The Traveling Corpse

by Double Edge Press

  Agnes, their favorite waitress, brought them their soup. This smiling, tiny Vietnamese woman had waited on these customers often enough for them to be special to her. She knew they ordered the same soups each Sunday. Annie and Art each took Won Ton, but Annie liked only the clear broth, so Agnes put the extra dumplings in Art’s bowl. She pulled a set of chopsticks from her apron pocket for Brad. He had traveled to Taiwan during his working career and had mastered using chopsticks. Barb admired the fact that her husband could skillfully eat with two sticks, but she wondered why anyone would bother when a fork was so much easier to use.

  Verna said, “We were lucky to get a big table so quickly today. We could eat earliah and beat the crowd if you Baptists and Methodists would let out soonah. Can’t you pray any earliah on Sunday mornings?”

  Barb said, “I do well to get to my Sunday School class at 9:30. Church follows.”

  “We’ve got an 8:30 service,” Doc explained, “but I like singing in the choir, and that’s at the second service. You Catholics seem to have a dozen Masses. You can even go on Saturdays. You have a smorgasbord to choose from!”

  “Speaking of smorgasbord,” Barb said, “let’s go to the buffet.”

  When they had heaped their plates with fried rice, spring rolls, smoked spareribs, sweet and sour pork, and an assortment of other Asian dishes, Doc continued talking about singing. “I thoroughly enjoy singing in my church choir and also our BradLee Chorus. Both have terrific directors, and I’ve sung under a lot of different directors in my lifetime. These choir leaders are good. Most of us down here in these choirs are seniors—well past our prime, but I’m amazed at the quality, at the tones we old people can still produce. I thought when I retired that my singing days would be over.”

  “With your marvelous basso,” Von said, “you can’t retire. You’re a star!”

  Doc was embarrassed by the praise, but he enjoyed being appreciated as much as he enjoyed still being able to sing solos.

  While they were waiting for their ice cream, Annie said, “I know I shouldn’t eat it, but it’s the best ice cream in town; it is so rich and creamy. I just can’t pass it up.” Laughingly, she added, “I’ll eat the ice cream and let Art have my fortune cookie.”

  “That’ll save ya a lot of calories,” DeeDee teased. Annie smiled.

  Brad had started a fun tradition that they followed each Sunday. Each one read his/her fortune after breaking the cookie open, and then they added two words—‘in bed.’ DeeDee and Doc got the biggest laughs. She read hers: ‘You will enjoy having a great circle of friends—in bed!’ Then Doc topped it with his: ‘You will travel to many places—in bed.’ Art was fast with a quip, and Brad added an innuendo. The women raised their eyebrows in mock displeasure. Doc quickly added, “I may be old, but I can still remember—some things!” DeeDee pulled a face.

  After finishing their little ritual, Barb brought the group back to reality by saying, “Just what do you think our fortune is going to be now? What should we be doing next about this ‘problem’ we’ve gotten ourselves into?” She looked around the table. None of them offered a solution, so she suggested, “If you don’t have anything planned for this afternoon, why don’t you all come back to our house for a brain-storming session? Is that okay with you, Brad?”

  “Fine,” is all he said with a smile. Brad loved having friends in their home. His first wife hadn’t enjoyed entertaining so they had seldom had company. Brad was delighted when Barb invited people over even when the invitations were casual and impromptu.

  Art reminded them of the coming funeral service, “Aren’t you going to the memorial service for Jiggs? That’s at two o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot,” Barb said. “Guess we’d better go, don’t you think so, Brad?”

  Her husband replied, “For sure.” He turned to Art, “Glad you reminded us. As a member of the Board, I should attend since Jiggs was such a loyal volunteer.”

  Von said, “I was over at Old Main at 8 o’clock this morning with Tom-Tom and the other volunteers setting up chairs for the service. Jiggs’ granddaughter decided to have it here in the park. They go to a little church in town; it wouldn’t be big enough to seat all the people who will be coming. Jiggs was well liked. There’ll be a crowd.”

  “We’ll be going to the memorial too,” Doc said. “Then I have to go to Vespers at 4:30.”

  “Are you singing?” Von asked.

