Seduced by the Screenwriter

Epilogue, Me Tarzana, You Big Joe, Part 19

Epilogue

Me Tarzana, You Big Joe

"Has Titan's life vest arrived yet?" Catrina leaned on an oil-stained wood counter inside the Port Carson Boat Works wood-framed building.

Brad Scott scrolled through the purchase order log on a tablet mounted on a stand. The wall behind him separated the small retail section from the heart of the business—the workshop where he repaired boat engines. The local men had nicknamed him Scotty, a tip of the hat to mechanical wizardry in the vein of the Star Trek engineer played by the late Canadian James Doohan.

The store sold paddles, tow ropes, buoys, flotation equipment, flags, light bulbs, engine oil, and other marine supplies. Summer was his busy season. It was rare to find him in the store.

"Special orders take time." Sweat beaded Scotty's high forehead despite the ceiling fan circulating air that was unusually warm for early June. "Heidi, my clerk, is off for a couple of days to be a bridesmaid at a wedding. I'll have her follow up with the supplier when she returns."

Outside on the marina gas dock, cabin cruisers, a small yacht, a couple of jet boats and some sleek ski boats queued for fill ups at the gas pumps in preparation for fishing, water skiing, tubing and other water fun that sunny weekend. Catrina's rookie male partner waited his turn in the Ontario Provincial Police patrol boat tied up at the end of the wide cedar dock.

Scotty closed the app on the screen, reached into a mini fridge under the counter, and handed her a cold bottle of water. "Is the dog vest an OPP purchase? You plan on taking Titan on patrol?"

"Thanks," she said. "No, it's personal. Titan is officially retired." Sweat trickled down Catrina's spine under her sturdy cotton police-issue short-sleeved shirt. She gulped half the contents gratefully. "We plan on taking him boating this summer. Chett wants to explore the Georgian Bay islands up by Cognashene."

"I explored a few of those deserted, swimsuit-optional islands myself in my youth." Scotty winked.

Catrina's cheeks burned. He was onto them. "Any chance you'll share the locations of those deserted islands?"

He opened his mouth, then reconsidered. "Is this a profession or personal interest?" When she hesitated, Scotty chuckled. "You're a cop. No way I'm revealing the younger generation's party locations."

"Drinking and boating don't mix," she remonstrated.

"These days teens bring along tents and sleeping bags and camp out overnight."

Catrina shrugged. "You're a hockey coach and employ summer staff." She nodded through open double doors in the direction of two shirtless, bronzed college students filling customers' tanks. "If anyone knows what these kids are up to, it's you." At least she'd diverted Scotty from the topic of her and Chett's sex life. She dug a wallet out of her shorts pocket. "I'll take a Georgian Bay nautical chart and bottle of water for my partner as well. Ask Heidi to text me when the custom life vest arrives, will you?"

Catrina stepped from the dark interior and slid the sunglasses on the top of her head into place against brilliant sunshine. At the end of the wide gas dock she reconnoitered with her rookie male partner waiting in the OPP patrol boat.

"Since we have time, I'll pop over to the post office," she told him as she handed him the water. "I'll be back in ten."

The Main Street concrete sidewalk radiated heat through the thick soles of her police-issue shoes. She pushed open the drug store door and gratefully stepped into air-conditioned air. The Canada Post outlet was located at the rear of the store.