Geezer Paradise (16 page)

             
"They won't bother us as long as we don't get too close," Willey assured me.  I kept a close watch on those lizard eyes.  Oscar was playing with the water bugs skimming along on top of the water.  I reached out and pulled him back.  I didn't want the alligator coming around looking for a hairy lunch.

Chapter Ten   

IN THE LATE afternoon Willey's phone rang.  It was Eduardo.  He was excited about the photos.  Again he told us to just sit tight until we heard from him.  Right after Willey disconnected, the phone rang again.  It was Mary, and I could tell by the look on Willey's face it wasn't good news.

             
After he closed his cell phone Willey said, "Mary told me the empty unit a couple of houses down from your place was torched last night.  It looks like they were looking for one of our places, but burned the wrong house by mistake.  She said it was an empty house that exploded in the middle of the night, and the fire department had a hell of a time putting it out.  It was definitely arson."  We sat there quietly trying to absorb this new assault. 

             
"I guess we should have expected it considering what happened at Ransom's," I said.  "Neither one of us have insurance.  If they burn down our houses we'll really be homeless."

             
"Well, the fish aren't biting," Willey said.  "It must be too hot.  Let's go back to the chickee."  We had just gotten our stuff into the raft when Willey said, "Barney, look." 

             
I turned and saw an old guy walking towards us.  He was shabby looking.  I felt for my gun, but as the man got closer I could see he wasn't a threat.  He was old, skinny, and gangly.  He had something on his head I couldn't recognize.  He was wearing an old pair of shorts and an older short sleeve shirt.  He had the look of a man living alone . . . like me and Willey.  "What's he wearing on his head?" I asked.

             
"It's a palmetto hat. The old timers used to tie a palmetto leaf onto their heads to keep the sun off.  I haven't seen one of them for years." 

             
"Howdy," the man said, as he got closer.  He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Harley Kimball." 

             
"I'm Barney and this is Willey."  We shook hands.

             
"You're the folks staying at the chickee," he said.  "And you got a monkey," he said, pointing at Oscar. 

             
"That's Oscar," Willey said.  "He's the family pet."

             
"He's a cute little guy," Harley said.  "And he sure can swing through those trees." 

             
This guy must have been spying on us for days.  "Do you live around here, Harley?"

             
"I don't live
around here."  Harley said.  "I live right here"

             
"You live here in the swamp?"

             
"Yep, got a little grass shack just over in the jungle a bit.  Been here since eighty-four.  Best place in the world to live."

             
"Doesn't It get a little lonely out here all by yourself?" I asked.

             
"Heck, no.  I get more company than I
can handle since they put that blasted bike trail through here.  Last night I had a couple of co-eds from U of Tampa staying with me.  They're nice girls, but can those girls drink.  They cleaned out my whole month's supply of booze.  And then they snored like truck drivers all night long." 

             
"How do you survive out here?" I asked. 

             
"I have my social security check sent to the diner across the street.  I do odd jobs for them.  They buy the tools."  It sounded like he had it all worked out, including the co-eds.

             
I was curious.  "How did you know we were staying at the chickee?" I asked.

             
"Heck, I know everything that goes on around here," Harley said.  "It's kinda' like my own back yard.  By the way, did you folks know there was somebody snoopin' around that old Wrangler of yours?  He even crawled under it at one point.  Seemed kinda' suspicious to me, but I try to mind my own business.  Just thought you gentlemen should know."

             
They had found us!  It must have been while we were waiting in the parking lot of the mall.  But I knew they would be back for us.  And what did they put under the Wrangler?  Harley had just saved our lives.

             
"Thanks for telling us about that, Harley," I said.  "That information comes in handy."

             
"Glad to be of help.  You fellers take care of yourselves.  And you too, Oscar.  And come by and visit whenever you like.  I'm most always home, or in and around here."

             
"Thanks, Harley.  Maybe we'll take you up on that," I said.  I wondered if there was room enough for all four of us in that little grass shack.  We waved goodbye as Harley disappeared into the jungle. 

             
Now what do we do?" Willey asked.

             
"Let's see if we can pick up some of our things from the chickee and get out of here.  We can't stay here any longer." 

             
We put our fishing rods into the raft and sat Oscar up front.  Then we climbed in and paddled in silence toward the chickee.  As we approached the last bend in the waterway before the chickee, Willey said, "Stop."  We watched as a  black Lincoln pulled off the bike trail and parked in front of our camp.  We paddled furiously to turn the raft, and headed for the high bushes for cover.  We beached the raft and crept up behind the bushes.  From there we had a good view.  We could see three men inside the chickee.  One by one they came out and started looking around.  Two of them were big, burly guys.  They looked like bouncers from a seedy bar.  Trailing behind them, carrying a briefcase, was Snydely, Flaherty's lawyer.  Why would he bring a briefcase to kill us--unless he had a gun with a silencer in it.

             
"How the hell did they find us here?" I asked.  Then I realized how.  "Willey, give me your cell phone."  Willey handed it to me and I threw it into the water. 

             
"Why'd you do that?" Willey asked. 

             
"Because that's how they found us.  Cell phones give off signals even when they're turned off.  The phone towers pick up the signals and record them.  The police can get those records to prove where someone was at any time of day."

