city.”
“Maybe he still has the film.”
“It’s possible, but why wouldn’t he have just stashed it where he put everything else? It was a good hiding place.”
“Good point. Well, somebody must know what happened to it.”
A few minutes later, as Nick pulled Betty into the driveway, Pistol barked and then jumped from the passenger-side window of the still-moving pickup truck, tearing across the yard after a very surprised rabbit.
“Go, Pistol, go!” Charlie cheered.
“When we’re talking to Uncle Nick, let’s focus on the boat for now,” Nicholas said. “I’m going to do a little more snooping in the tower room. Maybe Dad stashed the film in another hiding place that only he knew about.”
For the next hour, Nick taught them how to paint, slowly dipping into the can and brushing on the white primer (“You’re not Tom Sawyer, whitewashing a fence here; think of this as a piece of fine furniture”), while the interrogation began.
Charlie started gently. “So, Nick, um, we were wondering if there was, you know, any kind of investigation after that whole boat-crash thing. Like with the police or something.”
Nick scratched his head, getting some of the primer in his hair in the process. “Oh well, at least it’s white. Nobody’ll notice. An investigation, you say. What’s gotten into you two? Why do you want to dig up things that have been buried away for twenty-five years?”
“It’s kind of like this boat,” Charlie answered. “It was buried, too, but now we’ve sanded away the old wood and we’re going to make it perfect and show the world just how beautiful it is. That story of Mom’s needs a little sanding, too, if you ask me. The truth is there—it’s just hiding under the surface. I’m sure of it.”
Nick looked up at her, smiling. “Here, you take the brush for a while. Just keep it moving, and spread this primer out nice and thin. When it dries, we’ll give it aquick sanding, and then we’ll be able to lay down the first coat of red before lunch.”
“And then what?” Charlie asked.
“And then we wait,” answered Nick. “We’ll let that dry overnight and hit it with the second coat tomorrow morning.”
“So, about the investigation,” said Nicholas. “Does this mean you don’t know—”
“Or you
do
know but don’t want to talk about it?” Charlie interrupted. “Is there something we’re not
supposed
to know?”
“Slow down, Charlie,” said Nick. “There’s no conspiracy, I promise you that—at least as far as I’m concerned. If you two want to go digging around in the past, by all means dig away. I don’t know about any kind of police report or anything like that, but it wouldn’t surprise me if there was one. Must have been an insurance company involved somewhere. As I recall, Teddy Bradford got a brand-new boat a few weeks after the wreck. Money must’ve come from somewhere. He sure didn’t get it from working hard, if you know what I mean. But why don’t you go take a look at the old boat for yourself.”
“What? It’s still around? Where is it?” Charlie cried. “Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?”
“Well, sure it’s still around,” Nick answered calmly. “Fiberglass boats sure aren’t as pretty as wood, but the doggone things last forever. It’s over at Tressler’s—the other side of the lake. They’ve got a big old barn they use forstoring the summer people’s boats and campers during the winter. It’s been a few years, but I saw it out behind the barn when I was over there looking at an old Lyman runabout. Can’t imagine it’s gone anywhere.”
* * *
“What do you mean, you can’t ride a bike?” Charlie looked at Nicholas with a mixture of horror and disbelief as she pulled open the garage door at her house.
Nicholas shook his head. “I live in Manhattan. I just never learned. You make it sound like I’m the only one who doesn’t know how.”
“Well,
yeah
. Everybody knows
“Maybe he still has the film.”
“It’s possible, but why wouldn’t he have just stashed it where he put everything else? It was a good hiding place.”
“Good point. Well, somebody must know what happened to it.”
A few minutes later, as Nick pulled Betty into the driveway, Pistol barked and then jumped from the passenger-side window of the still-moving pickup truck, tearing across the yard after a very surprised rabbit.
“Go, Pistol, go!” Charlie cheered.
“When we’re talking to Uncle Nick, let’s focus on the boat for now,” Nicholas said. “I’m going to do a little more snooping in the tower room. Maybe Dad stashed the film in another hiding place that only he knew about.”
For the next hour, Nick taught them how to paint, slowly dipping into the can and brushing on the white primer (“You’re not Tom Sawyer, whitewashing a fence here; think of this as a piece of fine furniture”), while the interrogation began.
Charlie started gently. “So, Nick, um, we were wondering if there was, you know, any kind of investigation after that whole boat-crash thing. Like with the police or something.”
Nick scratched his head, getting some of the primer in his hair in the process. “Oh well, at least it’s white. Nobody’ll notice. An investigation, you say. What’s gotten into you two? Why do you want to dig up things that have been buried away for twenty-five years?”
“It’s kind of like this boat,” Charlie answered. “It was buried, too, but now we’ve sanded away the old wood and we’re going to make it perfect and show the world just how beautiful it is. That story of Mom’s needs a little sanding, too, if you ask me. The truth is there—it’s just hiding under the surface. I’m sure of it.”
Nick looked up at her, smiling. “Here, you take the brush for a while. Just keep it moving, and spread this primer out nice and thin. When it dries, we’ll give it aquick sanding, and then we’ll be able to lay down the first coat of red before lunch.”
“And then what?” Charlie asked.
“And then we wait,” answered Nick. “We’ll let that dry overnight and hit it with the second coat tomorrow morning.”
“So, about the investigation,” said Nicholas. “Does this mean you don’t know—”
“Or you
do
know but don’t want to talk about it?” Charlie interrupted. “Is there something we’re not
supposed
to know?”
“Slow down, Charlie,” said Nick. “There’s no conspiracy, I promise you that—at least as far as I’m concerned. If you two want to go digging around in the past, by all means dig away. I don’t know about any kind of police report or anything like that, but it wouldn’t surprise me if there was one. Must have been an insurance company involved somewhere. As I recall, Teddy Bradford got a brand-new boat a few weeks after the wreck. Money must’ve come from somewhere. He sure didn’t get it from working hard, if you know what I mean. But why don’t you go take a look at the old boat for yourself.”
“What? It’s still around? Where is it?” Charlie cried. “Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?”
“Well, sure it’s still around,” Nick answered calmly. “Fiberglass boats sure aren’t as pretty as wood, but the doggone things last forever. It’s over at Tressler’s—the other side of the lake. They’ve got a big old barn they use forstoring the summer people’s boats and campers during the winter. It’s been a few years, but I saw it out behind the barn when I was over there looking at an old Lyman runabout. Can’t imagine it’s gone anywhere.”
* * *
“What do you mean, you can’t ride a bike?” Charlie looked at Nicholas with a mixture of horror and disbelief as she pulled open the garage door at her house.
Nicholas shook his head. “I live in Manhattan. I just never learned. You make it sound like I’m the only one who doesn’t know how.”
“Well,
yeah
. Everybody knows
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