H.J. Gaudreau - Jim Crenshaw 02 - The Collingwood Legacy (12 page)

“Oh yeah, we’re good. Got all I need,” Cole shouted back with a grin.

Chapter 30

The two men stood in the doorway.  The day was still, cicadas buzzed in the trees.  The sun washed into the barn and up to the boat’s stern. Cole was explaining what damage he had found when Gerry’s cell phone began to chime. Glancing at the faceplate he recognized the number of his mortgage broker.

“I’ve got to take this call,” he said and then walked toward his pickup truck. Cole leaned against the boat and removed the bill from inside his shirt. He examined it briefly, grinned broadly then folded the cash and shoved it back in his pocket. Glancing around the corner of the building he saw Gerry sitting on the lowered tailgate of his truck, phone held to his ear.

Gradually Cole began to wonder if there were any more bills in the boat. Grabbing the heavy-duty flashlight he walked back into the barn and again wedged himself in the boat. Shining his light around the interior he finally rested the beam on the mouse nest. Now, his attention focused on what made up the wad. He thought he saw some sort of fabric and what looked like newspaper. As he studied the object he began to realize that it was larger than he’d initially thought. “Hell, this looks like something rolled up,” Cole thought.

Outside he could hear Gerry laugh and begin saying his good-byes to whomever was on the other end of the line. Gerry snapped his phone shut and turned to reenter the barn when a distant buzz could be heard. He paused and looked in the direction of the noise to see a blue ATV approaching.

Eve stopped the vehicle next to Gerry and got off. She said something while she removed her helmet. “Fine so far.” Cole heard Gerry reply.

Cole didn’t waste any more time. He finished his review of the craft and began packing his tools. After a short while Eve restarted the ATV and disappeared back in the direction of the house. Gerry walked back into the barn. “All done?” Gerry asked as he reentered the barn.

Cole wasn’t. He wanted to get a good idea of the material he’d spotted earlier. Maybe there was more cash there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of any good reason to delay.

“That should do it,” Cole said. His mind was racing, trying to find an excuse to return to the bowels of this Chris-Craft. Unable to do so he loaded the last of his tools in his truck and followed Gerry back to the orchard’s office.

Jim was standing in the office doorway as Cole took a seat on one of the office chairs. Gerry took his seat behind the desk.

“Gerry, she’s in pretty good shape for her age. She’s probably worth a hundred, maybe two hundred but to be honest, I don’t know, I could be way off. She’s a rare boat, but pretty well banged up. The smuggler’s holes might give it some extra value, you know, collector’s item or something like that. I’ll have to do some research and look some things up.”

Jim felt his shoulders sag, “Two hundred bucks? I thought sure it would be ten or eleven thousand.”

“What’s two hundred bucks? Cole asked.

“The boat, you just said it was worth one or two hundred bucks.”

Cole began to laugh. “No, oh no, I wish, geeez, I’d have a dozen. No, this boat is worth one or two hundred thousand dollars.”

Gerry couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Jim felt his pulse quicken. “You’re kidding,” Jim gasped.

“Oh no, these models just aren’t that common anyway. Could be they’re only worth one hundred, could be well north of that. I’ll just have to spend some time in the books. I’ll have a report to you by, let’s say next Friday? Is that okay?

Gerry agreed and began to stand.

“Ah Gerry, one more thing. I’ll need to get my fee today. I’ll be going by my accountant’s office in Traverse City on the way back home, and it would save me a hassle.”

“Sure…sure thing.” Gerry was a little surprised, expecting the bill at the end of the month. Cole pulled a tinted pad from his backpack and began to scribble. A moment later he then handed Gerry a blue form with a carbon copy. Gerry looked over the document, gulped and wrote the check.

“Sherrie and Eve are never going to believe this,” Jim said as they watched Cole’s truck leaving the orchard.

Gerry grinned and turned to Jim, “Looks like this land is paying off already.”

The drive back to Charlevoix and the office took Cole east through Traverse City then north along the shore line of east bay. Cole made the drive frequently and often detoured to the topless bar just outside city limits near the intersection of state route 72. Not today.

Today the money in his pocket was all that occupied his mind. Gerry and that woman had sort of rushed him out of the barn. If they had just left him alone.  He needed more time to search that boat. He was dealing with a smuggler’s boat. That was obvious. He’d seen something deep in the hull of the thing. Maybe it was more cash, maybe not, but he was damn well going to find out.

Cole drove past the garish “Cherry Top Bar – All the cherries, none of the clothes” without a thought of the girls inside.

