Murder on the Mullet Express

by Gwen Mayo

  There weren’t enough skirts here to be interesting. Yeah, there were a few shebas buzzing around, but most of them had come with their sugar daddies. He spotted a girl a bit younger, good-looking, but she was with a real fire extinguisher, probably her mother. Nuts.

  He didn’t have time for a girl anyway; business always came first with Tiny.

  The music had started up in the ballroom. Once it got good and loud, he nudged Cesare and they pitched their butts to the curb. Time to go to work.

  A few bucks in the right hands had gotten them Benny’s room number. While Benny jawed with the land agents that afternoon, they’d located it. It had nice big windows, and was on the first floor. Well, well. Very convenient.

  They circled the grounds until they were standing outside Benny’s window. The grass was damp, like everything here after dark, and Tiny’s socks got wet while he forced the window open. He detested wet socks; he thought he’d left that problem behind in Chicago.

  Once inside, they drew their guns and checked the rooms.

  “No sign of him,” Tiny said.

  “The night’s still young.” Cesare dragged a padded chair out of immediate sight of the door and plopped into it. “Take a load off your feet. Let’s enjoy his room for him.”

  Tiny wandered to the table instead and began examining the tag on a gift basket. “With regards from the West Coast Development Company.”

  “Hey, you can read. I wouldn’ta thunk it,” Cesare said.

  “Don’t get fresh. Oranges, honey… Hmm, some cigars.”

  “Now you’re talking. Shall we light up?”

  “Not now. He’ll smell it from the hallway.”

  “Give me a few for later, then.”

  Later didn’t come for a long, long time, during which they ate all the oranges. The music from the ballroom ceased well after midnight, and Tiny thumped the dozing Cesare.

  “Hey. Party’s over. Almost showtime.”

  They cleared the orange peels off the table and positioned themselves: Tiny at the entrance to the bedroom, Cesare with his back against the wall next to the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, they heard the key in the lock. After a moment of fumbling, Benny came in. He was plump and middle-aged. He started to take off his jacket. A dark stain, perhaps coffee, marred his white shirt.

  Then he spotted Tiny, who was hard to miss at six foot three. “What the—”

  Cesare seized Benny from behind, and Tiny moved in to deal a solid blow to their target’s midsection. The older man would have bent double if not for Cesare’s grip. They pulled him to the floor, and Tiny clubbed his head with the gun until he stopped moving.

  “Time to take out the garbage,” he said, rolling Benny over. “Grab his feet.”

  They hoisted the body and stuffed it out the window. Time to get their feet wet again.

  The convulsions began in the wee hours of the morning. Teddy’s shout roused Cornelia from her light sleep, and she lurched out of the wingback chair near the fireplace. They held the wracked body onto the bed by sheer body weight while Cornelia bellowed for help.

  The spasms continued for several minutes. By the time the night manager entered the room, Janzen was dead. A fine foam trickled from his mouth.

  “Fetch Dr. Duffy,” Cornelia ordered.

  The manager turned and fought his way through the crowd that had formed outside the door. The entire floor seemed to have assembled for Janzen's final gasps.

  “You must call the police,” Dr. Duffy told a red-eyed Davis, who still wore his pajama top under his jacket.

  Davis just stared. Cornelia pitied the man. He was probably prepared for his well-heeled guests to pull some antics, but this wasn’t something the maids could mop up after.

  Dr. Duffy tried again. “You do have police here, don’t you?”

  “I—I’m sorry, sir. I was hoping that this was just a bad dream.”

  “Don’t we all? Sadly, it is quite real. This man is dead, and he died either as the result of the fight at the train station or poisoning. The authorities will have to determine which, but either way this is a homicide.”

  A collective gasp echoed in the hallway, and Davis found his wits. He ran to the door and slammed it shut. “Poisoned? Here?”

  “I don’t know where he was poisoned, but I believe he consumed something corrosive before his death. Blunt force alone does not explain some of his injuries.”

  “Oh, God. Pardon me, ladies.”

