3 Mango Bay (4 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I took the phone from Polly. “Hello?”

“
Hi, this is Lucy. Who am I speaking with?”

“
Hi Lucy, I'm Walker. Your mom's new neighbor.”

“
Walker, I hope my mother isn't being a bother. She's always trying to push people to buy cars from me. So, let's save us both some time. If you're not really interested in buying a car, say so now.”

“
Lucy, I'm not wasting your time. I really
am
interested in buying a car. Actually a truck.”

“
Good. What are you looking for?”

“
Something I can tow behind my motorhome. Maybe an older Toyota Tacoma. It's got to have a manual transmission, because I can't tow an automatic.”

“
Got it. What price range?”

“
I'd like to stay under fifteen thousand.”

“
Okay, let me check our inventory and I'll get back to you. What's a good number to reach you?”

I gave Lucy my number, then handed the phone back to Polly. She spoke to Lucy for a moment then disconnected.

Polly smiled. “So, that went well. Lucy said she might be able to find you something.”

I nodded. “It would be good if she could. I do need to get something to get around in.”

We were still sitting in the Publix parking lot. I was waiting for Polly to say she was ready to go home. But apparently she wasn't. Because what she said was, “Start driving. There's something I want to show you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

We turned left out of the Publix parking lot, and headed south on Indiana Avenue until we reached Beach Road. At the light, we turned right and crossed over the Intracoastal waterway via the Tom Adams bridge.

When we reached the round-about across from Manasota Beach, Polly said, “Go left. Then slow down, because we're almost there.”

I slowed as a snowbird with New Jersey plates ignored the round-about rules and blew through the intersection, just barely missing a VW convertible.

Polly shook her head. “These people get down here and forget how to drive. Glad he didn't hit anyone.”

Then she said, “Just ahead, turn left into Chadwick Park. Then drive back to the boat ramp.”

I'd been over the Tom Adams bridge leading to Manasota Key many times. The first time was with Sarah. We'd walked on the beach, held hands and watched the sun set.

Since then, I'd visited Manasota Beach often. Usually carrying my metal detector. But I'd never noticed Chadwick Park. Probably because there were no signs leading to it, just a small driveway across from the public beach parking lot.

Following Polly's directions, I turned left and drove to where the road ended at a small open air pavilion overlooking the intracoastal waterway.

Polly pointed toward the water. “It's over there.”

I looked in the direction she was pointing. All I could see was water and a few boats tied up in the mooring field.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“
See that white houseboat, the one with the blue curtains?”

I scanned the boats. “Yeah, I see it. Blue curtains all around?”

“That's the one. It's the
Escape Artist
. My boat.”

“
That's
your
boat? You have a houseboat out here on the water?”

She nodded. “Sure do. Bought it a year ago with plans to travel up and down the intracoastal waterway – just me and Oscar.

“But on our first outing, I discovered Oscar isn't much of a sea dog. He doesn't like being on a boat. Especially a moving boat. He got seasick.

“
And being alone with a seasick dog on a boat with no one around to help isn't much fun. So my plans have changed.  No sailing away on the intracoastal for me and Oscar.  And that's why I'm thinking of selling it.”

We sat there in silence for a few moments, looking out over the water, listening to Oscar snore in the back seat.

I was thinking about the boat.

A house boat. A place to get away from it all. A way to travel up and down the intracoastal waterway and see the sights.

“How much are you going to ask for it?”

“
I'm thinking thirteen thousand. That's what I've got in it.”

“
Anything wrong with it?”

Polly laughed. “It's a boat. There's always something wrong. But not anything serious that I know of. I start it at least once a month, and it seems to run just fine.”

“What's it cost to keep it over there?”

“
Nothing. It's a public mooring field. All you have to do is tie up to a mooring ball and make sure the boat doesn't create a hazard. If you do that, you can keep it there for free.

“
Think you might be interested in buying it?”

Before I could answer, Polly's phone began playing the first few bars from an old Beatles’s song, 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds'.

The ring tone assigned to her daughter.  Polly answered.

“
Lucy, what's up?

“
Yes, he's right here.”

Polly held the phone in my direction, “My lovely daughter wishes to speak with you.”