             
"But they're not cops," Willey said.  "How did they get their hands on those records?"

             
"I'm sure Senator Buckland had something to do with that."

             
"Well, we can't go near the Wrangler," Willey said.  "Our only way out is the raft."  We climbed back into the raft and started to paddle away.  No phone, no Wrangler, no place to live, we were in a tight spot. 

             
I said, "We'll get to a pay phone and call Mary to pick us up.  But we can't stay at Mary's place, they'll be watching the park."

             
Willey seemed to be thinking about that, and then he said, "I know a place where we can stay."

             
"I hope it isn't another swamp." 

             
"No, it isn't a swamp.  In fact, we'll be able to keep an eye on our houses."

             
"How can we do that?"

             
"Remember that tree house next to the park?  The one in the back of that farm next door?" 

             
"You mean Thomas' farm?  The old guy will call the cops on us." 

             
"He won't see us," Willey said.  "The tree house is way in the back of his land and it's all overgrown there."

             
"Where will we hide the Wrangler?"

             
"What Wrangler?" 

             
"Oh, yeah.  I forgot."  We had lost the Wrangler.

             
We paddled through the swamp until we reached the spot where we first entered it.  Willey let the air out of the raft, then we rolled it up and hid it in the undergrowth.  After that we sat around and fished.  We weren't fishing for the fun of it.  We were hungry.  Together we pulled in three bass.  One for each of us.  Willey had some matches in the tackle box.  In no time at all we had a nice little campfire going. 

             
Willey cleaned the fish and we wrapped the fillets in leaves, covered them with clay, and put them right into the fire.  I asked Willey how we would know when they were done.  He said we would know by the smell.  He was right.  Willey's tackle box even had some paper packets of salt he had pilfered from restaurants for just this purpose.  The fish was delicious, even Oscar liked it. 

             
"Were you a Boy Scout when you were a kid?" I asked.

             
"Nope, I'm just a cracker.  We forgot more about surviving in the wild than the Boy Scouts ever knew."

             
As darkness fell we prepared to move on.  We sort of knew how far we had to go to find a pay phone, and what direction we had to travel, but we didn't have much loose change between us.  We had to call Mary to pick us up.  That meant we had to find a place to get change for a dollar.  Although traffic was light we walked on the left side of the road so we could see the cars coming at us.  We passed the occasional house with lights on, but no businesses.  After about an hour we came upon a rustic gas station.  It had two antique looking gas pumps out front with a single light bulb and a rusted tin shade hanging overhead. 

             
The small concrete building had been painted white sometime back in history.  It was just getting dark and the grimy plate glass window emitted a weak light.  At first we thought the place was closed, but then we saw some movement inside.  I opened the front door and all three of us walked in.  I held Oscar by the hand.  An elderly man in greasy overalls sat at a battered desk that had a corner missing. 

             
"Didn't hear y'all pull in," the man said.  Then he saw Oscar and his eyes lit up.  "That's a fine looking monkey you got there.  You folks with a circus or somethin'?"

             
"Naw," Willey said.  "We're just minding him for a friend.  Do you have a payphone we could use?"  The man pointed at the far wall.

             
"And could you break a dollar bill for me?" Willey asked, pulling a dollar bill out of his wallet.  The man opened a desk drawer, took out four quarters and handed them to Willey.  Willy handed him the dollar.  "Thanks much," Willey said. 

             
The old man looked at me and said, "I just asked about the monkey 'cause he'd make a nice addition to my attraction.  Any chance I could buy him from ya?"

             
"How much do you think he's worth?" Willey asked.  I gave Willey a jab in the ribs.

             
"We really couldn't sell him," I said.  "The woman who owns him would be heartbroken."  Willey let out a little snort of laughter. 

             
"You'd better make that call." I said.  Willey shambled off in the direction of the wall phone. 

             
"Yes, sir," the old geezer said, "I got a nice attraction out back for my customers passin' through.  I tell them they can see the wild animals of the Florida jungles for only a buck.  Folks from up north love that stuff.  A monkey sure would make a nice addition."  He eyed Oscar again.  Oscar moved away from him. 

             
"The only thing better than a monkey would be a gator.  But they won't let me keep a gator here . . . damn fascists."  He bent over to get a better look at Oscar.  "Hi little feller.  How ya doin'?"  He was making Oscar nervous.  I looked at Willey and gave him the high-sign to hurry.  I was looking at the fan belts hanging on the wall when a loud crash came from behind me.  I spun around.  Oscar was standing up on a table.  He must have jumped up there to get away from the old guy and knocked something over. 

             
"Dammit!" the old guy yelled.  "Now ya done it."  The thing that fell on the floor was a wire cage with a sheet covering it.  Something was moving under the sheet.  A snake stuck its head out from underneath the sheet and slid its tongue out.                 

             
"Eeeeeee," Oscar started screaming.  I hurried over and picked him up in my arms as a second snake emerged. 

             
"Willey," I yelled.  Willey came scrambling toward us.  As he neared us a third snake made its debut. 

             
"I'm outt'a here," Willey said, as he made for the door. 

             
"Come back here an help me ketch these snakes," the old guy wailed.