This was too much. I started back toward the river, saying, “Hope you don’t mind, but her horse was getting spooky, so I walked him a ways and found those empty stalls by the maintenance barn.”
“Just now?”
“While you were inside. He’s bolted in, good and tight—don’t worry about that—and I gave him a bucket of water. I should probably check on him.”
“You’ve got more nerve than me. Axel is a biter.”
“Not once we got going,” I said, relieved to be putting some distance between us and the cabin. “It was either that or he’d have busted his tether. She’s upset enough as it is.”
Kermit looked back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “The EMTs are on their way, so I should probably have those gates open. Want to come along? There’s no reason you should have to stay here and witness the rest.”
“Can’t,” I said. “Not and leave Reggie alone when she’s so mad. I’ll hang around and keep an eye on the horse. I’ll be fine.”
“Loyal, too,” he mused in a pleasant way. “But Reggie might be embarrassed when he comes out and realizes you heard the way she spoke to him. A man his age, with his job, pride’s about all he has left. If that.”
“What do you mean?”
“My guess is, he’s lost his job already. Lonnie has always been jealous of how close he was to Mr. Chatham. She knows they’ve shared a lot of secrets over the years, so that makes Reggie a threat. She might try to fire me, too, but I’ve got a year’s contract—depending on how things go.”
I shook my head, unsure of what to do.
“Hannah, can I ask you something? I won’t repeat a word. Could you smell liquor on Reggie’s breath? That’s what she’s accusing him of. Being drunk on duty.”
The whiskey Reggie had spilled on his dead employer.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “The only thing I can think of is that when he found Mr. Chatham’s body, he took a drink. Who could blame him?”
“That’s the confusing part. I was the first one through the door, Lonnie behind me. There was a glass laying in Chatham’s lap, which made sense. It explained the alcohol smell, but there were two extra glasses next to him. Both had some scotch left in the bottom. That’s what she’s trying to make Reggie admit—that he and her husband were in there, having a private party with a third person, when he died. Now he’s trying to cover up what really happened.”
I stopped, faced the grove manager. “A party with me, I suppose.”
“She’s a jealous one. I believe I mentioned that.”
“I wasn’t asking about her. What do you think?”
“I’m paid to grow citrus, not think, but I took your side. Or tried to. That’s when she told me to get the hell out.” After a pause, he added, “Hope I’m right.”
I pulled the tail of my shirt up just enough to expose my jeans. “Does a woman who wears fishing pliers on her belt strike you as the party girl type?”
“I’ll be darned,” he said. “Are those stainless?”
“Let’s have this out right now,” I said. “That’s what I do. I’m a fishing guide. I do have a few orange trees, but I’m not in the citrus business.”
“I knew you weren’t in citrus,” he said, “and I’m not accusing you—”
“She is, apparently. A third glass of whiskey, who else could it be?”
His soft brown eyes did not waver when they locked onto mine. “Could have been me who drank from that glass. Ever think about that? Me and someone who ran off when you and Reggie showed up in the limo. I’m surprised that wasn’t your first suspicion.”
Overhead, an osprey was whistling a wild circle above the trees. It was an excuse to look away when I asked, “Why in the world would I suspect you?”
“Because of what you told me earlier. Mr. Chatham was here most the day, you said. You and Reggie didn’t show up until later. That’s the way it happened, right?”
From the gentle way he said it, I feared he’d known all along I’d been lying but was giving me another chance.
For some reason, Kermit’s daughter popped into my head, a girl with an adoring father whose job might be on the line if I dragged him any further into this mess. I couldn’t let that happen . . . nor could I allow myself to ruminate on the consequences. If I did, I would lose my nerve.
I did an about-face and started toward the cabin. “Go on and tend to the gates. I’ve got something I need to clear up.”
“Hold on,” he called. “That’s not what I was after. Don’t poke a hornet’s nest unless there’s a darn good reason.”
I walked faster, aware he was hurrying to catch up.
“Whoa, there. This isn’t going to accomplish anything. And it won’t get Reggie off the hook.”
“My reputation might have something to do with me telling her to her face,” I replied, and kept going.
“Hannah, listen. I’ll back your story. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it. And what’s it matter now? Chatham’s already dead—unless he was murdered.”
This was the last thing I expected to hear.
I stopped, and fumed, until he was close enough to speak in confidence. “Now what are you accusing me of?”
The man made a calming gesture with his hands. “I’m not, but she’s capable of anything. You’ve got no reason to trust me, Hannah, but I wish you would. Someone needs to guard you from how she might react.” He looked toward the cabin in a meaningful way.
I replied, “I don’t need guarding. If I did, I’d buy a dog.”
“You don’t know Lonnie Chatham.”
“You don’t know me. She knows even less,” I answered. “Whatever the coroner finds, it’ll show Mr. Chatham died of natural causes. That much I’ll guarantee. I’m doing you a favor, Kermit, by not saying more. Go on, now”—I swept a hand toward the maintenance barn—“go open those gates, and, from here on out, just tell the truth. It’s advice I should’ve learned to follow myself.”
