The Snake and the Spider

by Kingsbury, Karen

  “What! My little Snake wouldn’t never do nothing like that!” She tried to look serious but then she erupted into a burst of laughter. She seemed to think this was perhaps the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time. “You hear that? Snake wouldn’t do nothing like that, right, baby?”

  “Ma’am!”

  Sandra turned toward the sergeant and gradually stopped laughing. “What?”

  “Have you ever seen these boys?”

  “Nah, never seen ’em in my life.”

  “Okay. Now I want you to listen up. I’m going to need to know where I can find your husband.”

  “Maybe if you try the ole truckin’ company down the way! Could be there, maybe. Maybe not.” She giggled again.

  “Ma’am, I need a straight answer about where I can find Mr. Cox. If I don’t get one, you and your sweet little old friend over there will be spending the rest of the evening in jail.”

  Sandra stuck her tongue out at Sergeant Williams. “Spoil sport!” she yelled. “All right. I’ll tell. But lemme tell you something else, too. Snake won’t be happy about it. Not, one bit.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Works over at the Commercial Vehicle Trucking Company. Or maybe it’s the Trucking Commercial Vehicle Company. Something like that.”

  “Fine. You can put your hands down. Both of you.” The couple did as they were told and Sandra moved up close to the man.

  “We’ve got business to take care of, ossifers,” she mumbled happily, gazing suggestively into her boyfriend’s eyes.

  “We’re done. You can go inside if you want.”

  “What about my car?” Sandra looked slightly concerned as she turned back toward the Nova.

  “We’ll be taking the car. If we don’t find anything, we’ll bring it back in a few days.”

  Bob laughed softly to himself. If his suspicions were correct, the next time Sandra Cox would see that car again would be in photographs. Large photographs pinned up on an evidence board in superior court.

  Williams moved to his squad car and ordered a police tow truck to the scene. An hour later, the Chevy Nova was hooked up and on its way to the Tampa Police crime lab for a thorough analysis.

  “Nothing we can do about Cox for the time being,” Williams told Bob once the Nova was gone. “Not until the morning.”

  Bob nodded. “Then what?”

  “Well, we really don’t have much to go on. I mean, they’re just a couple of missing teenage boys. They could have given the car away for all we know.”

  Williams paused a moment and saw that Bob expected more of an answer.

  “I guess we could call over to the trucking company and see if Snake really works there,” Williams conceded. “If so, we’ll pay him a little visit. Or maybe the Daytona Police should check into all this. It’s actually their case, right?”

  “Actually,” Bob emphasized the word, “there’s a bunch of people working this case. Everyone from Daytona to the FDLE. But so far only the privately paid people have found out any information.”

  “Yeah. That’s how it is around here. These missing persons cases don’t draw a lot of attention unless something big happens.”

  “Well, from where I stand this thing is very big and growing bigger by the minute.” Bob nodded to the sergeant and began heading toward his car. “I’ll be seeing you.” He turned around and headed toward his car.

  “Hey, Brown,” Williams shouted. “Where you going?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “The trucking company?”

  “You guessed it.”

  Williams thought about this a moment. “Call us if he’s there, will you? We’ll leave it to you.”

  “Sure thing, Williams,” Bob said. “You’ll hear from me.”

  He turned away, shaking his head in frustration. Even now, with a car that was quite possibly stolen sitting in police custody, he couldn’t interest a single officer to commit to the case. He had heard from Mikelson that the sheriffs department and the FDLE were working the case now. Something about it being of special interest to the governor.

  But Bob hadn’t run across any of them in the course of his investigation. So either they were forging a completely new trail or they were still weeks behind anything Bob and his operatives had accomplished. Either way, the boys were still missing and at this point all the agencies in the state of Florida weren’t making a bit of difference to change that fact.

  Bob remembered the sergeant’s words. Just a couple of missing teenage boys.

  But what if they were dead? Wasn’t that a possibility now that they’d found the car and still had received no word from the boys. If there was even a chance that the teens had been killed, there should have been a dozen officers frantic to solve the case. The way Bob interpreted the law, there was enough existing evidence to at least suspect Snake Cox of murder. After all, it was a felony to kill.

  Even if the victims were just a couple of missing teenage boys.

  CHAPTER 26

  On the way to the trucking company, Bob used his car radio phone to call his assistant, Mike Black. It was after midnight, but Mike could hear the urgency in Bob’s voice and he agreed to meet his boss at the trucking company.

  “You get the first shift,” Mike said, his voice still groggy. “I’ve got about six hours of sleep to catch up on.”

  Bob laughed. “With any luck, neither of us will be sleeping.”

  Bob liked to have backup assistance whenever he had to stake out a certain location. That way if one of them needed a break, the other could continue the watch without taking the chance of missing the subject.

  The men met at the Commercial Vehicle Trucking Company outside of Tampa at 2 A.M. and parked alongside each other so as to clearly see the traffic going in and out of the main building.

  They waited throughout the night and into the morning and, finally, when Bob was certain that the company was open for business, he straightened his rumpled suit and walked inside. He could only imagine how he looked, having had no sleep for nearly two days. He took a deep breath.

