Mud Bog Murder

by Lesley A. Diehl

“Beautiful birds, but their call is so penetrating,” I said.

  “Some say they sound like a woman screaming,” Sammy replied.

  The night was silent for a minute, then a chorus of frogs took up their croaking, calling to one another in tandem. The sound of something moving through the water drifted up to us.

  “Alligator,” said Sammy.

  A loud splash followed. Sammy smiled at me. “I guess that was the frog or fish that got away.”

  Laughter from inside the cabin drifted out to the porch, and I turned my head to look through the open door. Everyone was spellbound by one of Nappi’s stories. No one seemed to notice we were gone.

  “Are you feeling as uncomfortable as I am?” I asked Sammy.

  “Sure.”

  “Why is that? We’ve been friends for a while now, and we’ve never had trouble talking to each other, but suddenly ….”

  “Suddenly there is no Alex.”

  I said nothing in reply.

  Silence yawned huge between us once more.

  “So tell me about your mother.”

  “You remind me of her.”

  Uh-oh.

  “I mean you’re both such bold women. And you’re tall like her, only her hair is dark, and it was long the last time I saw her.”

  “Of course.”

  “She’s not Miccosukee. She’s white.”

  “Grandfather Egret raised you?”

  He nodded.

  “No siblings, but you have nephews, right?”

  “Yep. My father was married before he met my mother. He had several children by his first wife. She died of cancer when she was young.”

  “Sorry to hear that. So you only have two half-brothers here. And your father and mother, are they still together?”

  He chose to ignore my question about his father, but spoke eagerly about his mother.

  “Mother couldn’t stay here. She felt she didn’t belong with the tribe, but she wanted me to connect with my Miccosukee heritage. Once I became an adult I chose to stay with Grandfather Egret instead of adjusting to the white world. She accepts that choice, and we see each other as often as we can.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Las Vegas.”

  The silence settled in once more. I broke it by saying, “Well, I’m out of coffee, and it’s getting late. Time to go, I guess.”

  I stood up and began to walk toward the door. Sammy also got out of his chair and reached out his hand. It rested lightly on my shoulder for a moment, then tightened. He turned me around to face him, then pulled me close. I may have hesitated for a moment, but no longer. I stepped into his embrace. His lips touched mine, at first softly, then with more insistence. Finally our tongues found an ancient language as they caressed. We broke away and looked into each other’s eyes; then we came together once more. This time our hands reached out and tried to bring us closer as if each of us was trying to crawl into the other’s body.

  “Sammy,” I whispered.

  His hands gripped my waist, then worked their way down over my hips. I felt as if I were being molded into another being, a woman more passionate and primitive. I’d never experienced anything like it. What was this man doing to me? I shuddered and thought to draw back, but instead I leaned in. I never wanted to leave his arms.

  “Hi, guys. What’s up?” said a voice next to my ear.

  “Jerry, go back inside,” I said.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Jerry turned back and entered the house.

  “Yes, you did, you twit!” I yelled at him as he retreated.

  “That’s a bit of a mood killer.” Sammy stepped back and ran his fingers through his long hair.

  I couldn’t see the expression on his face or discern in his voice what he was feeling.

  “Jerry has a way of ruining things.”

  “I didn’t mean Jerry only. I meant your yelling at him.”

  This time I could see his mouth twitch and then a smile spread over his lips.

  “Well, maybe we should think about what we’re doing anyway.”

  “You’re right. It wouldn’t be appropriate to make love to you on Grandfather’s porch and certainly not in one of his rockers.”

  “No, but it might be an interesting challenge.”

  We both laughed.

  “There should be a full moon tomorrow night. How would you like to take a ride in my canoe?”

  “Sounds great. You won’t get us lost in the swamps, will you?”

  “Maybe. Would that bother you?” Sammy stepped forward and looked down at me with eyes as black as the heart of the swamp.

  “I’ve been lost in the swamp with you before, Sammy Egret. I trust you to get me home.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I thought I knew what he could do, and I was eager to be proven right.

  Chapter 10

  Today was the day the inspector was coming to the new shop site to examine our wiring and plumbing. Since the previous owner had built the store only a little over a year before on the site of our original business, I wasn’t worried about getting a passing grade.

  I stopped at the store early, around seven in the morning, to see how the drywall installation and painting was proceeding. Madeleine and I had taken turns checking the work to make certain the crew continued to make progress for several days in a row, but neither of us had had time in the past few days to drop by. With all the donuts and pizza we’d fed the crew to keep them on the job and happy, I was certain the walls would be up by now and perhaps even painted. Or maybe the project was finished. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? New walls and no alligator.

  I unlocked the door and reached around to flip the switch that turned on the lights. I flipped, but nothing happened. Uh-oh. Maybe the workers had pulled the circuit breaker. I fumbled my way through the store to the side door where the breaker box was located. Sure enough, the breaker had been pulled. I flipped it back and reached for the wall switch by that exit to turn on the overhead lights. The light glared off an empty space—no walls or studs up to begin the room divisions. Not a sign of any work done beyond the flooring and the installation of larger windows in the store front, which had been complete when I’d inspected the space after our gator visitor. I extracted the cell from my purse and hit the number for the owner of the company. My call went to voicemail.

