Dead in the Water (6 page)

A sip of tea and bite of the bread allowed me to recover my usual sassiness. “I don't want to abuse your hospitality, Mr. Egret, but could you explain about the cap?”

He took the chair across from me. His eyes met mine. “I'm not sure I can in a way someone not born in these swamps could understand.”

“
Try her.” Sammy surprised me by this vote of confidence.

“
The swamps are ancient, and they have ways that humans find difficult to accept. The swamp takes things—people, animals, objects—and loses them. Sometimes they appear again. Most times they do not. Whatever enters these waters becomes the possession of the swamp.” He stopped talking and looked down at his hands. He seemed to be off on a tangent, yet in a way, his words did provide some explanation of what happened to the cap.

“
Thank you, Mr. Egret.”

He smiled at me, and I felt encouraged. Maybe I could ask some more questions to clear up the matter of how he got the cap.

He shook his head as if reading my mind. “I'm tired now.” He got up and walked to the back of the house and into the room beyond. I watched him close the door behind him. The room seemed somehow empty without him, and I felt like an interloper in a world I did not belong in and did not understand.

Sammy broke into my thoughts. “I'll walk you back to your car now that you have what you came after.”

I did?

Back at my Mustang, Sammy opened the door for me. His gallant gesture surprised me. It was as if some of his grandfather's manners rubbed off on him.

“
That was my uncle's hat. I'm sure of it.”

He said nothing. Great. We were now back to the Sammy I'd met earlier in the afternoon.

“
You know it was, don't you? The cops would be very interested to find out how he got that cap.” I knew I'd made a mistake the minute the words slid out of my mouth. His earlier friendly expression disappeared in a flash, replaced by the darkest anger I'd ever seen.

“
You should leave now.” He slammed my car door and stalked off toward the house.

The words he didn't speak couldn't have been clearer or louder in my head. “And don't come back.”

I drove out of the small parking area and turned toward home. The sun was at my back and about to slip behind the western edge of the Big Lake. The traffic heading south around the lake was already beyond the Kissimmee Bridge and moving toward their homes in Moore Haven. The waters shone peach and violet in the light from the sun. This was the time of the day I liked the best, when the colors of sunset became true night and washed the land in serenity.

I sighed and slid down in my seat, thinking again of my uncle. It was time to make some calls. I pulled up my contacts on my cell. Grandy first. I hit “connect.” Instead of her comforting voice, I again got the machine. They must have had a charter today. I hated to do it, but I tried my ex-husband Jerry to see if he could get me in touch with Mr. Napolitani, who knew more about mob stuff than anyone. Maybe that was because he was the only gangster in my life, and I sure didn't need more. Again I got voicemail. And again I decided against leaving a message. My current boyfriend, a private investigator named Alex Montgomery, was away on a case in the Panhandle. I should have called him sooner, I chided myself, but things came up. I wondered if he would buy that excuse when he found out I was again at a murder scene, this time of someone I loved.

I sighed so deeply I felt as if my diaphragm would reposition itself somewhere near my Adam's apple. My gaze left the road, and I focused for a moment on the last rays of the sun reflected in my rearview mirror. It hid behind a cloud bank, reappeared for an instant, then dropped beneath the horizon, leaving a streak of silver over the water. As beautiful as the sight was, I knew I couldn't put off calling Alex a moment longer. I swiped his name in my list of contacts and raised the phone to my ear.

Something hit me from behind. The wheel was almost ripped from my grasp. The cell flew from my hand onto the passenger's seat. I struggled to get control of the car as it headed toward the right side of the road and the small canal at its edge. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the grill of a large black pickup behind me. It roared up closer as I wrestled with the wheel, then it hit my rear end again, pushing me closer to the water. I stood on the brake and jerked the steering wheel hard left. The rear tires spun on the gravel but held. The truck stopped several feet behind me and sat there for a minute, then I heard its engine rev, and it headed for me again. I stomped on the accelerator and fishtailed back onto the road. When I rechecked my mirror; the truck was still there and gaining on me. This time it popped me with such an impact that the car shuddered for a moment and slid sideways across the road. I saw the palm tree coming for me, but I couldn't do a thing. The front end hit. The airbags deployed and enveloped me in white plastic. I heard the truck drive up behind me and worried he might again ram my car, making me the bologna in a tree and truck sandwich. It didn't happen.

I heard a door slam and footsteps on the gravel.
What new hell is this?

“
You stay right there,” a voice commanded.

Like I could move. I was so wrapped in airbag I couldn't see or speak. When I turned my head to try to look at my visitor, a hand reached in and pushed my head toward the passenger's side of the car.
And damn, that hurt my neck.

“
Where is it?” The words were muffled as if he or she was holding something over their mouth to disguise the voice.

“
Wha—”

“
This is just a small taste of what can happen if you don't tell us where the money is.”

“
Ugh … guff.” I tried to tell my interrogator I couldn't talk, but how could I? I had a mouth full of airbag.

The hand pressing against my head let go. Thank God. When it returned, I felt something cold and steely against my jugular. A knife.

“
Maybe some persuasion will help.”

The blade touched my neck.
Yikes.
The pressure against my throat increased, then disappeared.
That felt better.
Or maybe I was dead and couldn't feel anything. In case I was still alive I waited for my life to flash before my eyes. All I saw were shoes on sale followed by an image of my credit card being cut in half.

“
Let's get you out of there.” Someone reached in as the airbags deflated, and a strong hand on my arm jerked me from the car.

