Blood of Cain

28

Boots Langley packed a .410 shotgun in his customized golf cart and drove down a gravel path toward Bullfrog Creek. In the small wagon he pulled behind the golf cart, he had secured four bags of groceries. He took his foot off the gas pedal and coasted up to the small Airstream trailer, shotgun cradled in his arms, and tapped on the door, using the tip of the barrel to knock.

Courtney Burke peeked out between the venetian blinds, pulled her bag to her right shoulder, her hand touching the Beretta. She stepped to the door, dust swirling in the sunlight pouring into the dark trailer. Boots read her face and said, “I’ve had this sweet little thing for longer than you’ve been on earth.”

“Why do you carry it?”

“I’ll show you. Follow me.”

Courtney set her bag on a chair, walked outside, and followed the little man as he shuffled to the edge of the wide creek. The surface water was dark and smooth, the shade of a ripe avocado. The creek was more like a river, wide and lined with cypress, bamboo, and weeping willow trees. An osprey cried out skimming over the water. Boots stood near a gnarled cypress tree, his eyes scanning the trunk and branches swathed in Spanish moss. He grinned, flame-blue eyes igniting, a smile working in one corner of his small mouth. He raised the shotgun barrel and fired. A snake dropped from the branches and hit the ground with a thud. At mid-length, the snake’s heavy, olive-green body was as thick a man’s forearm. A piece of meat the size of a billiard ball was blown from the mid-section. The snake pitched and convulsed, its body turning in a half circle, hissing, opening its cotton-white mouth, biting air.

Boots looked at Courtney without moving his head. He snorted. “That’s why I carry this little shotgun. It’s a moccasin killer. That serpent has enough poison in its bite to kill a horse. Imagine the slow death, the pain my poor Eve felt when she was struck in the chest, less than a few inches from her heart, by an even bigger serpent than what you see there.”

“But you didn’t have to shoot it.”

“It’s insurance, Courtney. One less water moccasin means your odds down here on Bullfrog Creek are even better. Ever notice the word sin in moccasin?”

“No.”

“Look around you. Look at all the blooming bougainvillea, the orange and tangerine trees filled with ripe fruit, the wild flowers, and the creek. It’s a little slice of paradise. If the first sin took place in the Garden of Eden, where will the last sin take place?”

“Never thought about it. I don’t know.”

“Nobody does. This is my paradise. Maybe it’s an acre sliced from Heaven, but I’m the caretaker. And I take that responsibility seriously. That serpent lying dead before you will be replaced by a dozen more. It’s an on-going clash.” He gestured to the golf cart. “I brought you some food and a few things you’ll need while you’re here.”

“You didn’t have to do that, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and yes, I did. Your angel face is all over the news. You’d be spotted in any grocery store you entered. Come, let’s put the provisions away. I need to learn more about your plight, your search, and journey. Isaac could only enlighten me so much, and now the rest falls in your court.”

Nick and I followed Randal Barnes as he wormed his way between the carnival attractions, the noise from the rides and the blare of piped-in rock music covering the sounds we made following him. We darted behind the Himalaya Run and the House of Mirrors, keeping Barnes in our sight, yet trying not to send signals to the other carnies working the food-stands, rides, or standing around and smoking in the artificial alleys leading off the midway to the back lots away from the public areas.

Nick pointed. “He’s going inside that tricked out, million dollar bus.”

“That can mean that he’s reporting our presence to Bandini because he’s involved in the illicit activities they operate. The second option might be he’s looking for brownie points and simply telling them that we’re here, and that we’re asking questions about Lonnie Ebert’s murder, not about the drug connection to the Bandini family.”

“What the hell do we do now?”

“Play it by ear.”

“Sean, I never was a cop. I don’t know how to play this shit by ear.”

I watched a man wearing a Yankees cap and an Orlando Magic jersey stop to open a door to a free-standing toilet. “Speaking of shit … didn’t you say the guy named Smitty was wearing a Yankees cap and a blue Magic jersey the night you saw him?”

“Yeah, why?”

“See those porta-potties over there?” I pointed to a half dozen free-standing portable toilets about one hundred feet beyond the trailers and parked campers.

“Yeah, I see them.”

“A guy just went in the one to the far right. And you know what Nick? He matched your description of Smitty to a T. You’d think these guys would take some time to hit the laundromats. Let’s see what Smitty has to say.”

“How the hell do you notice stuff like that from a distance?”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t notice. Let’s go.”

As we approached the porta-potty, I whispered to Nick. “Stand back some. I don’t know if the guy has a weapon.”

“You don’t have one.”

I reached behind under my shirt to the small of my back and pulled out my Glock, keeping the gun out of sight from the campers and trailers behind us.

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit. I didn’t know you’d brought your pistol.”

“Stand to the right, Nick. This interrogation will be real quick.” I could read the United Rental sign on the light blue door to the John. Also, I could see that the occupant failed to lock the door. Bad mistake. I held the Glock in my right hand. With my left hand, I jerked the door open. There was Smitty, pants down around his ankles, sitting on the seat, best friend in his hand, looking down the barrel of the Glock. His face melted. I said, “Didn’t your daddy tell you to lock the bathroom door? Don’t even think of lying to me! If you do, they’ll find you dead on the shitter. Understand?”

He nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

“Courtney Burke didn’t kill Lonnie Ebert, right?”

He nodded, his face bright red.

“Who killed Lonnie?

“Don’t know! I swear!”

“Did Bandini order it?”

“That’s what the word on the street is, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I heard it was on account Lonnie was double-dipping.”

“How’d you hear that?”

“From Lonnie. He was my friend. He told me Tony Bandini had actually shorted him two G’s so he was taking it back in installments. I don’t know how Bandini or his guys caught him. But Lonnie knew they were on to him. He was makin’ plans to get out of town with that chick, Courtney. But he waited one night too long.”

I pulled a business card from my shirt pocket and tossed it to Smitty. “The number on that card is to Detective Dan Grant of the Volusia County Sheriff’s Office. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to pull your pants up, and then you’re going to call the detective and tell him what you told me.”

“You don’t know the Bandini family.”

“And you don’t know me. I won’t let an innocent girl take the fall. If you even think about running, I’ll hunt you down. And guess what?”

“What?”

“I will find you.”

I slammed the door and walked away. Nick followed me and said, “That guy’s balls shrank to the size of two peas. You believe he’s telling the truth?”

“He didn’t have time to lie.”

“You think he’ll call that detective?”

“Don’t know. But I will, and I’ll tell him where he can find Smitty.” I looked across the back parking lot to where the customized Bandini bus sat, diesels purring, Randal Barnes, no doubt, conveying everything I’d asked him. Worse yet, what Nick had told him. I walked to a spot where a large camper blocked the line-of-sight from Nick and me to the bus. “You made a mistake back there.”

“What mistake?”

“Nick, you told Barnes that you overheard the conservation between Smitty and him. They were probably drinking so much they don’t remember exactly what they said about the murder, the hit on Lonnie. But now they know that you know, and that makes you a potential liability to these guys.”

“You think they could come after me?”

“Maybe.”

“They take one step on my boat and I’ll put what’s left of ‘em in my crab traps.”

“Let’s head back to the marina.”

As we walked through the midway, I was now worried for two people, a girl who might be my daughter, and a man who was like my brother.