Chapter 31

The decision to repair the boat was really not a decision at all. After hearing the estimate of the boat’s worth it was simply assumed the Chris-Craft would be brought back to its original condition. Jim was the most skilled woodworker and was happily planning his repairs before Eve could say, “Wait a minute.”

A few minutes discussion later and the decision to move the boat to Jim and Eve’s barn had been made. A decision which took some getting used to as Eve had visions of another horse stall in the exact same location Jim was intending to put the boat.

Moving the boat was not going to be an easy task. It sat on a wooden cradle inside a long narrow building. A crane could not be used to lift the boat without removing the building’s roof.

The fit looked so tight that Sherrie and Eve were certain the building had been built around the boat. They loaded a ladder in the back of the truck and soon were measuring and drawing diagrams of the barn and its doors.

Sure enough, the building’s doors were just high enough to allow the boat to slide in and out. The bigger question remained. How were they going to move the boat, in its cradle, out of the barn and then into Jim’s barn?

Jim had moved a large combine from Michigan’s Thumb area to his farm the past year. He had used a firm located in the city of Saginaw that presented itself as the best in moving out sized and odd shaped items. It was to this firm that Jim now turned.

Harris Trucking had been in the business of moving odd, large and delicate cargo for fifteen years. Don Harris stood over six feet tall and weighed over two hundred fifty pounds; he was a big man in a big man’s industry. He’d built his company on an astonishing skill at loading, hauling and delivering cargo that others would not or could not move.

The Harris Trucking terminal building was located in the apex of the curve of State Street as the five lane road exited the manufacturing city. Jim parked his pickup in the front, climbed the five concrete steps and entered a functional outer office that no one would ever call plush. Two orange vinyl and chrome chairs and a matching couch surrounded a small, badly scarred wooden coffee table.

Trucking industry magazines, along with a smattering of old hunting magazines and a Bible lay on the table. A heavy, middle aged woman sat behind a sliding glass window.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she lifted a large file from a box and sat it squarely in the middle of her desktop.

“I’m looking for Don Harris. I’ve worked with him before. My name is Jim Crenshaw.”

The woman smiled, asked Jim to take a seat, offered him coffee and then went to find Don Harris. In a moment the big man entered the foyer.

“Mr. Crenshaw, it’s good to see you. Come on back to my office, how are you?” Harris was a genuinely nice man and Jim had liked him from the first time they’d met. They reached Don’s office and took seats on each side of a small Formica table. Harris asked about Jim’s farm and his new combine, which proved to Jim that Harris really did remember him and this wasn’t just show.

Several minutes later Jim began to describe the boat, the building and the need to move the vessel into his barn. Don listened intently, examined Jim’s drawing and made several sketches of his own. Then he began asking detailed questions about both barns, the soil and access to the sites. Jim provided all the information he could but felt he wasn’t doing an adequate job.

Finally Jim said, “Don, I know I sound rather thick here. I didn’t even think of a soil compaction test or the slope of the ground around the barn.”

“That’s alright, nobody ever does. But, when you think about it I’m sure it will make sense. I’ve got to be sure my equipment can get in and out, the ground has to support the weight of the truck, the crane, the boat, the cradle, the boat when we put it on wheels and anything else we use to move the thing. I can’t get stuck in mud or, more worrisome there in Leelanau County, the sand. And, I’ve got to have a good look at the route in and out. Can’t get hung up on wires, can’t have the trailer sliding on any hills. People always forget about a tree or a big bush. I’ll need to measure the tractor doors at your barn and Gerry’s barn, gotta have enough room there. And by the way, just getting that boat out of the barn is going to be a challenge.”

Don paused, looked at Jim and said. “Ahh…Jim, you know this isn’t going to be cheap.”

“Yeah, we figured that. But we’ve decided to restore it to showroom quality. I figure it will take me a year or so and I can’t work on it there. Besides my sister needs that barn for their orchard.”

“Sure thing Jim, I’m just preparing you. How about if I drive up there next week, take some measurements and look over the ground.”

“Sounds good Don. I’ll meet you there and show you the building.”

Chapter 32

Elaine’s car, a two year old Cadillac CTS, cornered well. The complicated, challenging road running south past Long Lake, along the East Bay shoreline and into Traverse City was one of her favorite drives. Normally she pushed the car through the curving waterfront road at top speed. Today she didn’t. Today her driving was methodical, reflecting her mood.