I took the phone. “This is Walker.”

“
Hey Walker, this is Lucy. I think I found something you might like.

“
I know you were looking for a Tacoma, but this might work better. We've just taken this in on trade - a Jeep Wrangler, four by four, black on black with a factory hard top. It's got the six cylinder motor and the six speed manual transmission.

“
And get this, the original owner set it up to pull behind his motorhome. It's got a base plate, a tow bar, and even a Roadmaster brake system.

“
You wouldn't have to do anything to it. Just hook it up behind your motorhome, and head out.

“
Like I said, we just got this in at our Sarasota lot, and it's priced right so it's going to go quickly.

“
Think you might be interested?”

I've owned a lot of four wheel drive trucks over the years but never owned a Jeep. My friends had owned Jeeps and they found them to be pretty dependable vehicles.

Having one here in Florida might be fun, especially since this one was already set up for towing behind a motorhome.

“
Lucy, I'm interested. But here's the problem. I don't have a car which means I have no way to get over to your Sarasota lot to take a look at it.”

There was a pause, then Lucy said, “That's not a problem. I'm having dinner at mom's tonight. I can bring the Jeep and you can take it for a test drive. Will that work for you?”

“Yeah, that'd be great.”

“
Then it's a date. I'll be there around six. Let me talk to mom.”

I handed the phone to Polly. And again, I could only hear one side of her conversation.

“Yes, he's nice. You'll like him. And he's single.

“
I don't know about that, but you can ask him when you meet him this evening.

“
Okay, bye.”

Polly looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “So, you're going to meet my daughter tonight. That should be interesting.”

She turned her attention back to the houseboat. “Any time you want to see it, just let me know. I haven't put the 'for sale' signs on it yet, and if you think you might be interested, I'd rather show it to you than deal with strangers.”

In the back seat, Oscar snorted. Then farted.

Polly laughed. “Sounds like I need to get Oscar back to the trailer. He's on a strict poop schedule, and we don't want to miss his window of opportunity.”

I started the minivan and we headed back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Back at Serenity Cove, I thanked Polly for her brownies and she thanked me for driving her to Publix. Oscar came over and sniffed my shoes, then snorted. I didn't know if it was a snort of acceptance or derision. Perhaps he smelled Mango Bob.

Speaking of which, as soon as I opened the door to my motorhome, Bob was there. He had things to show me.

First, he led me back to his food bowl, which needed topping off. Then he led me back up front where he jumped on the back of the couch and leaned against the window sill.

From his perch, he had spied birds. And watching birds was one of Bob's most favorite things. He'd watch them until his little mouth would start a strange chattering sound and his stub of a tail would begin twitching back and forth.

As far as I knew, Bob had been an inside cat since being rescued at a very early age. But his instincts for hunting were deeply ingrained, and I had no doubt that if he could get out, he'd soon be chasing birds instead of just chattering at them.

Since the weather was mild, I opened the window so Bob could hear the birds better and perhaps get their scent. The screen on the window would keep him inside, but the open window would allow him to feel closer to nature.

As soon as I opened the window, Bob looked up at me and said, “Murrph”. His 'thank you' sound.

Then he returned his gaze to the birds in the tree just out of his reach.

He was happy.

While Bob watched the birds, I checked the fridge for something to eat. I'd missed lunch, and other than the three brownies, I hadn't had much to eat today.

Seeing that the fridge was almost bare reminded me that as soon as I got a car, I'd need to go out and restock with fresh food.

Until recently, I'd been driving the motorhome to Walmart to buy food. Their large parking lot was a lot easier to get into and out of than most other stores, so that's where I shopped.  But I wouldn't be taking the motorhome to Walmart or anywhere else for a while. The rules at Serenity Cove prohibited those kinds of in and out trips.

So I really did need a car, soon.

Maybe the one Lucy was bringing over tonight would be the right one.

Since my cover story at Serenity Cove was that of a specialist brought in to upgrade the park's wifi and since I had a few hours to kill before Lucy arrived with the Jeep, I figured I might as well fire up my computer and do a quick check on their system.

Back when I worked in the corporate world, my specially was setting up secure wifi networks, and then finding ways to hack into them. This gave us a chance to find vulnerabilities in the network and correct them before problems occurred.

