“Can I ask,” Chance hesitated, “what’s your name?”
“My name is Addie Mae,” she answered politely.
She then handed Chance a plate holding a very fat pancake or biscuit.
“This is fry bread. It’s just what the name says it is.”
Chance broke off a piece and sampled it. He nodded in silent approval. He was tentative on the stew, at first. Then he gobbled it up. “That’s really good, Addie Mae. Thanks!”
“And no meal would be complete without Sofki,” she added. The young boy handed him a glass of yellowish, milk-thick liquid. “It’s made by boiling mashed corn. Sometimes we add other things…”
Chance raised his eyebrows as he held the glass in front of his eyes, afraid of what they might have added.
“…like tomatoes, squash or pumpkin. But this is the pure stuff. Straight,” Addie Mae said.
Chance tasted a bit of it. Then he put the glass down. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stick to this for now.” He held up his half-empty beer bottle.
By this time the young boy had been distracted by a pet dog and had gone off to play. They watched him toss a stick for his canine friend.
When Chance had finished eating, the pretty Indian girl spoke softly.
“Now, if you have enough energy to stand up, I’ll show you the middle-of-nowhere.” She stood up gracefully, her colorful native-dress draped flatteringly over her supple body.
Chance took a long time to stand up. Even though she was fairly tall for a woman, five- eight, Chance’s extra nine inches made a huge difference. He followed her obediently, looking a little sheepish, as they walked through the camp.
“That’s the sleeping chickee there. It has canvas sides that can be lowered to block the sun and the rain.” They walked a little farther. “You might call that chickee over there the living room. Some of us gather there in the evening to talk.”
“Come on. This way.” She led him way off to the left, down a short path. They walked next to a six-foot-tall wooden privacy fence for a short distance, and he saw what appeared to be a gate. She opened it and they walked through. On the other side of it was a whole different world.
Civilization.
There, about three-hundred feet away, was the Tamiami Trail. Cars whizzed by.
“Come on. Don’t be afraid, we’ll only be a minute,” she urged him. They walked another sixty or so feet into a big parking lot. He turned around and saw what she wanted him to see painted on the side of the brown fence.
AUTHENTIC INDIAN VILLAGE • GUIDED TOURS • AIR BOATS
ALLIGATOR WRESTLING • FLORIDA PANTHER
GIFTS • BASKETS • CARVINGS • INDIAN CLOTHING • INDIAN COOKING
“What do you think?” she asked.
Chance thought for a minute.
“Feels like…home.”
Thirty-Seven
The apartment was dim and quiet, except for the ticking of the clock on the buffet. Then the sound of the key in the lock. Marv Klempner walked in, tired as usual. He dutifully hung his jacket and service revolver in the closet. He walked away from it leaving the door open.
He listened to the voicemail on his cell phone:
“Hey Marv. Got somethin’ big. Lions 3, Tigers 300. Tomorrow.”
Marv was scribbling on a notepad. He left it next to the phone. He turned and walked past the picture of his wife without looking. He walked past the yellow canary in the white cage. He didn’t notice that it was dead on the bottom of the cage, and that the food and water cups were empty.
Marv walked into the bathroom, put a stopper in the drain and turned both hot and cold-water faucets on in the tub. Then he walked into the bedroom, removed his clothes, turned down his bed, climbed in and went to sleep. In fifteen minutes the tub overflowed and began running across the floor.
Thirty-Eight
“Mr. Esposito, please.”
“And you are?”
“Mr. Murrey.”
“Yes, Mr. Murrey, Mr. Esposito is expecting you. Right this way.”
Tony DiSantis followed the maitre d’ past the pink draped tables set with fresh flowers and empty water goblets. The lighting was romantic and soft music played through hidden speakers. DiSantis was led to a large, comfy, red-leather banquette. The expensive-looking restaurant was empty except for a few bus boys setting up. Even Mr. Esposito was not at his seat.
