Chapter thirty-six

The Coast Guard Station was not very far from the library. Nothing was far in Carolina Beach.

Sam’s lower backside was feeling a little less tender as he drove the short distance, silently hoping Libby the Librarian would forgive him for passing on the doctor visit at this moment.

Pulling into the parking lot, Sam paused. How deep does it go, this mess? Are the Coasties in on it, too? Only one way to find out.

Sam slowly climbed the building’s three steps, each one reminding his stiff, hurting legs how to work. Hesitating, he pulled open the glass door to the station.

Joshua Mattingly, a.k.a. Hoops, was leaning back in his chair throwing an orange Nerf basketball into a small plastic hoop on the room’s far wall. He closely resembled Cuba Gooding, Jr., and had on more than one occasion used his movie-star looks to hit on the ladies.

Finishing up his two-pointer shot, Joshua swung around in his chair to face Sam.

“Sam-Man, you’re a wreck. Somebody’s boyfriend find you?”

“Something like that, Hoops.” Sam didn’t want to go into the story. “I came across something I thought you might like to know about. Could earn you some recognition with the ladies and all.”

Joshua leaned forward. He was all about getting recognition and time with the ladies. He thought joining the Coast Guard would be his ticket for sweet mamas falling for a man-in-uniform and all that, but after six years, he was disappointed with the returns.

“Speak.”

“I saw these two really hot boats and was wondering who owned them.”

“You in the market for a new boat?” Hoops interrupted. He was known as the Deal Man around the beach, always buying and selling cars, boats, bikes.

“Well,” lied Sam, “I didn’t think I was. But these two boats were moored out near where I was one afternoon. Both of these boats…well, I guess I can tell you. There were hotties draping themselves all over both of these boats, man. I was hoping to get invited to the party, you know what I’m saying, but that didn’t work. So I came up with a plan. I’d meet the owners and get invited to their next gig. You know how boaters are. There’s always a party. I figured if the boats went out again, the babes would, too.”

Hoops grinned. “You’re gonna get you some, bro. May I come along to partake in the next part-ey?”

Got him.

“Sure. All we need to do is to find the owners. Both had Carolina Beach hailing ports. One was called Moonglow; the other was Firefly.”

“Moonglow? Firefly? What’s next, Tinkerbell?” Hoops tilted his computer screen so Sam could read it over his shoulder and motioned for Sam to come around the desk. “Let’s see what we see.”

Hoops did a quick search in his database, and within seconds, he had both files pulled up.

“I love days like today,” Hoops said with extreme satisfaction and a toothy smile to match.

“Why do you say that?” Sam played along.

“The two boats you saw. Their documentation is not current. Over here in this column, I can see they are not registered with the state, either. So that, my friend, is a big fat non-compliance fee per boat.”

“Really? I had no idea,” said Sam.

“Yep. So do yourself a favor, Sam-Man, and stay current.”

Hoops printed out a short report, including all the contact information on Moonglow and Firefly’s owners. As he looked at the names again, he screwed up his face.

“Andrew J. Keller and Michael E. Smith. Mike? Andy Keller? These guys are on your team, Sam-Man. What’s up with that?”

“I guess I wasn’t invited to their party. A pity, really. Sorry to hear they’re not staying current as law-abiding boaters.” Sam worked Hoops back on course. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

“Never had to mess with guys I know before.” Hoops scratched his head. “But in most other cases, we send them a warning letter, then go arrest them, if we can find them.”

“Oh. Well, maybe in this case, since they’re friends, you could go talk to them in person and see what happens,” Sam suggested. “I guess we won’t be partying anytime soon. See you later, Hoops.”

Sam walked as straight and steady toward the door as he could manage. A visit to an urgent care center might not be a bad idea after all.

“Just a minute, Sam-Man. You can come along for the ride. Maybe if you talk to them first, they’ll send in their documentation forms before I have to act.”

Hoops rose from his chair, called to an unseen person behind a door next to his basketball hoop affixed to the wall, and walked with Sam to the door.

Sam noted that Hoops had a radio on his belt. “No gun?”

“Don’t think we’ll be needing one for Mike and Andy; do you?” Hoops seemed sincere.

“I think I’ll take my car, Hoops. I’ll follow you.” Sam lagged a step behind.

“Suit yourself…. That your ride? Sweet, Sam-Man. Whenever you’re ready to sell that tasty-looking little blue ’Stang, you call me, hear?”

“Will do, Hoops. Will do.”

Sam followed Hoops’ aging pale blue Lincoln Continental with the Coast Guard decals all over it, a sure sign the government wasn’t funding this esteemed arm of law enforcement. At least not this station in Carolina Beach.

Ever since the 9/11 tragedy, the Guard’s duties had shifted. Debate raged locally about the providence of homeland security versus keeping Carolina Beach the quaint beach town it had always been, with Coasties just part of the scenery. Several of Hoops’ mates were reassigned to other stations, other duties, other cutters…wherever they were needed to fight terrorism. Such reassignments left Hoops’ station short-handed and short-funded.

For some unknown reason, Hoops had managed to stay attached to the local station for all these years. Sam guessed it was because of his dealing ability: he could get the station just about anything it needed or wanted. Plus, Hoops wasn’t afraid to chase a bad guy to play the hero role.

Sam was happy to oblige, allowing Hoops to take the lead in the quest for two document dodgers.