Murder on the Mullet Express

by Gwen Mayo

Rowley then introduced the slightly-built youth at his side as Jon Forland, West Coast’s ‘binder boy’.

  “What’s that?” Teddy whispered.

  “Someone who can take down payments on parcels of land,” Cornelia replied, and received shushing sounds from the people on the bench behind her.

  While Rowley delivered his spiel, Cornelia looked around at the glassine river, the enormous live oaks, and cedars that enclosed them like the walls of the garden Eden. Palmettos filled the spaces between houses. There, across the water… was that an egret? She lifted her field glasses to look.

  As if he’d seen what she was doing—and perhaps he had—the agent directed the crowd’s gaze across the river.

  “The elegant white house you see over there is the private fishing lodge of several distinguished gentlemen from Atlanta. They’ve been coming here for decades, sportsmen. Now their secret is yours.”

  Cornelia shifted her focus to the house, a large Victorian with a broad, well-cared for lawn. “What’s the smaller structure?”

  “That’s a cabin for their chauffeurs. Important men need their drivers, even when they take fishing trips.”

  The man steering the boat leaned out of his seat. “It’s the only place in town colored folks can stay,” he added.

  Cornelia pressed her lips together. When Uncle hears this, he’s not going to buy a square foot here. Jake would never be able to visit. Her uncle had practically raised Jacob Mayfield, a prodigy who was now his right-hand man.

  Peter Rowley tugged at his collar. His sandy complexion reddened.

  “Enough about fishing. I’m more interested in hearing about Dazzy Vance,” a familiar man with a thick mustache said.

  The land agent recovered. “Ah, the pitcher of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Yes, he’s been coming here for the fishing. The team’s spring training camp isn’t far south of Homosassa. West Coast is trying to persuade one of the teams to make this their winter home.”

  Cornelia followed a heron in flight, then focused on some waxwings. Tomorrow morning, perhaps she could get out on her own and do some serious birdwatching. Her uncle wasn't interested in her advice on real estate decisions, although he would care very much about what she had learned.

  Her birdwatching plans were interrupted by Teddy’s elbow. “That was the man who won the fight yesterday. The one asking about baseball.”

  “Perhaps the fellow he punched was a Giants fan. Very bad sport in that case.” She wondered about the other man, the loser. How was he doing today?

  The tour group enjoyed a nice luncheon, where they were serenaded by a student band from the University of Florida at Gainesville. Afterward, they endured a lecture on the glories of the soon-to-be-built New Homosassa.

  Uncle Percival did not return in time for the motoring tour. The prospective landowners piled into an open-air bus, already half-full of people from a different group. The bus took them down roads with names like ‘Fishbowl’ and slowed at chalk-lined lots so Rowley could point out their advantages and suggest the type of houses that could be built there. Several plots were already marked as ‘Sold’, an indication that the opening was successful so far. Cornelia sat at a window seat, studying the variety of trees and wildlife, wind blowing strands of hair loose from her bun. Teddy alternated between reading her brochure and looking out both sides of the vehicle.

  They halted in front of a building still under construction. It appeared to be a loggia of sorts, with stucco walls and a tile roof. The land around it had been cleared for paving.

  “This is the Arcade,” Rowley said. “There’s going to be a theater here, plus room for a bunch of other businesses. With the way this city’s going to grow, it’s going to need stores, restaurants, everything. If you or a family member wants to start a business with guaranteed customers, this is a great opportunity to do it.”

  “Let’s say I wanted to be an entrepreneur,” said a beefy man in a cream linen suit and a Panama hat. “I heard there was gonna be a big casino here.”

  Helen Minyard wrinkled her nose in distaste. Some of their other companions looked unsettled by the question, too.

  Rowley tugged at his collar. “There’s a place set aside in the blueprints, yes.”

  “So, are there investors? How does a businessman get involved with that?”

  “When we get to our next stop, there will be people you can talk to. They’re leasing the space.”

  Teddy tapped Cornelia’s arm. “May I borrow your field glasses for a moment?”

  Cornelia handed them over, and Teddy peered beyond the Arcade to each side. She checked her brochure, and then peered down the street again.

