by Kelly Lane
And that’s when Pottie Moss told her, told everyone, that no one would be leaving until Skeets fixed the engine, because there was no cell phone service out in the middle of the swamp, so we had no way to let anyone know that we were stranded.
A three-hour tour . . .
“Quick, girls,” I whispered to Charlene and Darlene, “we need to get the food ready ASAP before the group gets restless. Charlene, did you remember the booze?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve got lots of booze over here, in this carton.”
“Good. Start setting up the bar.”
“Miss Daphne told us to make it look like a tiki bar. We brought decorations.”
“Why am I not surprised? Okay. So, in addition to corny tiki bar decorations, what’ve we got for actual liquor?”
“Miss Daphne told us to pack beer and bourbon. So that’s what we did. Also, she thought it’d be fun to pass out Swamp Waters. So we’ve got stuff to make those, too,” said Charlene.
“Swamp Waters?”
“Miss Eva, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a Swamp Water!”
Charlene sounded absolutely incredulous.
“No . . .”
“Well, there’s a ton of different recipes,” said Darlene. “Miss Daphne said we needed one that was simple and easy to make. So we googled until we found one. Our Swamp Water recipe is equal parts lime vodka and apricot brandy, plus sweet-and-sour mix and 7 Up. Got it all right here.”
Darlene reached into a cardboard carton and pulled out a bottle of mixed sweet and sour. “We were gonna bring lemonade instead of the sweet-and-sour mix and soda, but we figured we could make Bourbon and Sevens with the soda, if the Swamp Waters bombed.”
“Good thinking.”
Note to self: Daphne need not worry about her young staff being naive about alcoholic beverages.
The twins and I quickly got to work unloading cartons and coolers of food and provisions on the picnic tables, so we could set up and serve the picnic as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Claudia had completely run out of patience and was screeching, even more than usual. Finally, she insisted that the twins remain on either side of her—like human shields—throughout the duration of the picnic so no wild animals could eat her . . . at least not before devouring the twins first. She also refused to take off her life preserver. Her continued presence beside the twins didn’t make our setup any faster, for sure; still, we got everything set up pretty fast, including Daphne’s tiki bar.
And I got the sense that Wiggy and Coop were getting fidgety, because everything they really wanted to see was back on the shore, not on the island. They really had no interest in Alligator Island. On the other hand, Spencer seemed delighted to wait for more gators to appear. He was ready with his smartphone camera.
Pottie Moss started pointing out plants and animals of interest, while Skeets got right to work on his disabled engine.
“Is there a bathroom around here someplace? I need to go to the bathroom,” Claudia said.
“Uh-oh,” whispered Darlene.
Pottie Moss told Charlene there was no bathroom.
“No bathroom? What kind of hellhole is this?”
“There’s a bush over there,” said Wiggy, pointing to a large shrub. “We won’t look.”
Coop chimed in, “God no!”
Claudia let out a wail.
The twins were on it, quickly adopting Daphne’s standing advice that when stuff goes to hell in a handbasket, pour liquor.
Charlene said, “Miss Claudia, can we offer you a drink? A little Swamp Water . . .”
Pottie Moss held court with the men.
“During the early twentieth century, there was quite a bit of cypress logging going on in these parts,” she said. “In fact, a bunch of logging companies ran railroad lines into the swamp until the nineteen forties.”
“You don’t say?” asked Wiggy. He seemed genuinely interested.
“Yes, sir. In fact, you can still see some tracks crossing the swamp waterways, if you go up that way”—she pointed to the opposite end of the swamp from where we’d come—“toward the prison and the chemical company.”
“Huh,” said Coop.
“An added perk,” said Wiggy. “Let’s go take a look.”
“Certainly, a marketing plus,” said Coop.
They wandered off, with Pottie Moss trailing after them, yammering away.
