Chapter 49

I got back to the motel with a big bag filled with small swim suits. It never bothered me to be naked, but the small swim suit did bother me. Just crazy I know, but that the way life is crazy.

Osborn hadn't returned, when I settled into the room. I went onto the Internet to look at pictures of the barge houses. None looked like what I was going to do, but they gave me ideas. I knew I wanted to get everything dry and painted to prevent more rust. I also knew that I wanted to get the three cargo containers cable tied to the deck to make them solid. I figured I would go with two forty foot containers on the deck and one twenty foot on top of them. Then tie the whole things down. The barge would have to be self contained, so the utilities would be an issue. The conversion was not going to be anywhere near as inexpensive as the box house in County Seat.

I still had to find a place to park it or moor it as Ev told me. I was leaning toward buying a lot but I wasn't sure I wanted to be tied to one place. I kind of liked the idea of moving it around maybe going to Florida in the winter.

My phone rang about 4PM. It was Osborn, she and Ron were going out to dinner. Her advice to me was, "Don't wait up."

"Not a problem," was my response. I really wasn't upset at all. As long as I could reach her by phone within a couple of hours I was fine. I had no idea how she expected me to be, but I really was good with her hanging out with a guy all day and night. Hell I wished it was me.

At 5PM Ev called me. "Hey Sylvia how do you feel about living on the other side of the bay."

"You mean on Jefferson Island?" I asked.

"No in the mouth of the Tomahawk river. There an old marina there that is up for sale. You could own a place to moor your house boat, and twenty other slips as well. Place would pay for itself in a few years." he said.

"I don't know, I'd have to have someone look at the numbers," I said.

"Well it's not mine, but it is across the river from my place. I would really like to see someone clean it up, and keep the riff raff out of it. I think the bank owns it to be honest," he said.

"Tell me what you know and I'll take a look at it tomorrow," I promised. It was on the same side of the river that the motel was on. I decided that I would drive down and take a look after dinner. Dinner was from a paper bag in the parking lot of that terrible fast food restaurant.

After dinner I found the marina without too much trouble. It was rundown and the office had a sign that it was being managed by the bank. It was in forced foreclosure. The marina property looked about the size of a building lot in most rural towns in the south. It sat along a paved county road, which probably made it worth more than a building lot. The property consisted of a bait and tackle shop and a dock with twenty slips. I noted there was plenty of space for the house boat along one side of the dock and if we backed it in maybe we could work it in so it used less space. Unless I bought a place on Jefferson Island, one place was as good as another. I had preferred the motel's view but I knew all along that view was going to be expensive. Oh course you couldn't move a motel to Florida in the winter either.

I left the marina after copying all the pertinent information. I planned to call my account manager at the investment company to have him find out what the details were on the property. After that short call I intended to go where the adults hung out and have a drink.

When I asked at a New Wales restaurant, "Where can I go to have a drink and meet people." The suggestion from a young waitress was, "For gritty you should try the 'Net and Wench' and of course the 'Hunley' bar. If you want more class, there are the lounges at the big motels on Jefferson Island." I thanked her before leaving a large tip on my way out.

I could have paid a million bucks for a house on the north end of Jefferson Island, but I really didn't want to live beside anyone, who could afford a house up there. So I decided to try the Net and Wench for a drink, but first I went back to the motel and changed. I also was checking for Osborn, who wasn't to be found.

I took yet another shower and dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a red tee shirt. I would have worn shorts, but I would most likely have been chilled before I arrived back at the motel. I carried a sheriff's fatigue top to use as a jacket.

When I got to the Net and Wench, I found that I was over dressed. Most everyone in there wore their work clothes. The smell of fish was just too heavy for me. I left immediately and headed for Jefferson Island. It was over the long bridge across the bay. I found the holiday in and then their lounge. For that place I was not over dress. As a matter of fact I might have been a bit too casual, but since no one commented I went right inside.

I sat at the bar and looked a little like a grunge. At least I think that was what they were calling it. Like Osborn, I had relaxed a lot since I wasn't responsible for anyone other than myself. I had the derringer in the wallet type holster that I carried in the back pocket of my jeans. My derringer was the .22 mag instead of Osborn's 9mm. It would just piss my attacker off, according to The Brit. I had put that size round to good use previously, so I wasn't worried. Besides odds were I would never need to use it at all. It was a bit uncomfortable to sit on the derringer, but it was handy.