by Chanel Smith
“You was able to talk to de spirit, no?”
“I was, thank you.”
“It is indeed Archibald Bordeaux.” Prince John announced. “We goin’ to follow ‘im?”
“That is the plan, right?” Ellen asked.
“It is,” he replied, rising to his feet and strolling toward the docked jon boat.
Prince John waited until the two of us were seated in the boat before he untied it and began pushing it away from the dock with the long pole. “I have a troll motor for late, but I don’ wan’ to give ‘im a fear.”
Ellen and I watched the specter in the flat bottom boat poling toward the opening in the trees just as he had done every night before; however, we were not far behind him and soon passed between the Cypress trees and out into the moonlit bayou beyond. The moss was thick in places and the silence was broken only by the chirping of frogs and the soft, rhythmic sound of the poles working the boats forward in the water. I noticed that I was holding my breath and wondered why. Relax and breathe, Monty, I reminded myself.
“You won’t get us lost, will you, Prince John?” I spoke in a stage whisper, not exactly sure why I felt like I couldn’t just speak up in a normal tone.
“Maybe I fin’ my way back, maybe we wander da bayou for long time. I can’t be sure.”
I caught a glint of moonlight in his eyes as I turned to look at him. “You’re joking, right? God, I hope you’re joking.”
“I was borned en de bayou. I don’ get loss. I bring Ellen home sound, I guarantee. But could be I fee’ you to a gator.” The deep chuckle echoed across the empty bayou.
“Relax, Monty,” Ellen laughed softly. “He’s just having some fun with you.”
I hoped that he was just having fun with me. To tell the truth, I was nervous as a cat walking down the aisle in a dog pound. My head jerked from side to side every time I heard a new sound. I looked toward Ellen to make sure that she was okay and noticed that she seemed to be on a pleasure cruise; calm and relaxed as if she was sitting in a pew at church.
As we passed along, I heard splashes in the water and soon after felt the boat rock from the waves that were created. Likely the sounds were alligators or other animals being spooked from their place on the banks and slipping into the water to hide. In the darkness, my imagination began to get the better of me as I allowed it to create a picture of a dozen or so alligators surrounding the boat in a circle.
Realizing that I had probably seen something very similar in a cartoon, I tried to shake off the image and laugh at myself. Cartoons weren’t real. Alligators didn’t circle around a boat waiting a chance to eat whoever was inside.
I’d pretty well gotten rid of the image of alligators surrounding the boat, but was soon overtaken by something that was a great deal more real and something that I had studied a little bit too thoroughly on YouTube a few days before; cottonmouths. Suddenly, I wasn’t only afraid of what might be lurking in the water, but I started looking up into the trees, especially the ones that draped well over the water. I was expecting to see the aggressive, venomous snakes dropping from the trees and into the boat as we passed under low-lying branches.
At one point, as we passed under a particularly low place, a long string of Spanish moss brushed against my neck. I leapt to my feet, fighting with my attacker, sending Ellen into a fit of screaming. When Prince John unwrapped my attacker from my neck, he was laughing heartily.
“You attacker it only a bit o’ Spanish moss.”
Ellen was a little bit more understanding. No doubt I had scared her half to death. “Are you okay, Monty?”
“Just a little bit jumpy.” I tried to pass it off as best I could, though I still felt my heart thundering in my chest.
“Tranquil, Mister Drew,” Prince John said in a powerful voice that restored my confidence. “No snake or no gators gon’ bother you in da boat.”
Chapter Eleven
“Where did he go?”
Ellen stood up in the bow of the boat and turned in every direction. She had kept a steady eye on Archie as he poled his boat through the bayous. Though he had sometimes disappeared around a bend, she had always been able to relocate him as we followed him through the twisting and turning channels. However, the channel had come to an abrupt end and Archie had seemed to sail right on through.