For network testing, I had put together a set of software tools which I still had on my laptop computer. These tools allowed me to quickly analyze wifi networks to find potential problems.

Using these, I logged into the Serenity Cove network and started a series of automated tests.

The entire process took less than five minutes. The results showed the park was using an older and slower wifi transmission protocol with limited bandwidth and spotty coverage.

This was typical of older systems, especially those with hotspots and repeaters installed outdoors. Fortunately, bringing the system up to date wouldn't take too much work. A new router, new weatherproof repeaters, updated firewall, and maybe some new cabling.

At current prices, probably less than $3,000 in hardware. And three days of labor.

I'd write up a report with my recommendations and a cost estimate. My realtor buddy Anna could give this to the park owner and get approval before I started spending any money.

In the meantime, I could go out and visually inspect the repeaters and might be able to make a major improvement in the system without spending much money.

But I'd wait a few days before I did that. No need to get the job completed on the first day.

With that taken care of, I browsed over to eBay and checked the prices of Jeeps like the one Lucy would be bringing over this evening.

There were plenty for sale, in every shape and condition. Many had been customized with lift kits, big tires, and off road accessories. These didn't interest me. I wanted something close to factory stock.

On eBay, the bid prices for low mileage, good condition, unmodified Jeep Wranglers were pretty much in line with what I wanted to pay. Lucy hadn't mentioned a price during our call this morning, but now that I knew what they were going for on eBay, I would be in a better negotiating position.

I printed out some of the listings, then turned off my computer.

A few hours later, around six o'clock, a shiny black Jeep Wrangler pulled into the parking spot beside Polly's Airstream.  The driver's door opened and a woman, late twenties to early thirties, wearing cargo shorts, white t-shirt, dark sun glasses, and a ball cap, stepped out, looked in my direction and smiled.

Lucy Sparks.

The car salesman who made house calls.

I started to go outside to introduce myself, but she turned toward the Airstream, and walked to the front door where her mother greeted her.

They had a short conversation, then both started walking to my motorhome.

I went outside to meet them.

Polly introduced us. “Walker, this is my daughter, Lucy.”

I reached out and shook her hand. “Glad to meet you Lucy. I see you brought the Jeep.”

“Sure did. Just like I promised.”

She turned toward the Jeep, “It's a beauty isn't it? Let me show you why you're going to like it.”

We walked around the Jeep together. Lucy pointed out the features. “It's got new tires all the way around. New battery. No dents and no rust.”

She patted the top. “Factory hardtop. A two thousand dollar option. Well worth it in stormy weather. Plus it keeps the interior nice.”

She opened the passenger door. “The seats and dash are in perfect condition. Everything works the way it should. Ice cold air conditioning.”

Lucy was in car salesman mode. Excited that she had a prospect and a decent car to sell.

I smiled and asked her a question. “So Lucy, where's the tow bar you mentioned?”

“
We took it off back at the sales lot. It comes off easily and there's no need to drive around with it mounted to the front grill.”

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I was interested in the Jeep, but didn't want to seem too anxious.

Lucy looked at her mom, then back at me. “So, Walker, you want to take it for a test drive?”

“
I do. You coming?”

“
Sure am. No way you're driving this without me in it until the title is in your name.”

She tossed me the keys. “You drive, I'll ride shotgun.”

Then turning to Polly, she said, “If we're not back in thirty minutes, call the sheriff.”

After Lucy got in, I climbed in on the driver's side, adjusted my seat and mirrors and scanned the dash. The controls were pretty much what I expected. Nothing fancy, but easy to understand.

Pushing in the clutch, I started the motor, eased the transmission into reverse, and backed out onto the road. I put it in first gear and we headed out.

The Jeep handled well. A little stiff over the bumps, but pretty much what you'd expect in a Jeep. It had plenty of power and a rugged feeling that just begged to be taken off road.

When we reached Dearborn Street, Lucy said, “Turn left here. Head toward River Road. When we get to Pine Street, turn right, and we'll loop back around. That'll give you a chance to see how well it handles at speed and in traffic.”

I nodded and kept driving.

