Spur...”

“Featuring Karen Post,” he said. “Old cars? I have an old car ... scrap isn’t paying.”

“Kind?”

“Old Volvo...”

“Where is it?”

“Behind the garage.”

“Look?”

And here we go again ... Fifty bucks and I drove it to the gas station ... a 1966 Volvo 544 Sport. Carbs out of sync and timing off a plug. While I was getting it serviced a guy drove by, saw it and paid me 7 grand for it. Seven thousand and I never got to register it.

Mel had followed me to the station ... at least I had a ride home. Penny was gone but pete was still there.

“I need a ride to the club.”

“Teach me to sail.”

“Sure ... which boat?”

I looked longingly at the Swan.

“Nope ... I don’t have a license for anything that big. How about the 33?”

“I guess.”

We went aboard. This is a BRAND NEW BOAT. So ... there were brochures and paperwork for everything. We sat at the dinette and started looking at the piles of full color propaganda.

“This is more like a 34 than a 33,” Peter said. It’s three inches short of 34 feet. Any American company would call it a 34. But it’s just a little wider than a 25 foot boat. Generally the ratio is one third width to length. A 33 is about 11 feet at the beam.” He looked some more.

“This is going to be very fast.” He picked up the title. “It’s the first 33 ... Number one. Tall masthead rig ... only draws five and a half feet ... folding prop ... Lets go topside and see what we have to work with.”

Up the ladder we went. He walked me to the bow.

“Pay attention ... I’ll give a quiz.”

“Hold up ... here come the girls.”

Bethanne asked, “You going out?”

“Eventually ... lessons right now.”