by Jim Riley
Bobby looked at her from head to toe.
Dang. I feel like a horse up for sale. Before you know it, he's gonna ask me to open my mouth so he can look at my teeth.
He finished his inspection and looked her in the eyes.
“You need a few changes.”
Niki took a step backward. “Huh? What the—?”
“I'm sorry. Sometimes I come across as blunt. What I meant is your attire needs a few changes. We're having a horrible season for cottonmouths and that short-sleeve shirt may be a problem if you reach into the wrong hole.”
Niki let out the breath she was subconsciously holding. “Okay.”
“What size shoes do you wear?”
“Six in most styles.”
“Hold on.” Bobby walked back to his truck and rummaged through the attached stainless steel tool box. After some time, he pulled out a pair of thick leather snake leggings and a suede leather jacket. He returned and handed them to Niki.
“I don't have anything in size six and the jacket is gonna be a tad big, but I recommend you wear it.”
Niki took the leggings and the jacket from him.
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Where do you want to start?”
“Right here. Let's sit on that bench, and you tell me what you know. I got most of it from John, but I'd rather hear it straight from you.”
After settling on the bench, Niki stared across the channel at the mysterious Spirit Island. In her brief research since her conversation with John, she'd learned about some legends about this remote spot in the middle of the most renowned river in America. Most involved the usual ghosts, goblins and swamp beasts like the Rougarou. But one thing caught her attention. Eighteen people had disappeared from the island never to be seen again in the last two decades alone. If she could not find Mr. Welker, he would be number nineteen.
Tuesday Morning
West Feliciana Parish
“Holy Mother of Pearls,” Niki shouted.
She sprang off of the bench as though a bottle rocket exploded in the seat of her pants. After two long jumps, she turned expecting to see Bobby right behind her.
Instead, he sat glued to the bench, staring at the black and brown water moccasin coiled under the bench. It was the same one that struck her leggings only moments before. The lean detective had been so engrossed in the stories Bobby was telling about his father she had not noticed the serpent before the strike.
“Watch out,” she said coolly. “That's one of those snakes you warned me about.”
“If I just sit here, he will think I'm his friend,” John said.
“My friends don't bite me,” Niki responded.
“He only did that because you dang near sat on him. You need to be more careful where you place that pretty little butt of yours.”
Niki looked at the snake, then at Bobby.
“But you sat right next to me.”
“And I looked under the bench on my side before I sat down. You didn't.”
“Well, excuse the heck outta me for intruding in his space,” Niki laughed. “Next time, I'll call ahead for reservations.”
Bobby chuckled. “Don't forget. They were here a long time before our forefathers settled along the mighty Mississippi River. Something tells me they'll be here a long time after we're gone.”
Niki pointed under the bench.
“I hate to tell you this, but your friend is getting closer to you. From the looks of things, I'd say it doesn't appear that he wants you in his space either.”
Bobby looked down at the snake and then back at Niki. His whole demeanor changed. Then he looked back down at the water moccasin.
“Don't make any sudden moves,” Niki cautioned.
Bobby's eyes looked like saucers.
“I wasn't planning on any unless you consider peeing in my pants a sudden move.”
“Not sure that's a good idea. Might just piss him off enough to strike. You might want to hold it for a bit.”
“Maybe I can jump up and out at the same time,” Bobby said. “If I do it quick enough, he might not hit me.”
“Can you move at almost thirty times the speed of gravity?” Niki asked.
“Uh—don't think so. Why?”
“Because that's the acceleration of a cottonmouth,” Niki replied.
“The sucker's about to bite me. What do I do?”
Niki did not reply. Instead, she took a cautious step forward. The deadly viper was only about eighteen inches from Bobby's foot, constantly slithering closer. Its forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth, gathering the information about the unusual animal sitting on the bench. Bobby looked like he was about to bolt at any second.
She smiled at him, then poked her left hand to the outside of his leg.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bobby hissed.
Again, Niki said nothing. She began to wave her fingers. The snake lost all interest in Bobby, and focused on the new threat. The cottonmouth coiled tight as ever. Then it struck at Niki's hand. Or rather where Niki's hand once had been. With her right hand, she grabbed the snake behind its head and pulled it from beneath the bench.
“See, that wasn't hard, was it?” she smiled.
Bobby closed his gaping mouth, and stared at her holding the snake.
“If you say so. Now that you've got him, what are you gonna do with him?”
Niki carried the snake to the water's edge.
“Let him go for a swim. Water moccasins love a good swim. Makes them calm down.”
She tossed the black and brown serpent into the muddy waters and watched the current carry it down toward Baton Rouge.
Bobby still sat plastered to the bench, looking around in every direction. “Do you have any more of your friends around? I don't want to interfere with your playtime with them.”
Niki grinned. “There are thousands or hundreds of thousands along the banks of the Mississippi. Most of the time, they retreat and hide before people see them. They can't eat us. We're too big. So the only time they are a danger to us is when they think we're a danger to them.”
