Deceived - Laura S. Wharton Page 0,11

collector’s item. It would sell fast, unlike Lee’s boat.

Stormy Monday. Sam thought about the note mentioning “seacock.” After about an hour on the road, Sam returned to the condo. He turned off the car, quickly felt inside the empty glove compartment and trunk, and then returned the keys to their place on the dresser.

Back at the dock, Sam stopped by Angel long enough to grab that key. Stormy was well tied in her slip just a few slips down from his boat. Sam noted the extra spring lines Lee had put out.

“Must make a note to do that for my boat before the next strong wind,” Sam thought. He stepped aboard her stern and into the cockpit. Lee’s handiwork was apparent everywhere; mounted drink holders, mesh bags for lines and winch handles, and canvas winch and binnacle covers were all well-protected by the hard dodger he had formed and constructed a few summers ago. On top of the dodger were mounted two solar panels. Under the dodger, Lee had fashioned sleek dry boxes for Stormy’s instruments and electrical hook-ups for the electronic gear stored off the boat during winter months. After unlocking the companionway hatch boards, Sam entered the salon. Unlike Angel’s center-cockpit, Stormy’s cockpit was aft. This layout had its advantages, including only one hatch to fumble with during foul weather while sailing. Below, the L-shaped galley was to port opposite a small navigation station whose seat doubled as the top of a quarter berth, extending the boat’s width. Lee had fashioned a back rest at the nav station as well as some removable partitions that sectioned off the quarter berth into manageable storage for coolers, extra lines, anchors, and dry goods—a novel idea. Lee was trying to figure out a way to patent his design before approaching the folks at Catalina, the boat’s manufacturer.

Stormy’s salon had a dinette to port and a long bunk to starboard with shelves over it, holding countless CDs and paperbacks. Forward was a head to port and a deep hanging locker, which had been converted for the HVAC system, a blessing on sticky nights at dock, for which North Carolina is famous. Forward was a small but adequate V-berth stacked high with the cockpit cushions Jenny had covered.

Seeing them reminded Sam of the weekends when Jenny and he had taken turns on her sewing machine, making new covers for their respective boats. Though Jenny’s were covered with a splashy bright fish pattern, they were similar to his in size and design. Sam wondered whether he would be able to repair his slashed cushions, but he guessed he’d have to start again.

Convinced that everything was the way it was supposed to be on a boat not yet prepared for the approaching sailing season, Sam moved aft to look at the engine compartment. First, he checked the hoses, then the belts on the engine. Next, he opened the seacock in the engine compartment. There were no apparent leaks. He checked the engine’s oil, getting just a little on his fingers to test its viscosity, and finally the engine’s water level, which needed to be topped off a bit. Once everything checked out below, Sam went topside, checked that the throttle was in neutral, and turned the key in the ignition. After a few turns, the engine came to life. Sam dashed aft and looked over the rail to see what the engine might be spewing out. Ejecting water was a signal that the engine’s mix of oil and fuel was correct.

While Sam ran the engine to let it get warm, he stepped below to the galley to wash the oil off his hands. He reached for the water pump switch on the switch panel and turned the faucet’s knob. Grayish green water sputtered out hesitantly, then grew into a steady, clear stream.

The sink filled halfway before Sam remembered what he had forgotten to do: open the seacock under the sink so the water could drain. He quickly turned off the water, grabbed a paper towel, and looked under the sink. He tried to move the brass handle from its horizontal position, but no amount of pushing or pulling budged it. The seacock’s handle was frozen solidly in place. Sam wasn’t anticipating a handyman special on Lee’s boat, but he had to open the seacock to drain the water.

Returning momentarily to his own boat to fetch his tools, Sam overheard the screaming owner of the large motor yacht in the slip next to Lee’s. Glancing toward