The Jeep surprised me with how much pep the six cylinder motor had. If I wasn't careful when letting out the clutch, I could chirp the tires in first and second gear.

The first time I did it, Lucy shook her head. “It's not yours yet, so don't tear it up.”

“Yes ma'am. I'll be gentle.”

But I wasn't. I hit the speed bumps on Dearborn a little faster than I should of. Then tested the brakes at the second stop sign with a hard stop.

The brakes worked good, I was happy we both had our seat belts on.

After the brake test, I drove normally. Listening for problems, making sure the steering felt tight and there weren't any unexpected rattles.

Inside, the seats were comfortable, not cushy, but firm.

“
So what do you think?” asked Lucy.

“
I like it. It drives nice. Plenty comfortable. And it's a Jeep.”

She smiled but didn't say anything as I continued toward River Road.

As we neared the Pine Street intersection, I moved over into the right lane so I could make the turn at the light. It was red when we got there, and the car in front of us wasn't turning, so we had to stop and wait for the green.

Just as the light turned, a boy on a bicycle shot across the intersection, trying to outrun the row of stopped cars.

He almost made it.

The car to the left of me had accelerated as soon as the light had turned and had hit the bike broadside, throwing the cyclist over the hood, and onto the road in front of oncoming traffic.

The driver of the car that hit the cyclist, an elderly woman, came to a full stop in the center of the intersection.

The driver in the car behind me honked his horn, wanting me to make my right turn and get out of his way. I'm not sure whether he had seen the accident or not, but he was in a hurry to go somewhere.

Making sure the road was clear, I turned right, pulled to the side, and as soon as the waiting car passed, did a U turn. This put us in the lane opposite and to the left of the downed cyclist. He was still laying in the center of the road, exposed to oncoming traffic.

Turning to Lucy, I said, “Hold on”.

I accelerated into the intersection, jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, slid the Jeep sideways, then stomped on the brakes as we closed in on the fallen rider.

Lucy looked at me wide eyed. “What the hell are you doing?”

I pointed to the oncoming traffic. “He was going to get run over. So I created a road block.”

After asking Lucy to call 911, I released my seat belt and jumped out to see how bad the cyclist had been hurt.

He was lying on his back in the middle of the road, his eyes closed. Not moving. It looked bad.

Preparing for the worst, I ran toward him, hoping he was still breathing. As I got closer, I was surprised to see that he wasn't a kid. He was a middle aged man, probably late forties, maybe early fifties.

It looked like he had led a hard life. Deep creases on his unshaven face, tattered shirt and pants. Scars on his hands and legs.

Still not moving.

I'd gotten close enough to see that there was no blood. No seeping wounds. And that was good.

But he wasn't breathing and that was bad.

Looking around, I could see that people had stopped and were getting out of their cars. But they were staying back, not wanting to get too close. Not wanting to get involved.

I couldn't blame them. Accidents like this are messy. You never know who you are dealing with, or what diseases the victims might be carrying.

But if it were you on the ground, you'd want somebody to get involved. To take a risk to save your life.

In the military we had been trained how to react in situations like this. Check the airway for obstructions, check for open wounds, stop the bleeding and when necessary, perform CPR to get the heart restarted.

I checked the man's pulse. There was nothing there. He wasn't breathing and his heart had stopped. If he were to be saved, it had to happen now. Someone needed to start CPR.

But no one else was coming to his aid. So it was left to me. Either I stood by and watched him die, or I could try to save his life.

It was an easy decision.

I knelt down beside him and put both hands near the center of his chest. Pushing hard, I began the compressions. Fast and to the beat of the Bee Gee's
Staying Alive
. One compression for each word in the chorus.

“
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
”

Twelve compressions in a row. I hoped it would be enough. Else I'd have to do it over and over until help arrived.

He hadn't revived, so I started again. Humming the Bee Gee's song.

“
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive
.”

On the final 'stayin alive', the man surprised me. His eyes popped open and he took a deep noisy breath.

Then with a toothy grin he said, “Wow, that could'a been bad!”

The paramedics arrived moments later. I stood and got out of their way.

Looking around, I saw that Lucy was standing with the woman who had been driving the car that had hit the cyclist. They were talking with a sheriff's deputy who was taking notes.