Landfall (2 page)

“How you know?” she snapped. “Water come up over here, dump the shark in the yard. I won’t tolerate it, me.”

“We’re too far from the bay,” Boudreaux said. “All the sharks will be downtown.”

Amelia looked over her shoulder at him from the sink. “I got forty minutes now, to take this woman to the doctor.”

Miss Evangeline poked at her lower plate with her little tongue and fastened her magnified eyes on the back of Boudreaux’s paper. “You thinkin’ it’s a good day to sass me some,” she said.

Boudreaux lowered his paper and looked at her mildly. “No, I’m just pointing out to you that a little surge from some Cat 1 out in the Gulf isn’t going to make it all the way over here to Avenue D.”

“You say that now. But when the shark swimmin’ all ’round my mango, I ain’t gon’ put up with it, me. I buzz his face off and make me some gumbo.”

“That’s a good idea,” Boudreaux said, catching Amelia glaring at him. “You stand in your house shoes out there in the flooded yard and start shooting your Taser around.”

“You makin’ fun of me, then,” she said.

“No, I’m simply pointing out a gaping flaw in your offense,” he said.

“Stop talkin’ to her,” Amelia said, and Boudreaux winked at her, then gave Miss Evangeline a sly smile.

“Smile at me again,” she said. “I come there and slap your head right off your neck.”

Boudreaux picked his paper back up, and had a sudden vision of having to ride along with Amelia and Miss Evangeline to the hospital. The local paper would love to report that the town gangster had been beaten up by his hundred-year-old nanny.

The florist downtown wasn’t very far from Boudreaux’s low-country plantation house in the historic district, but then, few things were.

Apalachicola had a population of fewer than three thousand people, and while there were some outlying, semi-rural residential areas, most everything was located within the confines of Apalachicola proper, which took up just a few square miles on the bay.

The downtown area put many people in mind of a New England fishing village, and like many New England fishing villages, it had turned most of its old warehouses and industrial buildings into quaint shops, galleries, and seafood restaurants.

Maggie Redmond and her sixteen year old daughter Sky had treated themselves to breakfast at Café con Leche around the corner, and walked the couple of blocks to the florist on Commerce Street.

Maggie and Sky could have passed for sisters from a distance. At thirty-seven, Maggie had a youthful appearance, thanks to her own mother’s genetic generosity, and she and Sky were both small and slim, with long, dark brown hair. They also shared the same green eyes, though Sky had the longer lashes and a cute cleft chin from her late father.

The bell over the door jingled as Maggie and Sky entered, both of them carrying to-go cups of
café con leche
. The flower shop was owned by William and Robert, and William, a small, slight man in his fifties with unnaturally-blond hair, was behind the counter at the back.

“Good morning!” he crooned, and looked up from the counter. “Oh, hello.” He looked over his shoulder and called to the back. “Robert, the little sheriff is here.”

Sky snorted just loudly enough for Maggie to hear, as the two of them approached the counter.

“Hi, William,” Maggie said.

“Hidy-ho, Sheriff,” William said.

“I’m not the Sheriff. I’m just a lieutenant,” Maggie said, smiling politely.

“Whatever,” William said, dismissing that with a wave. Then he raised his eyebrows at Sky. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, is this your progeny?”

“Yes, this is my daughter, Skylar.”

Robert walked out from a back room just then, smoothing his black hair and coming to stand head and shoulders over William.

“Oh, look at that, she’s your spitting image,” he said.

“The chin, though, I think,” William said.

“Yeah, the chin,” Robert agreed. “But beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Sky said shyly. She had always been uncomfortable with any kind of compliment.

“So. Tell me you’re not here about something gruesome and bad for tourism,” William said.

“No, I’m just here for flowers,” Maggie said.

“Oh, good, because we’re just getting back on our feet,” William said. “Things have been downright peaceful around here since you shot the guy from GQ.”

“Uneventful,” Robert expounded.

They were referring to State’s Attorney Patrick Boudreaux, Bennett Boudreaux’s elder son, whom Maggie had shot after he had shot the actual sheriff, Wyatt Hamilton.

“Yes. Well,” Maggie said.

“You must be so proud of your mom,” William said to Sky. “She’s like…Rooster Cogburn, but with a uterus.”

“Or Jack Lord,” Robert said, and Maggie wished they’d come up with a woman, or at least a pretty man.

“Yeah, she’s pretty bada—” Sky started, then jerked her head toward her mother as Maggie gasped. “Sorry. Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“So what can we do for you today?” William asked Maggie.

“We need a bouquet, something simple. Do you have any wildflowers or something similar?”

“Hm,” William said, tapping a finger on his chin.

“No wildflowers, but how about some pansies and Sweet William?” asked Robert.

“Oh, yes!” William said. “We’ve got some beautiful Sweet William. They’d be very nice with some pansies.”

“Purple pansies,” Robert added, and walked towards the room in the back.

“We should throw some of the orange larkspur in there as well,” William said. “For height.” He looked at Maggie. “What kind of vessel are you putting these in?”

“Um, none, actually,” Maggie said. “We’re just going to the cemetery.”

“Oh,” William said, looking crestfallen. Then he perked back up. “Well, we still want the larkspur.”

“I have the larkspur,” Robert said from the back.

Maggie watched Sky as she wandered around the shop, and stopped to look at bridal bouquets behind glass. The bell over the door jingled again, and a man Maggie didn’t know walked in hesitantly.

