Axel started to warn her to keep a wide berth, though it was unlikely they would attack something as large as the horses.
She knew to keep her distance. They rode by without the alligators so much as moving.
They had taken a different route to the village. The customary entrance was off the Tamiami Trail, and there was an outpost where a lone Miccosukee man of an indeterminate age sat in the middle of a chickee playing a game on his smartphone. He obviously knew Axel; he said hello and assured them it was a fine place to leave the horses.
As they arrived via a back road, they came upon a man seated by a small pool with exotic birds. He raised a hand in greeting to Axel, and Axel waved back. They moved on to a large pool where a man in a typically colorful Miccosukee shirt was on a podium, talking about alligators while a second man was in a paddock with an adolescent alligator of about six feet.
The village also offered several “chickee” type structures occupied by men and women all dressed in the multicolored shirts and skirts that were typical to South Florida Native Americans.
But the pen where the man was working with the alligator had drawn most everyone’s attention.
“We don’t wrestle alligators, though that’s what most say. We love our alligators here, and we demonstrate what they’re capable of,” he was telling a crowd of onlookers. “They have always been an essential part of the ecology here in the Everglades. But people enjoy a look at the giant mouths of our native creatures.”
A cry of awe went up in the crowd as the man in the paddock opened the alligator’s jaw with both hands, and demonstrated his ability to put his own head within the creature’s mouth and then safely withdraw it.
“I think Jeremy might be in one of the little chickee kiosks,” Axel said. “They’ve opened a nice air-conditioned shop at the entry where they sell tickets, but there are still men and women working some of the little hut areas. A friend of his is a wonderful seamstress, makes some amazing shirts. I love her use of color.”
As they moved away from the show toward an area with several little shops, Raina could hear a strange grunting sound and she smiled. Alligators out in the canal.
“They sound like pigs,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you think so?”
He grinned, looking at her. “I suppose. I just always knew what they were. Maybe pigs sound like alligators.”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“Hey, chat Linda up when we’re in there, okay?” he asked.
“Uh, sure,” Raina told him. “You know Jeremy so well, you know that he’ll be there?”
“I know Jeremy well enough to suspect he’ll be there,” he told her, a small smile curving his lips as he shrugged. “I called him on my way out to you and the horses to make sure he’d be here.”
They reached the chickee. Most of the visitors to the village were watching the show; the kiosks were quiet.
Jeremy was at the back of the little kiosk, sitting on a folding wooden stool next to a woman Raina presumed to be Linda. She was dressed in a long, colorful skirt and a blouse with an incredible array of colors with different bands of color offering different designs. Her hair was long and straight, a beautiful pitch-black. She stood, seeing Axel, crying his name out softly and rising quickly to come and greet him with a hug. Stepping back, she looked at Raina, waiting for an introduction. Jeremy was already up and on his way over. He quickly welcomed Raina and introduced her to Linda, whose last name was Cypress.
“Common enough among Miccosukees and Seminoles,” Linda explained. “We all have a ‘clan’ name, Axel is Tiger, and I’m Cypress...and Andrew is Osceola. Of course, Osceola is a hero to all of us, a truly great man!”
“Captured under a white flag of truce, to the discredit of the US military at the time,” Raina said.
Linda nodded. “You know some history, huh?”
“Always fascinated me. And I was appalled once, up in St. Augustine, by the castillo, when a guide—a guide!—said he’d been executed. I mean, the way he was captured—dreadful. But the US didn’t kill him. He died of disease.”
“Yes,” Linda said, “and his doctor was his friend, but the silly man took Osceola’s head to study and use it to scare his children into good behavior by sticking it on their bedposts!”
“His son-in-law did the same,” Raina said.
“And then the man’s office burned, and Osceola’s head was lost. I mean, I don’t think he was using it anymore at that point, anyway.”
“True, but historians and anthropologists believe they could better understand him—and his heritage—if they just had his head!”
Linda turned to Axel. “I like this girl!”
“I love the culture,” Raina said. “And your clothing, your shirts and blouses and skirts—these are beautiful,” Raina said.
“Well, thank you,” she said.
Axel spoke up then. “Jeremy, you got a minute? I want to take you down memory lane.”
“Sure,” Jeremy said.
As they walked away, a pair of tourists sauntered up to the kiosk.
“You speak English?” the man asked Linda.
Linda smiled. “Why, yes, I do.”
“Oh, great! Can you give me the price on a few of these shirts? So unusual. I mean, we’re used to leather and big feather headdresses!” the woman said.
“The clothing you see here really didn’t become popular until the early twentieth century,” Linda told them pleasantly. “Before then, we dressed a great deal like your basic Eastern woodland tribe. But we do love beads and colors, and I do love my work.”
“Lovely. Do you cook traditional food? I mean, what do you do for dinner?”
Linda kept smiling. “Frankly, on many a night, I order out for pizza.”
“Oh!”
