… late October last year, the hurricane season all but gone, Ned settling into his duties on the farm. The man has a thumb can turn a ripe tomato blue, but he’s now one of the foremen around here, barking out orders, strutting like a peacock for the women in the fields, making pass after pass at pretty little Allie in the kitchen, who loves her husband to death and who’s so flustered by Ned’s unwanted attentions that she’s tempted to give up the only good job she’s ever had. She speaks to Jessica about it, and Jessica promises to talk to her brother. But privately, she tells Leeds that their housekeeper has been flirting with Ned.
That day with the dog…
The dog belongs to Allie and her husband, Pete, who before Ned took over as foreman was doing a fine job of running things by himself. Pete is a Vietnam vet, thirty-five years old — it’s difficult to realize that anyone who was a veteran of that war would now have to be at least thirty-three, but that is actually the case. He is a soft-spoken man who lowers his eyes whenever he’s addressed, as though he is fearful a person might look into those eyes and see reflected there all the things he has seen — and done. It is difficult to imagine this man ever killing anyone. But he is alive today. And if you were in combat in Vietnam, as was Pete, and you did not kill people, then you would not be alive today. The equation is a simple one.
Whenever he drives his truck out there in the fields, his dog is sitting beside him on the front seat. The dog’s name is Jasper. He is a spotted something-or-other; no one has ever been able to determine his ancestry with any accuracy, but it’s reckoned he is at least part Dalmatian, a dog with a somewhat sappy look on his face and a manner as gentle as his master’s.
On that day in October…
It is one of those crisp, glistening days that infrequently bless this part of Florida, causing all those settlers who moved from colder climes to thank their lucky stars all over again for the wisdom of their decision and the beneficence of the Lord Almighty. The cloudless sky stretched taut over the bountiful acres of the farm is as blue as Monday, and a fair wind is blowing in off the Gulf and carrying inland. There is a man-made pond on the farm, stocked with trout, stalked by water birds that take immediate wing whenever an alligator puts in a sudden and unwanted appearance.
It is against the law to shoot alligators in the state of Florida.
Alligators are a protected species.
Occasionally, a farmer or an orange grower will take a shot at one, and occasionally alligator steaks will appear on the dinner table — but no one talks about that much. In the state of Florida, there are a great many things that people don’t talk about. Rainy weather is one of those things. Cold weather is another. Shooting alligators or ospreys is yet another. But over the years, Leeds has shot and killed and later grilled and eaten three alligators that decided to make a home in his trout pond. A fourth alligator is in that pond on this bright, shining day in October.
“We all heard Jasper screaming,” Leeds said. “Sounded like a human being. A baby. Screaming and screaming. And then the screaming stopped. We were all on our way down to the pond by then. The alligator was still gnawing on that poor dog. Snout all covered with blood — have you ever seen the teeth on an alligator? Someone had tied Jasper to an old oak tree near the edge of the pond. The rope was still wound around the trunk of the tree. Jasper had circled and circled the tree trying to get away from that ’gator, and then he’d run out of rope and the ’gator just took him.” Leeds shook his head. “It was my brother-in-law who tied that dog to the tree.”
“How do you know that?”
“He all but said so.”
“When?”
“Right after the trial. We were all pretty upset about that verdict, you know, letting those men go free after what they did to Jessie. Ned said if he had his way, he’d go after all three of them and drag them down to the pond and tie them to that old oak, the way someone had done with Jasper. That’s when I knew he was the one who’d done it. I’d suspected it all along — we all did — but that was when I knew for sure it was him. I could see it right there in his eyes.”
“So what he said, in effect, was that he wanted to kill those men.”
“Well, yes. But the point is he wanted to kill them the way Jasper had…”
“Yes, I understand that. Did he sound serious when he said this?”
“As serious as any of us,” Leeds said. “We all wanted them dead.”
“Yes, but what I’m asking… do you think this was more than just an idle threat? What your brother-in-law said?”
“About going after them, do you mean?”
“Yes. Do you think he did, in fact, go after them?”
“Well, I…”
“Do you think he killed them?”
It was evident that the thought had never once entered Leeds’s mind. Ned Weaver as his sister’s avenger? Ned Weaver as the Midnight Vigilante? But if so…
“Do you mean…?”
He was sorting out the implications. If indeed Ned had gone after those men, if indeed Ned had killed them, then Ned had also dropped his wallet at the scene, Ned had set him up.
“The son of a bitch,” he said.
“Could he have done it?” Matthew asked.
“He’s mean enough, that’s for sure,” Leeds said.
“Did you see him at any time on the night of the murders?”
“Yes, he stopped by right after dinner.”
“Was he in the habit of stopping by?”
“Well, yes. Jessie’s his sister, you know. They’re very close.”
“Stopped by for what reason?”
“Just to say good night. This must’ve been a little before eight, we’d just finished dinner. We were getting ready to watch the movie.”
“How long did he stay?”
“Just a few minutes. Jessie offered him a drink — we were having an after-dinner drink outside — but he said no, he had some things to do.”
“What things?” Matthew asked.
“Didn’t say.”
“What time did he leave?”
“Eight o’clock? A little after? No later than that. We were still sitting at the table out back, by the pool.”
“Did someone show him to the front door?” Matthew asked.
“No. What do you mean? He knows the way, he’s in and out of our house all the time.”
“Went to the door by himself then?”
“Yes.”
“Did he go through the house?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Went through the house to the front door.”
“Yes.”
“And you and Jessie stayed out back.”
“Yes.”
“How long did it take him to leave?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“He said good night to you out back and walked through the house to the front door…”
“I assume he did.”
On the night of the murders, someone had driven Jessie’s Maserati to the marina and boarded Leeds’s boat. The someone had been wearing a yellow jacket and hat and he was seen later that night both at Kickers and in Little Asia. Leeds’s yellow jacket and hat had been hanging in the hall closet, just inside the entrance to the house. The study was off to the left, two steps down. The keys to Jessie’s Maserati had been hanging on a brass holder fastened to the study wall. The keys to Leeds’s boat had been hanging on that same wall.
“Did you hear the front door close behind him?” Matthew asked.
“I… really can’t say.”
“Then you don’t know how long he was in the house after he’d said good night.”
“No, I don’t,” Leeds said.
Matthew nodded. It was at least possible.