Okay, so I was still alive and now the guy would kill me. And why not? I had no idea where any money was. Did he mean Uncle Winston's money? Must be.

“
Open your eyes.”

“
No, just do it. I don't want to watch.”

There was silence for a moment.

“
You are one strange woman, Eve Appel.”

I recognized the voice. My eyelids opened. Sammy Egret stood in front of me.

“
You. I should have known. Are you and your grandfather in on this together? And here I believed that crazy story about the swamps taking things. You're taking things. First the cap, and now you're trying to get my uncle's money. That was for the mob, not for you. And I have no idea where it is now.” I was babbling out of fear.

Sammy continued to stare at me. “What are you talking about? Maybe you've got a concussion. I'll call an ambulance. I assume you have a cell. I don't.”

None of this made any sense. First he tried to run me off the road, then threatened to kill me and now he wanted to take me to the emergency room? Maybe I did have a concussion. Or perhaps he was calling his grandfather for backup.

Sammy still had my arm in his strong grasp. I'd play along with him. Once he let go, I could run and flag someone down on the road—although no cars had come by since mine kissed the tree.

“
The cell's on the seat.” I gestured toward the Mustang with my head. Gosh it hurt when I moved my neck.

He let go, but my knees gave out from under me.

“
Whoa there.” He walked me to the offending tree and propped me up against it.

Good, now let's get these legs going.
They refused to obey my command to run. I dropped to the ground and tried to crawl to the road.

“
Where are you going?” Sammy bent and put his arm around my middle, lifting me again to my feet as if I weighed no more than a heron's feather.

“
Here. It's for you.” He handed me the phone. I had a vague memory of connecting with someone before the truck hit me, but who?

“
Eve? Who's the man I just spoke to, and what was all that noise in the background a minute ago?”

Now I remembered who I'd called. Alex was on the other end of the call, and he didn't sound happy I'd gotten in touch.

“
Hi, honey. That's Sammy. My Mustang is a wreck.” And then I began to cry.

So here I was at the hospital for the second time today. This time I was the patient. Sammy had been kind enough to follow the ambulance to the hospital, a gesture that convinced me he was telling the truth when he insisted he had come upon the accident after it happened. He said he saw the back end of a pickup driving off as he arrived but was too far away to get the license number. I believed him.

Frida was here too, and she was not happy with Sammy's description of the vehicle that had rear-ended me.

“
A black truck? Everyone around here drives black trucks or SUVs. Anything else you remember that might help to identify it?”

I sat at the end of an examining table, a large plastic collar around my neck. I wondered how I was going to make this fashion accessory work with my wardrobe.

“
Guys?” I tried to get their attention, but Sammy and Frida ignored me.

“
Guys?” I tried again.

“
Hey!” I banged my foot against the leg of the table. They turned toward me, annoyed looks on their faces, as if I was disturbing something important.

“
Here's something that might help. How about ….”

Frida flapped her arm at me. “How could you see anything? You were slammed against the seat by the airbag. You just rest a bit. The doctor said you have whiplash.”

“
The truck smashed into my Mustang so—”

“
Yeah, sweetie, we know. Another car bites the dust. Looks like the accident totaled it. You're lucky you sustained only minor injuries. Cars can be replaced. Well, I guess you know that, don't you?” Was she making a snide remark about my Miata that blew up last year?

“
That wasn't my fault,” I said.

“
Nobody said it was, although two cars in less than a year? You sure are hard on transportation.”

“
Wait. ‘Minor injuries'? I was almost killed.”

“
Not really. Those airbags saved your life.”

“
Not the accident. The guy held a knife to my throat.”

Frida turned her attention on me. Finally. “Did he? What did he look like?”

“
How could I tell? I was enveloped like a mummy in plastic wrap. You said so yourself.”

“
What do you mean? Did he try something funny with you?” A look of anger crossed her face. “Attempted murder and sexual assault? I'll have his butt.”

“
No, I meant I was shrouded in airbag plastic. I couldn't see a thing.”

“
Right.” She patted my hand and directed her attention back to Sammy.

“
Not just hit and run, but attempted murder. I've got to get this guy. And Eve said he asked about the money. This has to be related to her uncle's murder. Can't you be more specific about the truck?”

I grabbed the bedpan sitting on the counter next to the table and banged it against the wall.

“
I'll find a nurse.” Sammy left the examining room.

I took a deep breath and tried for a reasonable tone of voice. “What I've been trying to say for the past five minutes is that the front end of that truck now has blue Mustang paint all over it. And despite its size, it has to have sustained some damage.”

“
You're right. I guess we didn't think of that, but we were just so worried about you.”

I arched my eyebrow in a look of skepticism.

“
The doctor gave you a solid going over. I apologize for not seeming more sympathetic, but I can do the best for you and your uncle if I find out who killed him and then tried to kill you. I want to get this guy.” Her tone was both defensive and determined, a friend and a cop.

“
Yeah, well, what I don't get is why Sammy was there. When I left him some minutes before, he was furious with me. Then he says he came to my rescue. He did call the ambulance, but why was he following me?” Correction. He called the ambulance after telling Alex to get off the phone. I wondered what Alex was thinking right now. On cue, my cell warbled.

“
Can you find my purse? I hear my cell.”

Frida rummaged around the cubicle, poking her head into the cupboards above the counter, then left, returning with my bag. “It was on the bed next door. Check to make sure nothing's been taken.”