  “I’m looking for John Cox,” he said politely. “I understand he’s a driver for you.”

  The receptionist nodded. “Yes, Mr. Cox is one of our newer drivers.”

  “Will he be back today?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. She was a middle-aged woman with a squarelike shape. “He’s on a cross-country run and won’t be back for at least three weeks. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Bob was visibly disappointed but he shook his head. “No, that’s all right. Can you give me the approximate date he might return?”

  The woman turned toward a work schedule posted on the wall behind her and studied it a moment. “Looks like he won’t be back until maybe Monday, December eleventh.”

  Bob nodded his appreciation. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

  When he got back to the cars he stuck his head through Mike’s passenger window. “Bad news, Mike. Our man Snake’s gone on a three-week run.”

  “Great.”

  “Really. Now, Mike, let me ask you something. If Mr. Snake is responsible for the boys’ disappearance and gets wind of our investigations, and right now he’s off somewhere in Southern California lying in the sun, what do you think the chances are he’ll come back to Florida in three weeks?”

  “Slim to none?”

  “Yeah. And that’s if we’re lucky.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Bob did not intend to sit idly by and wait for Snake’s return. Instead, he would get to know Snake the same way he had gotten to know the missing teenagers. And the one person who knew more about Snake and his recent actions than any biker in Daytona Beach was his wife. The next morning Bob set out for the Bay Front Trailer Park in Tampa. He intended to catch Sandra in something less than an inebriated state. As he made the drive he wondered if he was wasting his time. The woman was under no obligation to answer his ques
tions. Still, he prayed intently that she would talk.

  At eleven o’clock that morning he pulled up in front of the trailer, climbed out of the car, and knocked on the door. After several minutes the door opened slightly.

  “What?” Her voice was raspy and hard. Bob thought she still sounded slightly drunk.

  “You alone?”

  “Yeah. So, what’s it to you?”

  “Got a few questions for you, ma’am. Mind if I come in.”

  Sandra opened the door slowly and squinted as the light hit her eyes.

  “You got a warrant or something?”

  “No, ma’am. Just a couple of teenage boys been missing for a few months now. Parents are worried sick.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “I think Snake’s involved.”

  Sandra shook her head and started to close the door. “No, sir. Ain’t nothing I’m going to say about Snake.”

  “Wait.” Bob was desperate. He wanted so badly for the woman to trust him.

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything bad about Snake. Just tell me what happened. Tell me how he got the car, that kind of thing.”

  Sandra was silent a moment.

  “Well?” Bob was hopeful. “Can I come in.”

  She sighed loudly and opened the door. “Oh, all right. But I ain’t saying nothing bad about him. You got that?”

  “Fine.” Bob followed her into the dark trailer and waited until she sat down before sitting across from her on the worn sofa. “Okay,” he said, “now why don’t you tell me how you got the red car.”

  Sandra ran her fingers through her uncombed hair and sighed. “He ain’t gonna’ be mad at me for this, is he?”

  Bob shook his head. “You can’t say anything to hurt him, Mrs. Cox. All you’re going to do is help us understand what happened to those kids.”

  She nodded and began to talk, drifting back in time to recall the specifics of August 13, 1978—her twenty-third birthday and the first time she’d seen Snake with the Chevy Nova.

  That day Sandra had been up north in Biloxi, Mississippi, lounging on the living room sofa at her mother’s house. She had been restless and bored without Snake. And the television, with its string of lusty soap operas, did little to fill the afternoon’s emptiness. It had been her birthday, and she hadn’t heard a word from her husband in days.

  The trouble had started a month before that, back in July, she told Bob. The investigator nodded, allowing her to talk uninterrupted.

  July was when Snake began having money troubles. As their finances grew more and more scarce, Snake began yelling at her and pushing her around their mobile home. Finally, things got so bad she put her things together and left for her mother’s house. But after a while that had grown old, too. By the time her birthday arrived, she was wondering how much longer she could live with her mother and she thought about Snake constantly. Despite his faults, Sandra believed that life with him was better than being alone.

  That afternoon she had been missing Snake badly when suddenly, the telephone rang. Sandra stood up and reached for the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe.” The voice at the other end was silky-soft and seductive in a way that sent shivers through Sandra’s body.

  “Snake!” She did nothing to hide the excitement in her voice. There was something dangerous about Snake, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. In her opinion he was the ultimate challenge and she could never get enough of him. Even when he treated her badly.

  “Where are you, baby?”

  “I thought you didn’t care where I was?” He was teasing her and she groaned.

  “I didn’t,” she said. “But I changed my mind. You miss me, baby?”

  “You don’t know how much,” he said, his voice dropping several levels. “Hey, I got a surprise for you!”

  “A surprise!”

  “Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

  “Snake, you remembered!” Sandra was thrilled, all her ill feelings toward Snake gone in an instant.

  “ ’Course I remembered, love. Got you a little surprise.”

  “Well . . .” Her Southern drawl was more dramatic as she played along. “When do I get it?”

