He turned back toward Lani looking quite irritated. “There is a connection, Ms. Green, and Jack is not part of their outfit. He made the mistake of falling for the wrong girl, and now he is paying the price. Love is blind, so they say.”
Lani put her hand on the door to stop it from closing. “Can you tell me more?”
“Look lady, like I said, you’re on our reservation. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Then let’s hope that you have no need to leave . . . the reservation.”
“Touché.” The old man smiled and closed the door in Lani’s face. As they moved away from his home, Lani said to Rick, “Either he is the best poker player I’ve ever met, or Walker is not here. Still, we’d better take a look around.”
“I’m thinking the same thing, and not getting a warm fuzzy feeling here. It’s getting late though, and that talk about the devil gave me a shiver.” Rick crossed himself.
11
Henrietta LePley
IT WAS A QUIET afternoon at the Remington Golf and Country Club. The dining room was less than half full for lunch. Three well-dressed women sat at a table in the back corner of the stately room, which overlooked the 18th green. Tables were set with fine white linen, bone china, crystal glasses, and polished silver. A server delicately placed the entrées in front of them. The eldest of the three, Henrietta LePley, offered a toast to the other women. Sarah and Jasmine raised their wine glasses.
“To your fine work, Sarah. You are a true disciple of the left-hand path. Your diligence will not go unnoticed. Satan is all-seeing and he does not forget those who perform his work so beautifully.”
Jasmine did not have a last name as far as Henrietta knew. She was High Priestess and was held in great esteem within the Church of Set. Her anonymity was important to her and it was a rare occasion when she was seen in public with other members of the church. However, Henrietta had asked for her attendance and no one crossed the matriarch. The old woman was the true head of the congregation and its principal benefactor.
Jasmine agreed. “It’s good to have people like you, with your extraordinary talents. Your profession may be held in ill repute, but it is the oldest known to man, and the devil does not look at it with ill regard.”
Henrietta smiled. “You will be handsomely rewarded. Please take this as a token of my appreciation.” The older woman handed Sarah an envelope. “This stipend should keep you afloat for some time. Now, the priestess and I have some other business to discuss. Thank you, dear. I would try to stay out of sight for the time being. You are due a long holiday.”
Sarah nodded, looking down at her untouched entree. “I did find the experience thoroughly enjoyable. He was a nice boy and my favorite trick to date. Most don’t last for nearly half a year. I trust the amount that was agreed upon is in here?” She raised the thick envelope.
Henrietta smiled, her numerous wrinkles melding together beside her mouth. “And then some. Your work for Set and his praise should be more than an added bonus, but we have paid off your local debts and credit cards. Thank you, darling.” Henrietta gave Sarah another one of her patent smiles, which meant she was finished with her. “A car will be waiting for you out front and will take you wherever you wish.”
“Ladies.” Sarah pushed her chair out and stood up, acknowledged Henrietta, and bowed slightly to Jasmine.
The two women watched as she left the restaurant before they began talking.
“What will you do with her?”
Henrietta fussed over her Cornish hen for a moment and smiled before taking a bite. “She will be dead within five minutes. Her wine was poisoned.”
Jasmine looked at her glass, a slight frown forming on her exotic, beautiful face.
“No need to worry, dear. The church has great need of you, as do I. The driver who will be picking her up is a useful man. He will feed her to the alligators tonight.” She finished her mouthful. “I read the Tarot cards yesterday and they indicated a weakness in the girl. She may have developed a soft spot for the young man. We cannot risk any indiscretions at this time. She won’t be missed. It’s funny how the law turns a blind eye to missing strumpets. Besides, I can find better uses for the money at this point in time. Make sure to drink from the correct glass, priestess.”
Henrietta sat in thought for a few minutes as she picked at the bird in front of her. She was in her one hundred and fifth year, but did not look a day over eighty and felt even younger. She believed it to be a benefit of her faith. She’d sold her soul to the devil early in her youth. She inherited her role within the church from her mother. Early in her youth, she had discovered a taste for women, and thus never bore children of her own. She didn’t worry too much about ascendancy to her position. She felt strong, and the cards told her that her genes were such that she might live several more years. Lucifer would provide.
