Snapper (17 page)

“As I said, I really like it,” said Deena. “But I’ll need a little time to think it over.”

It was a bit of a ploy, but Deena thought maybe they’d knock another thousand or two off the price just to keep her from walking out the door.

“Of course, dear,” said Shirley, not wanting to pressure the younger woman. “Just give us a call when you’ve made up your mind.”

That had been on Sunday. The Burts’ thought that they might hear back later that day – or the next day at the latest. Now it was Thursday and still there’d been no word from Dr. Goode.

Frank Burt had gone into town. Now he was walking through the front door with a copy of The Turtleback Gazette in his hand.

“Look at this honey,” he said, holding open the newspaper for his wife to see.

Shirley looked at the front page. She didn’t have her glasses on but she didn’t need them. The headline was huge.

TURTLE TERROR!

Major newspapers throughout New Jersey picked up the article, written by Marc Bozian. It showed up in The Star Ledger, The Bergen Record, even The Asbury Park Press. The story’s appearance on the front page of the metro section of The New York Times was the biggest feather yet in the young journalist’s career.

THIRD AND WORST TURTLE ATTACK

SHOCKS RESIDENTS OF LAKE COMMUNITY!

Marc Bozian’s article more than satisfied readers’ appetites for grisly details. It also saw the attack as part of a disturbing, escalating trend: first a toe, then a limb, now a quadruple amputation resulting in the death of the first victim’s father.

Bozian quoted Connie Konsulis, the woman who had first spotted the body floating in the lake.

“From the deck of my house,”
said Ms. Konsulis, age 36,
“it kind of looked like a suitcase or a piece of luggage that had washed ashore.
”

Connie was such a pretty witness that the paper decided to include a picture of her out on her deck in her pink running shorts. The paper also included the photograph of JJ’s scars paired with the claw marks on the canoe. The article left very little doubt that the attacks were by the same giant snapper.

Chief Rudolph, however, was not entirely convinced. “Maybe the last two attacks,” he was quoted as saying, “but I’m not sure about the little girl’s toe. In comparison to the others, a toe is nothing – a regular ordinary snapper could’ve done it.”

Before his wife could even get through the first paragraph, Frank Burt blurted out, “This is the last thing we needed. Let’s call that woman and try to light a fire under her.”

Deena had given the Burts’ her number both at home and at school. Shirley looked at the clock on the wall and then dialed the school extension.

“Sorry to bother you at work,” said Shirley. “But we were wondering what you were thinking about the house. Maybe it would help if you stopped by for a second look.”

“Sure,” said Deena. “I’ll come by after school today. Is four-thirtyish alright?”

Deena showed up at quarter to five. Shirley and Frank gave her the tour together this time. When they were done, Shirley invited Deena to sit down for the tea and biscuits she had set out hoping to soften Deena up.

“Look,” said Deena. “I love your little house. But I have to be honest. I’m not sure if now is a good time to be buying a house here. Did you see today’s paper?”

The Burts’ exchanged a glance. Their hopes fell.

“It might just make better sense,” said Deena, “for me to wait a little. There are a number of houses on the market now and prices could come down even lower. I might find a better deal elsewhere.”

Frank cut Deena off.

“What if we took another twenty-thousand off the price?”

Shirley Burt gasped. She and her husband had not discussed a further price cut.

“I don’t know, Frank,” said Shirley. “At that price, we’d barely be breaking even.”

Frank ignored his wife. He kept his eyes on Deena.

“It’s a limited-time-only offer,” he said.

“When does it end?” asked Deena.

“Soon.”

“How soon?” asked Deena

“The moment you step through that doorway,” said Frank.

Deena looked from Frank to the door to Shirley.

“All right,” she said. “You’ve got a deal. I’ll take it.”

Deena put out her hand. Frank shook it. Shirley didn’t say anything. She was too shocked to speak.

* * * *

When August arrived at the morgue, what was left of Jack Sully was strapped on a slab so it wouldn’t roll off.

“So what do you think, August?” said the Chief. “You’re the town’s resident scientific expert – at least for as long as you’re
in
town.”

Chief Rudolph said “in town” as if he thought August was perfectly capable of leaving Turtleback Lake before he even finished his sentence.

But August didn’t take the bait. He just said what he thought.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that this was done by the same snapper that got Ian Copeland and my grandfather,” said August. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” asked Chief Rudolph.

“Unless there’s more than one,” said August. “Or this snapper is a descendant of the one who attacked my grandfather. We can’t be a hundred percent certain.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” said Chief Rudolph. “Let’s just hope there’s only one – whether it’s the same one that got your granddaddy or a newer model.”

Both men were silent for a moment. August looked at the stumps that protruded from the bottom of Jack Sully’s torso. They looked like hams with the bone still in. Both legs had been sheered off just inches below the hip. The gruesome gash between the stumps was mercifully covered with a cloth. August didn’t bother to lift it.

“So, what do you think, August?” said Chief Rudolph. “Any ideas on how we go about killing this thing?”

August tilted his head like a bird and looked at Chief Rudolph.

“I don’t think killing it should be our goal,” said August.

“Oh, really?” said Chief Rudolph. “What do you think our goal should be?”

“I think our goal should be to catch it,” said August, ignoring the sarcasm that had come suddenly into Chief Rudolph’s voice.

“Oh, c’mon, August! This thing is a killer, a man-eater. It’s murdered, maimed, and mutilated. Ever read scripture?”

August raised his eyebrows, unsure where Chief Rudolph’s sudden religious turn was heading.

“Some,” said August.

“Well then you might’ve read,
‘As yea sow, so shall yea reap.’’
”

“You’re applying standards of human morality to a creature that isn’t human.”