  “This is Eve Appel. Where are you? And where have you been? The work should be almost done by now. Call me.”

  “Anyone here?” called a voice from the front door.

  “Back here. Come on in.”

  Just my luck. Not my construction guys, but someone carrying a clipboard.

  “Ms. Appel?”

  I nodded and waved him in.

  “I’m Mark Stevens, here to inspect your wiring and plumbing.”

  “Right.” Thank goodness I’d found the breaker and got the lights on. Before I could count myself lucky, the lights flickered and went out.

  “There must be a short somewhere.” My cell chirped a tune. “Hello.” I listened to the voice at the other end. Thank goodness. It was the construction company owner. What he told me was anything but good.

  “You’ve got some major electrical issues. The lights kept going on and off, so we shut off the electricity at the breaker.”

  Yeah, so I’d discovered.

  “And there’s more. Have you checked the bathroom?”

  Now what? I walked over to the bathroom door and pulled it open. A dirty puddle of water stood on the floor.

  “There’s water all over the floor,” I said.

  “Yeah, we caught that leak before it took over the entire building. Shut off the water at the main pipe coming into the store.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “”Because I knew you’d do what you’re doing right now. Yell at me. Besides, it’s not my problem anymore. We’re off the job.”

  “This can all be fixed. I’m sure it’s minor stuff, isn’t it?”

  “Minor
or not,” the company owner said, “I’m just not interested in doing any more work for you and your partner. I’ll send you the bill for what we’ve done so far.” He disconnected.

  I looked around the space. A bill for what they’d accomplished since last I’d checked? Turned off the electricity and located a puddle of water?

  Mr. Stevens tapped me on the shoulder. “I heard you say the problems were minor. And considering how new this place is, I’d expect that too. But the work is all inferior. The wiring is not up to code. In fact, I’m surprised the place didn’t catch on fire.”

  I sighed and clenched my teeth in frustration. The woman from whom we’d purchased the place had left us with a real lemon, and knowing the kind of person she was, I was certain she was aware what she was selling us. I wanted to get her on the phone and give her what’s what, but I expected she didn’t have her own cellphone in the prison cell she now occupied.

  “I’ll send you a list of what you’ll need to do before I can pass on this place.” Mr. Stevens nodded to me and left.

  I backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor. That’s where Nappi found me.

  “Ready to go, Eve?” he asked.

  I’d almost forgotten that he and I were on our way to West Palm to visit the company that arranged mud bog events in the area. Our plan was to act as if we were land owners interested in having an event on our property. We hoped to find out who else in the area was in contention for these events. Maybe Jenny had beaten someone out for the honor of holding the event, and they’d been angry enough to want her dead.

  “Have a seat,” I gestured to the dirty floor next to me.

  “I’ll pass. So. Bad news?” Nappi asked.

  I told him about the construction crew and the wiring and plumbing problems.

  “I guess you didn’t do an inspection before you bought the property?”

  I shook my head. “It was new construction, so neither the bank nor I felt it was necessary. I should have known better. How can I tell Madeleine?”

  “Leave it for now. Let’s do a little snooping in West Palm. After that, I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Nope.”

  Nappi looked surprised. “I thought poking your nose where it’s not wanted and food would be an unbeatable combination for you.”

  “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  “Okay then, let’s go to the Sabal Bay Diner for some of their waffles.”

  I thought about that. It was enough to make me want to get out of here.

  I reached out my hand. “Help up?” I asked. Nappi smiled and lifted me to my feet, then continued to hold my hand. From the compassion in his eyes, I knew what he was about to say.

  “Oh, no. You are not loaning us the money to fix those problems and do the renovations here. Forget it. You’ve already done enough for us. Besides, even if I okayed it, Madeleine would throw a fit. As would David. She loves you in her own way, but she’s opposed to borrowing money from you. You know that.”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “What do I say then? ‘We needed extra money, and I just happened to find a sack of it on the sidewalk, so we’re covered.’ ”

  He shrugged.

  “Besides, I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

  “You always do.” He put his arm around my shoulder, and we headed for the door.

  “Oops. Back in a jiff.” I ran toward the side exit and flipped the breaker. “We don’t need a fire.”

  “We don’t?” Nappi lifted one eyebrow and flashed me a wry grin.

  I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “I guess the old mob-thinking creeps back in now and then.”

  He continued to grin at me.

  The diner was crowded with the early morning breakfast crowd—store owners who stopped in before they opened their businesses and the usual complement of cowboys and a few winter visitors who had discovered from the locals how good the cooking was. When we walked in, the buzz of conversation stopped, all eyes on us. I knew they weren’t staring because of my appearance. Everyone in this town was used to my stilettos, punk hairdo, and designer jeans and shirt. Even Nappi’s smooth looks weren’t drawing their attention. The hostility in their gazes said I had crossed a line, the line between what they tolerated in Yankee behavior and what they considered unforgiveable and insensitive.

  “C’mon, Nappi. I don’t think I’m as hungry as I thought.”

