Part 4
Snark had returned to the Goose anchored in Urbanna Creek angry, soaking wet and exhausted. It had been one of the worst days in his life and all he could think of was peeling off sopping wet clothes that clung to his body like second skin as fast as possible, dry off and jump into dry clothes.
He was hungry. He had expected to be invited to Whiz’s house for an elegant home-cooked meal. Hah! He doubted after the lousy double-crossing trick she had pulled on him that he would ever speak to Whiz again!
He looked at his paltry supplies. Not much excitement there. He selected a can of bean soup and what was probably stale crackers, stoked up the alcohol stove and watched the beans come to a boil.
He felt a new surge of fury at Whiz. If he were smart, he would pack up and return to Baltimore and forget the entire episode. But that would mean admitting she was right and that he had behaved like a fool. He would lose face. Better to swipe the darn map and abscond with it, never to be seen again. That would show her! Bean soup and stale crackers had never tasted so good to him in his life.
The rain had finally stopped. He went up to the cockpit with an old towel and wiped down a place to sit and relax over a cold beer. Suddenly life seemed sweet. All he ever wanted in life was to live carefree on a boat. And without some crazy woman hanging about him to drive him mad!
The February sun had finally managed to break through the storm clouds to the west. Snark gasped at the sudden beauty as the sun threw out its last glorious beams over Urbanna Creek.
It was as if someone had just tossed a cauldron of pink paint into the creek. For several minutes the water shimmered in rosy hues with only the dock pilings casting stilt like shadows across the surface. All was still, unbelievably beautiful. Within minutes the pink faded to gray and the lights along the docks came blinking on, each on its own time schedule.
Snark saw the peace and charm of this little town. One watching from the shore might have wondered if what he had witnessed could have changed his heart, canceled the dire deed he planned to do in the night, eased his desperate desire for money and his reluctance to do as Whiz had suggested… find a job and go to work to earn money he needed or … whether he had remained unscathed and was going ahead anyway, caught in the web of his very own anger and obsession to do as planned. …
“Tonight’s the night!” He said aloud to no one but his own shadow in the kerosene light. Shattering the last hope for a change of heart and for wisdom to prevail.
Snark returned to the galley, checked his watch, and decided to get some sleep before the heist. He wanted to wait until midnight before he struck, so that would give him about four hours of sleep, which would be enough to carry him through the night. His plan was to get the map, return to the Goose, slip out of the harbor immediately and head out to Chesapeake Bay. The weather appeared to be ready to cooperate.
He set his alarm for 11:45, climbed into his forward bunk and was soon asleep knowing he would soon be a very wealthy man.
Meanwhile, back on Kent Street, Whiz entered her father’s study. He was a retired Tidewater attorney known in the family as “The Stickler,” because he insisted on every word in his documents to be just right.
“Hey, Pops, I have a few legal questions to ask you,” she said, stooping to plant a kiss on the top of his old gray head before plopping down in the leather sofa next to his chair.
“Oh, there you are Whiz. I must have slipped off. What time is it?”
“Just 9 o’clock Dad, you were having a little nap?”
“I must have dosed off. Not much of interest on TV tonight.” He reached for the remote and turned off the movie he had been watching. “Where is your mother?”
“Oh, she’s in her office writing as usual. Not sure what she’s up to now but I know she is excited about something because she barely looked at me when I popped my head in her office before dinner. She was typing at the speed of a chicken pecking at seed!”
They both laughed. They knew Merrypen wasn’t much of a typist, but nothing made her happier than writing a story. “I suspect she’ll be typing all night. Now what is it that you need to know about the law, Whiz?”
“Well, two questions. Someone thinks he has an idea for a perfect crime but is not serious about committing it and tells another person about it and that person goes ahead and commits that crime. Is the person who thought of the idea responsible for the crime?”
“Well, dear daughter, that’s a peculiar question to ask an attorney. Let me say this: As far as the law, one would not be guilty of any crime for simply giving someone an idea of how to commit a perfect crime as you call it, but from a father to daughter’s advice, especially a daughter of an attorney, I would say there would be some degree of moral responsibility, wouldn’t you?”
Whiz laughed although she did not feel in the least bit amused. She already was feeling responsibility, as if a sack of bricks had settled on her shoulders.
“You said you had two questions, Whiz?”
“Well, yes. Then suppose this person knew that someone was about to commit this perfect crime. Would that person have a legal obligation to report such to the local law enforcement?”
“No, there would be no legal obligation Whiz, but then again, I would urge such a person to consider the moral responsibility, particularly if the crime was to do violence to another person.” Stickler paused and looked at his daughter. “Is there something you would like to tell me, Whiz?”
“No Dad. Thanks for the info.” She rose, leaned over to plant another kiss on top of his head and said good night.
Whiz went to her room. There would be no sleep for her that night. The truth was Snark never would have been in Urbanna on the brink of committing a crime if it hadn’t been for her and her ridiculous idea for a perfect crime. She must stop this outrageous heist!
→ Part 5
Note to readers: The actions and characters that appear in this story are fictional. The story is written for entertainment and to promote knowledge of our town and local history.
