Now remember, this is a rough draft for a potential story idea. Today's episode is brought to you by a brain storming session with the Locust Brothers, and some damn persistent dreams of campgrounds, freaking big gators, and ghosts. If you like it, hate it, love it, leave a comment!
Ever forward,
S~
"Your dead guy from the other day died of a single gunshot wound to the head. He was dead before the body hit the water, which might be a good thing for him. He was only in the water there at a rough guess maybe 12 hours, so no chance really for the wildlife to do any damage. We got his employer to ID the body. As far as who done it, the detectives are still looking into that. He must have really irritated a lot of folks, since no one has really had much of anything good to say about him."
"Thanks for that info, Joe. You think there's anything for the town folks to be worried about? Or is this maybe just a case of pissing off the wrong person?" Detective Joe Ferguson didn't have to give me this much info, since I wasn't actively involved in the investigation. Lucky for me, his wife and I grew up together and we had a good professional relationship.
"Chances are this is a one and done type deal, Sam. I wouldn't worry too much, but you know it never hurts to pay a bit of attention to anything that might be a bit on the odd side. I'll keep in touch. Don't hesitate to holler at me if anything strikes you as wrong."
"Gee, thanks for that vote of confidence there, Joe. I'll be fine. Chances are, nothing is going to turn up out here anyway."
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Sam. Something feels off about this situation to me. You don't have any backup, so be smart about this. If your gut says it's wrong, it's wrong, and call me. You know Paulie would not let me hear the end of it, EVER, if something happened to you. I don't need to tell you what a terror my wife can be!"
I had to laugh at that. Paulie, the sweetest lady you could ever meet, also had a temper. Once she got wound up, every one in a 5 mile radius would duck and cover. Fortunately, she was pretty easy going and hard to get riled up. "I'll keep that in mind. It would be pretty fun to see Paulie chase you around like she used to do her kid brother, but I won't do that on purpose to ya, Joe."
We hung up and I set my phone down on the desk. Two days had gone by since close encounters with Bill, Ted, and Julio, and ever since there had been a persistent feeling of unease rolling through my body. As Joe had said, always trust my gut. While his news did nothing to settle my gut, I was hoping breakfast at Merle's Place would. Not the place to be if you were worried about cholesterol and portion control, but it was a hot spot for all the town news. Between Merle and Flo at the diner, we didn't need the Savannah news teams to fill us in on anything. News traveled fast on the gator trail telegraph, and it generally stayed pretty accurate.
I closed and locked my office door behind me, and headed to the truck. It fired up on the first try, and soon I was seated at the bar, blissfully sipping a fresh coffee. Merle had just set down a plate of ham and eggs with buttered toast when my phone rang. Dispatch was calling me to head to a disturbance out at Cypress Grove Lane, between a tourist and one of our not-so-esteemed citizens. I let out a sigh, and slid money onto the bar to pay for a breakfast I didn't think I would get to eat. Merle however, had other ideas, and gave me his special sit right there for two darn seconds look, while he whisked my plate away to the back. He returned in a few moments with my eggs and ham on a freshly made biscuit, my coffee in a to go cup, and told me to scram and go get Crazy Connie yanked back in line. She was bad for business in the town. How he knew already where, who and why I was going was beyond me. Sometimes I thought he had a bit of ESP going on.
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| Photo credit to Littlest Locust |
I flipped on my lights and headed through the dusty main drag, out to the edge of the swamp where Crazy Connie had a bait and tackle shop called Two Bobbers and a Rod. Now, given her choice of venue, one would think she would welcome the eco tourists, and try to up sell them on bait, waders, tackle and other odds and ends like mosquito nets. Instead, she chose to be argumentative, and make a game out of how pissed she could get the tourists. There were days it seemed like she was bent on being a one-woman wrecking-crew, out to truly destroy the towns main source of income from the tourists.
After about a 20 minute drive, I pulled up outside Crazy Connie's shop, to see a red-faced gentleman, spitting and sputtering standing in the parking lot, while Connie stood on the porch of her store, yelling and waving her arms at the former customer. I radioed in to Lola at dispatch that I was on scene, and she gave a chuckle, betting that Rhonda at full steam already.
"Mornin' Connie, what seems to be the issue today?"