“That's what I thought,” Bobby said. “But that snake was about to attack me when I had done nothing to provoke him.”
“You were sitting in his space. Imagine if someone came in off the street and sat on your sofa. You probably wouldn't like it either.”
“Next time, he oughta put up a No Trespass sign,” Bobby chuckled.
Nike was about to respond when her phone rang.
Tuesday Morning
West Feliciana Parish
“Hello,” Niki answered the cell.
“Niki, this is John. Where are you?”
“Across from Spirit Island at the landing.”
“Be careful,” John said. “A deputy was down there yesterday morning. They found his body downstream by a dock in Port Allen.”
“What happened to him?” Niki asked with more than a little apprehension.
“Water moccasins. They bit him several times. Strange for a bunch of snakes to get him at the same time. I don't see one snake hanging around long enough to bite him that many times. After one or two nips, they usually run out of venom and retreat.”
“One was under the bench along the river. He got real close to Bobby.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just mad at myself for letting that rascal sneak up on me like that. I haven't even reached Spirit Island yet, and I could already be dead. Kinda spooky.”
“That's why I called. I wanted to make sure you're all right. As long as you're with Bobby, I guess I have nothing to worry about.”
Niki was standing with her back to Bobby. He did not see the strawberry-blonde roll her eyes. She wanted to laugh at John's comment, but did not want to embarrass her client.
“Bobby was brave. The snake didn't bother him for a second,” she lied.
“He was just trying to impress you. His valor attracted my sister to him. Maybe you should worry more about Bobby than the snakes.”
“Ha. Don't forget that I've known him for a long time. Even longer than my sister has. Some day, I'll share some stories with you.”
Niki glanced at Bobby. He was still watching the snake drift down the river.
“John, is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Not that I know. That's why Bobby hired you. To find out. I'll let you get back to your business. Take care and don't forget the ballgame Friday night. I don't want to be eating hot dogs by myself.”
With that comment he disconnected before Niki could assure him she would never forget a date with him.
Bobby turned to her. “John, huh?”
Niki nodded. “He just wanted to make sure I wasn't disappointing you.”
Bobby walked up to where Niki was standing.
“He's got a special interest in you. I bet he doesn't check up on the other private investigators he works with.”
“I—uh—I don't know. John and I haven't seen each other or been that close in years. He went to Tech in Ruston and I ended up in Hammond at Southeastern. We haven't even talked to each other since high school.”
“Your decision or his?” Bobby asked.
“Uh—” Niki felt uncomfortable. “Both I guess. He got involved with another girl and I couldn't interfere with that. They were really serious.”
“I know about Donna. John was never gonna marry that girl. I would have bet my life on that.”
Niki gazed across the channel at Spirit Island.
“You're paying me a lot of money to find out what happened to your father. Maybe we should focus on that instead.”
“No problem. Did John have any updates?”
“Yesterday morning, a deputy came up here to look around. I guess that was what he was doing, anyway. They found his body down across the river in Port Allen. Looks like he died from multiple snake bites according to John.”
Bobby shook his head.
“Dang it. I was down by Sorrento where they found Dad's boat. I should have been here.”
“Can't be two places at once. If I were you, I would have gone to the boat myself.”
“Yeah, but—”
The report from a rifle shot cut off his reply. Niki felt the bullet breeze by her ear and heard it strike the bench a foot behind her. She and Bobby dove to the ground. They crawled for cover behind the bench just as the second bullet clipped the top slat.
Niki peeked around the end of the bench with her Smith & Wesson .38 double-action revolver.
“That wouldn't be another one of your friends, would it?” she asked without looking at the cowering Bobby. He was trying to get a .357 magnum out of its holster with little success. His hands did not work in a coordinated fashion.
Finally, he got the Redhawk clear and fired three shots in quick succession across the channel in the direction of the shooter. Another report rang out from across the span. The front windshield of Bobby's F250 shattered into pieces. The contractor groaned when he glanced at his prized vehicle.
“Dang it. That's a brand new truck.”
He rose while looking at the damage. Niki pulled him back down.
“If you don't stay down, it will be your last truck. Why are they shooting at us?”
Bobby continued to stare at his broken windshield.
“I'm sure it's only one person. I know it's only one rifle, anyway. Get back on the phone with John and let him know we might need a little help.”
Niki hit the redial on her cell. It rang and rang until rolling over to the voice message center.
“Hey, we are being shot at. Can you come out here?” she shouted into the phone.
She closed the connection and continued to crouch behind the bench. The channel was about two hundred yards wide. An easy shot for an accomplished marksman with a rifle. An impossible shot for a detective with a.38 revolver. The shooter had them pinned with nowhere to go.
Tuesday Morning
Mississippi River Channel
Across the channel, the shooter smiled. He could have killed both of them, but that was not his intent. At least not now. He needed to slow the progress of the hunt for Henry Welker until he could tie up other loose ends in a knot. That was what he had to do.
