Michaela Thompson - Florida Panhandle 01 - Hurricane Season (21 page)

“Might as well,” said Murphy.

As she got mugs from the cabinet and napkins from the drawer, Lily realized that she was angry. She had had about enough of this. Enough of people waving guns around, and wanting to know where other people were, and shooting at each other. Enough of people walking in unannounced with no manners at all. Enough of people who threatened to hurt her.

Without stopping to consider what she was doing, she unplugged the percolator and loosened the top. Then she turned and flung it at the two men.

The coffee spurted out in a brown, steaming sheet, and as she headed for the door Lily saw Murphy put up his hands and Amos duck. Then she was outside, the screen door slamming behind her, running down a track that led away from the beach and into the woods.

The screen door banged again. Her only advantage, a slight one, was her knowledge of the woods. She also knew where she was going even if she didn’t know exactly why.

The storm had torn limbs from trees and strewn them in the way. She dodged over them. Behind her, she could hear Amos and Murphy pounding through the underbrush. She tried to put on a burst of speed in order to get away from them and hide, but they were too close. She began to smell the creek. It wasn’t far now.

“Aubrey!” she called as she burst into the clearing. There was the apiary, the white hives standing amid waist-high vegetation. And—yes—there was Aubrey, wearing his mesh bee veil, his smoker in his hand, at the farthest hive. He looked up at her call.

“Lily,” he said. “I called the Coast Guard. I thought you—”

Amos and Murphy ran out of the woods behind her.

“Who are you?” Aubrey said.

“They’re moonshiners, Aubrey, and—”

“Shut up,” Amos said. He motioned with his gun. “Get out of the way, old man.”

Aubrey came closer. “You got some quarrel with me and my wife?” He stopped next to the hive nearest them. Gray wisps drifted out of the tip of the metal smoker.

“Put that thing down,” said Murphy.

“This?” Aubrey held up the smoker. “All right.” He bent and placed it on the ground. As he straightened, he bumped the hive. “You hear that?” he said.

The air vibrated with angry buzzing. “They’re upset,” said Aubrey. “They didn’t like that storm. They’re upset as they can be.” He drummed his fingers on the hive, and the buzzing grew louder.

“Stop it,” said Amos.

Aubrey thumped the hive again, and the sound grew in volume.

“I said—”

“What I could do,” said Aubrey, “I could pick that thing right up and throw it at you. Now, you could shoot me, but maybe I’d rather be dead than covered with mad bees. Because, I guarantee you, they’re looking to sting.” He placed a hand on either side of the hive.

“Don’t do that,” said Murphy.

“I’ll kill you right now,” Amos said.

“Before I’m hit, this hive will go over,” said Aubrey.

“I said don’t,” said Murphy.

“Then you get out of here, and leave me and my wife alone. We got no quarrel with you.”

Murphy and Amos looked at each other. The buzzing was insistent. They turned and walked back into the woods.

Aubrey removed his veil and mopped his head with a handkerchief.

“You would have hurt your bees,” Lily said.

“I thought you were dead,” said Aubrey. “I want to know what happened.”

Cecil’s motor was more powerful and his boat was bigger than Josh was used to, but by the time he reached the Big Cypress he had adjusted. The local law had been very accommodating, letting him borrow a car and a boat. He suspected it was so he wouldn’t look too closely at the sheriff’s ties with the Calhoun brothers. What did it matter anyway? Josh thought. With Sonny dead and Bo wounded, the Calhouns would be out of commission, at least for a while. And even if Snapper wasn’t prosecuted, his still was in ruins. Amos and Murphy would be picked up eventually. The people of St. Elmo would have to find other sources for corn liquor. Josh didn’t doubt they would manage to do that.

He tried to keep his mind on these matters and not think about anything else. He wished he hadn’t been that way with Lily. He wished she hadn’t—He concentrated on watching the river and trying to gauge how much it had risen during the storm.

The tupelo bushes were half under water when he turned into Tupelo Branch, and muddy water extended into the swamp. When he reached Sue Nell’s camp, he saw that the dock was under water, so he tied his boat to the front steps. She stood on the screened porch watching him, her arms folded.

“You’re all right,” he said as he climbed up.

“It wasn’t that much. Just a big blow.” She cocked her head to one side as he opened the door. “You look like hell.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it
, thought Josh as he kissed her. Grief and confusion fell away in his intense longing for Sue Nell.
I have to
, he thought, his hands gliding over her body.
Never to do this again. I couldn’t stand it.

Afterward, he played with her loosened hair as they lay in the bunk. Now, he thought. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “I shot Bo.”

Her body went rigid against him. She sat up and searched his face. “Is he dead?”

“No. But he’s in jail. I’m the law. He and his brothers killed a man.”

“The law?”

With anguish, he felt her shrink away. “Revenue agent,” he said. “I’ll tell you something else. Diana Landis was killed with Bo’s cast net.”

Her lips moved for a moment before she said, “How do you know?”

“Lily Trulock recognized the weights on it. She knows they were made with Bo’s mold.”

She shivered. He saw goose bumps on her arms, a golden hair sprouting from each.

“I thought maybe Bo killed Diana with that net,” he said. “That’s what I thought at first.”

“And now?”