Worry lines creased the man’s forehead while he studied me. “I don’t know why I’m doing this, but . . . Okay, here goes. I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. It’ll make you see the situation differently.”
“If you shouldn’t, then don’t.”
“I’ll risk it. You stood up for Reggie. That’s all I needed to find out. You could have snuck off, could have let him take all the blame, but that’s not the kind of person you are. I just proved that for myself.”
“Suggesting I’m a murderer is your idea of a test?”
He took a quick step to place himself between me and the cabin. “Look, I don’t always do things the smartest way, I admit, but—”
“Smart? Rude and unfair, is more like it. Cruel, too. I thought the world of Mr. Chatham.”
“That’s exactly why you need to hear what I have to say.” He reached to place a confiding hand on my shoulder, then abandoned this small liberty when he saw my reaction. “Walk with me a bit. I want to show you something.”
I didn’t budge. “I’m picturing an ambulance and police cars at the gate, waiting to help a grieving widow. Maybe you deserve to be fired.”
“You’ve got a temper.”
“A conscience,” I said. “That’s the way I choose to think of it, but you’re entitled to your opinion.”
The grove manager sighed in an exaggerated way. “Every cop and fire station in this county has the combination to those gates. Mr. Chatham was lieutenant governor, remember? Plus, they haven’t had time enough to get here. Come on, Hannah. Please?”
• • •
Along this branch of the Peace River, oaks traced a shady ridge, a canopy of elevated turns and mossy switchbacks. When we were near the water, the grove manager said, “There’s not much of a current, but I always swim upstream. Fifteen minutes, close to a half mile. The swim back, I more or less just drift and enjoy t
he sights. Real quiet, you know?”
“What about gators?” I had to ask.
The man chuckled in a self-deprecating way. “I’d rather you think I’m brave than admit what I don’t want the wildlife cops to know. But I’m no braver than the next guy. Mr. Chatham wouldn’t tolerate any gator big enough to bother his livestock, or his grandkids. Truth is, I’d already put a couple down before he told me to do it. I bring Sarah here sometimes and let her splash around. Can you imagine risking a child to save a gator?”
Thinking about his daughter, again.
“Here’s what I wanted to tell you.” My eyes followed when he pointed to the boathouse. “I caught Lonnie inside there with another man, their horses tied outside. Actually, I heard them before I saw them—understand what I’m saying? She didn’t see me, but I think she suspects.”
“Good Lord,” I said. “This happened today?”
“Not more than five minutes before you showed up. You would’ve caught them yourself if I hadn’t stopped for a swim.”
Stumbling onto Mrs. Chatham—with her husband dead in the back of the limo—was a scenario I didn’t want to contemplate.
“Friday afternoons,” he continued, “there’s usually no one around. Lonnie and the guy she was with, they didn’t see my truck, or my stuff on the railing, so they were . . . well, let’s say not afraid to make all the noise they wanted. I didn’t want to surprise them—hell, I didn’t know what to do, but I needed my clothes. So I did a breaststroke upriver for a hundred yards or so to give them time, then made all the racket I could coming back. Even then, I cut it too close. I got a glimpse of those two hightailing it toward their horses but pretended not to notice.”
“I suppose it took them a while to get their clothes on,” I said, “when they heard you coming.”
“Nope. Both of them were bare-ass naked, elbows and feet flying. The man, he damn near fell on his face when he dropped a sock, but that Lonnie, she never looked back. She’s kept herself in shape, by god, I’ll give her that.” Kermit grinned, picturing it. His grin faded. “Trouble is, she suspects I saw them. I could tell by some of her comments, and the way she treated you. Why else would she ride back here to check?”
Under the circumstances, it was wrong to laugh, yet my nerves were on overload. Tears threatened. Then it dawned on me. “She knows.”
“I just said that.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the third glass of whiskey. She would’ve checked the cabin before bringing a man into that boathouse, don’t you think?”
“Of course she did.” There was a pause, while he stared at me. “I did, too.”
It took a moment for the meaning to dawn on me.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to say anything.”
Now I was confused. Had he or hadn’t he seen us unload the body? I said, “If there’s something you want to ask me, ask. Let’s clear the air right here and now.”
“It’s none of my business. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Who’s Lonnie gonna tell? Or the guy she was with? They can’t say a word without giving themselves away. That’s what I meant, you’d see the situation differently.”
I did but was still unsure. “Because she was having an affair on the day her husband died. I understand that much, but I suppose it depends on how much she cares about her reputation. Hers and the man’s. Is he local?”
“I recognized him, but it’s safer you don’t know. Lonnie has a mean streak. Worse than mean.”
“You think she’d actually do one of us harm if she knew what you just told me?”
“She’s a woman who finds ways to get what she wants,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to put you in her crosshairs.”
The grove manager did it then—put his hand on my shoulder to move me along. “We need to get going. I always meet Sarah at the bus stop at four.”
Intuition told me the man was trustworthy, yet I knew better than to count on such thin reasoning. My aunts were strong, tough-minded, independent women, but as Loretta has said too often, “They all tarried in the Lust Line when God was handing out brains.”
