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“Look around,” LaShawnda said. “I’ll be in the front parlor if you have questions.”
“Thank you,” Remy said, holding the door open for Shelby to pass back into the dining room.
He went from room to room on the first floor, taking pictures with his cell phone. Then he climbed the stairs to the second floor, checking each room, looking at the ceilings, floors and bathrooms, recording each room with a photo on his cell phone.
Shelby followed, admiring how the owner had furnished the old house with white iron beds, shiny brass beds, antique dressers and nightstands. The bathrooms had been updated with walk-in showers, new toilets, countertops and sinks.
“She’s right,” Shelby said. “This place is turnkey.”
Remy nodded. “I don’t see any signs of a leaky roof or water damage to the wooden floors from leaky plumbing. This place would work as a place to house our team. There’s a decent-sized parlor we could use as our war room and a study we can convert into an armory until we can find and remodel a building for our main offices.”
Shelby nodded. “Ready to move on to the next property LaShawnda has lined up?”
Remy nodded. “I want to look around the exterior, and then I’ll be ready to move on.”
Shelby followed him to the first floor. They found LaShawnda in the parlor, checking her emails on her cell phone.
She walked with them outside and around the building. The lot had become a little overgrown, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed easily.
Remy turned to the agent. “I’ll need you to send me the information on this property in an email I can forward to my boss.”
LaShawnda nodded, glanced down at her phone, punched several keys, hit send and then glanced up. “Done.”
Remy smiled. “This will work for lodging and temporary office space. What do you have in the way of manufacturing space?”
Shelby grinned when LaShawnda spun on her gold heels. “Follow me.” The ultimate professional, she had Shelby in awe of her poise and beauty. Especially since she remembered the little girl she’d played with in the mud growing up. She was so proud of her friend and her success as a real estate agent.
They climbed into the SUV and continued down the road another half mile to a long building perched on the edge of the bayou with its own dock. Made of metal, the building appeared to be holding up well for having been abandoned.
LaShawnda parked in the lot in front of the building. “This building was erected in 1959 for the Bayou Boat Factory. They built small skiffs, jon boats and pirogues that they sold throughout Louisiana and neighboring states.”
They got out of the vehicle and followed LaShawnda to the door. It took her several tries to get the lockbox open. When she opened the door, the hinges squealed. “This building has stood empty for a decade. At the very least, it would require the new owner to upgrade the electrical system to code. The bank owns the land and building. Like I said, there’s someone else interested, but they’ve yet to make a formal offer. Feel free to look around. I’ll be out here if you have any questions.”
Remy entered the building.
In the dimly lit interior, Shelby followed, picking her way carefully through old pallets, piles of twisted sheet metal and junk she didn’t recognize. To her, the place needed to be bulldozed and hauled off.
After Remy made it all the way through the building, checking out the old office space and bathrooms, he exited through a side door that led to the dock.
Shelby joined him there, careful to tread lightly on the wooden planks.
Not Remy. He bounced on the wood. “I’m surprised how well this old dock has held up for having been abandoned for so long.”
“I remember when they used to make boats here,” Shelby said. “I was sad to come home from college to find out they’d shut down. The people who worked here either left town to find work or stayed but never found jobs that paid as well.”
“The exterior bones appear to be good,” Remy said. “No matter what we find, we’ll have to renovate to make it work for our needs. I like the idea of having a real manufacturing business as a cover for our guys being here. It will also give them something to do when they’re in between assignments.”
“What do any of you know about making boats?”
“Not much,” Remy said. “But my father worked as a foreman here until he retired and moved to Florida. That was right before they closed the factory. I bet I could get him on as a consultant to help us set up a small manufacturing line. He's bored out of his mind in retirement.”
“It would be nice to see him again,” Shelby said. “And your mother.”
Remy grinned. “You know my mother would come if my father’s here for any amount of time exceeding a week.”
Shelby gazed out at the bayou, thinking of old times when Remy’s parents and her mother had lived there.
Perhaps it was better that they didn’t now, especially with potential drug runners making themselves at home in the bayou.
