The small, dirty length of rope swayed in a breeze that blew the flags but not enough to make them snap.
The haunted tour, eight people, maybe ten, followed the guide back to the bus.
The boat attached to the rope had been a number of things.
A private craft for a steel baron, a shuttle ferry to Canada, a floating disco, an abandoned shell.
The rope was unnecessary. The previous owner had gotten a zoning variance and anchored the boat to the riverwalk with two construction girders.
It was going to be a mini casino before the big names came to town and built gaming palaces.
Harry Casaver had interviewed every person who owned the boat in his lifetime.
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