  “I think He will understand,” Teddy said. “It’s been a trying night.”

  Chapter 4

  Morning was well underway when the nurses arrived back at their own hotel. Uncle Percival was having breakfast on the patio. He tipped his hat to them, then studied their faces.

  “I assume things went badly.”

  “Yes,” Teddy said. “Our patient passed away.”

  “The man who was in the fight?”

  Cornelia scowled. “Does everyone already know about it?”

  “Not much else to talk about here if you’re not selling something,” the professor said. “And if you are, death is bad for business.”

  “Indeed,” Cornelia said, and sat. Teddy followed suit and pulled a free chair over to hold her purse.

  Uncle Percival gestured to the waitress. “Susie! Breakfast for my nieces.”

  Susie was young enough to still have freckles. Her blonde waves looked like a home job; too much bleach on the ends.

  The women ordered their food.

  “Do you want that with coffee, ladies?” the young woman asked.

  “No thank you,” Teddy replied. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “I’ll take some,” Cornelia said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a while.”

  “Thinking about what to tell the law?”

  All conversation around them stopped.

  Cornelia tipped her head close to Teddy’s curly-haired one. “I’m leaving the details to Dr. Duffy. He’s the one they’re going to want to speak to, and his opinions will carry more weight than ours.”

  “But we saw the fight. He didn’t.”

  “Teddy, plenty of people saw the fight,” Cornelia said. “Although they may want to view the film when it’s developed.”

  “They’ll probably come here, but will be more interested in speaking to Mr. Hofstetter first,” Uncle Percival said. “I’ve been watching the hotel office. Half expected to see him checking out in a hurry.”

  “Hofstetter?” Teddy asked. “Was that the other fellow’s name?”

  “Yes.”

  Cornelia decided to change the subject. “What are you planning to do today, Uncle Percival?”

  “I’ve hired myself a boat for the day. I’m going to examine the local terrain.”

  Cornelia said, “I hope you’ve also hired a porter for your tripod.”

  “The owner of the boat will be handling that,” Pettijohn said. “Would you like to come?”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t up to her uncle’s level of energy today. “No, there’s a river tour today for bird watchers. I meant to go on it, and I think I shall.”

  “What about you, Teddy?”

  Teddy thought about it, then shook her head. “No, I think I’d better sleep. I heard about a party happening tonight, and I think I’d like to try crashing it.”

  “Be careful where you crash,” Pettijohn said. “Not all the predators are in the jungle.”

  Cornelia settled onto one of the benches near the dock and waited for her launch to arrive. She should have known better than to be early for any event in the South. Between years of army nursing and her uncle’s obsession with punctuality, she was well trained in the art of hurrying up to wait. The time wasn’t a total loss. She spotted a rare whooping crane feeding in the shallow water at the edge of the river, and a fine pair of wood ducks that the other bird watchers would miss. Footsteps on the boardwalk spooked the ducks. Cornelia lowered her field glasses and turned to see which of her fellow travelers was inte
rested in ornithology.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve frightened your beautiful wood ducks away,” Rosemary Carson said. “I tried to tread quietly.”

  “They’ll come back. Would you like to join me?”

  Mrs. Carson took a seat on the bench beside Cornelia and removed the covers from the lenses of her field glasses while Cornelia trained a camera on the tall grass across from their lodge.

  “I spotted a whooping crane in the grass over there,” Cornelia said, pointing to the other side of the river. “He’s hiding at the moment, but I’m sure he’s still there.”

  “How exciting. I’ve never seen one.”

  Both women were still sitting motionless, focused on the opposite bank of the river, when the bus from Homosassa Springs carrying the rest of their bird watching expedition turned into the parking lot of Riverside Lodge. Its screeching brakes spooked the timid crane, causing him to take flight. Cornelia managed to snap a photo just as he rose from the shore. They watched in silent awe as one of the rarest and most magnificent birds in North America disappeared into the distance.

  “Meg would have loved that,” Rosemary said.