“Here on Alligator Island,” she said, “there’s some logging equipment and other stuff left over. If y’all walk around, you can see it. I’m not exactly sure where it is. But I know it’s out here somewhere. Believe it or not, some folks actually lived on the island for a time.”
“No kidding,” said Wiggy.
It was hard not to notice that Alligator Island held quite a bit more interest for Wiggy than it had just an hour earlier.
CHAPTER 54
A three-hour tour . . .
My plan to ply our guests with alcohol—loosen them up, so to speak, before asking them about Dex—was a good one. And it meshed perfectly with Daphne’s hell-in-a-handbasket plan. In fact, it was such a good strategy that I didn’t even need to set it in motion myself.
Five hours after our arrival, as the sun set over Alligator Island and it didn’t appear that Skeets was any closer to fixing his stupid Sea Horse engine than he’d been when it’d first died out in the swamp—and Pottie Moss had finally run out of educational swamp drivel, and after a belly-full of Precious’s delicious food and three or four rounds of drinks, and in Wiggy’s and Coop’s cases, more like six or seven rounds, because Charlene and Darlene had done a masterful job tending bar—my plan set sail on its own. No one even cared that we’d been out of ice for an hour or more.
“So, which one of you bastards killed Dex?” asked Claudia. With her fourth or fifth Swamp Water in hand, and the twins still flanking her, she swaggered over to the group of men who were sitting on the sand near the water’s edge, watching Skeets as he fiddled with his motor. The men were smoking cigars and chugging beers. Except Spencer. He’d choked on the first few puffs of his cigar, then begged off the whole male-bonding smoking experience, saying he was “allergic.”
“I thought we’d all decided,” said Wiggy with a smirk. He took another swig from his beer bottle, then he waved the butt end toward me. “Our hostess here, Miss Eva, did it.”
“I did not!” I replied hotly. I was sitting at a picnic table.
“I know you hated Dex,” said Claudia to me. “She hated Dex,” she insisted to the others.
Wiggy and Coop both smiled, puffing on their cigars.
“Claudia, I don’t know why you keep saying that,” I said. “I did not kill Dex. Sure, I didn’t like him. Not one bit, if you must know. But I definitely didn’t kill him.”
Claudia let out a contemptuous sniff.
“However,” I said, “at least one person here did kill Dex, and since we’re not going anywhere anytime soon”—I looked over to Skeets who was knee-deep in Sea Horse outboard engine parts—“I aim to figure out who did it before we leave this island.”
“Oooh, scary,” said Spencer. He didn’t even look up. He was playing some game on his smartphone.
“And if you’re so certain there’s a murderer within our midst,” said Wiggy, wiggling his fingers in the air, “then shouldn’t you be concerned about your own personal safety?” He raised his voice and said dramatically, “Shouldn’t we all be concerned for our welfare? I mean, out here in this swamp, at night, all alone, with no cell phone service, no way to get off this damned little island . . . If the murderer really is out here, then who is to say we won’t all end up dead? Or maybe, we’ll just end up as gator bait.” He chuckled.
“Well, technically, we could get off the island . . . All we have to do is paddle,” said Coop.
“Over my dead body,” said Claudia. She hiccupped. The t
wins held her up.
“Could be . . .” teased Wiggy.
The twins giggled. They led Claudia through the sand, back to a picnic table they’d converted into the tiki bar, with a grass skirt around the edge, pretty orchids, wooden tiki sculptures at each corner, and plastic coconut-shaped drinking cups with straws. They didn’t mind bookending Claudia, because apparently, she’d worn enough bug repellent to work for all three of them.
“I, for one, think how terribly convenient it is,” snarked Claudia, plopping down onto the bench behind the bar, “that Dex’s own killer says she’s going to ‘figure out’ who killed him. I suppose you think you’re being clever, Eva Knox.”
The twins slipped onto the bench, flanking Claudia.
“I don’t think I’m being ‘clever’ at all, Claudia,” I said. “However, given what I know, I do think I’m being reasonable to assume that at least one of you killed Dex. After all, each of you had motive and opportunity.”
