Randy White - Haunted

Brit and Joey-one not as tall up close, but both men lean with calluses and dark tans. Joey, who was at least six-four, had Seminole hair and high cheeks so appeared to be part Indian. Brit was more talkative, but even he preferred sentences of four or fewer words. I believe so… That’s what I’ve heard… Could be, ladies. That’s the way they spoke, reserved, but perceptive enough to read the situation correctly: Two women, after a hard day, had come seeking a cold drink, but nothing more. Oh… and one of the women was a deputy sheriff, so watch it.

Their easygoing manner changed, however, when I mentioned the Cadence house, then skipped ahead to ask, “Do you know anything about the vaccine company? Slew Vaccine and Herpetile? It’s right next to the RV park.”

Genial hospitality was displaced by an invisible door. The door could be opened or slammed, depending on how things progressed. Brit, suddenly cautious, asked, “What about it?”

I said, “Well, we got quite a scare tonight. I could have sworn we saw a big chimpanzee on the property. We were walking the road near the entrance and there it was.”

Birdy leveled a look at me to remind me Chimps don’t wear sandals.

It didn’t matter. Brit sidestepped the question anyway. “Babcock Ranch is near there-ninety thousand acres. We do a lot of work for Babcock, but all they run is cattle and sod. No monkeys, I’ve ever seen.”

I let him see I was amused by that. “But you know the place I’m talking about?”

“There’s a Church of God down the road my folks used to attend. Or I could be confused about what you’re asking.”

Another evasion.

Joey tried to help out. “You grow up in Labelle, there’s not a crossroads between here and Sebring we haven’t rolled through a stop sign or two. But that’s not the same as knowing a place. The name might be familiar. Were you hoping to see snakes instead of monkeys?” A slight smile when he asked but dead serious while he waited.

I said, “We expected not to have the fire scared out of us. I would like to speak with the owner, but not tonight-and not tomorrow either-if there are wild animals roaming around. A phone call would do. If you know his name, that would help.”

Now they were suspicious. Brit, with a shrug, suggested I try the phone book, then asked his Seminole-looking partner, “What time’s it getting to be?”

Ten minutes, tops, we’d been there. I hadn’t even squeezed a lime into the weak vodka tonic I’d requested. I squeezed it now and, after an uneasy silence, asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

Joey resumed the role of a gentleman host. “’Course you didn’t. The Cadence place, there’s a lot of stories we heard as kids. In high school, too. There’s nothing wrong with stories, but what a man keeps on his property is his own business. Circus animals in Florida, there’s nothing new about that around here”-his eyes found Birdy-“but maybe the laws have changed. Either way, it’s none of our business.”

Birdy’s questioning look transitioned into surprise. I understood. He had just hinted that, yes, chimps-monkeys of some type-might be found at the area. He had also refused to snitch on neighbors, even though they lived thirty miles away.

Birdy got it, too. “We didn’t go there to spy or arrest the guy. Hannah wants to meet the owner for business reasons.”

Brit said, “Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s… well, she’s collecting stories about the old Cadence house. Like you said, it’s got quite the history. There was a TV show a while back, they did a piece. Maybe you saw it. That’s the sort of thing she’s after, which means interviewing people who know the area. Like the stories Joey mentioned.”

Voice flat, Brit said, “News reporters. Sure.”

It was a question, not the statement, which Birdy decided to answer. “No, like I told you, I’m a sheriff’s deputy. But I’m off duty, just tagging along. Hannah’s the one who has to keep notes and do all the work.” She turned, her eyes asking, Should we go?

We were sitting on the aft deck of the houseboat, an orange crate between Birdy and me, while the men leaned on the railing. I wasn’t ready to leave, so I put down my drink and looked from Brit to Joey in a frank way. “Let’s back up here. It was rude of me to pry and I apologize. I don’t tolerate people snooping into my life. No reason you should either.”

The modern cow hunters seemed to appreciate that. After a cue from his partner, Brit said, “Already forgotten.”

That wasn’t true, I could tell. “I’m not a journalist either. I want to be clear about why we’re here. I am getting paid to collect stories about the Cadence property, but the job doesn’t include being nosy about your neighbors.”

I waited, expecting one of them to ask, Paid why? They didn’t. The invisible door, I realized, had opened a tad, but the next move was up to me. I said, “Truth is, I inherited a part-time investigation agency from my uncle and this is”-I had to think back-“only the fifth job I’ve had that requires fieldwork. Mostly I’m a light tackle guide out of Sanibel and Captiva.”

“A fishing guide?” Brit asked the question, but both were skeptical.

I said, “October’s my slow time, which is why I’m doing this. Fly-fishing is what I prefer, but I’ll take just about anything that comes along. Except for peak tarpon season. I’m fussy about clients during tarpon season. Last year, I booked more than two hundred full days, plus some casting lessons. And the Lauderdale boat show, two years in a row, I’ve done demonstrations for Sage fly rods.”

They asked a few questions to test me, then asked a few more because they were convinced it was true and they both enjoyed fishing.

“My uncle was a guide,” I said. “It’s a hard way to make a living. He told me, ‘Some weeks, you think you’ll get rich, but you never do. And some weeks, you think you’ll starve, but you never do.’ That’s the way fishing is, so I keep the agency going on the side. I hope I’ve explained myself.”

Brit, while reassessing Birdy’s legs, said, “Yep.”

Joey said it, too-“Yep”-but added, “We get tarpon up here sometimes. Bass, of course, and snook you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’ll remember that when my bookings pick up. Right now, I’m focused on what I’m being paid to do. If you remember stories about the Cadence house, I’d sure like to hear them-unless it’s too late, which I understand.”

Joey, for some reason, gave me a private wink after catching my eye. Then said to Brit, “You’re the one who loves to talk. Tell ’em some of the things we heard back in high school. Bore the ladies while they enjoy their drinks.”

That broke the uneasiness. We became a chatty, sociable little group, although increasingly quiet while Brit told stories of murder and madness and a woman who could be heard weeping from the balcony on moonlit nights. I got out my spiral notebook and asked questions. But had the good sense not to pry when Brit, after eyeing me, said, “I’d be careful walking that area. There’s an ol’ boy there some say is slap-ass crazy-and not in no fun way. Monkeys would be tamer. If I knew it was fact, I’d say his name, but I try to avoid gossip.”

Birdy assured him, “We can take care of ourselves,” while I finished a drink I hadn’t planned on finishing. It was nearly one when we stood to leave. They insisted on walking us back.

I hadn’t anticipated that.

There is a natural pairing process when four people exit a dock: Birdy and Brit led. That was expected. I’m used to following extroverts in such situations. I felt no awkwardness until the pairings were further defined by the distance that separated our rooms, Birdy’s room being three doors down from mine.