Almost Anything for Money: Mystery of the Missing Sister - A Novel
(beep) "Hello ... If this Almost Anything for Money is a really serious thing, I think I could use your services. It's my sister. She's disappeared. The police don't seem to be making any progress. Please call me. My number is seven one six, five five five six six four oh. Please, after six-thirty." (click)
More suited to a private investigator, which I am not. But Almost Anything for Money is indeed a Really Serious Thing. At least to me. And seven-one-six is a western New York area code, where I planned to be after about a week of traveling by boat on the Erie Canal. I paused the answering machine tape and wrote the woman's number and "disappearing sister" on the legal pad. I hit the pause button again and the tape continued.
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May, 1996. The missing sister. A corporate VP. A mook. A recent high school grad. A rust-belt border-city detective. And me, a cynical 20th-century boatman who travels the waterways of the eastern USA, earning my keep and paying my way by doing Almost Anything for Money.
I get my leads by placing classified newspaper ads ("Need help? Almost Anything for Money 1-800-555-1217") in cities that are a couple of weeks ahead of my float plan, with the intention of maybe helping someone out of a jam.
Until I discovered the liveaboard boating lifestyle, my own life was a jumble of hierarchical office politics, whiny advertising clients, hand-to-mouth living on bi-monthly pay, rush-hour traffic, mortgage, car, boat, and credit card payments, and clock and calendar watching. If any of that was good, it all came crashing down with one sentence, spoken by the woman to whom I was married for nearly ten years: "I just don't love you anymore." It's been six years since I heard those words, bought my cabin cruiser - the Ship for Brains - and started my new life's journey.
With the traveling boater's lifestyle comes anonymity - an essential element for doing Almost Anything for Money - and an easy way to maintain the shield that went up around my heart six years ago.
But the shield may be crumbling ...