“That’s a crock of bull!” said Chief Rudolph. “If a pit bull attacks a person, what do we do with it? Pat it on the head and say ‘nice doggy?’ Hell, no, we put it to sleep – permanent sleep!”

“Not even everybody agrees with that,” said August.

Chief Rudolph felt his outrage rising. Was August some kind of goddam egghead pacifist?

“And it’s not an apt comparison,” continued August. “Dogs become aggressive because of the people who raise them.”

This was too much! Chief Rudolph was in no mood for a philosophical
tête-à-tête
with an Ivy League professor.

“Listen, Andersen,” he said. “People didn’t make this turtle into a killer. Nobody’s ever done anything to him. He was born evil and he’s going to die evil – and the sooner the better!”

“I don’t know, Chief,” said August. He had an academic’s habit of turning everything over and looking at it from another side. And an odd little detail – one that he had never thought about – had suddenly just occurred to him.

“What about Ted Tanner?” said August. “And what the players on the football team do to those snappers?”

For a brief moment, Chief Rudolph was speechless. Nobody ever talked about what went on with the freshman football players. It wasn’t done – it was taboo. Frankly, he was surprised Andersen even knew about it.

“What the hell are you suggesting?” said Chief Rudolph, now practically shouting. “That this snapper’s attacks are some kind of revenge? Or that they’re somehow justified?”

“No, Chief, I’m not saying that,” said August in a voice that only made Chief Rudolph angrier. “I guess I was just thinking aloud. What I do believe, however, is this creature should be caught – not killed. It could turn out to be the largest snapper ever in captivity. It might be a mutant or a leftover from the prehistoric past – like the coelacanth.”

“The
what?
” said Chief Rudolph.

“The coelacanth,” repeated August. “It was a fish thought to be extinct for millions of years – until one was caught in the Indian Ocean back in the nineteen thirties.”

“Forget all that BS,” said Rudolph. “You’re putting science ahead of people’s lives.”

“No, I’m not,” said August. “If the snapper’s in captivity, it’s as good as killing it. It’ll be out of the lake and people will be safe.”

“That’s going to be a hard sell to the people of this town,” said Chief Rudolph.

“Then why tell them?” said August.

* * * *

There were signs posted at every access point along the lakeshore: No Swimming or Boating Until Further Notice By Order of The Turtleback Lake Police Department.

And, in at least one sense, nature was helping out.

The long hot summer that seemed to have stretched all the way into October had finally come to an end. Evening temperatures were dropping into the low 40s and upper 30s. In the morning, mists rose off the lake and hung like a ghostly fog until the sun came over the mountains and burned it away. In a week, the temperature of the water in the lake dropped almost twenty degrees. Nobody was going to be tempted to defy Chief Rudolph’s ban on swimming – the water was just too cold.

Boaters were another story. Some argued that Jack Sully’s death was due largely to his inebriation. The whole incident could’ve been avoided if he’d been sober.

“Drunk or sober, nobody’s going out on that lake till this thing’s resolved,” said Chief Rudolph. And for the time being, nobody pushed the issue. A few boat owners grumbled, but they all complied.

And then, just as Chief Rudolph feared, August Andersen
was
gone.

Chief Rudolph was ticked off. For whatever reason, he had secretly viewed August as Turtleback Lake’s white knight. Despite their differing viewpoints, Chief Rudolph had ceded some authority to Andersen because of his scientific expertise. He was confident August was working on some kind of plan to catch the snapper. And if he could catch it before anyone else could kill it, well then, good riddance. The beast would be out of the lake and everyone would be safe.

And then –
poof!
– August was gone.

For three straight mornings Chief Rudolph had called Andersen, but got no answer. You’d have thought the guy would have voice mail or at least an answering machine, but no – all he had was a vintage rotary phone that did nothing but ring and ring and ring.

“Goddammit!” cursed Rudolph, slamming down his phone. Then he had a thought that gave him a glimmer of hope: maybe Andersen simply had turned off the ringer.

Rudolph hopped in his car and drove out to Andersen’s cabin. First he pounded on the door with his fist. Then he peered through the windows. There was nothing:
nada
Andersen,
nada
car,
nada
nothing. The guy was gone – again.

“Why am I even surprised?” said the Chief when he got back to the station. “Why did I even
think
Andersen was going to help us? The guy’s been a phantom for years! Why should we expect anything from him now?”

“I don’t know, Chief,” said deputy Rhodes. “Because of his special expertise?”

“Exactly, Rhodes,” said the Chief, shocked to hear his deputy say exactly what he himself was thinking. “The town needs his special expertise. His departure isn’t a disappearance – it’s a…it’s a….”

“A desertion?” offered deputy Rhodes.

“Exactly,” said the Chief. “It’s a desertion. A dereliction of duty.”

*

But August was gone – and nobody knew where.

While he was away, Deena closed on the Burt bungalow. It happened quickly – in a matter of days. Then, in every free moment she had, Deena began readying the cabin for moving in. After school and on weekends, she scrubbed, swept, scoured and scraped.

Then, one Friday, Deena spent her first night in her new home – in a sleeping bag rolled out on the floor. Her plan was to get an early start on Saturday morning. She had rollers, brushes, drop cloths, step ladders, pans and a couple cans of Sherwin Williams dove white. She was going to give the walls a clean fresh coat.

In the morning, Deena was up with the sun. She was eating a bagel and drinking a cup of coffee when she heard the crunch of gravel in the drive outside. She went to the window and pulled aside the curtain.

A Volvo was driving by – August’s Volvo! Back in the summer, Deena had noticed that he drove the exact same model and year as she did. It was a coincidence that Deena felt meant something – like maybe they were made for each other.