Mango Bob (24 page)

She started the truck and drove out the gate and waited for me in the street. I closed and locked the gate and got in the truck with her.

As soon as I closed my door, we were off. East on Dearborn, then right on 776. Through three stoplights. Past McDonald's at Beach Road.

I was trying to identify buildings, streets and shops I could later use as guideposts if I were driving.

After about eight minutes Sarah pulled into the Merchants Crossing shopping center, and parked in front of a Bealls department store.

She announced, “We're here.” She got out of the truck and headed toward the store. I followed.

Inside, Sarah walked to the men's department, looked around, and headed to a display of Columbia fishing shirts.

“You'll need at least four of these. They'll keep you cool. They dry quickly when wet, and have plenty of pockets for gear.

“You probably wear a large. Hold out your arms.”

She picked out four shirts. Yellow, orange, green, and light blue, and piled them in my outstretched arms.

“You'll need some shorts. Get the Columbia PFG fishing shorts.”

She pointed to a display stacked with shorts.

“You look like a medium, but you'll want to try these on.” She handed me a pair and pointed, “Men's dressing room over there.”

I took the shorts into the dressing room and tried them on.

Sarah knocked, “Come out, let me see how they fit.”

“They fit fine. I'll be out in a minute.”

I changed back into my jeans, then went out.

Sarah looked amused. “Too embarrassed to show your lily white legs? No problem, we'll have you tanned up in no time.

“If those fit, get four pair.”

“Now, we need to look at t-shirts. Things you can wear while working around the boat yard. The Columbia PFG tee's are a good choice. Follow me.”

I followed Sarah to a table piled high with shirts. She picked out five brightly colored ones and added them to the stack of clothes I was carrying.

“Last thing we need to get you are some ankle socks. Let's get ten pair.”

Sarah picked out a package of ten socks and added them to the pile.

“That should do it. Anything else you need?”

“Sarah, this is more clothes than I've ever bought at one time in my life. Are you sure I need all this?”

“Yes, you need them. Next week you'll be thanking me. Now, let's check out.”

We walked to the nearest cashier and checked out. The total bill was $237.50. I paid with a credit card.

As we walked back out to the truck, Sarah asked, “So, what's for lunch?”

I pointed to the Subway sandwich shop across the street. “Subway works for me. How about you?”

“Oh, so you're a big spender.” Then, “Just kidding, Subway sounds good.”

We went to Subway and ordered our subs and drinks. The girl behind the counter quickly assembled the sandwiches and I paid.

We picked out a table, and started in on our lunch.

After a few bites, Sarah asked, “So what do you think so far?”

“About what?”

“Englewood. Florida. Kayaking. Me.”

“Sarah, I've only been here two days. So far, it's been fun. Great weather. Nice people. ”

“Think you'll stick around for awhile?”

I nodded, “I pretty much have to now that you made me buy all those Florida clothes.”

She poked me with her straw, “Hey, I did you a favor. Having the right clothes when working on the water can make a big difference. You'll see.

“Speaking of which, I've got a kayak tour scheduled tomorrow afternoon. Three of the ladies from this morning signed up, along with three others who signed up earlier.

“You want to go out with us? Be my assistant again?”

I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed without answering.

Sarah grinned,“I promise not to turn your boat over again.”

I smiled. “I'll think about it.”

As we finished our meal Sarah said, “On the way back I need to stop at PetSmart. Get some stuff for Bob so I can move him over to my place.”

I nodded, then said, “I'm in no hurry to move him out. He's no trouble.”

“Walker, you've had Bob long enough. This afternoon he's moving back in with me.”

PetSmart was across the street from Subway. We drove over and Sarah went in. I followed.

She picked out a large litter box, a twenty pound bucket of litter, and a five pound bag of Maxicat Roasted Chicken dry food, which apparently was Bob's favorite.

After paying for her supplies, we left the store, got in the truck and headed back to the boatyard.

Traffic was light. It took just a few minutes to get back.

As we pulled up to the boatyard, Sarah said, “The gate's open. Didn't we lock it when we left?”

“Yep, I locked it behind you. Anyone else have a key?”

“No, just you and me.”

Sarah pulled into the lot.

The Love Bus was gone. With Bob inside it.

61

Sarah looked at me. “Where's your RV?”

“I have no idea. It was here when we left. I locked the door. I have the keys in my pocket.”

“Someone must have stolen it.”

“And they've got Bob!”

Sarah looked at me, “Call 911.”

I reached for my phone. Then remembered I'd left the phone on the charger inside the Love Bus.

“No phone. It's in the motorhome”

Sarah pulled out her phone. “I'll call. But you'll have to give them the details.”

Sarah dialed 911 and handed me the phone.

“Nine One One. What is your emergency?”

“My motorhome was just stolen.”

Calmly, the 911 operator asked, “Has anyone been hurt? Is the suspect still there?”

“No, he's gone. My motorhome is gone, and everything I own is inside it. Along with Bob.”

“Who's Bob?”

“Our cat. He was sleeping in the back when we left this morning.”

The operator said “Hold please.”

She came back a few moments later. “Sir, a stolen vehicle isn't considered an emergency. I can contact the sheriff's office and ask them to call you to follow up on this. Would you like for me to do that?”

“Yes. Please.”

“OK, I've forwarded the information to the Sheriff's Office. They will call you back to get more details.

