“I just want to know what you’re doing here. You’re from down south, which is a pipeline for the drug trade, and you’re sitting here in this parking lot doing nothing.”
“He’s waiting for me.” Slater had arrived. She strolled up to the deputy and flashed an apologetic smile. “He and I have an appointment with someone inside.” She inclined her head toward the newspaper office. “I’m running late. Please accept my apology.”
The deputy looked like he had just sucked a lemon. He looked from Bones to Slater and then nodded. “All right. Just don’t loiter in the parking lot when you’re done.” He didn’t wait for a reply but turned and stalked back to his car, climbed in, and drove away.
When the deputy was gone, Slater turned and frowned at Bones. “Do you always treat people like that?”
Bones shook his head. “Nope, but bullies and rednecks get on my nerves.”
“I don’t know how many of the former we will encounter but we’re likely to meet up with plenty of the latter. Do you think you can keep your attitude in check?”
“You’re the boss.” Bones looked up and squinted at the late morning sun. “What do you say we blow this appointment off and head over to the Siesta Key Oyster Bar? I hear it’s a great place to hang out and pound a few brews.”
“When this investigation is finished I’ll let you buy me a pitcher, but not until the work is done.”
“Bummer. I thought you were a party girl.”
Slater rolled her eyes and led the way into the office.
The reporter who greeted them was a weedy, bespectacled man with a rat face and a thatch of yellow hair. He barely glanced at Bones, having eyes only for Slater. Bones couldn’t blame the man. She was garbed in a tight tank top, snug fitting khaki shorts, and hiking boots. With her brown hair hanging in a braid down the middle of her back, she was giving off a serious Lara Croft vibe. Bones couldn’t deny the look worked for her.
“I’m Gage,” the reporter said. “Please follow me.” He led them to a tiny cubicle in the far corner of the building, and sat down in front of a cluttered desk lined with bobble head dolls of famous baseball players. When bones and Slater had pulled up chairs and sat down, Gage got down to business.
“I understand you are interested in the skunk ape.” He kept his voice low, frequently glancing about as if spies lurked in every corner.
“That’s right,” Slater said. “I host a television show and we’re doing a feature on it. I understand you are the man to speak to on the subject.”
The compliment did the trick. Gage relaxed and a smile spread across his face. “I’m a local affairs reporter, so the skunk ape is strictly a hobby. I have, however, done extensive research.” He took out an overstuffed accordion folder and handed it to Slater. “This is all of the information I’ve gathered: newspaper clippings, articles from the web, transcripts of eyewitness reports including interviews I personally conducted, research into possible scientific explanations, and a summary of my conclusions in the back.”
“This is wonderful,” Slater said. “Is there somewhere we can sit and examine it?”
“These are copies,” Gage said. “I only ask that you credit me if you use any of the material in your show.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble. Thank you.”
“If it will help you prove that the skunk ape is real, or at least its existence is a real possibility, it will have been more than worth the effort.” He looked around again. “I don’t mind telling you that people around here give me a hard time about my research.”
“I know what you mean,” Bones said. “I’m into cryptids, alien visitor theories, and all that kind of stuff. Most people don’t get it.”
Gage nodded. “Yes, but it’s not just that. In general, the locals don’t like it when anyone talks about the skunk ape. The transplants from other parts of the country are concerned about our community’s image. They think treating the legends seriously makes us look like a bunch of hicks. The families who have lived in the community for generations are afraid Sarasota is going to, I don’t know, turn into Roswell, New Mexico. You know, drawing in the oddballs and pseudo-scientists. Sorry,” he said, blushing, “but you know what I mean.”
Bones and Slater nodded in unison.
“I’m just saying,” Gage continued, “don’t be surprised if you get a lot of push-back. And be careful where you go and who you talk to.”
Chapter 3
Gage snapped his head around as a long shadow ran across his keyboard. He looked up to see a tall man in a sheriff’s department uniform standing over him, arms folded.
“How can I help you, Deputy Logan?” He couldn’t stand the man. He was a scion, if someone who lived in rundown mobile home on the edge of the swamp could properly bear that title, of a long-time local family. As such, the deputy stuck his nose into everyone’s business and had an opinion on how just about everything should be done.
“You had some visitors today.” It wasn’t a question.
Gage gritted his teeth. Damn Logan and his reticence. “Would you care to explain why you’re investigating my activities?”
Gage threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Gay,” he said, using the high school nickname Logan and his football buddies had slapped onto Gage so many years ago. “I happened to be in the office and saw some unfamiliar faces, and I wondered who they were and what they were up to. I mean, why would outsiders need to meet with a local affairs reporter?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Gage said through gritted teeth. He felt his cheeks begin to heat. He hated Logan and despised the way the man could get a reaction out of him with such ease. Sometimes it didn’t get better after high school.
Logan smiled and sat down on the corner of Gage’s desk. “You got this all wrong. I’m just looking out for my town, same as always. I’m not trying to get on your nerves or anything.
“Well, you have. Same as always.”
“Look, you know I care about this town and the people who live in it, even the fellows who are still mad about a wedgie twenty years ago.” He grinned. “Truth is, there was an incident outside with that big Indian fellow. It didn’t amount to nothing, but something ain’t right about him. He’s from down south and we know what kind of characters come from there. I ran his plate, so I already know his name.” He leaned in and laid a heavy hand on Gage’s shoulder. “I’m just asking you, as an old high school buddy, to give me an idea of what the man’s up to. No details, nothing personal. Just the big picture.”
Gage bit his jaw, holding back a profane retort. He knew Logan would keep pestering him until he got what he wanted.
“By the way,” Logan said, letting go of Gage’s shoulder and sitting back, “we’re starting afternoon rush hour patrols on your street. I’ll tell the boys to keep an eye out for your car.”
The implication was clear. If Gage played ball, the deputies would leave him alone. If not, he doubtless would be pulled over for some nonexistent violation. Besides, given that Gage’s interest in the skunk ape was well-known, he figured Logan had already put two and two together. The deputy was a buffoon but he wasn’t a complete idiot. Despising himself for giving in so easily, he sat up and looked Logan in the eye.
“It’s nothing serious. They’re from one of those pseudo-investigative television shows and they’re doing an episode about the skunk ape.”
Logan guffawed and slapped his thigh. “So that fellow is crazy. I knew he wasn’t right, but at least it isn’t drugs. I should have known, since the skunk ape is sort of your thing. What did you tell him?”