  Finally, she returned the glasses. “The sidewalk ends just past the hotel and the construction site of the arcade. They haven’t gotten as far as the flyer claimed. I was expecting the theater and some shops to be finished. What are we going to do here for two more days?”

  The next stop, also their final stop, was in the lot of the new Homosassa Hotel, completed only a few weeks ago. The passengers filed out of the bus and went on a quick tour of the hotel, which was packed with agents and prospective customers furiously negotiating. Young men with folders traveled between the knots of people. They wore knickers, which Cornelia considered inappropriate for conducting business.

  Rowley led the group to a table crowded round with people. “Here is the grand design for Homosassa Springs, with lot designations and areas blocked out for parks and other public areas. Some of you gentlemen may be interested in the location of the planned golf course. The pro shop and clubhouse by the hotel are open, though not quite completed.”

  “Where are the people I need to talk to?” Panama Hat asked.

  “Just follow me. Anyone else interested in local business? Come along.”

  Cornelia spotted her uncle. He was using his barrel-chested build to good advantage as he edged up to the table for a good look at the plans. Cornelia needed to warn him about what she’d learned, but this wasn’t the place for it. She waited off to the side. Patience was a virtue one developed as a nurse.

  Or, perhaps it was only a virtue a nurse should develop. Teddy had wormed herself into a good vantage point at the table too, peering through the spectacles she was usually too vain to wear in public. Perhaps she was looking for an amusement that had actually been built.

  Cornelia also spotted Mrs. Minyard. The older woman was grasping the arm of the young man Cornelia had seen getting into Janzen’s car the night before. He, too, wore the disreputable knickers, so perhaps he was another binder boy. Both appeared upset. Perhaps she wanted a guarantee of a house without reptiles. The young man nodded in agreement to something, and left.

  A short time later, the young man in the knickers re-entered the great hall. “Gibt es ein Arzt hier?” He wiped his sweaty face and tried again. “Is there a physician?”

  Cornelia approached the lad. “I am a nurse. Eine krankenschwester.”

  “Come. Please.”

  She followed him out of the crowded room and up the stairs to a room double the size of the one she and Teddy shared. It was well-appointed with fresh flowers and expensive furniture, but the scent of vomit and rancid sweat told a different story. The curtains of the window and four-poster bed were drawn. A bucket sat close to the headboard on one side.

  Cornelia indicated the window. “Please open those. I need light.” She reached for the draperies surrounding the bed and pulled them aside.

  The man from the train lay there, sunken into damp pillows. His face was nearly the color of his fine cotton sheets. Worse, he did not rouse when she shook his shoulder.

  “How long has he been this bad?” she asked the boy.

  The youth shrugged. “He was sick last night, but not like this. He didn’t come down for his meetings this morning, so I postponed them. Frau Minyard insisted on speaking directly to Herr Janzen today, so I came up to get him. This is how I found him.”

  She peered into the bucket next to the bed. An unpleasant sour smell
emanated from it. “I see blood here. That’s a bad sign.”

  “Bad?”

  “You were right to ask for help. What is your name?”

  “Dani. Dani Hegstad.” The youth twisted a handkerchief between his hands, tugging, straightening, twisting again.

  She wondered why Janzen would hire a binder boy that had trouble with English. “Dani, please go to the front desk of the hotel and speak to the staff. Tell them that this man needs a physician. Er braucht einen Arzt.”

  “Yes. Right away.”

  “And come back to tell me what they’re doing!” She wondered how long it would take for her uncle and Teddy to notice her missing. With so many people downstairs, they might search for hours. They needed to be informed as to where she was, and Cornelia needed to learn more about the ‘wallop’ Mr. Janzen had taken the day before.

  Teddy, still downstairs, studied the plats for the city. She found the plans for the theater and shopping venues attractive, but few of the projects had even broken ground. There wasn’t much of a town to see. New Homosassa appeared to be forming only when people bought property. It certainly wasn’t the noble metropolis of the brochure, touted as if it had sprung fully built from Zeus’ head.

