Captain's Choice Ch. 11

I called the RCMP CID in Burnaby twice over the summer to see what progress they had made on the theft of Captain's Choice and the death of the two men. It was now over a year since the theft and destruction of our boat. Each time I was transferred to the office of the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit, with no explanation what the connection was. They maintained that it was "confidential information related to an ongoing investigation," code words for "go away boy, you're bothering us." We were almost resigned to never knowing why the boat was stolen.

Then, over six months later, in the dead of winter, I happened to drive by the boat yard where I had restored my father's boat and noticed the remainder of a hull that looked slightly familiar. It was on a cradle and there was yellow tape around the area. It was irresistible. I turned around and drove into the yard. As I got closer, the scorched bow revealed the numbers I had seen once before, in Hotham Sound.

The tape proved to be police tape and warned off anyone from getting too close. There was no doubt that it was the remains of Captain's Choice. I walked to the yard manager's office and entered.

"I'm Pat Hamelin," I said to the vaguely familiar older man. "You may remember me from my restoration project five years ago."

"Nope, sorry, can't say I do," he said without much examination. "What can I do for you?"

"That boat over there, the hulk with the police tape around it. That was the boat I restored."

"Oh yeah? Won't be restoring that one again."

"No, I can see that. Why is it here?"

"The cops wanted to go over it. They were looking for something, but didn't say what. I saw what they took away anyhow."

"What was it?"

"Dope, I figure. Looked like a whole bunch of packages in plastic wrap, about the size of a small shoe box. Must have been stashed somewhere below. About forty or fifty of them I'd guess. Everything topside was blown away."

"Are they still looking for something?" I asked.

"Naw, they haven't been around for a couple of months now. They're still sending the cheque for the cradle and space, so I'm not going to shoo them away. Typical, ain't it? Your tax dollars at work."

"Yeah ... I guess. Thanks for the info," I said, walking out and back to my vehicle.

I sat behind the wheel before going anywhere. There were still some unanswered questions. So it was dope, but how did they get it aboard? Del and I were there all the time they were. Where did they stash it? There were only a couple of places that might have kept us from finding it. One would be the chain locker with the anchor cable. We seldom had to go in there. The other might be somewhere in the engine room, but I doubted that. We were down there regularly and there weren't many hiding places that could handle that many packages.

I'd pretty much convinced myself that they must have hidden their stash in the chain locker. The bow had survived the explosion for the most part. The only way they could have brought that many packages on board was in their luggage. I remembered they didn't want any help with taking them on board. In fact they were adamant that the boys leave them alone. That must have been the vehicle, then.

Okay, I've got that part figured out, but why leave the packages on my boat when they left? They must have been pretty confident that it was a safe hiding place. Then, two weeks later, they return and steal the boat because they can't take the chance of being spotted moving the dope. Still weird. Why my boat in the first place? Why the bizarre hiding place? Too many questions and not enough answers.

"That's really strange," Ardele said when I told her of my discovery and my guesses. "I'm with you. Why your boat and why just for a few days?"

I was shaking my head. "The only thought I had was that maybe they were nervous someone was on to them. Maybe the cops, or some other gang. Maybe they panicked after a while and decided to move the stuff."

I sat for a while, just thinking about what I had deduced about the entire event. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch. I really wanted to know just what had caused the whole situation.

"I think I'll give RCMP CID another call and see if I can get an appointment with them. They've blown me off a couple of times, but if they think I know something, maybe they'll give me an idea of just what happened."

"Good luck," Del grinned. "Like a dog with a bone. You just can't let it go, can you?"

I shrugged. "It's worth a try."

***

I was ushered into the office of the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit. Fancy title for what was supposed to be an integrated attack on drugs and organized crime. I had been bounced here from the Criminal Investigation Branch when I tried to get some answers to my questions on Captain's Choice.

"What did you want to discuss, Mr. Hamelin?" Sergeant Vicic asked in a flat tone. He had made it plain he really didn't want to discuss the case, but on the off chance that I knew something useful, he would tolerate me for a few minutes.

"Can you tell me why I was never interviewed by the police about the five men who chartered my boat? I would have thought you wanted to know everything there was to know about them, considering their previous records."

He looked at me with a deadpan expression before answering.

"We didn't think it was necessary. After you reported them to the Campbell River detachment, they put a tail on them. It wasn't until your boat was stolen that we thought they might have left something valuable on board."

"I gather you found it in the bow ... what remained of the chain locker," I suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah. Under a bunch of chain and rope."

"Cocaine?"

Again, he nodded. "Yeah."

"So, why not talk to me. Maybe I was the one who stashed it there?" I was playing a bluff, hoping it would get me some answers.

"When we matched up your profile against theirs, it didn't fit very well," he smirked. "This was a big stash, something way beyond your means. These boys," he gestured to the five photos before him, "are experienced pros. We've been on to them for some time."

"Why not check out the boat before it was stolen?"

He let his breath out and leaned back in his chair. The look on his face was one of frustration.

"Lack of communications. No one told us they were in Campbell River and on your boat until after the fact. We knew nothing about their whereabouts until you reported the boat missing."

"I reported them to the Campbell River detachment right after they left the boat. We even gave them pictures. What the hell happened?"

"Like I said, lack of communications. Their boys didn't tell our boys. Simple as that."

