Chapter 3 #2
“Professionals put out a lot of bait in areas known for large gators,” Carter said.
“They usually haul out the entire gator because they can sell the skin and the skulls as well as the meat. Unless you find the bait lines and happen to catch them in the act, you won’t even know pros passed through your area. ”
Walter nodded. “And since you know they’re here, it’s not pros. What did you find?”
“I’ve found skins of some decent-sized gators, which is nothing out of the ordinary and was probably locals. Then I found a couple dead gators with only their tails missing. The rest of the carcass was tossed back in the bayou.”
“That’s awful!” I said.
“The strangest part,” Carter said, “is that they’re all small. None of them were bigger than seven feet long.”
“You’re right,” Walter said. “That doesn’t make sense. Did you find bait lines?”
“I found some rope in trees in a couple places, but it wasn’t baited. The rope was new, though.”
“Maybe they’ll be back to bait it,” I said. “You should do a stakeout.”
“I already did,” Carter said. “Sat in the bayou getting eaten up by mosquitoes half of the night. Had two of the bait lines in sight, but there wasn’t so much as a stir of air. Then this morning, I got a call about two more small gator carcasses in a completely different location.”
“They’re moving around,” Walter said.
“That’s what it looks like,” Carter agreed.
“So they’re not pros,” I said, “but it doesn’t sound like locals, either.”
“They’re definitely not any kind of pro I know about,” Carter said.
“A couple of the kills were big enough for pros, but the skins were left behind. The rest are too small for pros to bother with. Why kill five small gators when two large ones get you the same thing and run you less risk of getting caught?”
I frowned. He was right. It didn’t make much sense. They were taking more chances that they’d be caught by harvesting more gators. So what was the advantage? “How are you going to catch them?” I asked.
Carter shook his head. “I don’t know. The only thing I can do is patrol the bayous and have Deputy Breaux do the same. Sheriff Lee is willing, but he falls asleep like clockwork at ten p.m. so he wouldn’t be much help.”
“What about Wildlife and Fisheries?” Walter asked.
“I’ve thought about it,” Carter said, “but you know how they are. I ask them for help on one issue and they start poking their nose into everything. Next thing you know, I’ve got a bunch of people fined for having an expired fishing license or not having the right kind of life jacket in their boat.
And if they don’t pay the fines, I’ve got to round them up and put them in my jail. ”
“So it becomes your problem anyway,” I said.
“Exactly,” Carter said. “Don’t get me wrong. If it keeps up, I won’t have a choice. Hell, if the state got wind of what was going on now they’d already be pissed I haven’t called them in.”
“Poachers don’t do anything during the day, do they?” I asked.
“Sure,” Carter said. “They might bait lines during the day, then come back at night to see if anything is on it. Why do you ask? Have you seen something?”
I shook my head. “But Gertie has been fishing a lot lately, and that got me thinking that with all the people in Sinful who fish regularly, surely someone’s seen something.”
“Maybe, but there’s a lot of bayou to cover,” Carter said. “I plan on making rounds to the local fishermen as soon as I leave here, the ones I can find, anyway. I’ll probably have to find most tonight, which puts me later getting on the bayou.”
Suddenly, I remembered Hot Rod’s story about almost being shot. “Hey, I was just at Hot Rod Hank’s place with Ida Belle, and he said someone almost shot him when he was out fishing. He said you checked into it.”
Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “What were you doing at Hot Rod Hank’s place?”
“Ida Belle was buying an SUV from him,” I said.
Walter whistled and shook his head. “That’s not good.”
Carter looked somewhat pained. “Please tell me it wasn’t the Blazer.”
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t tell you.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Carter said. “That woman will kill someone with that vehicle.”
I nodded. “After the test ride, I had the same thought. I’m just not sure whether it will be someone outside the SUV getting run down when it’s in warp speed, or someone inside the vehicle having a heart attack. I was close to being in the second category.”
“You’re not making me feel any better,” Carter said.
“Why should you get to feel any better about it than I do?” I asked.
Walter chuckled. “Leave it to Ida Belle to keep things interesting.”
“Things are interesting enough lately,” Carter said, “without Ida Belle adding to the mix.” He looked at me. “But to answer your question, I did talk to Hank and filed a report. And I’ve already considered that he might have run up against the poacher.”
“But why would the poacher shoot at Hank? That would be attracting attention, right? I mean, those guys don’t usually kill people, do they?”
“Had a gator on the line and misfired, probably,” Carter said. “I went to the spot where Hank was fishing and it was pretty secluded. The poacher wouldn’t have seen him from the next channel. The brush was too thick, and there’s a good patch of cypress trees as well.”
“So you have a description of the man and the boat at least,” I said.
“Not much of one,” Carter said. “But yeah, it’s something. Problem is, that description fits a lot of people around here, and it’s not like an Evinrude motor is a unicorn. Lots of people have them.”
“But you’ll check boats, right?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ll check boats, and before you get any ideas, I don’t need you, Ida Belle, and Gertie helping me out. Poachers don’t react well to being caught, and if he thinks you’re onto him, he’ll shut down operation and I’ll never catch him.”
I held my hands up in the air. “I wasn’t thinking about doing anything. I was just talking. Trying to understand the problem and help if I could. By help, I mean offering an opinion standing here in Walter’s store. Not doing anything else.”
Carter studied me for several seconds and finally nodded. “Well, I best get going. I’ve got a lot of people to run down.”
He headed out of the store by the front door this time, and I watched as he waved a man down on the street, probably already fishing for clues. I turned back around to face Walter, who was staring at me, his lips quivering.
“What?” I asked.
His smile broke through. “You’re a damned good liar, but not good enough to fool me. My nephew isn’t quite as experienced, or maybe his feelings for you are clouding his judgment.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“All that ‘I’m just trying to understand the problem’ and ‘the only help I’m offering is right here’ and so on. That might have gotten you a pass with Carter, but I don’t buy a word of it. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I swear. I mean, nothing to do with the poachers, at least not directly.”
“That’s an awful lot of backpedaling for someone who’s not up to anything.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’ve been considering my options for employment if I were to leave my current position, and Ida Belle suggested I would make a good private detective. So I figured the more I learned about crime, I’d have more to think about when considering a change of profession.”
Walter raised his eyebrows and stared at me for several seconds, then nodded. “You’ve definitely got the nosiness for being a PI. And I’m going to make an assumption that your combat and firearm training is well above average.”
“But?”
“Well, I was just wondering why you need to know about alligator poaching. Last time I checked, that wasn’t a big thing up in Yankee territory.”
I frowned and shuffled my feet. “Maybe I’m thinking about not going back to Yankee territory.”
A slow smile spread across Walter’s face. “I can tell it makes you uncomfortable so I won’t push you. But I will say that I think you’d make a fine addition to Sinful, and I would be really happy if my newest and most interesting friend stayed put.”
My chest constricted, and I felt my eyes mist up just a little. I blinked, forcing them back to normal. It was still so hard to process, that people could care so much about me even though they’d only known me for a short amount of time. And in Walter’s case, it was even worse.
“You don’t even know me,” I said.
“I know the important stuff. The rest is just filler. Don’t worry about your groceries. I’ll pack up some of your usual poison and deliver a week’s worth. You’re burning daylight. You best get moving.”
“Moving where?”
“Into the bayou, of course. You want to catch the poacher, don’t you? Prove you can handle small-town crime?”
He grinned, and I hopped off my stool, ran around the counter and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then headed out of the store, waving as I left.
I had a poacher to catch.