In Elaine’s purse were two checks for seven thousand dollars. She had written one to the Traverse Savings and Investment Bank.  She even had Cole sign it and pass the envelope through the postage meter. She had not mailed the envelope. Instead, Elaine had debited the account and transferred the money to her own checking account. Now, she was putting that same seven thousand dollars into the hands of David McFain.

The red Cadillac parked in the public lot just across the street from Clinch Park. The blue waters of Traverse Bay sparkled, sailors shook out their sails and fishing boats began to troll the debts. Already people were tossing Frisbees and preparing for a day at the beach. Elaine popped the trunk, lifted the dark gray carpeted hatch cover hiding the spare tire and removed a small locked metal box from the cavity thus exposed.

Returning to the driver’s seat she placed the box on the arm rest and opened her purse. She pulled down the lining and removed a small key taped to the inside leather wall. Then, she unlocked the box. Elaine removed a small, flip phone and dialed from memory. A moment later she said, “I’m here. Meet me at the cafe’.” She pressed the disconnect key, then erased the call log, put the phone back in the box, reassembled her purse then popped the trunk and returned the box to its place.

She quickly surveyed the parking lot and sidewalk. This wasn’t a day to meet old friends. Then Elaine fed the meter and walked the three blocks to the professional building and a small cafe’ next to the offices of Growth Financial Management. She took a seat at one of the four outdoor tables in the back. A waiter soon appeared, lit the scented candle meant to add ambiance to the Ikea table and took her order. Moments later he returned with a chai latte.

Elaine didn’t wait long. David McFain intercepted the waiter and soon appeared latte in hand.

“Thank you David,” Elaine smiled, “…very dashing.” He returned the smile and took the chair opposite her.

“I’m at your service Elaine. You,…ah,” he carefully selected his words. “You sounded a bit worked up on the phone, I’m curious.”

Without small talk Elaine removed three envelopes from her purse. She carefully laid them on the table, aligning the edges in a perfect row. The fist envelope contained a check for seven thousand dollars, made payable to her investment account. The money pushed the account total over her goal of five million, five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five dollars. A number she thought sounded lucky. Elaine had never diverted a complete payment before, but she knew Cole’s business was failing and there wasn’t much left to take. Besides, she would be gone very soon; this would be her last chance.

She slid the envelope across the table to McFain. “That should push me over the top David.” He glanced at the envelope then Elaine. She smiled.

“You’ve done well,” he returned her smile.

“And so have you.” She slid the second envelope to him. It contained a large check, made out to McFain. The money represented his monthly fee plus a substantial bonus. This amount was in addition to the standard fees and commissions Elaine paid on all transactions in her accounts. This fee represented the price she paid for McFain’s silence concerning the source of all the money he was handling, and for his profitable, albeit questionable, access to information. Information which had generated substantial returns.

“I think you ought to open that one David,” she said.

He picked the envelope up and studied it. Seconds ticked by in silence. Then, he said, “No, I think I’ll save this.”

“I was hoping to see your reaction, but, I should have known. You’ve always kept things…” she paused. He was an attractive man, a bit older, but clearly well muscled. He’d be fun. “I don’t even know where you live.” She observed.

McFain’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her hair. He lingered there a moment. Several years ago, when she had first approached him, he’d thought about trying to seduce her. But the first checks had been fairly large, and he quickly realized that Elaine was going to be a steady fountain of unreported cash. It would be better to keep the relationship strictly business. “I honor our friendship.” McFain replied and shifted his gaze back to her eyes.

She returned the stare for a long moment, then held up the last envelope. This held the check which Cole had signed and was made payable to the Traverse bank. She removed the check from the envelope and held it over the candle. As the check flared she fixed McFain’s eyes, “It’s been a pleasure working with you David.” she said and smiled.

McFain smiled back. “And with you.”

“I need you to do one more thing.” Elaine studied his face, hesitated, then opened her purse and removed a small teal green envelope. “I want you to sell everything. Transfer all the money into the Cayman account.”

“What’s this?” McFain didn’t move.

“It’s time for me to leave David. The business is going under, and I can’t get blood from a stone. I’m out.” She smiled thinly, “I’ll need access to those funds in about a week. Can you do it?”

“Of course I can do it.” He fell silent for a moment. “Then I guess this will be our last meeting.”

“I think so,” Elaine said as she stood. She walked several paces in the direction of her car, stopped, turned and walked back. He didn’t get up. She stood there a moment, then took David’s chin in her hand. She bent and kissed him long and hard.

David watched her as she walked away, she didn’t look back. Finally she was out of sight. He stood, shook his head and smiled.