I stood and looked around as well. Prince John stopped poling and the boat slowly glided up onto the sloping bank in front of us, stopping abruptly as it scraped onto dry land and nearly tossed me onto my head. Regaining my balance, I looked up at his smiling face and crooked eyes.
“De brake work jis fine, Mister Drew.” The deep chuckle was eerie in the misty moonlight. “Maybe we should go see what on de utter side, no? Is no problem a spirit go tru dis rise, but is no way dis living pirogue go tru.”
“How are we going to do that?” I was hoping he wasn’t going to answer the way I thought he was going to answer. “Is there another way around?” I looked from Prince John to Ellen expectantly.
“Ah, no, Mister Drew, we have go on de lan’. No dout dey an utter channel on de utter side.”
“You want us to walk through the swamps?”
Ellen didn’t say anything, but I could tell that she wasn’t any more eager to step out of the boat and into the thick tangle of tree roots, bushes, vines and rotting stumps than I was. There was no telling what sorts of creepy crawlies or worse were lurking out of sight and waiting for an opportunity to sink their teeth into our tender flesh.
Prince John hopped from the boat and into water that came up to his knees. He moved toward the front of the boat and motioned for us to step forward onto the bank. We looked at each other and took the tentative steps forward that brought our feet to rest on the mossy bank. Once we were out of the boat, Prince John gave it an aggressive tug and pulled it further up onto the bank.
“Come on. Is probly not far to de utter side dis rise.”
Ellen and I stared into the dark tangle and hesitated.
“Mister Drew, ain’ no gator o serpen’ gonna bodder you out der.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I tell dem no to bodder you an’ you missus.” It was a simple explanation.
I’m not sure why I trusted his explanation; perhaps it was because something down inside of me believed that he really could talk to the alligators and snakes. The result of his encouraging words, however, quickly became reality as I began to follow him through the tangle of vegetation in front of us. I could hear Ellen tagging along behind.
Even though we were taking our time, my feet got tangled up several times in the vines and branches that hung low to the ground in the darkness. I caught myself each time before tumbling completely over onto my face. I really didn’t want my face down in the rotten, stinking mud of the bayou, so I tried to keep myself steady. I glanced over my shoulder several times to check on Ellen and took note that she was actually having an easier time than I was. My mother had always told me that I often lumbered like a bear or charged like a bull. I was beginning to think that she was right.
Prince John had been right, it wasn’t very far to the other side of the small rise that blocked our boat from the other side, but it wasn’t a channel on the other side, it was a wider body of water with a distant shoreline with the shadows of the cypress creating the far horizon. A long, thick stream of moonlight spread out across the water in front of us and glinted off of the ripples. It was a lovely sight that has always stuck in my mind in spite of the circumstances of how I came to view it.
“Der ‘e be.” I followed Prince John’s pointing finger and saw what had made the ripples on the water. Nearly halfway across the lake was the pale form of Archie still poling the boat toward some distant destination. “I recollect dis lake. Dis is what dey call de loss lake. I know de way aroun’ to it, but no dout we don’ fin’ Archibald agin. Maybe we go back an’ prepare for utter night, no?”
“You are probably right,” Ellen agreed.
“Tranquil.” He ch
uckled. “Now we know where he gonna go, we be able to swin’ aroun’ with the troll motor de nex’ night and follow along behin’, no?”
“Where do you think he’s going?”
“Dey a thous’ differen’ channel alon’ de bank of dis lake. It be impossible to guest de one. We gonna have to stay in tight behin’. But tranquil, tomorrow I be better prepare.”
“We only have one more night,” I responded.
“Time? What is time for de spirit, no?”
Prince John clearly didn’t understand that what we were doing was our business. Though what he was saying was true, our livelihood depended on us being able to wrap up the case on time to please our client. It was in that moment that I suddenly realized what had been bothering Ellen. She and Prince John were on the same page when it came to spirits. She understood that one could not place time limits from our world onto paranormal beings.