Tucking the rifle under the seat of his camouflaged boat, he used the electric trolling motor to slip out from under the cover of the huge live oak limbs overhanging the water's edge. He moved up the far bank of the channel unseen by Niki and Bobby.
On the other side, Niki and Bobby waited patiently. Every few minutes, Bobby fired another volley of three shots at the opposite bank. His bullets fell harmlessly less than halfway across.
Niki finally stood.
“What are you doing, girl?” Bobby asked.
“He's not there anymore,” Niki replied. “He hasn't fired a round in close to twenty minutes.”
Sirens blasted through the silence next to the river. Two squad cars flew past the gate and screeched down by the bench. Four deputies leaped out from the cars, two carrying automatic rifles and the other two toting heavy shotguns.
Niki walked back to the cover of one car. Bobby, not trusting Niki's assertion that the shooter was no longer there, covered the ground more quickly.
One deputy took a pair of Zeiss binoculars and carefully scanned the other side of the channel. He shook his head, indicating that he could not spot the shooter. An unmarked car careened into the small lot. John d'Iberville jumped out and raced to Niki's side.
“Are you okay?”
Real concern showed in his eyes.
“I'm fine,” the long-legged detective replied. “Looks like you left out a few details when you described this job to me. Like that I might not live to cash the check.”
John placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I didn't know. I swear. I would never put you in harm's way. You should know that.”
“I believe you,” she replied.
John nodded, squeezed her shoulder and eased up behind Bobby.
“We need to get over there and introduce ourselves properly.”
Bobby glanced over his shoulder at the channel.
“We've only got one boat, and it belongs to me.”
John nodded, his deep eyes penetrating the fog around his friend.
“Okay. Me and you then. There's no sense if making all these people sitting ducks for that fellow, if he's still there. If he is still there with a high-powered rifle, we won't stand much of a chance.”
Bobby laughed.
“We might have more than you know. My boat has a stainless steel front end. We reinforced it in case we hit a floating log in the middle of the night. A midnight swim in the Mississippi is not ideal for one's future.”
“How reinforced is it?”
“It'll withstand a good bullet,” replied Bobby.
“From the sound of the shots, this guy is shooting a six millimeter or a .243.” Niki injected.
“How do you know that?” John asked.
“Dad and Samson took me hunting every weekend when I was little,” Niki replied. “I learned the difference in how a thirty-ought-six sounds and a six millimeter.”
“You know Samson?”
John had frozen at mention of the chief's name.
“After my parents were murdered when I was sixteen, I went next door and lived with Samson and his wife, Liz. He's been like a mentor to me.”
“I heard about the murder. So sorry. But I didn't know you knew Samson.”
“He and Dad were inseparable back then. They went fishing or hunting every chance they got. Since Dad wanted a boy and got me, I ended up being treated like a son.”
“You'll have to fill me in later. Bobby and I have to go over there and find out who the rude guy is.”
“I'm going,” Niki took a step toward Bobby's boat.
John grabbed her shoulder.
“No, you're not. It's way too dangerous for a girl.”
&n
bsp; Niki smiled before replying.
“And why is it more dangerous for a female than a male? Do I get a hint of male chauvinism here?”
John stumbled and bumbled for a response. Finally, he got his twisted tongue untied.
“You know that's not what I meant. I meant it makes no sense to risk a third life. Bobby can drive the boat and I can give him cover.”
“And who will cover you when you run out of bullets?”
Niki knew she had the upper hand. She cocked her head to one side while waiting for the reply.
“Uh—”
That was the only reply John could come back with.
“That's what I thought you might say. I'm going with you. Besides, Bobby is paying me a bunch of money to find the truth. I'm betting the truth is right across this channel on Spirit Island.”
“Guys, if you're through with this lover's spat, we need to get going,” Bobby settled the argument.
The three of them climbed into Bobby's boat while the four deputies took up shooting positions behind the squad cars. Niki squeezed in beside John in the front. She rested the S&W .38 on the front lip, eyeing the far bank.
As they neared the land mass, Niki felt the ominous vibes emanating from the mysterious Spirit Island. The thick underbrush and briars running along the landing area could have hidden a horde of snipers. Even an army battalion, much less a single sniper. She felt the tension in her body take hold as the boat hit firm ground.
Suddenly, a swirl erupted in the water at the back of the boat. Niki gasped as the swirl grew into a huge green mass boiling from the murkiness. A mouth full of sharp teeth erupted only inches from Niki. She recoiled back into John, her revolver trained on the beast.
“Oh, my god,” Bobby exhaled from the back of the boat.
“It's okay,” Niki replied.
The enormous reptile tried to get over the edge of the boat. John pulled his Glock 9mm, and pointed it at the alligator.
“Neither one of us will hurt it with these pea shooters,” Niki said.
She grabbed a paddle and slammed it down on the animal's snout. It fell back in the water, but did not stay there long. When it erupted once again, she spun in a tight circumference and kicked it with her foot. The alligator flew back from the boat. It submerged, and they could see the ripples in the water when it retreated.