It wasn’t lust I felt when we bounced down the lane in his truck. Instead, I felt oddly comfortable . . . and safe.
FIVE
In February, sunset comes early, so it was dark by the time Reggie took me home, but, once again, I was at the wheel of the Lincoln Town Car. The little man had hardly said a word since I’d shushed his protests about riding in the passenger seat. When I continued west rather than take the south ramp onto I-75, however, he stirred. “I hate them damn interstates, too,” he said. “One day, the whole state of Florida’s gonna be nothin’ but asphalt, assholes, and graveyards.” He’d been huddled inside himself, sniffing, trying to hide his bouts of despair, so it was good to have an opportunity to converse. There were questions I wanted to ask, and I might never have another chance. If nothing else, today I had learned that sad truth.
“Not all change is bad,” I said gently. “You’ll feel better after a while. Why don’t you stay the night with Loretta and me? You can sleep on my boat. I’ve got a charter in the morning, but you could fish off the dock. The snook hang there thick in a little drop-off. I’ll show you.”
“I’d rather have a mess of mullet,” he replied. “Soapfish, that’s what we used to call them snook. That hussy the governor married, she’d probably love to tie into one and have her picture took for a magazine wearing a bikini. Not me. Lonnie and the tourists, they can have them snook.”
Snewk—he pronounced the word in a way typical of folks from Carolina who, long ago, had ventured south and settled on the Florida peninsula.
“You never approved of Mrs. Chatham, did you?” I said. “I got the impression Kermit Bigalow doesn’t care for her, either. He showed me around a section of citrus he’s trying to save. Experimenting with different chemicals and techniques—that disease is near impossible to kill. But I think he was just trying to spare me from dealing with her.”
All that got was a snort of derision. I couldn’t be sure regarding whom.
I didn’t press. We’d turned south on U.S. 41, the Tamiami Trail, where traffic wasn’t too bad near Punta Gorda, before Reggie stirred again.
“That woman’s not smart as she thinks, but she’ll see. You just wait ’til the governor’s lawyer tells her what’s what.”
“Are you talking about his will?”
“Some folks are in for a surprise, Miz Hannah. That’s all I’m at liberty to say. Did you hear the way she spoke to me?”
I dodged the truth by mentioning Axel, the Thoroughbred horse, and reminding Reggie I’d toured the groves. “Figured you both had a lot to discuss,” I said. “You were Mr. Chatham’s closest friend, after all, then you had the police to deal with. They didn’t ask me much, Reggie. All I did was confirm what you’d told them. I hope that’s what you wanted.”
It was a veiled question that failed to produce results.
“Spoke to me like I was trash,” he continued. “She said even worse with the po-lice around. Me, having to stand there and listen with poor ol’ Harney on a gurney with a sheet over his face, barely dead and not yet in the ground.”
When I tried to soothe the little man, he only got madder. “Excuse my language, Miz Hannah, but that woman is a bitch. That’s the word for her, and she is riding for a fall. She has kicked the wrong stump this time, by god. Know what she did? The lil’ tramp fired me in front of everyone there.”
“Them listening?”
“Oh yes, she did.”
“I don’t know what to say. That was cruel, Reggie. When she calms down, maybe she’ll see it was wrong.”
“Hell she will! And after near forty years of service, too. Yelled at me in front of the po-lice; told me to get my shit out of my own house—her exact words—and be gone within the week. Well, we will see whose shit get
s packed first.” He sat back, chortling, “Tee-hee-hee,” but in a broken way, then buried his face in his hands.
I didn’t know Reggie well, wasn’t even sure of his last name until a detective had referred to him as “Mr. Hutley.” But we had shared rides with Mr. Chatham together, and private moments when Chatham had stopped to visit Loretta. Never had I heard him issue an impolite word, let alone speak with such bitterness. I didn’t fault the man, was furious on his behalf, but needed more information before I could decide what to do. I hadn’t asked Kermit if I could share the boathouse story with Reggie, but he hadn’t told me not to, either.
I asked, “Do you want some water? There’s a Burger King up ahead. Their sweet tea’s not too bad.”
The former chauffeur had to gather himself; he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and adjusted his cap. “No, ma’am, thanks just the same. But another scotch would hit the spot. I just stocked up for the governor; got a bottle of eighteen-year-old Dewar’s in the cabinet. Mind if I crawl in the back and have me a taste?”
“As long as you buckle up,” I said.
“I’ll pour a short one for you, too, if you like.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said. “Stay put until I find a place to stop so you can get out.”
Reggie preferred to climb over the seat. This put his knees near my face momentarily, then his size-eight shoes, which I helped along with a push. I heard the laminated door open, the clink of glass on glass, followed by a long, savoring silence. Half a mile, I drove, before I spoke.
“Firing you like that in front of strangers—no matter how upset she was, it was just downright mean.”
“Two po-lice-men and an ambulance woman standing right there. Then Lonnie much as accused you of being a paid sporting girl ’cause of the extra scotch I poured to settle your nerves. Glad you didn’t touch that glass now?”
“You told them it was for me?”
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