  No, the future of the town depended heavily on selling land to people who were ready to build houses and shops. A number of the people she’d ridden in with on the bus had rushed to buy lots, and were now selling their new purchases shoulder-to-shoulder with the land agents.

  Cornelia’s uncle pointed to an area of the map and asked about sinkholes, which set the man from West Coast scurrying through his notes. Teddy decided to leave the professor to his fun and find someone to talk to.

  The Carsons and Peter Rowley conversed. Rosemary would make pleasant company, although not the exciting kind. Considering Mrs. Minyard’s attitude about casinos, she’d be no fun at a party.

  Teddy needed a party. Her supply of medicinal alcohol was rapidly shrinking, and the extra fortifications she’d purchased from Mr. Scroggins would only last a few weeks. So far, New Homosassa showed no signs of even having a pharmacy, much less a speakeasy. Only parties where they served illegal liquor would keep her going here. She’d spotted a few people who might host those sorts of parties, but they were the same ones who’d left to discuss the casino. Perhaps she could acquaint herself with them later.

  Despite the open windows and the spaciousness of the room, it had become desperately hot from the crowd. The binder boys were clever to wear those short acreage trousers; with all the running they did, it was a wonder none of them had fainted.

  Teddy stepped outside and found that she wasn’t the only one suffering from the heat. Ladies holding fans occupied all three benches, beating the moist air futilely. Men lounged against the wall smoking. She crossed the lawn, looking for an unclaimed sitting spot with some shade. Maybe she would find Cornelia somewhere; the woman had disappeared on her, which was unusual. Cornelia was the reliable sort. Teddy was normally the one to wander off.

  As she turned a corner, she noticed smoke creeping around one of the tall hibiscus bushes. A fire? She walked round to investigate, and found Kathleen Burnell smoking a cigarette. The young blonde hid it behind her back and fanned the air.

  “Mrs.—uh—I don’t remember your name, sorry. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Oh, just curious about the smoke, dear. I was afraid that something was alight that shouldn’t be. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

  “Thanks.” She brought the smoldering tobacco back out. “Do you want one?”

  The older woman smiled. “No, I’ve tried them and they make me cough something fierce. I have lung problems.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why aren’t you inside with your aunt?”

  “Because it’s hot. And a crashing bore.”

  “I agree. I was hoping they would have some of the entertainment venues open for customers, but most of New Homosassa exists only in the minds of the planners. Dreams and future plans are not strong selling points. I could use a real theater about now.”

  The girl smiled. “Or a beach.”

  “Yes, a beach. Why haven’t they shown us the beach? Perhaps it needs to be built, too.”

  They both laughed, although Teddy’s ended in a cough.

  Raymond Janzen, recently of Miami, was one of the many land speculators who had come north to try their fortunes on the Gulf coast. The hotel manager knew very little beyond that. He stood near the door, holding his handkerchief over his nose.

  Cornelia suspected that Helen Minyard might know more about Mr. Janzen. She needed to ask Mrs. Minyard what had been important enough to drag the man from his sickbed.

  The local doctor was out on a call, so the manager, a Mr. Davis, was forced to drag one of his guests away from real estate negotiations, which amused no one, particularly not the doctor. His name was Duffy, and he had traveled all the way from Maine. The sight of Janzen, though, sobered him.

  “This man should be in a hospital, not a hotel.”

  “I’ll arrange it right away, Doctor,” Davis said. “The nearest hospital is five hours away. But I’m sure the Company would provide Mr. Janzen a car for the trip.”

  Duffy and Cornelia shook their heads at the same time. “The trip would kill him,” the physician said.

  The manager clasped his hands. His knuckles turned pale. “So, what do we do?”

  “That depends on what’s happened to him,” the physician said. “When did he become ill?”

  “On the train,” Cornelia said. “He was involved in a fight that he lost. He took a heavy blow to the stomach.”

  “Did you witness this fight?”

  “Yes. I even caught it on film,” she added. “I can give you a good idea of where he took the worst hit. He spent a good amount of time in the lavatory afterward—that, I can attest to.”

  Duffy nodded. “An internal injury would explain the blood. If it is a bleed, he’s lucky that it seems to be a slow one.”