“You tell me.”

She shook her head. “I thought you knew all along,” she said. “I thought that’s why I was going to bed with you, because you knew. When you told me about finding her body.” She gave a strangled laugh. “I thought that’s what this was about.”

“It isn’t.”

She got up, and he lay without moving and watched her dress. Finally he said, “When I got here the other night, you’d just put the new net in Bo’s boat?”

She nodded. “I worked all day and all night. I wove that damn thing faster than you’ve ever seen. I took his mold, and I made more weights. He hardly ever fishes. I figured he’d never know.”

“He took it out when he went to raid the still on the island, and he saw it was made sloppy. He told Lily Trulock.”

“I took his boat to go see Diana,” Sue Nell said. “I guess because it was fancier than my bateau, to go to her fancy boat in. I wanted to tell her she couldn’t have Bo, no matter if he wanted to go or not.

“I found her all tied up. Hog-tied, like a present. I reckon that preacher boy did that. I saw how easy it would be to whip the hide off her, and I got Bo’s net, and twisted it, and hit her with the weights. You know, she never thought I’d kill her. She begged me not to break her nose.”

“And you kept on.”

“I kept on.”

“Why?”

“I hated her, with those damn poems. I hate him, too. He would have gone, eventually. I hate them both.”

Josh folded his hands behind his head. “And when you saw she was dead you dumped her in the water.”

“I thought she’d sink. It didn’t work, though. I didn’t wait to make sure, and the net got caught.”

“And then I came along and found her,” said Josh. His eyes barely moved when Sue Nell picked up the pistol from the shelf. “Tell me something before you shoot,” he said.

“What?”

“Did you ever care about me at all? Really want me at all?”

“No.”

Josh closed his eyes. He didn’t wince when the gun went off.

Lily sat behind the counter reading the
Saturday Evening Post
, waiting for the mid-morning ferry. Three days had passed since the storm, which had not after all been a hurricane. “Close to a hurricane, though,” Lily had told Aubrey. “Close as I care to get.”

The weather was hot again, but not as hot as it had been before. Something in the air suggested fall. The primary election was in less than two weeks.

Someone walked in. She looked up, saw that it was Josh, and put her magazine down. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, with a white shirt and a tie. His hair was newly cut. He looked like a stranger.

“I was hoping you’d stop in,” said Lily.

“Sure I came. I had to say good-bye.”

“Going back to Tallahassee?”

“For right now.”

He walked around the store, glancing at the shelves, opening the drink cooler. “Have yourself a Coke,” said Lily. He opened one and dug into his pocket. “My treat,” she said.

He took a swallow. “You know they got Amos and Murphy.”

“That was something, wasn’t it? The Coast Guard people spotting them when they got back to the boat?”

“Murphy’s screaming about Snapper being involved in the still, but I’ll bet Snapper gets out of it somehow. And wins the election.” He shook his head.

“Something I wondered,” said Lily.

“What?”

“When Bo was looking for Murphy and Amos. Did you know where they were?”

“Guessed. There was a little inlet where Murphy moored that cabin cruiser. It was a protected place. I figured they were on board, waiting it out.”

“More comfortable than the Elmo House, probably.”

He smiled slightly. “Probably.”

“I heard they’re going to tear the hotel down, now.” She adjusted the lid on one of the candy jars. “Wesley’s daddy came and took him back to Montgomery. I reckon they won’t be putting money for a youth worker in next year’s church budget.”

He finished his drink and put the bottle on the counter, then rocked back on his heels, jingling the change in his pockets. “Well,” he said.

Lily cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about Sue Nell.”

Josh looked away. “What you don’t know. I thought she was going to shoot me. I didn’t even care. If I had thought she was about to kill herself—”

“I guessed that.”

“She must have hated me. You couldn’t do that to somebody unless you hated him.”

“Maybe she didn’t know what else to do. Maybe she didn’t want to kill you, and that was the only other choice she thought she had.”

“Maybe.”

“Yes. Maybe.”

Josh leaned against the counter. “How are you and your husband doing?”

“All right, I guess. He talks more.” She paused. “I wish you the best.”

He colored. “I’m sorry I got mad with you. I didn’t want to believe what you were saying.”

“I know.”

“And thank you for stopping me, not letting me kill Bo Calhoun.”

“Everybody was wrought up.”

They were silent. Then he said, “You ever get to Tallahassee?”

“Not too often. You never can tell, though.”

“If you do, you call me up.”

“Sure I will. And if you ever get back here—”

“Sure.” He stood straight. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Have a good trip back.”

The door closed behind him. Lily sat running her finger down the bottle he had left on the counter, making designs in the moisture on its side. When she heard the ferry’s engine, she took the bottle and put it in the rack. She wiped the ring of moisture from the counter and stood waiting to greet her customers.

THE END

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—P.D. James

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MICHAELA THOMPSON is the author of seven mystery novels, all of them originally published under the name Mickey Friedman. She grew up on the Gulf Coast in the Northwest Florida Panhandle, the locale described in Hurricane Season, and still spends a significant amount of time there. She has worked as a newspaper reporter and a freelance journalist, and has contributed mystery short stories to a number of anthologies. She and her husband, Alan Friedman, live in New York City.