“Mr. Esposito will be with you in a minute. Would you care for something to drink, Mr. Murrey?”
“Iced tea, please.”
“Right away.”
Within twenty seconds, a waiter appeared and set the iced tea and a small dish of sliced lemons in front of Tony DiSantis. He also set a large goblet of red wine where Mr. Esposito was about to sit.
“Tony.”
“Joey.”
They shook hands, of course. This was a given. Then Joey Esposito, impeccably dressed in a dark blue business suit, starched white shirt and red tie, slid into position.
“Salud.” Esposito raised his glass.
“Salud.” Tony raised his.
“So how’s the family? Kids getting big, huh, Tony? Camille? She’s OK?”
“Yeah, yeah, everybody’s fine, Joey. Everybody’s fine, thanks.”
“Good, good. God bless ‘em.”
“God bless us all,” Tony added, as if it needed to be said.
“You look good. Pressure’s not gettin’ to ‘ya, huh?”
“Not yet. But I’m getting close. I don’t need this agida when I’m so close to retiring. It’s not like the old days.”
“The old days. Don’t even talk about it. Growin’ up in that shit hole. And Mother Cabrini was a better neighborhood then than it is now, that’s the sad part. Used to be all Italians. Now…”
“Like I said, Joey, it’s not like the old days.”
“You know, Tony, all those years growin’ up together, takin’ our lumps together, I never asked you for nothin’. Never once, a favor.”
Tony braced himself for what was to come. Esposito continued. “You went your way, I went mine. You never got in my way and I never got in your way. No reason for that to change now. But now, at this time, I got no choice but to impose on you for your help, Tony. Like I told you on the phone, I gotta get this money back soon. Very, very soon.”
“Look, Joey,” Tony was losing his patience, “I don’t know much more than I told you before.”
“Please, please don’t insult my intelligence, Tony. I came to you ‘cause you got a network that I don’t. You gotta make me look good, Tony. Not bad, cabish?”
“A few days ago some redneck took some shots at him. He was in this guy’s house stealing food. They had some hunting dogs tracking him, but they lost him.”
“And you didn’t tell me ‘til now? Why didn’t you tell me this a few days ago, when you found out?”
“I’m tellin’ you now. What do you think I’m here for?”
“Good, good, I need to know this stuff. God forbid the boss finds out and I don’t know. I end up with my dick in my mouth. He’s not a patient man. And he doesn’t lose four and a half mil every day and let it slide. He even complains about the interest he’s losin’ on his money.”
“And what about your interest, Joey? Maybe you want this money more than Gambelli. Maybe you want it for yourself.”
“Me? I want it for myself? What are you fuckin’ nuts? What’s more like it, is that you, Tony, want it for yourself. And you don’t got no Gambelli on your ass!”
DiSantis sipped his iced tea. Esposito gulped his wine.
Joey just barely managed to keep his cool as he continued. “And why aren’t you down there right now, with a huge net over the whole area where this happened?”
“You know I’ve been down there doing everything I can. It’s nearly impossible. I just have to wait until he comes out again. He’s making mistakes now, he’ll make more. I got a lot of people down there looking for him. When they spot him, I get the call.”
“What if they spot him like they alr
eady did and he disappears again? What, is it always hide and seek? You gotta nail this guy. Alive. If you don’t, Tony, it’s very bad for me. And then, I hate to put it this way, it’s very bad for you, cabish, Tony?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you, Joey. And I don’t care about myself, but…” DiSantis was losing his cool.
“Hey, hey, Goombah,” Esposito cautioned, “don’t get all agitated. Nothin’s gonna happen to nobody. Including you or me. ‘Cause you’re gonna get this four-and-a-half mil and everybody lives happily ever after.”
Esposito took a breath.
“Now, I’m gonna give you something to make it all a little easier,” Esposito continued but was cut off by DiSantis.
“Like I told you before, Joey, if it’s money you’re talkin’ about, take your money and stick it up your ass. I’m not going along with this for money. It’s not about money, Joey.”