“Well, aren’t you a regular Nancy Drew,” said Wiggy with a laugh. “Why don’t you go ahead, then? Entertain us and share what you think you know.”
“This should be enlightening,” said Coop under his breath. He rolled his eyes and took a big swig of his warm Swamp Water.
“I told you Dex said something to her,” whispered Spencer to Coop.
“Shut up, Spencer!” Wiggy ordered. He smashed his cigar butt into the sand. He looked at me. “Let’s hear it, Miss Eva. What incriminating evidence have you possibly got on me that proves I killed your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my ‘boyfriend.’ Wasn’t, I mean.”
“Whatever. Spill it, sister.”
“Alright, let’s start with you, Wiggy. Clearly, you all are up to something that involves purchasing property here in Abundance.”
“No,” said Wiggy, “we’re here on a bird-watching retreat.”
“That’s hogwash, Wiggy, and you know that I know it. You guys are the last people on earth interested in birds. My gosh, a bald eagle flew up in front of you yesterday, and not one of you noticed it . . . not one!”
“It did?” croaked Claudia.
I rolled my eyes.
“No, Wiggy. You’re here on some sort of land-grabbing mission. However, there is something underhanded about it all, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Still, I’ve overheard you all talking enough to know that whatever role Dex had in the deal, he wasn’t needed anymore. Perhaps you killed him to keep him quiet. Or maybe just to keep his share of the take.”
“I see. And then just how and when did I kill dear old Dex?”
“After the tasting party. You poisoned him. In the kitchen when he made himself a snack with toast and olive oil.”
“Really, and just how did I poison him?”
“Belladonna.”
“Bella what?”
“Belladonna. It’s a plant. You crushed the berries and put the juice into his olive oil.”
“You’re a loon. Even if I knew what you were talking about, I couldn’t have done it when you said I did, because I wasn’t at the plantation after the tasting party.”
“Oh no? Then where were you?”
“Out looking at some property.” He turned and glared at Coop. “Property that was already sold.”
“Aha! So you admit it then—you are here to purchase property!”
Score one for me.
“Thanks, Dex,” said Coop sarcastically, glaring back at Wiggy. “I told you, it wasn’t my fault. I’d no idea there’d been another buyer until after the fact. The real estate guy didn’t know it, either, apparently. But then, you’re already aware of that.” Then he added, “And pray tell, Wiggy, what property were you visiting, without the rest of us, under the cloak of darkness? It wouldn’t have been the Twiggs place, would it?”
Wiggy must’ve been the person Ian saw creeping around the Twiggs place on his night cam!
“Coop,” I interrupted, “you could’ve easily poisoned Dex yourself.”
“Really, my love? And why would I have done that?”
“Because Dex stole your wife, Heather, from you . . . That’s why you all laughed at me when you were standing on the hill Saturday after I asked how Heather could still stand you all. Obviously, I hadn’t known then that she’d indeed already left you . . . because she couldn’t stand you. That joke was definitely on me. However, the joke was certainly on you when your wife ran off with Dex. Then she cleaned you out. Must’ve made you pretty mad.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Spencer, looking up from his smartphone.
“Ah, Spencer, glad you could take time out from your game to join us for a moment. I’ve no doubt that you could’ve killed Dex. After all, I heard Coop say that Dex owed you fifty thousand dollars . . . He probably needed the loan after Heather cleaned him out. Smart Wellesley girl, that Heather.”
“Oh, please, Spencer wouldn’t hurt a fly,” said Claudia. “He’s too weak. We all know it was you, Eva, who killed Dex.”
“Me? And why would I kill Dex, Claudia? You know, I’ve been wondering why you keep telling me you ‘know’ it was me, and you ‘know’ how much I hated Dex. And, for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what it is that you think that you know about me. Until I replayed the conversation I’d overheard about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes. The gentlemen here were complaining about you, saying how you’d changed over the years. How the change occurred after a trip to Zermatt where you’d returned with a broken leg. And after that, Dex overpaid you to continue working for him. And you know what, Claudia? I get it. I totally get the fact that, like you’ve been saying, you were the only person who knew why I left Dex.”