"The issue is this woman is out of her mind crazy, Officer! She verbally attacked me when I asked if there was a swamp guide located near here. Told me to carry my, and I quote, Yankee ass. back on up north where I came from and leave the swamps to the local folks. Then she told me to get the hell..."
"Hang on sir, let me get Connie's side of the story. If you would be so kind as to wait over by my truck, I'll talk with her and see if I can't get her to calm down some, and we will get you all set. Give me just a moment."
"But..." he started again, but soon hushed as I pointed at my truck while giving him a glare.
"Now, Ms. Connie. How can I assist you today? Care to fill me in on why you let that poor man have an earful this early in the morning?"
Connie crossed her thin arms over her chest and glared at me. She snorted, and shook her head. "He's got no damn right coming down here, tryin to tell us how to run our business and how to set up a tour guide! Them damn Yankees are all alike, thinkin they own the joint the minute they set foot over the Mason-Dixon line!"
I stood and listened to Connie rant a bit, and counted to ten in my head. There was some days when a visit with Connie was easily resolved. Today had all the indicators that it was not going to be that kind of day. As she droned on, I could see the poor tourist standing in the shade, looking more and more bewildered.
"Alright, Connie. Did this gentleman attempt to steal anything? Did he accost you? Did he verbally threaten you with bodily harm?"
"Well, no, he didn't so much say anything, it was more just..."
"Stop right there, Connie. We have been over and over this. You have got to stop harassing folks who come to see the swamp. There is nothing wrong with the tours they take. Do you want to see our town dry up and blow away?" Connie shook her head no. "OK then, I'm going to tell you one last time. Leave. These. People. Alone. If I have to come out here, again, you are going to be charged with wasting police time, harassment, improper conduct, and don't forget that over due insurance on your vehicle that you still have not taken care of. Get it straight, Connie, or next time you come with me in a pair of shiny new bracelets. Understand?"
Connie nodded, and stormed inside her shop, slamming the door behind her. Soon as the door shut, the closed sign was flipped over and we heard the locks click in place.
"Is she always like that? I mean, she's crazy! That woman is a nuisance!"
"Well, you won't get any arguments from me on that one, sir. Do you wish to press charges? Or are you going to go ahead and give Earl a call for your tour? He does a decent job, and won't get you lost."
I couldn't bring myself to tell this poor guy about the last tourist getting up close and personal with the local wildlife and a dead body. Hopefully, Earl had a new route plotted out, so things could calm down a bit.
"Nah, I'll let it go for now. It's not right to persecute a crazy old lady. I'll just go on about my day and find another tour."
The sun was high and it was getting mighty hot and humid by the time the situation at Crazy Connie's was resolved. I was thirsty, sweaty, grumpy, and could not shake this feeling of being watched again. Any time I turned my head to look if someone was watching, all I caught was a flash of a shadow. A chill ran down my spine and goose bumps sprang up on my arms. Too much time out here near the edge of the swamp, and I felt like I was going as crazy as Connie had. Now, Connie had not always been quite this much of a trial on our little town. Before her husband died about 8 years back, she was feisty but at least polite to the tourists and locals alike. Lately though, her ranting and raving was getting serious, and quite a few of us were worried about her welfare. Connie still insisted a ghost had killed her husband while they were out marking trails in the swamp, doing a survey for Georgia Department of Natural Resources. Roscoe apparently had the lead boat, holding their marking equipment, with Connie following him in a small skiff. The DNR said Roscoe had slipped and fallen into the swamp in a deep spot, and drowned. Connie, the only eye witness, said a grey figure came from the mist and pushed him in, and held him under the water. She claimed they had seen the ghost of the swamp, who the locals called LeRoy, the night before they set out. Everyone knows, according to local legend, that if you see old LeRoy, head the other way as disaster will follow him.
I wasn't so sure about a ghost named LeRoy, but I did know it was time to head out. The heebie-jeebies were setting in hard, and I was tired of feeling like someone was watching. As I made my way out in my truck, a glimmer on the water caught my eye. I took my foot off the accelerator and looked out into the swamp, trying to see what had caused the bright reflection. Only thing I saw though, was the giant gator Earl had named Bill, with what I presumed to be Ted not far behind him. Bill held eye contact and eased towards the roadway where I had stopped. That had to be the source of my unease, those two gators again. Time to call in the gator trapper and get those two removed before they caused real trouble.
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