“The boy must die.” She picked up a bone, stripping it of flesh with her perfect teeth.
“That may prove to be difficult. He’s gone into hiding and the police are tracking him.”
“Yes, and the damned Indians again. They have been a thorn in my side for decades. We must keep true to the purpose of our gambit.”
“What of the man who was killed at Sarah’s apartment complex?”
“A shame, he was useful. He was the eldest of three brothers within my employ, as was their father before them. Their name is McFadden. Jimmy and Isaac remain. From time to time, we need the help of those who are truly bad. The McFaddens are true to our cause. Their family has been useful to the church since the beginning. I fear very little, my dear, but I do respect the badness of these men and have done my best to harness and coddle them as my mother and her predecessors did. They are a family of serial killers who have, from generation to generation, learned to hide their tracks perfectly. Every now and then I let them off their leashes; boys must play.”
Jasmine shuddered slightly.
“I sent Eric to Clewiston to intercept the Walker boy, he lost track of him and found him again at Sarah’s. I thought he would be sufficient to handle the task. I dare say that if he had gotten his hands on Walker, the lad’s soul might still be in torment as we speak. Unfortunately, Walker is resourceful. But the McFaddens live in the Everglades; they know it like the back of their hands. They will find Walker and we can then move on to finishing our play.
“Now, let’s finish our lunch. I look forward to spending a leisurely afternoon with you.”
12
The Swamp House
WHEN IT WAS BUILT one hundred and four years earlier, the McFadden house rivaled the homes built by Edison and Ford, all grand statements of Southern wealth, Fort Myers-Naples landmarks. The old home sat on twenty manicured acres. The homestead was located fifteen miles south of Immokalee Road on the edge of the Everglades, skirting the edge of Big Cypress Reserve. It backed onto a small river that was fed by the great swamp. The house was no longer what it had once been, its current inhabitants not as appreciative of its grace as those in the past. The old dwelling was used from time to time when the McFadden brothers were not getting along, or were entertaining a willing or not so willing guest. The grounds were now overrun with large trees, shrubs, and tall grass. Old rundown vehicles were scattered here and there with no apparent plan. Isaac resided in the manor house, and Jimmy lived in the back shop which sat directly on the edge of the river. The boys lived their lives on the edge of the Everglades, as had their ancestors before them. They were poachers, hunters, and efficient killers.
It was a bad day for the McFaddens. Eric, the eldest of the three, had died the night before. The police indicated that he’d cracked his head open falling down a flight of stairs. Jimmy and Isaac didn’t believe it was an accident for one minute. Their eldest brother was as surefooted as a mountain goat. Eric had been killed, and the boys knew who’d done it—Jack Walker. Eric had been sent to kill him, but somehow things had gone wrong, and the McFaddens intended to find out what happened and finish the job.
&nb
sp; Jimmy was pottering around in the shop, emotionally oblivious to the sudden change in his life. He turned his head slightly to the sound of Isaac pulling up next to the building in his big black Lincoln. He knew the sound of the car and the way Isaac drove it; he was abrupt, and always in a hurry.
The boys ran a limousine service to and from the Southwest Florida International Airport. Isaac had received a call from the old lady saying that she had a girl who needed to be taken care of. Isaac complained, stating that he and his brother needed to grieve their brother’s death. She would have none of it, claiming that there would be time enough for sadness, now was the time for retribution. Isaac put his nose to the grindstone, knowing that he would have to pick up the slack created by his elder brother’s death. He was shell-shocked by it. His passing opened up deep-seated emotions, including one that he discovered he did not like. Was it empathy? He knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that Jimmy felt such emotion. His younger brother had been diagnosed in his youth with severe autism. He was incapable of empathy. Instead, he was methodical and fixated on routine. He ate the same thing for breakfast every day: eggs and bacon, white Wonder Bread, untoasted with a dab of orange marmalade. He liked ham and cheese for lunch, again on Wonder Bread, and for dinner he rotated between steak and fries or hot dogs, rolled up in a piece of white Wonder Bread. He was a creature of habit.