"Shit! That cost me my boat. I spent a year of my life restoring it. Now there's nothing left of it except a burned out wreck."

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "Sorry, but it happens. At least we got the drugs and cost that gang two lives and close to a million dollars."

"Speaking of two lives, what happened to the other three?" I asked.

"The Crown Prosecutor Service is working up charges related to the drugs as we speak. We won't charge them until we have a good chance of a conviction. However, if you had read the newspapers a month ago, you might have seen their names in connection with a gang shooting in Vernon. We may get lucky and have them on murder, attempted murder and possession for sale. Right now, they're resting comfortably in remand, so you can take some satisfaction that they haven't gotten away with anything ... yet."

"Thanks for being candid with me. I was getting pretty frustrated with not knowing why all this happened to me. Just the same, it pisses me off that I reported these guys as suspicious and nothing happened until it was too late."

"I wish I could tell you it won't happen again. However, I know, based on how fragmented communications are between the hundreds of different police organizations in this country, that it can and it will. One day, long after I'm retired, I might live to see a truly integrated system of information. Right now, that's just a pipe dream."

I stood and extended my hand. "Thanks again. At least now I know what happened."

I drove back to our apartment thinking about what I had learned. I'd guessed some of it accurately, but hadn't thought that the police would bungle the opportunity to catch them red-handed.

"So now you know," Ardele smiled. "You can finally put it in the past."

"Yeah, I guess so. I still wish I could have saved Dad's boat. However, on the way home I realized I liked the new boat better. Dad's boat was part of a memory. Our new boat is part of our future."

"Good thinking," she smiled, giving me a loving kiss.

***

It was the night of Ernie's party that Ardele and I resumed our lovemaking. I was extremely cautious, not wanting to cause her pain or discomfort, but with the aid of some lubricant, she seemed to be fine. It was great to be able to once more show her how much I loved her and she returned that love to me without hesitation. I was using a condom for the time being as she had only just resumed taking birth control pills. It was too soon for a second child.

There were all sorts of logistical issues to work out about how to run the charter business now that we had a child. There was also the recognition that our two bedroom apartment was going to have to be replaced with something larger and in a more suburban location. Ardele had found a nice stroller, but manhandling in and out of the elevator and around the noisy city streets wasn't her idea of a nice stroll with Bobby.

When I thought of our old house in Burnaby, I realized it would have been ideal for us, but of course, it was long gone. I thought a townhouse in the right district would be a good alternative and Ardele agreed. We began to hunt for one later that fall.

It was nearing Christmas when Mom and Ernie stopped by for a visit. They had driven down the island, crossing on the ferry to Horseshoe Bay and the fifteen minute drive to Mom's townhouse.

Mom looked a bit nervous for some reason, but Ernie was holding her hand and looking very happy.

"Pat, Ardele, we have some news," my mother began. "Ernie has asked me to marry him and I have said yes," she said, showing us her new ring and a big smile.

It wasn't a shock, or even a surprise. We had expected this and both Ardele and I congratulated them heartily with handshakes and hugs. I brought out some wine and we celebrated their engagement. They had decided to get married early next year and they were going to live in Ernie's home on Willow Point.

"Does that mean you're going to sell your townhouse?" I asked, thinking quickly.

"Yes," Mother said. "We won't need two homes."

"Mom, you know Ardele and I are looking for a place, so maybe we can strike a deal to buy yours. Both of us like the area and the building, so it would work well for us."

"I think that would be wonderful," she said. "I know you'll like the place and the neighbours. There are several young couples with children in the complex. What should we do about making it happen?"

"Well, I'll call Sam Fowler for some advice. We'll need an appraisal and then we can buy it from you at the appraised value."

"Is that all right, Ernie?" my mother asked her new fiancé.

"It will save you real estate fees, Dear. I think it makes a lot of sense if they really want it."

"Well, then, it's settled," Mother said with a smile.

I looked at Ardele and smiled. I know she really liked Mom's townhouse and we both knew it was in good condition and not that old. All the appliances were modern along with a heat pump for the handful of hot days that came along each summer. It was an ideal solution for us, as well as for Ernie and Mom.

I thought it was a strange coincidence that both Tom and Ernie Tillman were former pilots, although with very different experiences. Tom had flown 767s and later, A330s to Europe while Ernie flew Twin Otters on coastal routes. Tom's status was clearly superior, but he never let it be an issue. He was as down-to-earth as Ernie, and a very likeable guy.

I had a chance to talk to my mother about Tom Thompson. I didn't want to be too nosy, but I did mention I thought they were good friends.

"You're right, Pat. Tom and I are good friends, but nothing more. He's still grieving over his wife and besides, his lifestyle doesn't fit with my interests. Ernie is exactly the right man for me. We have so much in common and he is such a delight to be with. I'm going to be very happy with him. Don't you worry about me. This is the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time."

"Good," I smiled. "That's all I care about. I want you to be happy and living the life you will truly enjoy. I think you've chosen very well. He's a good man and can care for you and love you like you deserve."

That brought another tearful thank you from her, along with a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

So, as Christmas approaches and Del and I begin our third year together, I'm a happy camper. I have a beautiful and loving wife, a wonderful son, a career we both enjoy, and we have a nice place to live. I reunited with my mother who has found love herself. I'm happy for her and I'm happy we are back together as a family. No one can read tomorrow's newspaper, so I'll settle for the life I have and what I've got to look forward to.

END