  “Yes, I promised the woman who’s in charge of Vespers this month that I would sing if she’d let me do some Welsh hymns in honor of St. David’s Day.”

  “When’s that?

  “March second. It’s a month early, but we’ll be away—over at my aunt’s that Sunday.”

  “And just what is St. David’s Day?” Barb wanted to know.

  “Well, he’s the patron saint of Wales. I was named David for him. You all know that St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland; well, St. David is the patron saint of Wales—only the Welsh aren’t as good at public relations as the Irish. Our saint’s day isn’t very well known.”

  “And you don’t have as much fun on March second as the Irish do on the seventeenth,” DeeDee teased.

  “You’re right, but I always enjoyed it. When I was growing up in a Welsh farming community, we always had a church supper on the second of March to honor the occasion. They’d have daffodils on the table, hang the Welsh flag on the wall with the big red dragon on it, sing some Welsh hymns and have a speaker who’d talk about Wales. Did I ever tell you how I came to be born in the U.S.A. instead of Wales?”

  His friends shook their heads.

  “Well, my great grandfather loved to sing, and he particularly liked to sing in four-part harmony. For some unknown reason to me, the English banned singing in four-part harmony—wouldn’t allow it! That was the last straw for him. He’d heard that you could own your own land in America as well as sing any way you wanted to. So he got on a boat and crossed the ocean, and here I am!”

  “That is so interesting!” Verna said. “All my family are of French descent. They were not too fond of the English either. I’m sure you all read Longfellow’s Evangeline in high school. Some of my ancestors hid out when the British rounded them up and burned their houses. Since they couldn’t go back to their homes, they made their way from Newfoundland down to Maine. If they hadn’t, they’d have been put on a ship heading South like Evangeline, and I’d have a Southern accent instead of this one from Maine!”

  Before they rose from the table, Annie said to Barb, “I think you’re right; we need to have a brain-storming session. How about if we all come over after Vespers?”

  “Good idea,” Doc said. “The program only lasts about 45 minutes; then we have fellowship with a finger-food supper. We can be at their house by six, or six-fifteen, can’t we, DeeDee?’

  “No problem except there’s a college basketball game on TV tonight that I’d really like ta watch. Tennessee’s playing. I like ta root for tha Big Orange.”

  “Dear me,” Barb sighed. “We are supposed to be retired seniors, and we’re so busy that we can’t find time to have a planning session.”

  “Look,” Doc suggested to the B’s, “DeeDee and I can skip the supper after Vespers; then we can be at your place by 5:30. Would that work? We can hash this out and still watch the basketball game.”

  “I’ve already made my sandwiches. I’ll jest bring them with us; we can share them with y’all,” DeeDee offered. “There’s plenty.”

  Annie offered, “I made some cole slaw yesterday. I’ll bring it, and we’ll make a party out of it.”

  Verna added, “I’ve got most of a lemon cake left; there’ll be enough for all of us to have a piece. Is that okay with you, Barb?”

  “I love it!” Barb gushed. “Come on over; it’ll be the easiest party I’ve ever thrown.”

  * * *

  As they left the restaurant, Art opened the car door for Annie then walked around their van and slid behind the wheel. Before he
turned on the ignition, Annie asked, “Would you mind if we went by the pond to see if that trapper is there?”

  “Do you know when he’s coming?”

  “No, but our sergeant called him yesterday. She said she’d left a message for him. I don’t know when he’s coming. Let’s take a chance, shall we?”

  “Okay by me,” Art said, “but I want to go home first and get the golf cart. The sergeant can get away with driving her cruiser across the golf course, but the rangers wouldn’t be happy with us if we tried it. Are you going to change clothes?”

  Annie answered, “Well, we want to go to the memorial service; so I guess we can just leave on what we have. Maybe I’ll bring an old pair of sneakers to put on if we walk in the field.” She looked at their casual clothes and added, “We certainly don’t dress up to go to church here in Florida like we used to in Wisconsin.”