****
An hour earlier, Isaac was picking the girl up at the country club, which normally would have been Eric’s job. He tried not to look at her too closely, as he knew her imminent, unpleasant future. Isaac, possibly for the first time in his life, felt sorry for the attractive girl who sat in the back of the car. He’d been told by the old woman that she had been Walker’s whore and that her purpose in life had been served. Still, he wondered why this one needed to die.
“Southwest Florida International Airport, please. I don’t really know where I’m going. Kind of exciting. Just going to grab a ticket somewhere.”
Isaac nodded. He knew where she was going. Her eyes looked like they were getting heavier and she had begun to nod. It wouldn’t be long now. If there was a silver lining, the poison preferred by Henrietta was humane—no pain, just a gentle drifting off into sleep and most likely death, if she was lucky. The girl slumped down to her side, her breathing shallow to nonexistent.
****
When Issac arrived at the plantation, he decided that he didn’t feel much like talking to his younger brother. He stopped the car abruptly beside the back garage.
Jimmy walked out to the driveway as his brother opened the car door. The day was unusually hot, and a sulfurous smell emanated from the swamp. He wiped his hand across his brow. Isaac stepped out of the car and opened up the back door. He reached in and pulled the body of a young, attractive brunette out by her feet, her head bouncing off the bottom edge of the door frame and then again on the gravel driveway. He doubted Eric would have been so clumsy. He hoisted her over his shoulder and walked purposefully to the shop door. Jimmy followed like a puppy, trying hard to get a look at the girl. “Take it easy, Jimmy, let’s get her inside first, you emotionless bastard.”
Jimmy looked at Isaac curiously, but only for a moment, then once again was intent on getting a look at the girl. He reminded Isaac of a dog waiting to get at the scraps from a steak dinner.
The shop was large and made of tin and timber. The back side faced the river with two large bay doors which were left open, except in bad weather. A bass boat sat in a cradle hoist connected to the dock, as well as a prop boat. There were several Sea-Doos, kayaks, and canoes littering the bank beside the shop, all in various states of repair.
The interior was damp and smelled of oil and mold. The walls were covered with numerous exhibits of taxidermy: gator heads and skins, bear heads, shark jaws, a stuffed panther, snake skins, various small animals, waterfowl and assorted fish. Jimmy, as had his father before him, used a large wooden table close to the back doors to perform the rites of his hobby. Various tools and wicked-looking knives hung from it. A mortician’s metal table stood a couple of feet to the side. It was slightly canted to one end, at which there was a drain. A makeshift bedroom and kitchen with two cots lined the opposite wall. The rest of the large shed was filled with scattered clothing, dismantled pieces of small machinery, recliners, and televisions from many eras including an old black and white from the 1950s with rabbit ears on top.
Isaac placed the body on the wooden table. “There’s one for you, Jimmy. You don’t even have to buy her flowers.”
Jimmy ignored Isaac’s jab and walked over to the table. He stroked the girl’s hair with one hand as he checked for a pulse on her neck with his other. “Do I have time to keep her for a bit?” he said with a deadpan voice and expression. “We need to bury Eric and all.”
“Is that emotion I detect, little brother? The old lady said not to mess around with this one. Cops might be up here asking about Eric. I’d chop her up and feed old Bessie and her young ones tonight.”
Jimmy became slightly less calm, almost agitated. “That doesn’t leave me much time. You know I like to get to know them a bit. And Bessie’s full, I fed her the gator scraps this afternoon.”
“She’s in the water tonight, period. We got another job from the lady. We need to hunt Eric’s killer, says he’s with the Indians, they’re probably hiding him out in the swamp. I want to be up before daybreak.”