“Is there any other emergency you wish to report?”

“No.” I hung up and looked at Sarah.

“They said a stolen vehicle isn't an emergency. They're going to alert the sheriff's office and follow up with us later on.”

Sarah was visibly upset. “So what do we do? I've got to get Bob back!”

I thought about it, “We've been gone for less than an hour, so they couldn't have gotten far.”

“I had less than a quarter tank of gas in it, so they'll have to stop and get gas pretty soon.”

“Sarah, I've got an idea.”

“My phone has a 'where is my phone' app on it. If I text a secret word to it, it will text me back it's GPS location.”

I was still holding Sarah's phone so I quickly sent a text message to my phone.

Two minutes later, Sarah's phone chimed. A text message had arrived back.

The message showed the GPS location of the phone, the speed and direction of travel, and included a link to a Google map showing the current location.

I clicked the Google maps link, and it showed, “Walmart Super Center, Osprey.”

I looked at Sarah, “How far is the Walmart Super Center in Osprey, Florida?”

“It's on the north side of Venice, about 30 minutes away.”

“That's where the motorhome is right now. Maybe we can get there before they take off again.

“Do you know anyone you can call up there who might be able to get there faster?”

Sarah shook her head, “No, everyone I know lives here in Englewood.”

I pulled out my wallet. Looked for the card given to me by Jack Daniels. He said he and Jean were renting in Venice.

Using Sarah's phone, I called Jack's number. He answered on the third ring.

“Jack, this is Walker. My motorhome was stolen about an hour ago. Right now it's in the Walmart parking lot in Osprey, and I'm driving that way to get it back.”

“It'll take me about thirty minutes to get there, and I'm afraid the thief will be long gone by then.

“Is there any way you can get there quicker?”

Jack replied, “I'm six minutes away, getting in the car right now.”

“Jack, when you get there, don't confront the guy. Just park your car to block him in.”

“Walker, have you called the police?”

“Yes, and they said it was a low priority crime. Not an emergency.

“Jack, Mango Bob's in the motorhome. Along with everything I own. I don't want this guy to get away.”

“Walker, I'm on my way. I'll call you back when I get there.”

Jack hung up.

62

Sarah was driving as fast as traffic would allow. It was quick getting out of Englewood, but traffic through Venice slowed to a crawl.

“Who was that on the phone?”, Sarah asked.

“That was Jack Daniels, a retired cop I met on my way down here.

“He and his wife are in Venice. He's going to try to get to Walmart before we do, block the motorhome in so it can't go anywhere.”

Sarah looked at me, “What are you going to do when we get there? What if the guy who stole it is armed?”

“If he's armed, we'll call the police. But I'm not worried about that. If we block him in, he won't be going anywhere. And there'll be a lot of witnesses in the Walmart parking lot.”

Sarah concentrated on getting through traffic, trying to dodge the snowbirds who seemed to block her at every turn.

She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, “Damn this traffic! We're not going to get there in time!”

Sarah's phone chimed. It was Jack.

“Walker, I'm in the Walmart parking lot. Your rig is still here. No one's in it. I've parked so it can't leave.”

“Great! We're about six minutes away. Call me if anything happens.” I hung up.

I told Sarah, “The motorhome is still there. No one inside.”

Sarah was visibly relieved. “Maybe Bob's still in it. He better be!”

Five miles past the Nokomis Beach turn-off, we finally saw the Walmart sign in the distance. Sarah pulled into the right lane, and then turned into the Walmart parking lot.

Once in the parking lot, it was easy to find the motorhome. Being taller than all the other cars it stood out in the far corner of the lot.

As we got closer, we could see a black Mercury Marauder parked in front of the motorhome. Jack, in his Florida car, which looked like a undercover police car.

We drove over and parked behind the motorhome, boxing it in.

I got out and walked over to Jack. “Anything going on inside?”

“Not yet. Looks like nobody's home.”

I patted my pocket, “I've got the keys, we could just take it back.”

Jack shook his head. “Not a good idea. Better to find out who took it and why. Else they might come back and try to get it again.”

We were still standing there as a man carrying a Walmart bag in one hand and wiping his eyes with a tissue with the other, approached.

Since there were no other vehicles parked nearby, we figured he was our man. We stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He looked surprised.

I turned to Sarah, “Call the police. Tell them there's a disturbance in the Walmart parking lot. Tell them someone is going to get hurt.”

The man looked confused. “What's this about?”

I pointed to the motorhome, “That's my motorhome. Someone stole it a few minutes ago. We're here to get it back.”

The man held up both hands, “Hey, no need for violence. I'm just doing my job.”

I looked at Jack, then back to the man. “Your job? You just stole my motorhome. That's not a job. That's a felony.”

“You're wrong, I didn't steal anything. I have a repossession order from the lien-holder.”

Jack looked at me, shook his head.

I said, “That can't be right. I own this vehicle free and clear. It's registered in my name. No liens on it.”

The man shook his head, “That's not what I was told. I got a repo order. Got the paper-work inside.”

He reached for the door. I blocked his way.

“You're not going inside. This is my motorhome. There's no loan on it. Nothing to repossess.”

The repo man stepped back, “Look, I've driven twelve hundred miles trying to get this motorhome and I'm not giving it up.

“The client has already paid me. He sent me the keys and a GPS tracking address.”