  * * *

  Art and Annie drove on the cart path to Blue Number Five and crossed behind the tee to the pond. They stood by the fence and looked over into the field where the ostriches and emus were quietly grazing. She picked out ‘Carol,’ but she was not ‘wearing’ jewelry today. There was no alligator to be seen and no human beings either, only a half dozen white cattle egrets were hunting for food near the pond. The Andersens shrugged off their disappointment and drove back to Old Main.

  They were early for the service, but it seemed easier to wait than to drive home and soon turn around and return. As they entered the building, they heard the old familiar hymn ‘Rock Of Ages’. Four BradLee musicians were rehearsing for the coming funeral service. Without a break, the men segued into ‘Nearer My God To Thee’. For several years, the group had simply been called ‘The Trio’. There was a piano, a bass viol, and a trumpet player. But the men had recently added a fourth musician who was talented enough to play the saxophone as well as the fiddle; so now they were known as ‘The Plus One Trio’. Art whispered to Annie, “I never heard them play any religious music before except ‘When The Saints Come Marching In’! Aren’t they good?”

  She answered, “They are amazing! They never use any music. How they can end up together at the same time and in the same chord beats me! They are four very talented old men who are good enough to play any lounge in New York City! It’s a treat to listen to them play, and we get to hear them free here in BradLee!”

  Two couples sat down behind them. The Andersens couldn’t help but overhear them talking about Jiggs’s death. One said, “It is so sad about his untimely death.”

  “Yes, and he was such a kind man; he never did any harm to anyone,” another returned.

  Art leaned over and whispered in Annie’s ear, “They certainly don’t know the whole story, do they?”

  She whispered back, “No, they don’t, and neither do we, if you think about it.”

  Karl Kreeger and other Bingo volunteer workers served as pallbearers. There wasn’t much lifting involved, they just rolled the closed casket down the center aisle on a wheeled dolly. The pallbearers sat together on the front row of chairs on one side of the aisle while Jiggs’s son, daughter, grandchildren and their assorted mates occupied those on the other side. From her seat, Annie could see the left side of Karl’s face; it was as emotionless as a mask.

  * * *

  After the half-hour Protestant service, friends of the deceased served light refreshments. Tables covered with white paper for this special occasion were set up in the Annex. Dolly and Molly, the twin sisters who helped in the kitchen for Bingo, along with Herb Harris were taking care of the kitchen duties. All mourners were invited to stay, but Annie said to Art, “I’m still full from our dinner this noon. If you don’t mind, let’s skip the food and go back over to see if the trapper’s there yet.”

  Art liked the idea. They met the Davises at the door. Doc said, “We’ve got a little while before Vespers. We’re going to see if the trapper’s there.”

  “That’s where we’re heading too.”

  Before long, the B and V’s, showed up. They were all curious, wanting to know what was happening in this next stage of ‘Our Mystery’. At Blue Number Five, they found Sgt. Menendez and Deputy Juarez talking to a man that none of them had ever seen before. When the sergeant saw ‘her seniors’, she brought the man over to introduce him. “This is Pete Peterson. He’s the trapper we’ve called in.” Pete laid a five foot long stick carefully down on the ground before shaking hands with the seniors.

  There was no alligator in sight, but they could see bait hung out over the water on the golf course side of the pond. Annie decided that the trapper didn’t want to be in the field with the ostriches and emus. He chose to do his trapping on the end of the pond where the only extra danger might be getting hit in the head by some golfer with a bad slice. They settled down to wait and watch.

  In a low hushed voice, Pete told them, “This here’s a cagey one. I was here last night, but Mr. Alligator kept out of sight. But, if he’s still here, I’ll git him.”

  Doc asked about the bait he was using. Pete explained, “It’s a cow lung. I got me a twelve-ought hook inside my bait. Last week, I had ta trap a ‘leven-footer. Fer that big of a ‘gator I put two hooks inside tha bait. Some trappers use a dead rabbit er chicken fer bait er road-kill, but I’m partial to usin’ a cow lung. It’s a treat, an’ eventually Mr. Alligator, he’ll swallow it; he jest can’t resist it. That rebarb’s attached to a three-eight inch nylon rope.” Pete pointed to a rope that ran from the bait to a bar driven in the ground. “When he swallows that bait, he also swallows tha hook an’ rope. I jest hang it all there on tha edge of tha water ta tempt Mr. Alligator. Once he swallows it, I pull on tha rope. It kin be a struggle, but I’ll win.”

