“Now don’t go getting you ponytail all snarled. Of course he told me you went to the abandoned still. He was worried about both of you and knew you needed protection. You were almost right. The Pratt’s do have a working still, but it’s well hidden. And when we found it, we also found several containers of rat poison, not that we wouldn’t expect that around a place where they stored corn, but…”
“You think Melanie Pratt tried to poison her husband. Oh damn. I thought she was innocent.”
“I think someone in the family tried to poison him, but I can’t prove a thing. Yet.”
Emily could forgive Lewis the fun he had at her expense. He was doing his job. And Rodney was protecting his wife. Of course, she had no intention of ever forgetting what Lewis did to her. Using her friends as spies and leading her on. She’d just let it go for now and as long as it took for him to think she was over it. Then…
Lewis was saying something to her.
“What?”
“So do you want to see the still?”
“Big deal. We saw the other one.”
“But this one is bigger, huge, really huge, and its location, well, the location is everything.”
His enthusiasm piqued her interest.
She turned around to look at Naomi. “Got anything pressing?”
Her daughter shook her head.
“Then let’s see this fascinating location.”
Lewis turned onto a dirt road.
“This can’t be Pratt property. It’s too far away from their place. Unless they own this parcel too.” Emily looked at the passing scenery with interest. A mix of Cyprus trees, sabal pines, live oaks and scrub palmetto covered the area. The jungle made of the vegetation almost reminded her of the dense forests up north and looked just as impenetrable.
“The Pratts do own the property, just not the Everett Pratts. The county records indicate this section belongs to another Pratt.” Lewis slowed and pulled to the side of the road.
“You mean Lorelei Pratt?”
“Well, sort of. It’s still in her husband’s name, but technically it’s hers.”
“Miss Prim and Proper is making moonshine?” Emily found the idea shocking, but also satisfying. Emily found the woman somewhat annoying, but kept her mouth shut to Hap who seemed to like her just fine.
“I doubt she knows about it. C’mon.” Lewis got out of the car and started down the dusty road. He hadn’t gone but a few steps when he turned and walked into the trees at the road’s edge.
“We’ll never get through here.” Naomi paused and watched Lewis duck under the limb of a live oak and disappear.
“Where are you?” called Emily.
“Just walk toward the big oak and duck around the limb that almost touches the ground.” His voice came from the other side of the tree and was nearly swallowed up by the density of the branches between him and the women.
Emily shrugged and did as he said. Once she got on the other side, she saw Lewis standing at the beginning of a trail that had been cut through the brush.
“C’mon, Naomi,” she yelled.
“A path,” said Naomi, “and concealed so well, you’d never see it from the road even if you were walking and looking for a way in.”
“From now on, both of you need to stay behind me. It’s dark in here, and I don’t want you stepping where you shouldn’t.”
“Like on a gator or a snake?” Emily shuddered and looked down at her feet.
“That too. Try to move quietly.” Lewis smiled and signaled them to follow him.
It was almost as dark as night among the trees.
Lewis glanced skyward. “It’s getting late in the day. I guess I should have brought a flashlight.”
Naomi followed her mother close enough that she bumped into her several times.
“Ground’s spongy here for a while, so watch those Cyprus knees. They stick up and can trip you.” Lewis trod carefully around the knobby protrusions at the base of the trees. Spanish moss trailed off the limbs giving the area a creepy, other worldly feeling.
“I know you’re scared Naomi, but you’re fogging up my shirt collar,” Emily said. “Could you step back a pace or so?” She reached up to brush away the tickle on her neck and touched something with more substance than Naomi’s breath.
“Help! Get that off me. It’s some kind of an animal with prickly fur.” She flicked at it again with her hand and caught a fist full of beard-like hair.
Lewis turned and pulled her toward him. “It’s just Spanish moss.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t like it. It’s making me itchy just like when you got fleas.” Emily scratched at her neck. Lewis bent to do the same to his ankle.
“Mom, take a look at this one.” In front of them stood a cypress that made the others look like mere children in size. Most impressive was the “knee” coming off one side. It stood over four feet in height and, along with the others which looked like the fingers of a giant’s hands arched over the ground, it made a grey tent-like structure.
“What lives in there?” Emily bent her head close to the opening between the fingers or knees and tried to peer in.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Lewis pulled her back. “It’s a great place for spiders and bugs and, well, it’s not someplace you’d want to explore especially without a light.”
“Where’s Naomi?” asked Emily.
A cry penetrated the woods.
“I told you both to stay behind me. Don’t the Rhodes women know how to follow orders?”
This was no time to argue with him. Emily plunged ahead toward the source of the yell. She hadn’t gone ten steps when the ground went out from beneath her feet. If Lewis hadn’t grabbed her by her shirt, she would have plunged into an inky chasm and joined her daughter at its bottom.
“Naomi. Are you hurt?” Lewis shouted into the depths of the hole. There was no reply.