  “Pupils slightly dilated.” He palpated Janzen’s abdomen. “Rigidity in the upper region. No guarding—but he appears to be comatose. The only way to confirm an injury here, of course, is surgery. It will have to be done.”

  “Oh, my God.” The hotel functionary was now trembling.

  Duffy turned to him. “Your local man may have access to the necessary instruments. If he has a surgery, we could do the operation there.”

  “Teddy—Theodora Lawless—and I assisted with surgery during the Great War. We are both quite adept at working under difficult circumstances. I offer you our help as needed.”

  “Thank you, Mrs.—?”

  “Pettijohn. Miss Pettijohn.”

  “Ah, I believe I saw your father downstairs. Rather hard to miss a man who looks like Santa Claus. Please bring your friend here, Miss Pettijohn, so she can offer additional assistance. These are hardly ideal conditions. Mr. Davis, I direly need contact with your town physician.”

  Mr. Davis found Teddy in one of the staterooms, chatting to some young men about a party. She was unhappy to be interrupted, but came promptly when the situation was explained. The Carsons volunteered to take responsibility for getting the professor back to the Riverside Lodge. Her uncle took exception to being treated like a child, but Mrs. Carson was quick to soothe his affronted ego by soliciting his opinion on the agricultural properties of the area.

  When Teddy entered Janzen’s room, she set her purse on the window sill and approached the bed. “Oh, my, he is rather bad off.”

  “To put it mildly,” Dr. Duffy said. “Could you show me where the blows landed, Miss Lawless? Your companion has already told me what she saw, but you may have seen it from another angle.”

  “One landed here,” she pointed, “and the big punch landed here. He was trying to gouge the other fellow’s eyes out at the time, so the move might be considered self-defense.”

  Cornelia started to tell Teddy to save her embroidery skills for Mr. Scroggins’ tablecloth, bu
t was interrupted by Davis’ return.

  “I telephoned the doc’s wife again. Still out on the river making house calls.”

  “Then it’s just us, ladies,” Duffy said. “Mr. Davis, we need to begin as soon as possible.”

  Preparing the room for the surgery took longer than the operation itself. A clean area needed to be created, and extra lamps were brought in to provide more light as the afternoon waned. Kitchen items were selected in lieu of instruments Dr. Duffy did not have in his bag. This included aprons.

  The doctor applied iodine liberally over Jansen’s abdomen before making the first brutal cut. Then, he explored for injuries. The women saw blood, but no torn tissue. There was no reaction from the patient.

  “Stomach has an ulceration,” he murmured. “Perhaps the blow exacerbated a problem that was already there.”

  The sour odor Cornelia had noticed before emanated from the surgical area now. It was strangely familiar, and she glanced over to Teddy. Her companion’s nostrils were flaring, and her brow wrinkled. She was clearly having the same problem placing the odor.

  Once the surgery was complete, they covered Janzen and did what they could to make him comfortable, not that he seemed to notice one way or the other.

  The physician sat, finally, and let out a great sigh. “Given the circumstances, I think our work was good, but it may not be enough. I expected a tear, not an ulceration. It appears to be fresh, not chronic, and the odor was… unusual.”

  “Unpleasant,” Teddy replied. “Almost chemical.”

  “I set aside samples for the authorities,” Dr. Duffy said. “Chances are that the man he fought with is not Mr. Janzen’s only enemy, unless the hothead is also a poisoner.”

  The physician rose, removed his apron, and went to the private lavatory to wash his hands. When he returned, he picked up his bag.

  “Could you ladies stay with him through the crisis? I’ll check back after dinner and give you a break. There is really nothing more to be done except to watch and hope he pulls through.”

  Near the entrance of the hotel, Tiny Belluchi and his pal Cesare smoked, watching the swells arrive for the evening’s entertainment. It beat him why anyone would want to buy plots of jungle in a backwater like this, but rich people were goofy. They probably thought it was exotic. The most exotic item Tiny had seen so far was a huge bug he’d suddenly found on his jacket sleeve. Cesare laughed when it took more than one whack to get it off his arm.