  DeeDee asked, “Isn’t it hard ta pull an alligator out of water? They’re strong, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, yes, m’am,” the trapper answered politely, “Usually, I kin pull ‘em out by myself. But, if it’s a really big one, I’ll use tha winch on my truck.”

  Doc pointed to the pole Pete laid on the ground and asked about it. Pete said, “That’s my bang stick. It’s got a 44 magnum tip on tha end. I don’t like ta use it though lessen thar’s danger ta people. I’d rather take tha ‘gator ‘live. But, if I have ta, I jest hit that critter hard on the head with tha bang stick an’ that cartridge explodes an’ kills tha ‘gator. Tha’s all thar is ta it!”

  DeeDee shivered in fear, “All there is to it? Why, I declare! Ya got ta get mighty near ta that big ole scary animal. Five feet’s closer than I’d ever want ta get ta an alligator!”

  Doc asked Pete, “How did you ever learn to trap alligators? How did you happen to start?”

  Pete answered easily, “Been doin’ it since I was jest a lit’le fellow. My daddy was a poacher. I’d go out with him nights, but I don’t take a chance poaching anymore. This is all legal—on the up and up. When the Sheriff’s Department calls me ta get a nuisance ‘gator, I pull a permit before I even start out.”

  Doc said, “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but like the old Welsh woman said, ‘It’s really none of my business, but I’d really like to know!’ I’d like to know how much they pay you to trap an alligator, if you don’t mind telling me?”

  DeeDee said, almost under her breath, “You couldn’t pay me enough ta make me go out ta trap a ‘gator!”

  Pete laughed, “Sure I’ll tell ya. They don’t pay me nothing.” The seniors were shocked, but he went on to explain, “My pay is tha ‘gator itself. I get ta keep him; tha’s why I like ta take him ‘live. I want ta protect the meat, an’ in this Florida heat, ‘specially in summer, it doesn’t take long fer meat ta spoil. I take it home ‘cause I’ve got a state approved processing workshop there. If a trapper don’t have his own place, then he takes it ta a USDA approved shop. I put tha ‘gator in my big cooler fer 24 hours after I kill it. It may surprise ya, but a ‘gator kin still move up ta six hours after ya kill it. If it moves, then tha hide tears an’ ya lose part of its value. I skin it. The leather’s worth a lot. Then I cut the m
eat off and cube it. Then we vacuum seal it and freeze it. We eat the meat or sell it to restaurants. This trappin’ jest something I do on the side; I got a business rentin’ out equipment. I jest do trappin’ as a side thing ta pick up some extra cash money.”

  Barb directed a question to the sergeant, “Will you be there when he cuts the animal open?”

  Menendez answered, “Not normally, but since we are looking for evidence, yes, I’ll be there.” She asked Pete, “When will you process him?”

  “Depends when I kill him,” Pete replied. “I’ve got a big cooler; we can process it whenever it works for you.”

  A Blue Heron flew in; the dignified bird stood quietly along the shallow edge of the pond and waited for his dinner while they waited for the alligator to come take the bait. Finally, Doc looked at his watch and said to DeeDee, “Guess we’ll have to leave if I’m going to sing at Vespers.”

  Barb didn’t want to leave either, but since she’d invited them over to their house, she said to Brad, “We’d better go too. We need to do a few things to get ready.”

  The two couples had just driven away when Verna pointed. The alligator was swimming towards the bait. Only a small part of its back and head showed above the water line as the reptile effortlessly moved through the murky water. The action that followed was quick; yet unhurried. They watched Pete yank on the rope as soon as the alligator swallowed the cow lung. That anchored the hook in its stomach. Then he pulled the animal on shore and duct taped its mouth shut before tying it up. Gingerly, Juarez helped Pete lift it into the bed of the pickup truck. Pete and Menendez spoke a few words; then the trapper drove off with his prize.

  Annie shook her head, “I have seen and learned more new things these past seven days. It has been quite a week!”

  Art agreed with her and so did the Vigeauxs.