The time pressure had not been sitting well on her. So, what had changed yesterday? Why had she suddenly let go of that pressure? Was it because she suddenly saw a way to work around it all? Then it hit me. The music. Once we discovered that the upbeat jazz was the problem, she had suddenly realized that as long as we could convince LaBeaux to tone down the music, we could take as long as we wanted because a violent outburst would no longer disrupt the business of Madame LaRue’s Restaurant and Event Center.
As I was patting myself on the back for solving one of the thousands of mysteries about the woman that I loved, I stumbled and fell headlong into the brush. I landed staring into the gaping white mouth of the type of water moccasin that I had seen in more than a dozen videos. The open jaws and the hissing sound are other images that have stayed with me since. I didn’t understand why he did not strike. It might have been because he didn’t have enough time. I started scrambling backward immediately, slipped in the mud on the bank and tumbled into the lake behind me. My troubles were only just beginning.
Hearing the splash, an alligator lounging on the bank nearby plunged into the water to come and investigate whatever creature had just landed in his hunting ground. As I was struggling up out of the water, I saw a tiny bit of moonlight glint off of the snout of the approaching predator. It really goes without saying that I panicked. With the snout bearing toward me, I tried to scramble up out of the water, but discovered that the slippery mud offered absolutely no traction for my deck shoes and I fell again.
Ellen would tell me in a lighter moment that I squealed like a girl as I was fighting to get out of the water. To be honest, I don’t remember and it doesn’t matter. I can’t think of a man on earth that wouldn’t scream with a prehistoric animal bearing down upon him with teeth that would rip him in half. At the very height of my panic, when I was certain that death was only moments away, I felt the strong hand of Prince John raise me up from the water and draw me up onto the dry bank. I did not understand how the small man had so easily raised my large body up to safety, but I have been forever grateful that he did. No sooner was I drawn to safety; I felt the wind from, and heard the loud snap of, a pair of heavy jaws smashing together behind me.
“Tranquil, Mister Drew, you no gonna be de din fo’ an gator dis night.” His voice was unbelievably calm and his eyes were focused together onto mine as he spoke.
We made it back to the jon boat and were safely seated inside it. Though I stunk from the murky water and the thick mud, I took my seat quietly in the boat and started counting my blessings. Ellen had walked along with me and spoken to me softly as we walked back through the brush. Though I was shaking from fright and was pretty certain that she was equally shaken, she put up a pretty good front and helped me back to the boat.
With the trolling motor, the return trip to the mansion passed by a great deal quicker and I was never so glad to see the boathouse appear before me as we slipped between the cypress trees and the full view of the mansion, dark and empty long since, loomed above us.
Once we disembarked from the boat and our feet were solidly planted on the wood of the dock, I was finally able to relax. I hugged Ellen so tight that I was afraid that I might break her in two. I was no longer concerned with Prince John, the jon boat, the bayou, Archie or anything else, but a shower and the chance to lie in the arms of my beloved.
“You come to my house tomorrow befo’ de sun is set.” Prince John directed as he pushed away from the dock.
“How do we find your home?” Ellen asked, not even questioning the purpose behind it.
“Jus’ tell de drive’, he know.” Prince John replied as he lowered the trolling motor back into the water and started toward the opening in the cypress trees.
Chapter Twelve
I must admit that I was not prepared for either the home of Prince John or the altar that he had placed in a room off of the main entryway. In my mind, I had envisioned an old shack that was falling apart on the edge of the bayou and things that were a lot creepier than what we saw.
Prince John actually lived in what Ellen and I would term a decent, middle-class three bedroom house much like you’d find in 90% of the neighborhoods across America. The yard was well kept and there were trimmed hedges, flower beds and trees. The walk was made of paving stones that Prince John claimed had come from the old parade ground in the French Quarter. I couldn’t have argued the point one way or the other, but they did create a very nice touch to the landscaping.
