Chapter thirty-seven

Carolina Shores is one of those neighborhoods you wouldn’t think existed. Turn off the main drag through town and onto Martin Drive and a canopy of shimmering leaves engulfs your car. Dappled sunlight plays on stately white stucco homes with red tiled roofs shaded by more pin oaks than you might expect to see in a beach town. Neon hibiscuses surround courtyards with gurgling fountains. Lawns of green give way to docks on canals that lead to the open water. And civility reigns supreme in Carolina Shores. Or at least appears to.

Carolina Shores was one of many annexations for the town proper, and it showed. It was one of the first neighborhoods to have underground utilities, all of them, and neat sidewalks, something few off-street neighborhoods had.

Mike Smith said he made a ton of money in real estate, thus he could afford to live in this neighborhood. His story was he’d gotten in before the prices went through the roof, before Carolina Beach had been discovered. Sam thought Mike must have bought when he was in diapers since the beach was the beach. Everyone wanted to live there.

Sam had been here a few times for cookouts, but he had not seen a boat before. That, he would have remembered. Perhaps it was a new acquisition. Sam was going to find out.

Sam parked behind Hoops, who parked behind Mike’s white patrol SUV. Sam slowly followed Hoops up the manicured walkway, then veered off to the right toward the canal side of the house. Hoops followed.

“What’s up?”

“Just seeing if the boat is here…. Maybe Mike sold it.” Sam stalled. “Go ring the bell. I’ll be right there.”

Hoops did as he was told and headed back to the walkway toward the front door.

Sam peered into every window along the canal side of the house. No occupants. Everything seemed to be in place, from the large screen television in the living room to the tidy kitchen complete with espresso machine on the counter. Espresso…now that should say something about the man’s tastes.

On the canal sat a ten-by-ten square foot dock complete with benches on either side of it. Under one bench was a yellow and white bait bucket and a small clear plastic case of fishing weights and hooks. Leaning up against the house, Sam saw a ribbed bottom dinghy, rough and battered, but inflated. Ready. There was no large boat at the dock.

“Nobody home, Homey,” Hoops called to Sam as he rounded the house. “Would you look at that view? Mikey’s got it made, Sam-Man. I didn’t think you guys made much more than us.”

Sam glanced briefly at the fluorescent yellow-green marsh grass lining the far side of the canal. Good fishing in here, he imagined. Too bad I won’t have time to enjoy it.

“We don’t, Hoops. At least not all of us do.” Sam walked toward the dinghy. “Hoops, if you were going to go sailing, wouldn’t you take your dink?”

“Depends on how far I planned on going. If I were to go a cruising, I would take it. If I were just out and about for a day sail, probably not. How about you? Do you have a dink?”

“I’m in need of one, actually. You think this would fit in your car?”

“Whoa, Sam-Man. I am not into borrowing like that.”

“Even if your ‘friend’ forgot to register his dink as well as his big boat?” Sam pointed to the inflated pontoons that were clear of any registration stickers. “I just need to borrow it to get back on board my own boat.”

“Small boats don’t need to be registered if there’s no motor involved.”

Sam pointed to the small outboard motor leaning up against the wall.

“You get the front,” Hoops conceded. “How come you can’t get to your boat? I thought you were in the town marina.”

“Long story. The short answer is I was out sailing and night came. I anchored and hitched a ride back in with a friend. Since then, I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to get back aboard.” Sam felt sure his live-aboard status wasn’t known to Hoops.

“Well, as long as you’re just borrowing Mikey’s dink, I’m cool with that. Wonder where he is? I guess I’ll drive by Andy’s house. If he’s not there, I’ll start the paperwork.”

Sam and Hoops wrestled the dinghy on top of Hoops’ car and tied the inflatable fast. Sam went back for the motor, disregarding Hoops’ raised eyebrows. Sam gave him directions, and the two started for the Causeway Bridge in Wrightsville Beach. Sam hadn’t been back to his boat in three days. He hoped it was still there.