“What is this? A cave of some sort? Can we climb down there?” Emily tried to peer down into its depths, but roots and vegetation obscured her view. “We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“It’s a sinkhole. You must have heard about them here in Florida. They’ve been known to swallow up entire backyards.”
“How deep is it? We should go for help.”
Lewis called Naomi’s name again. “The fall probably knocked her out.”
Emily wanted to believe Lewis’ words, but the concern in his voice made her frantic to find her daughter. “I’m going down there.”
“We’ll both go. I’ll climb down first, then help you. The sides are rock covered with crumbling dirt and vines. Watch your footing as you go.” Lewis began to lower himself using his feet and hands to crab walk down the sides.
The shadows were so deep she could barely see the top of his head when he got to the bottom. He reached back and helped her down the steep sides.
There was no sign of Naomi.
“This is so neat.” The voice came from the far side of the hole.
“Naomi?”
Emily ran toward the voice, stumbling over the rocky floor.
Suddenly a bright light blinded her.
“I found a flashlight.”
“Could you shine it someplace other than in my face?”
Her daughter lowered the light, turned and directed the beam toward the far wall.
“Where does this go?” The light revealed a tunnel. Naomi moved down it.
Emily followed. The tunnel widened until it formed a large room. In the center of the room stood a still, another still, much larger than the abandoned one Emily had found. Its copper sides gleamed in the light, and there were indications of recent use. This was a working still. There were sacks of corn stacked in the far corner. Several propane tanks stood to one side of the huge boiler. The area smelled sour.
“Are you hurt, honey?” asked Emily.
“Just some scrapes and bruises, I guess, but look at this.”
Lewis followed them down the tunnel and into the still room, but remained quiet as the
women explored the sinkhole.
Emily turned to him. “Is this your surprise?”
Lewis stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Why do I think I can keep two steps ahead of you women? I wanted to show you this by taking you around to the other way in. Instead you find your own entrance. I told you to stay behind me.”
He dropped his severe pose. “You sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m good.” Naomi continued her exploration of the still.
“The propane is to fuel the fire, right?” asked Emily.
Lewis nodded.
“But isn’t it dangerous to do that down here? There’s no ventilation.”
Lewis chuckled. “They figured that one out too.”
He walked over to the back wall and pulled out a long pole with a board nailed across the top to form a T.
“That looks like the kind of device I saw my daddy use to hold up dry wall when he was redoing a ceiling,” Emily observed.
Lewis pointed overhead. It was criss-crossed with sturdy wooden beams. The area between the beams was made of branches, some with leaves and pine needles still attached, others bare. Weeds and other brush appeared woven into the limbs. Lewis raised the pole above his head and pushed upward. He maneuvered one section of the ceiling off the supporting timbers and to one side, opening the ceiling to the sky.
“Move that platform of bush and branches and you’ve got a kind of skylight above.” He continued to perform his task of raising and moving a series of platforms until the entire ceiling was open to the stars.
“Great camouflage. Why didn’t they do the same to the part of the sinkhole Naomi fell into?”
“It was covered with brush naturally. And it’s small. Why bother? But these others? They’re larger. They needed to make this kind of partitioned canopy to cover up the hole.”
“This is their real still, the one they use now. And you found rat poison here? The kind used to kill Everett?”
“The lab is testing it, but it looks like a match.”
“Great.” Emily smiled. She was genuinely happy for Lewis. A little jealous she hadn’t stumbled on this first, but still, happy.
She noted Lewis’ face didn’t show the kind of satisfaction she would have expected for a detective who solved the case.
“Maybe not so great. The lab told me they’d probably only be able to tell if the poison in Everett’s body was the same as the kind found here, but there’s little chance they can say the poison came from this particular batch. And even if they could, which Pratt do I arrest for attempted murder?”
Now Emily felt genuinely sorry for him. And, of course, there was that glimmer of hope that she might still stumble onto the answer. After all, he had bet her a bottle of shower gel that he would find the poisoner before she would. There were bubbles at stake.
“We’d better get out of here in case the Pratts show up. I don’t want to let them know we found this. Yet.”
He carefully replaced the camouflaged ceiling then gestured toward the back of the area to a slope that angled upward and then leveled off. A door stood at the end of that area. Lewis pushed on it, and it opened to a clearing. Once out the door they turned around. From the outside it looked as if the door was to a small storage shed, not to the still sinkhole.
“Clever,” said Emily. She noted the door was held shut by two u-shaped handles through which a section of wood could be slid. Lewis slipped the wooden bolt through the u-brackets to hold the door closed.
“Yeah, it looks like an old shed in the middle of the woods. Hard to find, unless you were looking for it.” Lewis sounded proud of his discovery.
“So that’s a sinkhole,” said Emily. “We always read about them in the papers up north, but the stories indicated they’re some kind of mysterious phenomenon like crop circles.”
“Nothing mysterious about them. This entire state is made up of sand and porous limestone. Erosion produces cavities in the ground. Some fill with water. In years when drought occurs, the holes reveal themselves. The rest of the time they look like ponds or gator holes, or are covered with brush or several feet of dirt.”