  “Meg?”

  “My younger sister, Margaret. She and I used to spend hours roaming the woods with our binoculars.”

  Their launch was rounding the bend. Passengers from the tour bus drifted toward the dock.

  “It’s a pity she couldn’t come with you,” Cornelia said, as she got to her feet. “At the rate the whooping crane population is dwindling, there isn’t likely to be another opportunity.”

  A tinge of bitterness crept into Rosemary’s voice. “Meg and I won’t share any more expeditions.” Her gray eyes focused on the patch of tall grass where the crane had been. “She died before my eldest was born. When she—my baby—arrived in June, we named her for Margaret. Perhaps she too will develop an interest in birds one day.”

  “Was it during the war?” Cornelia asked. “The reports all talk about troop losses, but there were plenty of nurses and aid workers that died unnoticed.”

  “Nothing so heroic,” Rosemary said, as they boarded. “The Spanish flu.”

  “My father died of the same ailment,” Cornelia said. “Of course, it was more tragic that so many young lives were lost.”

  The two of them found seats together on the launch and settled in to listen to their guide, a tall man with thick white hair that stood in stark contrast to his sun-bronzed skin and dark eyes. Cornelia could tell that several of the ladies found him handsome by the way they crowded each other to sit near him when there was an abundance of better seats further back in the launch. She wondered if they were serious bird watchers, or just there to take a pleasant cruise along the river.

  The Homosassa River tour offered plenty to see, but Cornelia had to settle for watching osprey through her field glasses. Their preference for nesting high in dead trees kept them too far away for a decent photograph. She did manage to get pictures of several types of gulls, a trio of brown pelicans, and a magnificent shot of an anhinga perched on a boulder with both wings spread wide to dry in the morning sun. By the time they returned to the hotel, she and Rosemary were chatting like old friends. It had been a long time since she had exchanged sighting stories with a companion who shared her interest in ornithology. Teddy thought birds were pretty, but lacked the patience to wait for the shy ones to venture near.

  Teddy washed the makeup off her face before lying down. She napped for a little while, but was awakened by a tapping on the door.

  “Miss Pettijohn? Miss Lawless? Are you there?”

  It sounded like Helen Minyard. Teddy put on her dressing gown and headed for the door. “Just a moment—I’m coming.”

  Mrs. Minyard had surrendered her dark clothing in favor of a lilac print. She held a straw hat in one hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m terribly sorry.”

  “That’s perfectly all right. What’s going on?”

  “Kathleen and I are going on a boat excursion to the Gulf. We thought we would invite you and Miss Pettijohn to accompany us.”

  Teddy was surprised, as Mrs. Minyard didn’t strike her as very sociable. Perhaps it was Kathleen’s suggestion. “How lovely! Thank you for thinking of us! I’m afraid Cornelia isn’t here, but I’d love to come. Give me a moment to change.”

  “Certainly.”

  Teddy popped back into the room and grabbed a sundress, her Mary Janes, and a suitable hat to protect her face from the sun. After dressing, she applied Hinds cream to her face and a little lip rouge, but left it at that. Too bad Cornelia wasn’t here to see how quickly she could get ready in the proper circumstances. She tucked the container of cream in her bag before joining them in the lobby.

  “Are you sure there won’t be swimming?” Kathleen was asking her aunt.

  “I’m sure if swimming were involved, they would be advertising it. Ah, Miss Lawless, you’re just in time. People are gathering at the dock.”

  There were several motorboats available, which was convenient. Each came equipped with its own land agent, which was very convenient for the company. Teddy chose the one with Peter Rowley, since she thought he wouldn’t spend their time pushing a hard-sell.

  The three women boarded and chose seats. Kathleen sat to one side of Teddy, Mrs. Minyard on the other. Once the benches were full of passengers, they took off, following the other boats down the river and into the mangroves. Teddy pulled the drawstring tight on her hat’s mosquito netting.