The interior of the home was not a great deal different than most, though in the living room the very tastefully arranged altar was prominently displayed. Having grown up in So Cal, I’d had plenty of Latino friends and had visited their homes on several occasions. To be honest, the altar was very similar to what I had seen in those homes, though a bit more elaborate.
There was a large shelf about waist high and then several other smaller platforms of various levels above it. A red silk cloth descended from the ceiling in a pleated line about the width of my shoulders until it reached the tallest central platform. Upon that gathered silk, a golden crucifix was affixed and below it, the gathers were held together with something like a golden silk sash. From that point the silk cascaded in three directions over the platforms and the larger, main shelf until just above the floor.
Upon the tallest shelf in the center was a small statue of the Virgin flanked by two candles. On the other platforms were other religious icons and symbols with accompanying candles as well. Scattered about the larger, main shelf were baskets with jewelry, photos, religious talismans and other items that seemed to have simply been tossed there, though they no doubt had been placed where they were with purpose.
Our attention was drawn to the voodoo doll that was laid in what looked like a crude basket made of woven twigs that was positioned on a low wide platform in front of two burning sticks of incense. The fragrant smoke of the incense flowed up over the twig basket and doll. With all of the various candles flickering, it was actually a very pretty presentation, something that honestly did not fit with the crooked-eyed man that we had met at the dock the afternoon before.
Prince John himself, didn’t seem to be the same person either. Though his eyes were crooked and you couldn’t tell exactly where he was looking and there were a number of gaps in his teeth, he presented himself to us in a pair of khaki pants, a cotton golf shirt and a pair of loafers.
“Dis doll,” he said, picking up a large chicken feather and using it to fan the smoke from the incense over the doll. “She be de represent o’ Mildred Bordeaux, de miss wife o’ Archibald Bordeaux. De smoke is de spirits put dey energy en de doll. De Virgin bless de spirit o’ dis woman an’ make de energy strong so we can fin’ her.” He waved the chicken feather a few more times and then turned toward us again. “We sit an’ talk a bit an’ drank a glass o’ tea, no?”
He ushered us toward a sofa and then took a seat in a winged back chair facing us. It was only a few moments before a plump, dark-skinned woman, very nearly his age, entered with a tray and served three iced teas, each having a small sprig of mint sticking out of them
. Likely it was Prince John’s wife, though he did not introduce her and she disappeared the moment she had done her duty.
It had been a while since I’d had a taste of mint julep, but my liking of it returned instantly with the first sip. It nearly made me forget the scare that I’d had in the bayou.
“You feelin’ much betta’ dis even’, Mister Drew?”
“I am,” I admitted. After my shower earlier that morning, I had laid beside Ellen with my mind running through what I had thought to be my final moments as a living, breathing being on the earth. I had nearly joined Archie and his wife after having been dinner for some hungry alligator. It took a while before I had finally settled down enough to get some sleep. What little bit of sleep I had, however, had been fitful. Had I told the truth, I would have said that I was drained of energy.
“You had quite a scare fro’ dat ol’ gator and de serpen’ too no dout.” The deep chuckle from his chest didn’t seem nearly as spooky when we were sitting in the parlor of his home. He leaned forward and focused on my eyes, his suddenly coming together and looking into mine with a penetrating stare. “You don’ go bein’ ‘fraid o’ dos creature, God make dem same as you an’ me. When you go bein’ ‘fraid, dey smell dat fear an’ de tink you is dey dinner. Tranquil, Monty, ain’ no serpen’ no gator’ gonna harm you.”
I’d never been hypnotized before, but I was pretty sure that was what had just happened, or something quite similar. The moment he sat back in his chair I felt a wave of energy with, calm and refreshing rest, rush over me. I actually felt better than I had in years and was suddenly eager to be back in the game.
“Mister and Missus Drew,” he said. “I need de two o’ you to make a recite o’ some word I gonna speak to you in a momen’ and den I got sometin’ you two need to pu’ in you memor’, hum?”