“The Pratts took a chance then. Their entire operation could be flooded if we got a lot of rain. Or a hurricane.”
“I forgot to leave the flashlight.” Naomi held it up.
“I’ll run it back.” Before Lewis could grab the light, a twig crackled, then another. Footsteps. Lewis stopped and drew his pistol from under his jacket.
The sounds got closer.
“I’m going to see what’s going on. You gals stay here and be quiet.” Lewis moved ahead toward the sounds and was soon lost in the shadows.
Emily and Naomi crouched down, huddled together near the base of a Cyprus tree.
“Ouch!”
Emily glanced at her daughter. “Quiet.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m kneeling on one of these Cyprus knobs. They’re all over the place.”
Suddenly the air erupted in the sounds of gunfire.
“Let’s get out of here.” Emily grabbed her daughter’s hand and ran. After winding in and out of trees and through swampy areas, over knobs which threatened to trip them, they slowed up.
“If we keep running, we’re going to twist our ankles or break a foot.” Naomi stopped to listen.
“Or we’ll lose our way.” Emily looked around her and wondered where they were. Which direction was the road? Off to the west the sun began to dip behind a hammock of trees. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the night in this place. If the gators don’t get us, she thought, the moonshiners will.
Lewis positioned himself at the base of a live oak. Its wide trunk gave him adequate cover from whomever was shooting. He could hold out here until it got dark then make his way back to the car. He figured it had to be the Pratts checking their still. Maybe they got wind of something going on with the authorities. It was hard to keep anything quiet when it came to ‘shine, especially if those who bought it found out the Feds or police were onto their source. Moonshine in the south, thought Lewis, was a tradition, and one you tampered with knowing there would be consequences.
His only concern was the two women he’d taken here. He mentally whacked himself on the head. What a dumb ass. He just had to show off to Emily, show her what a great detective he was, how he tracked down the real still. Now he’d put both of them in real danger. They could run into the men who shot at him or they could lose themselves in these swamps and woods. Either way, the outcome wasn’t pretty.
He listened. No voices or anyone moving around. If the Pratts thought he was a Fed onto the still, he figured they were hightailing it back home, putting distance between themselves and evidence of moonshining.
The woods were silent. Time to move. Time to find the gals and hope they were all right. As he struggled to get to his feet, he admitted to himself there was another problem. He felt blood run down his arm from a gunshot wound. It was too dark to see how bad it was, but his entire right side felt like it was on fire, and wetness soaked through his shirt and his jacket. He slid the gun into his shoulder holster, groaned with the pain of the movement, and held the useless arm with his left hand.
He felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his neck.
“Throw your pistol on the ground and get up. Do it real slow.”
Footsteps. She could hear them through the dried brush.
“You hear them?”
Naomi nodded. “We have to hide.”
“Where?”
“I’ve still got the flashlight, but I don’t dare use it or it’ll give away our position. If we can find our way back to where I fell into that sinkhole, we can hide in there. ”
“Don’t be silly. If it’s the Pratts, that’s the place they’ll want to look, to check on their still.”
“They’ll search the main part of the hole, not in that passageway. It’s almost dark now. They won’t see us if we hunker down near the opening.”
Emily looked skyward. “Unless
they decide to make ‘shine and open up all those hatches. There’s supposed to be a full moon tonight. They’d be sure to see us.”
“I don’t think they’re here to distill. I think they’re checking on things. It’s our only chance.”
As they attempted to backtrack to the sinkhole, Emily could hear voices coming closer. “Hurry.”
She turned to look behind her.
Naomi was gone.
She knew she shouldn’t yell for her daughter or she’d give away her position to their pursuers. The voices got louder. They couldn’t be far behind. She needed a place to hide, but the trees surrounding her didn’t look any different from those she’d seen in other parts of the area. Where was the sinkhole? She worried she might fall into it the way Naomi did, so she got down on her hands and knees and began to crawl forward, reaching out, hoping she’d touch nothing but air—the entrance to her hiding place. Maybe Naomi was already there.
Her hands continued to feel terrra firma, mostly terra, and mostly damp, filled with leaves, dirt, moss. Something moved beneath her right palm.
Enough of this. She leaped up and heard a voice from behind, close, very close. “I see someone.”
It sounded like a man. The voice was followed by a sound Emily dreaded, that of a hammer being pulled back, the sound of a gun being cocked. Oh, hell! She ran for the cover of the trees up ahead, giant monsters whose fingers dug into the ground around their trunks. Whoever was pursuing her would search that area, too, she thought. A small cry of despair escaped from her lips.
She felt something like a slap alongside her face followed by the sound of a shot.
I’m dead unless I find someplace to crawl into and hide myself.
She had an idea, a horrible idea. She ran toward the gathering of grey trees ahead, their gnarled roots and mantle of trailing moss a macabre sight in the shadowy darkness of the woods. She took a deep breath and plunged into their midst searching, searching, until she disappeared.
Chapter 17
Grilled, Chilled and Killed Page 16