Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

didn’t even go through the motions of asking about a previous Coast Guard inspection. Likely they knew exactly what Jake did; according to the papers in the galley drawer, Kyle had voluntarily taken the Tomorrow in for inspection less than six months ago. It had passed without a hitch. Normally, the boat wouldn’t be up for inspection again for another six months.
    The first of two Coast Guardsmen came over the Tomorrow’s stern by way of the swim step at the stern.
    “Afternoon, gentlemen,” Jake said. “What can I do for you?”
    “Standard safety inspection, sir,” the younger man said.
    “Then we’ll still have time to fish the tide change,” Jake said. “This boat was inspected within the past six months. No violations. I have the ticket right here. If that’s not good enough, call home base and check your own records.”
    The young man hesitated and looked over his shoulder toward the stern.
    So did Jake. He stifled a curse and tried not to give the second official the kind of smile that made people nervous.
    “Hello, Bill,” Jake said. “Who did you piss off enough to be put on pleasure craft inspection?”
    The second man winced. “Jake? What are you doing here? This boat is registered to Kyle Donovan.”
    “I’m teaching Honor Donovan how to use it.”
    “Oh. Well, uh, I’m sure she won’t mind if we look around.”
    Jake turned and glanced back into the cabin. Honor was standing in the open doorway.
    “How about it?” he asked. “Do you mind?”
    “Should I?”
    “You’re within your rights to tell Captain Conroy to go spit in his mess kit.”
    “Is that your recommendation?”
    Jake shrugged. “An inspection now should save us getting stopped at a more inconvenient time.” He looked back at Conroy. “Right, Captain?”
    “If I have anything to say about it, yes.”
    Jake’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Message received. Hell of a job they handed you.”
    “There are worse.” Conroy jerked his head at the other guardsman. “Check the usual.”
    “Yessir!” The young man turned briskly toward the cabin.
    “Show him that the blower works,” Jake drawled to Honor.
    She went ahead of the young man into the cabin. The blower came on. Thirty seconds later it shut off.
    “New recruit?” Jake asked, handing the registration papers over to Conroy.
    “Somebody has to train them.”
    While the two men remaining in the Zodiac kept their craft close to the Tomorrow, Conroy thumbed through the registration papers. To no one’s surprise everything was in order. He returned the papers to Jake.
    “What is he looking for in here?” Honor asked from the cabin door.
    “Compliance with regulations,” Jake said.
    “Such as?”
    “Fire extinguishers, Coast Guard-approved PFDs for everyone aboard, the proper bureaucratic placards reminding you that it’s illegal to put anything other than fishing gear into Puget Sound waters, that sort of thing.”
    “So that’s why Kyle had that tacky red garbage sign pasted over the stove.”
    “Don’t forget the tacky black sign about the evils of motor oil that’s pasted on the underside of the engine cover.” He turned to Conroy. “Want to look?”
    “I’ll wait. Jimmy hasn’t seen one of the big new Volvos yet. He’ll get a kick out of it.”
    “I’m always glad to help in the education of our youth,” Honor said, wide-eyed.
    Jake snickered.
    Conroy looked philosophical. As he had said, there were worse jobs out there.
    When the time came to open the engine cover, it was Honor who conducted the magical mechanical tour with the detailed enthusiasm of a professor discussing the use of past participles in Shakespearean sonnets. She was especially careful to point out the dipstick, the leak-free fuel lines, and the flame arrester on the carburetor. She described intake, outgo, filters, ignition, water cooling, and the care and feeding of all four hundred and fifty-four cubic inches until even Jimmy’s eyes began to glaze over.
    Jake stepped in before she began dismantling the engine so they could inspect every moving part and some that didn’t.
    “Not today,” he said easily. “You start field-stripping this puppy and we’ll never get around to fishing.”
    For a moment he would have sworn Honor looked appointed.
    “You sure?” she asked, looking at both Coast Guardsmen. “This is a really sweet hunk of machinery.”
    Reluctantly Conroy smiled. “I know a few engineers who would love to show you around below