“I doubt that.”
“Claudia, I get it because Dex did the same thing to you that he’d done to me. He hurt you physically. Perhaps not often. Maybe not even more than once. But he did hurt you on that trip to Europe. Dex was the reason you broke your leg, not some ski mountain. And he paid you extra money all these years to keep your mouth shut about it.”
“No! Don’t say that!”
“I admit, although it does seem odd that you might’ve killed your golden goose, so to speak, it could be that seeing Dex come after me the other night was all that was needed to tip the scales. I mean, forgive me, Claudia, but you do seem a bit ‘emotionally challenged’ these days. And, of course, you’ve been extorting money from Dex for years . . .”
“My, oh, my,” said Pottie Moss. “This is better than Bravo TV. Skeets, hon, it’s time for your insulin, sweetcakes. Don’t say any more, folks, until I get back. I don’t want to miss a word!” Pottie Moss went over to the farthest canoe and rummaged around for her cooler. “Wait for me! I don’t want to miss anything. I’m coming right back!”
“The problem is,” said Coop, “we all have alibis. Like I was ‘entertaining’ in my room after you left the party.”
“Entertaining?”
“Why, yes. I met a lovely young woman at the party, and we had mutually satisfying relations in my bedroom.”
“You did?” asked Spencer.
“Yes. All night long, as a matter of fact.”
“And who was your lovely date?” I asked.
“The busty dark-haired girl at the olive oil tasting party. Let me see, what was her name? Do you guys remember?”
“Daisy . . . no, Maisy,” said Claudia.
“You had sex with Maisy Merganthal?” I asked.
“Yes, I believe I did. Thank you for asking.”
“Are you kidding? Why, she’s just out of college.”
“That’s old enough for me.”
“You’re a pig, Coop. Where was her mother?”
“Why, I believe her mother was out waiting in the car all night. After all, it was her idea to hook me up with her daughter in the first place. Something about
how I’d make the perfect husband for her sweet daughter . . .”
“Omigosh! That’s gross. Don’t tell me any more.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Okay, so, Spencer, where were you that night?”
“I was in the library, playing games on the Internet. That’s pretty easy to check.”
“Claudia?”
“I was in my room. Sleeping pills knocked me right out. That’s what us emotionally unstable types do, you know. Take pills. Of course, I can’t prove it, though . . .” She smirked.
Pottie Moss said from the canoe, “If y’all ask me, she did it! The woman always does.”
“Wait a minute.”
I was remembering something. Something that had been buried in my brain . . .
“Pottie Moss, when Precious and I were at your house, you said you’d had to bring a shopping bag to Claudia, but I found it in Dex’s room . . .”
And at just that moment, the Sea Horse engine revved up.
“Wait!” I cried.
“Stop!” Behind me, the group jumped up and started yelling with me.
Pottie Moss and Skeets were in the canoe raft, and they’d left the beach! They were headed out into the swamp . . . without us. As I neared the canoes, Skeets raised his machete and brought it down hard and swift, cutting the lines that bound the three canoes together. He and Pottie Moss motored away in their single canoe as the other two boats drifted into the swamp.
“Wait!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. This wasn’t about being stranded on the swampy island. This was about something else altogether. I knew if I didn’t stop them, we might never see them again.
I had to stop them.
I ran full speed into the swamp and tried to grab their canoe. I just missed. They were just three or four feet away and pulling away faster and faster. Which wasn’t really very fast, because they had an eggbeater for a motor; still, it was faster than I could wade through the swamp after them. I lunged forward and started swimming. Kicking and thrashing, not even looking where I was headed, all I wanted to do was grab hold of the red canoe.