“You might really enjoy a visit to the museum,” Linda said politely. “We Miccosukee—and our fellows, the Seminole—adapted to hiding in the Everglades, going deeper and deeper to avoid deportation and death. It’s interesting to see all the different ways people came. We welcomed many a runaway slave back then, too, so you’ll find many dark Miccosukee and Seminole Indians. And yes, we do have some traditional foods—we used kontí root and other food sources we found here—but we are certainly aware of most of the conveniences of the twenty-first century.”
She hadn’t stopped smiling.
When the couple had paid for a shirt and a blouse and moved on hopefully to the museum, Linda lost her smile at last.
“I think I was supposed to greet them with ‘How!’” she said.
“Well, at least they’re out here, and maybe they’ll learn something,” Raina said.
“They’re probably on their way to the casino.” She grinned. “Too bad they aren’t up in Hollywood. Have you seen the guitar-shaped hall up at the Seminole Hard Rock?”
“I have. It’s fantastic.”
“Seminole revenge!” Linda said, laughing. “They are making money hand over fist. Of course, we make money at our casino, too. Still, I love going up to the ‘guitar’!”
“Seriously, want to know one of the things I love best?” Raina asked.
“And what’s that?”
“The pumpkin bread over at the restaurant. I don’t even like pumpkin. But that bread is absolutely delicious.”
“It is, isn’t it? So, how long have you been seeing Axel? Are you up in the DC area now?”
Raina’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden change of topic. “I, uh, no. I’m here—South Miami.”
“Oh, you’re the dog trainer! How silly of me. I didn’t get to go to that fundraiser, but Jeremy was telling me that you were amazing.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“I do. I’ll introduce you some day,” Linda said happily. “He’s a big guy—a Dane. Doesn’t pay to have anything too litt
le around here.” She sighed softly. “You can’t blame an alligator for being an alligator. They really aren’t vicious monsters. Little guys—and unfortunately little people—look like dinner to them. It’s just what they are. And there are idiots who aren’t savvy about them who think it’s fun to feed them. To an alligator, an arm might just be an extension of the piece of chicken being offered up. I’m not really defending them, but this was their home before we came here. Most of us who live out here know what we’re doing. That includes all kinds of park rangers, people who own airboat companies, even people who do a lot of fishing in the canals. But when you see people driving down trails that are truly off the beaten track and they look like they walked out of a department store’s ‘outdoorsy’ display, you have to wonder.”
“Have you seen a lot of that?”
“Only now and then. I fear we’ll get another horror story about someone being bitten by an Eastern diamondback or the like. Chewed up by a gator. I’m rambling now. I’m sorry.”
“No, I think it’s important. Do you remember any specific time?” Raina asked her. “The recent bodies, they’ve gotten out here somehow.”
Linda nodded worriedly. “That’s true. I should tell Axel. I just never thought anything of it other than being annoyed.”
“It’s understandable. And you have a customer,” Raina said, noting a young woman who had walked up to the booth.
“Viv!” Linda said, greeting the newcomer.
“Linda, I need two more blouses,” the young woman said. “My sister saw mine and adores it, and she wants one for a friend, too.”
“Sure, and thank you. What’s your pick?” Linda asked her. She hugged the young woman over the table that displayed some of her wares. Obviously a friend.
Raina slipped out of the booth area and returned to the common ground. She waved to Linda. She could see Axel and Jeremy were a distance from the booth near another displaying pottery.
A group was oohing and ahhing over one of the paddock areas. She smiled and walked to the fence to join them.
They were listening to a lecture on Big Ole Mac.
Big Ole Mac was seventeen feet long and would be eighty years old on his next birthday. He’d been born right there in the village and he’d spent his life there. In the wild, the American alligators usually lived between thirty and fifty years, with an average weight of about five hundred pounds. The females were smaller than males and very protective of their young.
“That’s the one thing we’re always trying to warn hunters. We do have an alligator hatching season. There’s also a mating season. Alligators are territorial and are more dangerous during mating season when other males might try to intrude on their turf. It’s never a good time to tempt an alligator, but many of you who play golf know they can show up on golf courses even in busy areas of our neighboring cities. Yes, they have gotten into residential pools upon occasion and they swim the canals. Never mess with an alligator—especially during mating season.”
Big Ole Mac was oblivious to anything being said. He was just lying on the embankment of his little pool area, looking like something giant and prehistoric.
Which, of course, he was.
“An alligator is a crocodilian—a creature that was alive and well at the time of the dinosaurs,” the lecturer said. “Now, we have crocodiles in Florida, too, in brackish water down at the tip of the peninsula. Note the difference in the snouts on the creatures, and remember crocodiles are still endangered here while alligators are not.”
The lecture was ongoing, but Raina didn’t pay attention any longer. She saw Axel was thanking Jeremy and saying goodbye to him.
She waited a few minutes and then made her way back toward Linda’s chickee kiosk.
Linda was talking earnestly to Axel when she reached the booth again. He was looking at her with a question in his eyes.
“A paying customer walked up. I didn’t want to intrude,” Raina said.
Linda looked a little confused, oblivious to the fact Axel had asked Raina to stay with her.
“I had to pay my respects to Big Ole Mac,” she said.