Their eyes met, and he seemed surprised to see someone else in the store.

“Good morning!” William sang out behind Maggie.

She watched the man as he approached the counter. He was about five-ten, slightly built, and wore a thin flannel shirt over his jeans, despite the August heat. His dark brown hair was streaked with gray, and hung over his collar. He was probably about fifty-five, but it looked like the last fifty years had been rough ones.

Maggie wandered over to Sky as the man approached the counter.

“How may I help you, sir?” she heard William ask.

“I want some flowers. Nothing expensive,” the man said, his voice quiet, but rough and sandy.

“May I ask the occasion?”

“What? Nothin’ special. Just something for the kitchen table.”

“Oh. Well, how about some mums? They’re just coming in.”

“How much?”

“We can make a nice little bunch for you, with some Gypsophila and a little Dracaena Massangeana. How does that sound?”

“Expensive.”

“Twelve ninety-nine,” William said flatly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s all right then,” the man said.

Maggie started as Sky elbowed her gently in the side. “Mom, that dude’s checking you out,” she said in a whisper.

Maggie looked over her shoulder and caught the man looking over his. She felt a little tingle as the hairs on her forearms bristled. He didn’t look threatening, but there was something about him that she didn’t like. His eyes narrowed just a bit, then he turned back to face the counter. William was at a table on the back wall behind the register, putting together the man’s bouquet.

“Here we go,” Robert said, coming back out to the counter with Maggie’s flowers.

“Oh, that’s nice,” William said over his shoulder.

Maggie walked back to the counter and stood at the register. She didn’t look, but she felt the stranger watching.

“Those are really pretty, thank you,” she said. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nine ninety-nine,” Robert said, then glanced at the strange man. “Law enforcement discount,” he said.

The man glanced over at Maggie and she looked down, grabbed her wallet out of her purse.

“Sky?” she called, looking over her shoulder. Sky walked over, and Maggie handed her daughter her coffee. She glanced back over at the man to find him watching Sky, and heat welled up in her chest. It didn’t match the cool look she gave him when he caught her eye.

Maggie handed Robert her debit card, and he began to ring her up. “So are you going to batten down the hatches in case that storm turns into something?” he asked her.

“Well, I might batten them down, but we’ll be across the state,” she said. She felt the stranger looking at her.

“Where are you going?’ William asked over his shoulder.

“My parents took a cruise to the Bahamas for their anniversary. They’re getting back into Jacksonville tomorrow at ten. We’re going to head over there early tomorrow morning to pick them up, then we’ll all go over to Orlando for a few days,” Maggie said.

“Ugh, are you going to Disney?” Robert asked. “It’ll be a madhouse the last week before school.”

“No, just relaxing a little,” Maggie said, feeling a little bad about lying.

“Well, have fun,” William said. “Mind those freaks on I-4. Bunch of heathens.”

“Maniacs, those people,” Robert agreed.

Maggie smiled and took her receipt from Robert. “We will. Thanks, guys.”

“Toodle-oo,” William said.

“Bye,” Robert said.

Maggie glanced over at the stranger as she turned away, but he was staring out the window on the other side of him. She and Sky walked out the door, the bell tinkling above them, and stepped back into humidity that almost required goggles.

“Dude, that guy was totally scoping you out,” Sky said once they were on the sidewalk.

“No, I think he was looking at you,” Maggie said.

“Ew.”

Maggie took her coffee back from Sky and took a swallow. The guy had set off her radar a little, and she was glad to be out of his line of vision. She was glad for Sky to be out of his line of vision.

Inside the store, William handed the stranger his change and thanked him, and the man walked out without a reply. Robert came to stand next to William as they watched him walk out the door.

“We don’t like him,” William said. “Creepy.”

“Skeevy, even,” Robert added.

“And I’ll have you know that the little sheriff was still in here on behalf of a dead person.”

“Always about the dead,” Robert agreed.

T
he sun was high and blazing over the cemetery when Maggie and Sky got out of the Cherokee and walked across the brittle, late summer grass. There was a decent breeze off the Gulf, and it rattled the fronds of the date and Sabal palms scattered amongst the Live Oaks.

Maggie led Sky over to the headstone at the edge of the nearest section, the simple bouquet of flowers in her hand. They stopped before the small marker.
Grace Carpenter, 1996-2015
was all that was engraved there, and Maggie felt it left so much unsaid.

Back in June, Maggie had shot and killed Grace’s boyfriend, a local meth dealer, just as he was about to shoot her. Grace had been trying to help Maggie and Wyatt put Ricky Alessi away, so that she and her young children could have a better, safer life. But Children’s Services had taken her children away, and Grace had fluttered into the Gulf from atop the bridge that crossed over to St. George Island. Maggie saw it in her dreams.

“Was she pretty?’ Sky asked beside her.

“No,” Maggie answered. “But she was beautiful anyway.” She laid the bouquet on Grace’s grave and straightened back up. “You would have liked her, I think, even though you weren’t very much alike.” She looked over at Sky. “You’re tougher than she was; you don’t scare easily. She was terrified, but she was brave.”

Sky nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Really sad.”

Maggie looked at her daughter’s profile a moment. “Sky, I know you’re really smart, and you have great friends. But you’re almost seventeen. Pretty soon, you’ll be off at college, out on your own. Please don’t ever fall for some ‘bad boy’ because you think he’s kind of cool.”