Free Serpentine by Barry Napier Page A

a source of local gossip. As a general rule, Wayne had always ignored gossip; his ex-wife had been at the center of the Clarkton grapevine and had often seeded its rotten fruit.
    But ever since he and Al had briefly discussed those mysterious black vans parked in the driveway of a rental cabin on Kerr Lane, he’d considered heading to The Wharf to see if there was any low-hanging fruit to be plucked.
    Using drinking as an excuse to gather any gossip was highly believable when it came to Wayne. He was a regular at The Wharf, the type that didn’t even have to place an order because the bartender knew him so well. Wayne knew that this was nothing to be proud of but it still made him feel cozy in a weird sort of way.
    He was feeling this coziness as he and Al sat at the bar on Thursday night, four days after they had first discussed the black vans while playing horseshoes. They were only on their second round of drinks when he overheard the first snippet of conversation that made him think of that house of Kerr Lane.
    The snippet in question had come from another of The Wharf’s regulars, Jimmy Fitz. Jimmy worked for the highway department and was widely known as one of the two men that were occasionally sent down into the dirt tracks that wound through the rental properties in the summer. It was well-known in Clarkton that if you wanted gossip on the tourists—who was rich, who was hot and single, and things of that sort—Jimmy Fitz was the man to see.
    Wayne had caught the tail end of one of Jimmy’s sentences as he spoke to a woman that sat beside him. She looked too old to be Jimmy’s date and Wayne hadn’t seen her at The Wharf before. She was probably on vacation and enjoying The Wharf’s staged atmosphere.
    “…the same as every other year,” Jimmy was telling the woman. “He said that every single rental house and cabin is booked all the way through summer. All but one, anyway. A house at the end of Kerr Lane that no one is being allowed to rent out.”
    Wayne didn’t bother trying to be polite or pretend that he hadn’t been eavesdropping. He leaned over and nudged Jimmy Fitz in a good natured buddy-buddy sort of way.
    “Who was telling you that?” he asked.
    Jimmy seemed peeved that Wayne had interrupted his conversation with the lovely lady, but it was also apparent that he liked the feeling of having information that others were interested in. Jimmy looked to the woman, gave her a smile that was far too confident for his pudgy face, and then turned fully to Wayne.
    “Stephen Collins,” Jimmy said. “One of the realtors down at Lakeside Rentals. You know him?”
    “A bit,” Wayne said. “That one house on Kerr Lane…do you know which one it is?”
    Jimmy shook his head. “No. I asked Stephen the same thing and he seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it. I’m pretty sure he said it was one of those properties that the owner usually stays in, though.”
    “Like us,” Wayne said with a chuckle, elbowing Al.
    “Exactly,” Jimmy said. “Anyway, the fella that owns the house is nowhere to be seen. And since it’s not rented out, I assumed that means that there was some sort of structural damage or some other expensive reason that needs to be fixed up before anyone can rent it out. I guess because the rent money goes to the owner and not Lakeside Rentals, Stephen didn’t really know enough about it. He was just nosy because it’s one property that he can’t shove tourists in.”
    “Oh, I know,” Wayne said. “I live down that way. I see the vacationers come and go all summer long. Lakeside has to make a fortune off of them.”
    “Oh, absolutely,” Jimmy said.
    The conversation lulled at that point. Jimmy Fitz turned back to the woman he had been speaking with. Wayne thought this bit of information over for a bit and then turned back to Al.
    “Well now,” Wayne said. “That seems pretty damn interesting, doesn’t it?”
    “It does,” Al said. “But not enough to keep