“We’ll kill ‘em, Isaac, we’ll kill ‘em. Do we get to shoot Indians?”
“The devil will have his way, Jimmy. The only good Indian is a dead one.”
“When we gonna bury Eric, or can I stuff him?”
“You’re not fucking stuffing him. Even your sick mind must see the wrong in that. I said we’d pick him up from the morgue in a few days. County says we need to clear up some legal details. Before we do that, we’ll kill Jackson Walker. Maybe you can stuff him.”
Jimmy hopped up and down a few times and then put his hand on the girl’s neck again. “Oh . . . there’s still a pulse, Isaac. She ain’t dead.”
Isaac looked away in disgust. “Lucky her.” He turned to head toward the old house. “I guess I’ll leave you alone. She’s in the water tonight, you hear?”
Jimmy shrugged. “She’s awful pretty.”
“You heard me. We’re off at first light tomorrow. Make sure you get some shut-eye.”
Jimmy waited for Isaac to get settled in the big house before he went back to the girl. She was good looking, but Jimmy needed to see more. He started to remove her clothing but then stopped.
“Don’t need you makin’ any noise, little girl.” He stroked her hair.
He went to the other side of the room and brought back a spool of thick, black thread and a long, curved needle. It took him a minute or two to thread the wicked device. He pinched the girl’s lips together with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and sewed them shut with his right. It wasn’t a tidy job, but it would be effective. He strapped her arms and legs down to the corners of the table.
Jimmy was pleased that she was alive. That was the way with poison. She could revive quite nicely, or remain in the induced coma until her vital signs slowly died away. He had a feeling about this one, though; he could tell that she was a fighter. He sat down on a reclining chair and stared at the young woman. After an hour she started to move a little bit, her head slowly rolling from side to side. He stood, wanting to see the look in her eyes when she awoke—that was his favorite part. She would be thirsty; he saw the impression of her tongue probing the sides of her mouth. He’d left a tiny hole through which he could insert a straw.
Her eyes flashed open, her head darting every which way trying to get her bearings. When she noticed that she was tied down she tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled wail. Then she saw Jimmy. Her eyes bulged in their sockets as she tried to free herself from her bonds. She struggled for a couple of minutes, but soon realized it was in vain.
“It’s all right, darlin’, the more you stru
ggle the worse it’s gonna be. In the end, if you’re a good girl, I promise that I’ll finish things quick.”
Once again she started to struggle frantically.
Jimmy picked up a long fillet knife that hung at the side of the table.
Sarah tried her best to scream again, and she tried to poke her tongue through the stitches, all to no avail.
“I’m not gonna split you open right here. That would make too much of a mess. Calm down now.” Jimmy slipped the knife under her dress and slit the front slowly. Sarah lay motionless, her breath pushing in and out of her nostrils, straining for oxygen. He slit open her bra, exposing her small, firm breasts. He let out a slow moan. Once again, Sarah tried to scream.
“I hear you’re a right little whore. Only thing is, I’m the one gittin’ paid now. Kinda ironic, isn’t it? Now we got a couple hours to get friendly here and then I’m gonna put you back to sleep. You’ll not remember anything where you’re going, so don’t fuss.”
He slit open her panties.
****
Isaac opened his eyes groggily, then sat bolt upright. Jimmy stood over him with a hunting rifle in the crook of his arm. At times it could be disconcerting living with a psychopath.
“Y’all said the break of dawn.”
“Knocking on the door would’ve been sufficient, and don’t ever poke me with a fucking rifle again. Thing could go off.” He didn’t know exactly what he’d do to Jimmy if he poked him again, but he had to keep the upper hand with his little brother. It often unnerved him to think what Jimmy might do if Isaac was deemed unnecessary. “Why don’t you get the boat ready, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Jimmy smiled like a praised puppy. “All done, Isaac, I made breakfast too.”
“You dumped the girl last night, right?”
“Yep, that’s all tied up.”
“What do you mean, tied up?”
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