“Ah, yes, of course!” Axel said.
“I told him what I told you—about seeing strange cars on off-beat roads,” Linda said. “I hope it was helpful in some way.”
“Yes, it is,” Axel told her.
“Well, I guess we should get Andrew’s horses back,” Axel said. He smiled at Raina.
“I guess we should,” she agreed.
“Speaking of Andrew, he’s right over there,” Linda said.
Andrew was in uniform, talking casually to people as he made his way over to join them.
“I’m returning the horses, Officer, I swear,” Axel said lightly.
“Good to hear!” Andrew said. “Just thought I’d check on you all. We’ve got a wild one here,” he teased, looking at Raina.
“Her horse is the wild thing,” Linda said. “Speaking of which, isn’t there another one of those school camp-out-in-the-Everglades thing coming up? I’d be happy to lecture on differences in Eastern woodland tribes and Western tribes, cultures and history. I’ve meant to volunteer.”
“I’m the one you volunteer with!” Jeremy said as he walked up to the group. “You can let me know anytime.”
“Axel and Raina made me think of it,” Linda said.
“There’s a group this weekend. And you’re more than welcome to lecture,” Jeremy said.
“A school group this week?” Axel asked.
“Yes, this is the weekend three of the middle schools come—packs of eighth-graders. Maybe at some time someone thought it was a good rite of passage into high school or something like that,” Jeremy told them. “You’re welcome to come out, you know. I have plenty of little pop-up tents!”
“Maybe we’ll do that,” Axel told him. “You’re going to be there, Andrew, right?”
“I will be there,” Andrew said.
Jeremy was regarding Axel steadily. “Because you’re worried?” he asked.
Axel shrugged. “Back to basics, maybe. Fran Castle disappeared on a night like that about thirteen years ago. I don’t know. I guess it would be good to be there. Of course, I’d be an idiot to think I could really watch the Everglades—an army can barely do that. But yeah, I’m here—and not getting very far.”
“We’ll all make it safer for the kids, at any rate,” Andrew said, shrugging.
“How is Nigel doing with the investigation? I’m assuming he has something like an army behind him. I mean, checking with witnesses, and all that?”
“We have people from all kinds of agencies working it,” Axel said. “But the Everglades, as you know, can be brutal. Finding leads is...”
“Needle in a haystack,” Jeremy said. “Pin in a sawgrass swamp.”
“Something like that,” Axel agreed. “Anyway, we’ll see you this weekend.”
“Perfect,” Jeremy agreed.
“Andrew, we’ll take the horses back,” Axel told him. He frowned. “Titan is...?”
“A very happy dog. I had a big steak bone. The place isn’t locked. I figured if that dog was on guard, I didn’t need to worry too much about leaving the place unlocked!”
They exchanged goodbyes, Linda giving Raina a big hug and a smile, Jeremy doing the same. “Hey, even if that lug goes back to Washington, you’re welcome out here anytime,” Linda told Raina.
“Technically, the big lug goes back to Virginia!” Axel teased. At last, he and Raina left them and headed back to retrieve the horses.
When they were mounted and back on the trail, Raina asked him, “Do you think you learned anything?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced her way. “Jeremy couldn’t vouch for anything before you and your group and the chaperones arrived that afternoon. There had been a report earlier—around two in the afternoon. Vinnie Magruder—Miami-
Dade back then—didn’t arrive at the campsite until about 8:00 p.m. So, I don’t know. I don’t think I like your old chaperones very much. Frank Peters doesn’t seem to be very true blue, but worse, I think Loretta Oster is conniving. According to the bartender, she saw what went on, but she didn’t confront Frank about trying to buy Jennifer Lowry a drink. She swept it under the carpet.”
“Maybe she’s just trying to hang on to her man.”
“Maybe. As I said, I don’t much like either of them. That doesn’t mean they’re killers.”
Raina’s phone was buzzing in her pocket. She drew it out, expecting Elly or Lucia or even Mya, curious as to what was going on with her and Axel.
It was Jordan. He was probably trying to see about her schedule for Sara and her little pup.
But he wasn’t calling about training.
“Raina, I need to talk to you,” he said.
“Okay. Sure, Jordan. Go ahead.”
“No, in person. Where are you now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not home. I’m out in the Everglades.”
“You’re out in the Everglades?”
“Yes, I—”
“Raina, be careful out there. You have to be careful.”
“I’m with Axel. We were visiting some of his friends.”
“Good.” He was silent a second. “Stay with Axel. Call me when you’re home. When I can talk to you.”
“Sure. I can come right back in—”
The phone went dead in her hands and she looked at Axel.
“Jordan,” she said. “He wants to see me. I’m supposed to call him when I get back home.”
“Let’s head back then. I don’t think Jordan is a killer. I do think he might know who is.”
* * *
As they were returning to Andrew’s house, they reached the site where the crew was digging for bones.
Dr. Carlysle was in the path, waving them down as they reached the area.
“Special Agent Tiger!” she called.
Axel reined in and dismounted.
“Yes, Dr. Carlysle, you have something?” he asked her.
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