  Mrs. Minyard’s parasol jounced when they hit the wake of the other vessels. Kathleen held onto her hat. Teddy gripped the rail so she wouldn’t slide into the girl. Soon, they were negotiating breaks between clumps of mangroves. Birds darted from branch to branch.

  Rowley began directing the attention of the men to the water. “That’s snapper. Sheepshead are also plentiful this time of year. The trout should be running in Crystal River, too.”

  He was met with appreciative murmurs.

  “And over there,” he said, pointing, “is a manatee. You may know it better as a sea cow. Do you see its shape, deeper in the water? They move into the springs here during the winter because the water is warmer. The Seminoles used to eat them, but the Florida Legislature made it illegal to hunt them about twenty years ago. I’ve heard, though, that the meat is like beef or pork.”

  As Rowley continued his presentation, Mrs. Minyard turned to face Teddy. “I’m sorry we disturbed your rest, Miss Lawless.”

  “Teddy.”

  “Teddy, then. I heard that you and your… sister? were called to render aid last night.”

  “Yes, the poor man.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Aunt Helen,” Kathleen whispered from Teddy’s other side, “don’t be morbid.”

  “Was he the one that was in that awful fight?”

  Ah, it was a matter of gossip. It was the first vice she’d seen in the woman. What a relief. “Yes, it was him. I’m afraid he passed away.”

  One of the men across from them seemed discomfited, so Teddy changed the subject. “Peter,” she asked in a louder voice, “is there a place to swim here?”

  “Oh, there are a number of swimming holes in the area. There are several large springs. Crystal River has some very good places.”

  Kathleen followed Teddy with her own question. “Is there a beach?”

  For once, Rowley hesitated before answering. “Not with sand, no. There are some beaches a short drive south of here. We have beautiful waters, though, and this area is a natural wonder. Freshwater fish and saltwater fish intermingle here, and the water is so clear in the springs that you can see them.”

  “Are the alligators saltwater or freshwater?” Teddy asked, pointing one out. The men were immediately interested, but Mrs. Minyard and one of the other women screamed.

  “Don’t worry, ladies, we’re safe here on the boat,” Rowley said. “Wood doesn’t taste good, and there’s enough fish for everyone. To answer the question, Miss Lawless, they prefer fresh or br
ackish water. Once we’re in the Gulf, we’ll be out of their territory and you’ll have a splendid view to enjoy.”

  He was correct. When they emerged from the mangrove islets, a vista of blue-green water spread before them. The sky was a brilliant blue with tall white clouds. Murmurs of appreciation blended with the hum of the motor.

  The tour boats followed one another into the Gulf, a strand of pearls on a bolt of turquoise moire. Teddy wished she had the professor’s camera, or even Cornelia’s Brownie, to capture the calm waters and the view of the shore. Of course, neither were capable of capturing the color. Only an artist could render the shifting hues of green, blue, and aqua with any justice. For the first time, she felt that Homosassa had its attractions.

  “How did your river safari go?” Teddy asked the professor at dinner. The three sat with the Carsons again. “Did you get some good shots?”

  “Some excellent ones,” he said. “There are a number of islets on the river, little chunks of land entirely surrounded by water. Some of them have houses on them, and their residents’ only route to town is by boat.”

  “No bridges?” Cornelia asked. She was still tired, even after a short nap that afternoon.

  “Oh, a few, but not many. Around here most people travel by boat. There’s a little town north of here, Ozello, where the public school is on one of the islands, and the children are ferried to class every morning.”

  “How exotic,” Teddy said. “Is Ozello any more built up than Homosassa?”

  The professor smiled. “The terms the developer would use are unspoiled and pristine.”

  “I could go for unspoiled,” Cornelia said. “This area is a little too pristine for my lights, though. Four or five hours to the nearest hospital?” She pictured Uncle Percival falling ill, or Teddy developing a cold that worsened her lung affliction. The lack of facilities here would be as deadly for them as they were for Mr. Janzen the night before. When dinner was over, she really needed to have that private conversation with her uncle.