“Time out, Chooch,” (Italian slang for jackass), “I’m not givin’ you money. I’m giving you something much more valuable.”
Esposito slid a note across the table to DiSantis.
“Call this guy. Go see him. He’s in Detroit. He’s got something for you that’ll make your job a lot easier. Then get your ass down there and find this guy. Get the money from him, it’s gotta be there somewhere. Then do whatcha’ gotta do, so we don’t have problems down the road.”
You could see the hatred in Tony DiSantis’ face. The seething rage in his eyes. His mouth quivered as he drew in his breath to spit out venomous words.
Esposito read DiSantis like a tachometer. He hurried his response to DiSantis’ yet unspoken words. “This is the first and last thing I’ll ever ask you to do, Tony. On my mother.” Esposito blessed himself with the sign of the cross.
Tony DiSantis pushed himself out of the banquette and stood up, anxious to get out of there. He chewed on each word he spoke to Esposito.
“There’s three reasons I’m doing this, Joey. And no matter how this comes out, if anybody ever hurts any one of them, I swear on my mother and my father, I’ll…”
“Tony, Tony, hey, relax. Just do whatcha gotta do. And remember, it’s nothin’ personal. Know what I mean? Nothin’ personal.”
Thirty-Nine
The planks of the old wooden footbridge creaked as they walked across. Even though she was wearing beaded moccasins and he was barefoot.
Below the Indian girl and Chance was a large pond bordered by cattails, arrowhead plants, swamp cabbage and a half dozen alligators of medium size.
“They love marshmallows,” she said looking down.
“And fingers and toes, I bet.”
“Not really. But puppies can disappear quickly. Come, I’ll show you the rest before the tourists get here. It’s Sunday and we open at ten.”
Two cars pulled into the parking lot with the sound that tires make on gravel. A tour bus was right behind.
“If we don’t hurry,” she said, “you’ll be one of the attractions.”
• • •
The wooden sign hanging from the ceiling of the Indian Village Gift Shop said GUIDED TOURS and it was cut like an arrow. It pointed to a counter behind which sat the Indian spokesman who questioned Chance upon being discovered. “That’s where I’m supposed to be right now,” the Indian girl said to Chance, “but Jay can cover for me until 10:30,” Jay nodded and smiled.
The Indian girl and Chance turned to look over the gift shop.
“As you can see, we sell many items. Most of them we make right here or purchase from other villages. Sometimes we trade them what we make for what they make. Indian dolls, baskets, clothing, that sort of thing.”
“I never thought of Indians as being in the tourism business,” Chance said.
“As long ago as the early 1800s, when the settlers were moving west, some Indians served as guides, even though the white man massacred so many Indians and forced all of them from their lands. In the 1920’s, after World War I, there was a big land boom in Florida and some of the Indians north of here began to realize that they were a curiosity to the newcomers. The tourism business for Indians on reservations started around that time. Now there are so many more villages on reservations and off.”
Chance’s questions tumbled out. “Are we on a reservation now? How do you know so much about the past, did you learn all of this in school? And you never even told me your name? What is your name, anyway?”
“I see newcomers are still curious. My name is Kim. What’s yours?”
“My name is Chance.”
“That’s unusual, I’ve never met anyone named Chance. Sounds like it comes from the Old West.”
“Your name doesn’t sound Indian at all. I thought it would be something like Anika, or Shanora. Something really exotic.”
“Oh, that’s only in the movies. Let’s go,” she said, “the village will be opening soon and I’m sure you don’t want to feel like you’re on display. Follow me.”
Anywhere! Chance thought to himself.
Chance and Kim walked out of the gift shop door to a raised deck just outside. It was just high enough to give an overview of the four connected ponds that were excavated years ago in a gently curving imaginary line from one end of the village to the other.
“The essential backbone of the village are these four ponds. Without them, we couldn’t do what we do here.”
