Chapter Fourteen The Plan Is Afoot #2
She spotted a pile of magazines in a basket on the floor.
She had intended to go through them but always got sidetracked.
The pile was several editions high. She pulled out a pair of scissors and a large piece of posterboard and sat on the floor.
It had been decades since she’d made a collage.
It was a breakthrough moment for her. She felt liberated.
Mikey sat as patiently as he could, waiting for two important phone calls.
One from the bank; the other from Riley Shields.
There was a third call, which was imminent, but he didn’t want to think about it at the moment.
He was curious about the call from the Wainwright woman but didn’t want to leave the shop in Arlo’s hands.
Mikey started a pile of invoices in the order of who needed to be paid first. There were the property taxes.
They were well over 30,000 dollars. Then there was the bill for the gas for the boat.
Another ten grand. There were bills for equipment that hadn’t been paid, either.
So far, the total was close to 60,000 dollars.
In the rubble of paper, Mikey found the bill of sale for Dennis’s ATV.
Mikey looked at it with disgust. His brother paid over fifteen grand for it.
No wonder there was no money in the bank account.
Dennis had been spending what little profits they had on new toys.
Mikey glanced out the window. Dennis’s ATV should net at least 10,000.
He quickly opened the laptop and placed an ad to sell it.
There was plenty of time left before winter, so he should get some nibbles.
That cash could help put a dent in the back taxes.
Mikey thought about putting the truck up for sale, as well.
The ringing of the burner phone interrupted his thoughts. He decided not to answer it. He had nothing for the man. No information. No paperwork. No money. Mikey stared at the phone until it stopped ringing. Then the voicemail light began to flash. He didn’t want to hear it.
Then the call came from the bank manager.
It wasn’t good news. The bank would not lend him the money.
They said the business wasn’t worth enough to put up for collateral.
Now Mikey was faced with a big decision: should he sell the building and property it sat on, or just hope for a miracle?
Miracles were in short supply, even though he found some money to pay for the slip.
He knew he would probably have to pay the utility bills soon.
He decided he’d contact them and try to set up a payment plan.
But make payments with what? Mikey wondered when the lights would get turned off.
The phone rang again. It wasn’t Riley, but it was Kurt Bahr. He informed Mikey that they could probably get half a million for the property. Mikey almost fell off his chair.
“Seriously?” Mikey was stunned.
“I know you’ve been working and living there for a long time, but property is in short supply in the county right now.”
“Who would buy it?” Mikey pondered.
“I have a guy who wants to open a yacht sale business.”
“Yachts?” Mikey could not imagine anyone in Smuggler’s Cove affording a yacht.
“That’s what they call it, but it’s not limited to yachts,” Kurt informed the confused Farrell brother. “They have a big enterprise in Florida, and they want to have a place up here they can use as a showroom.”
Mikey thought about it. It wasn’t a bad idea. “What’s the next step?”
“I’m going to talk to him later today. Hang tight.”
Mikey’s stomach began to feel normal. Maybe his luck was really changing for the better.
He pulled open the middle drawer of the desk.
Under some dust and pencil shavings was an incredibly old medal of St. Brendan the Navigator, patron saint of sailors.
Mikey plucked the medal and began polishing it with his shirttail, meditating for only good things to come.
He was jolted from his trance by the burner phone again. And again, he opted not to answer it. Then he decided he should listen to the first voicemail. It was rather menacing:
“Listen, you little twerp. I want those papers, pronto. Otherwise, you are going to be in for a major hurt.”
He was too jittery to just wait for Riley to phone him; he needed to find out if Riley’s possible buyer was interested in the boat. He dialed the number, and Riley picked up immediately.
“Hey, Farrell. I was going to call you a little later. Things are really busy today.”
Mikey held his breath and reluctantly asked, “Any word about the houseboat?”
“Yeah. I shoulda let you know earlier, but like I said, we’re swamped. But good news. You got a deal for the boat, minus my five thousand commission.”
Mikey was speechless. He looked at the medal he was still holding in his other hand and whispered, “Thank you” to the inanimate object.
Naturally, Riley thought Mikey was talking to him. “Speak up, boy.”
“I said, ‘Thank you.’”
“The buyer is going to be in town tomorrow. He has a closing on one of those big houses on the water.”
Mikey knew the new enclave sported homes in excess of four million dollars. He was encouraged that the deal would go through. Soon, he hoped.
“Excellent.” Mikey was beginning to breathe normally.
“Listen, I can float you the money,” Riley offered.
“What do you mean?” Mikey asked.
“I’ll pay you for the boat, minus my commission. You just need to give me the bill of sale.”
Mikey thought Riley might be doing something a little dodgy. Pay Mikey forty-five and sell it to the new buyer for more than fifty. But Mikey didn’t care. He had to move on.
“You got a deal, Mr. Shields.”
“Come over later today, and I’ll cut you a check,” Riley said.
“Any chance you can give me cash?” Mikey didn’t want to wait until a check cleared.
“I’d need a little time,” Riley said. “Day after tomorrow. After three.”
“Great. Thanks!” Mikey’s eyes were beginning to blur. He was getting choked up. This would settle one issue. Now if Kurt could pull off the property sale, he could end this entire nightmare. Start over. Do something else. Maybe leave town.
He listened to the second voicemail. It was equally menacing, but Mikey decided to call him back and plan to meet up with him at the end of the week. He planned on giving the mystery man his money back and be done with him.
Lincoln got into position at the upper patio table. This way, he could hear the conversation coming from below. Olivia was tinkering in the kitchen with a teapot and biscuits. Everyone was in slippers. The stage was set.
Madison had a few butterflies in her stomach, but she invoked her ice-queen shield. She was ready.
At three on the dot, the doorbell rang. Madison walked slowly to the front entrance.