  Snake laughed. “A few hours.”

  She gasped. “You mean you’re on your way here?”

  “You bet. Be there by three o’clock.”

  “Oh, Snake. I missed you so much!”

  Snake paused a moment. “Hey, baby. Your momma home?”

  Sandra giggled. “Gone till six.”

  Snake howled into the phone. “Yee-hah! I’ll be there by two thirty.”

  “Hurry, Snake,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Sandra paused a moment and explained to Bob that since Snake had remembered her birthday, she had planned to make it an afternoon he wouldn’t forget.

  Bob ignored the statement. “Then what happened?”

  Sandra continued.

  At two forty-five that afternoon, Snake had pulled up in front of his mother-in-law’s house in Biloxi. Inside the house, Sandra heard his car outside. She ran quickly to the door and opened it. Snake was walking up the sidewalk and he held out his arms.

  “Snake!” She ran to him and then they kissed for a long time until finally she pulled away breathlessly. “Where’s my surprise?”

  Snake turned his body and made a sweeping, gallant gesture toward the car parked out front. “Ta-daa,” he said.

  Sandra stared at the car in confusion.

  “I don’t get it, Snake.”

  “There it is,” he said. “That’s your present.”

  She gasped and ran toward the car. “This?” she asked in shock.

  “Yes. I got you a car for your birthday. Like it?”

  “Like it? Snake! I love it. It’s gorgeous.”

  She opened the driver’s door and slid into the bucket seat. Quickly she turned the key and flipped on the radio.

  “I can’t believe it, Snake,” she said. “It’s really mine?”

  “All yours. Let’s go inside and you can thank me proper like.”

  Sandra fiddled with the car’s gadgets for several seconds and then suddenly turned to her husband warily. “Snake,” she said, doubt filling her voice.

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “Snake, where’d you get this here car?” she asked. “You didn’t steal it or nothing, did you?”

  “Baby!” he said, indignant at her suggestion.

  “Well, where’d you get it?”

  Snake’s face grew serious. “Got it for a kilo.”

  “Snake! You got my birthday present from a drug deal?”

  “It was all on the up-and-up, real fair-like, understand?” His temper had risen at that point. “Coupla guys bought a kilo of prime weed. I got some money and the car. Fair and square.”

  Sandra thought a moment.

  “Hey, don’t worry! I got the papers on it. It’s all legal and everything.”

  Slowly Sandra’s face broke into a smile. She couldn’t be angry with her husband. At least he had remembered her birthday. She looked over the inside of the car and could feel her excitement rising. She had never had such a nice car. She got out of the sporty-looking Chevy Nova and ran her hand over the paint. Besides, it was her favorite colors. Bright red with a nice-looking black vinyl top.

  “How could I complain about a birthday present like that?” she asked Bob, her story complete.

  Bob paused a moment. “What’s the next thing you remember? You came back to Daytona Beach with him, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then what? What made him leave?”

  “Well, I can tell you about all that, I guess. Ain’t no harm in telling a little story.”

  Bob nodded and leaned back. “Go ahead, ma’am. I’m listening.”

  Then Sandra began talking.

&nb
sp; AFTER THEY HAD RETURNED TO DAYTONA BEACH DRIVing the red Chevy Nova, Snake began acting strange. Sandra watched her husband for days, puzzled by his behavior. He was constantly looking out the window, always checking to see if the Nova was still parked outside and nervous about leaving the trailer. Something was definitely wrong.

  All his life Snake had been the personification of cockiness, she told Bob. He had ruled the beaches for years, stirring terror in the eyes and hearts of people of all ages, especially anyone who interfered with his beach-side business dealings. He was a Pagan biker who knew no fear.

  But suddenly, for reasons Sandra could not explain, Snake seemed to have grown afraid.

  There was something else that seemed unusual. Spider hadn’t been by at all. Normally, Snake and Spider were nearly inseparable. They worked the beach side by side, and afterward they would crash at Snake’s trailer. There they would smoke marijuana and sit about the room for hours at a time, their eyes barely open, discussing significant subjects.

  “Such as the color of the sky,” Bob piped in, “or the contents of milk?”

  Sandra wrinkled her forehead. “What?”

  “Never mind. Go ahead. Tell me what happened.”

  Well, Sandra said, another thing that seemed strange was how often Snake seemed to talk about moving to Tampa. Snake had never wanted to move before. He loved Daytona Beach, where he could have everything right when he wanted it. There was the beach, the biker bars, and the best customers around.

  But suddenly he wanted to move to Tampa, of all places. And even more out of character, he wanted to work. A real job, with a boss and scheduled hours and a steady paycheck. Sandra hadn’t been sure if she should be thankful or concerned.

  Then one afternoon, when it seemed as if Snake’s anxiety level would push him over the edge of his definition of sanity, some really strange things began to happen. Snake had walked into the sitting room of the trailer with a handful of tools.

  “Where you going?” Sandra had asked, looking up from her magazine.

  “The car,” came his curt response. His eyes were narrowed angrily and he didn’t attempt to look at his wife. He seemed like he was about to explode.