“They provide your drinking water?”
“Oh, no, we have cisterns for that,” she motioned to the large water tank above the gift shop. “We have a number of them. They collect rainwater for drinking, cooking and bathing. The ponds have different uses. Let’s take a walk and I’ll show you.”
It was a beautiful day for a stroll, Chance thought. And no vines to trip over. He could get used to this.
“This is First Pond. It’s the pond that is the first to get water from the slough. It trickles in very, very slowly. That’s why we need all four ponds. First Pond is used for irrigation of our vegetables, fruit trees, our other crops and animals,” she spoke as they walked.
“This is Second Pond. This is used for our water birds. They like it better than the next pond. You’ll see why in a minute!” They walked without wasting time.
“This is Third Pond.”
“I see! More alligators.”
“And those are only the alligators you see. There are lots more you don’t see.”
“I’ll remember not to go swimming here!” They walked a little further, to the very end of the village.
“This is Fourth Pond, the largest of the four. Our emergency water supply for the first three ponds. Just in case. The other ponds flow into it, and the excess water flows out through a big culvert pipe and that big valve over there and into the Glades.”
Chance looked at the big water valve Kim had pointed to. It was the kind that had a turning wheel at the top as big as a truck’s steering wheel.
“Wow! That’s quite a valve. Wouldn’t you say that that’s overkill?”
“During the rainy season the ponds can get filled up fast. It would overflow and ruin everything. So we got some help from the Army Corps of Engineers. It might be a little oversized, but the price was right.”
“Come on, we don’t have much time to see the rest.”
They stood before an open area that had a wooden wall about four feet tall around its perimeter. Looking over the wall to the inside, Chance could see six alligators of medium size, ranging from four to eight feet in length. There was a muscular Indian man inside the pen with them, leaning forward, slapping one of the gators on the snout. The gator hissed at him and opened its mouth slightly.
“This is where we wrestle alligators.” she said.
“Who wins?”
“You see that man in there? He knows exactly what he’s doing. So far, he’s won every time for twelve years now.”
“An old Indian custom, no doubt?”
“Actually, it isn’t. Indians have always played with alligators and teased them, and eaten them, a
nd sold their hides, but wrestling alligators came about as a way of attracting tourists. Now it seems like a way of life, at least for the villages. You see,” she said pointing to the man in the pen who had already grabbed a five-footer by the snout, “an alligator has all his strength biting down and hardly any strength opening. So, if you can grab those jaws before he opens, you're half way there.”
“I wish I had known that a long time ago.”
“Then you flip the gator over on his back, stroke his belly,” the man in the pen was doing just that, “and he goes to sleep.”
Chance thought for a second and quipped, “You know, the same thing happens to me.”
She ignored his corny comment. “Let’s go. I don’t have much more time.”
They walked past a couple of pens and cages to a large cage that had a fence in front to keep people back at more than arm’s distance. The homemade cage was constructed rather simply from ordinary chain-link fencing, but it appeared strong enough to contain the four-hundred-pound black bear, that paced inside.
“You may have seen these out there,” she said.
“No, no, I didn’t, thank God. I didn’t know they were out there.”
“Oh, yes, plenty of them. And sometimes they can cause us a problem right here in the village.” The bear paced back and forth in the cage and stunk to high-heaven. “But we’ve learned to control them pretty well,” she added.
“How?”
“We just shoot them.”
She walked away. Chance followed to the next cage. Standing in front of it Chance said, “I knew about these. Supposed to be only about two hundred left in the wild. I’m glad I didn’t run into one.” The full-grown Florida panther, Felinas Caloris, moved gracefully across the large cage.
“If you had, they probably wouldn’t do anything to you anyway. They’re very shy and secretive. One or two of them probably knew you were out there. They may have even tracked you, but you’d never know it. And there are probably more out there than people realize. If a panther wanted to kill you, they would. But you’re still here.”
Saving an Innocent Man Page 28