  But Nappi had other ideas. He pushed me toward the only open booth and shoved me into it. On our way past everyone, he nodded and smiled, then turned around when we were seated and said, “Best darn place this side of the Georgia line for waffles, wouldn’t you say?”

  He’d spoken to the individual in the booth behind us. She nodded and replied, “Oh, yeah.”

  “Howdy, Miss Eve,” said the waitress. “Who’s the good-looking fella?”

  I introduced Nappi as another Yankee who had converted from hash browns to grits and who adored red eye gravy. She took that as a hint and headed back toward the kitchen.

  Nappi leaned over the table and spoke in my ear. “I know what grits are, but I never heard of red eye gravy.”

  “You’re going to love it.” I hoped he did or we would be thrown out on our ears.

  My singing cowboy friend, Jay Cassidy’s foreman Antoine, got up from his table and headed my way.

  “Okay, Antoine, I know what you’re going to say. Jay already told me where he thought I went wrong.”

  “Scootch over.” Antoine slid into the seat beside me.

  “I work for Jay and I like it, so I’m going to keep my mouth shut on that demonstration thing. I know you’d never hurt Jenny regardless of the two of you not seeing eye to eye. Jay and I have our differences. I think Jay knows he was a little rough on you the other night. Just let it go. He’ll come around.”

  “Will the other folks come around too?” Nappi asked.

  “Some … probably not most of them. Times are tough around here. People are land poor. Many of them can’t afford to graze cattle and supplement with hay from out of state. Then some of you come in here and accuse us of mishandling our own land.” Antoine got up, tipped his hat to me and left.

  “People here are in the same bind as small farmers in upstate New York and Pennsylvania,” Nappi said. “There was no money in milking a small herd so they sold off and now they’re sitting on land they can’t farm. Then the gas companies come in and pay them to lease their land for fracking. Now they’ve got polluted ground water, cancer, and even earthquakes.”

  “So what do those poor farmers do for money?” I asked.

  “That’s the point, isn’t it? Just like the ranchers around here, just like Jenny.”

  “So you’re saying Madeleine and I were wrong?”

  “Not at all. We have to find a way for people to live on land we don’t destroy.”

  I looked at him expectantly.

  “I don’t have the answer, but maybe part of it is that we talk to one another.”

  “Do more than simply protest, you mean.”

  “Especially if someone is murdered.”

  I tapped my spoon on the tabletop. “I don’t think the protest caused Jenny’s murder.”

  “No, but the strong feelings on both sides aren’t going to make it any easier to find the killer.”

  Nappi and I were silent on the drive to West Palm. He’d given me a lot to think about—not that I didn’t already know that protests could only raise awareness of an issue, not lead to its resolution. That was one of the reasons Madeleine and I got out of the demonstration business up North. There never seemed to be any follow-up after the banners and signs were stowed back in the garages and people dispersed to take up their everyday lives. The protest itself was a high, a great feeling of shared commitment, but after that, most protesters left others to search out avenues for change.

  I broke the silence as we turned off the turnpike onto Okeechobee Boulevard and headed into the city. “I wonder what happens to the land
where the mud bog race is held once the event is over.”

  Nappi glanced at me, then turned his attention back to the busy road. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s something to look into.”

  “Maybe that’s something we should ask the company that runs these venues.”

  The answer to what happened after the mud bog trucks left and the company collected their rather large share of the profits was simple, according to Mr. Johnson, president of Mudder Events, Ltd.

  “It’s their land. They can do what they want with it, can’t they?” The man across the desk from us yawned, showing yellowed teeth. I got the impression that yellow was the color of his personality too. He seemed to care for nothing other than the bottom line. “We tell the ranchers what we want and inspect the property before we sign with them and just before the event to make sure it’s the way we want it. Then we collect our share of the take and leave. What did you expect us to do?”

  I shifted forward in my chair. “Well, maybe help clean up the place and turn it back into wetlands for plant and animal habitat. Put it back the way it was.”

  Nappi placed a restraining hand on my knee, but I was fired up.

  “Don’t you feel at all responsible for mucking up all that vegetation and running off the animals that depend upon it for their food and breeding area?”

  “If you mean am I worried that we destroyed an alligator’s nest, then no. They’re ugly creatures, don’t you think? Better to get rid of as many as we can. The other animals, like birds and turtles, can move somewhere else.”

  “There will soon be no ‘somewhere else’ for them to move to. Except maybe the area where you live, Mr. Johnson. How would you like that, huh? A big ol’ alligator swimming around in your pool, building a nest on your patio.” I’d stood up and begun gesturing with my arms. Johnson moved his chair back and away from me.

  “Are you threatening me, Ms. Appel? I thought you were here to make a deal?”

  Nappi pulled me back down into my chair. “We’re here to see if it might be possible to use our property for the races.”

  Johnson calmed down a bit. “You’ve got some competition in your area. We only run one or two mud bog events each year in any region. It doesn’t pay us or the land owner to saturate a county with mud bog races.” He began to shuffle through the papers on his desk. “Let’s see here. We’ve vetted all these places near yours to make certain they’re appropriate for our needs. It looks like there are three you’d be in competition with.” He read off the names. “You know any of these ranchers?”