Free Haunted by Randy Wayne White Page B

farts.” He smiled, the lantern reflecting off his glasses. “Excuse my language.”
    I touched one of the books. “May I . . . Belton?” It felt okay using his first name.
    He placed his hand on the book to delay me. “I didn’t write these. I brought them as—” Carmelo had returned, realized we were talking, so sat cross-legged near the tent. Belton suggested he find a cushion, asked if Carmelo wanted snacks—there were peanuts in the RV—before he returned to the conversation, saying, “Where was I?”
    I asked, “Are you writing about the battle that took place here? I wish someone would. I couldn’t find a word about it on the Internet.”
    The man was way ahead of me. “Fascinating, isn’t it? That’s why I came down from Richmond. Carmelo, he’s got what they call a bass boat and we’ve been up every creek and canal north of the Caloosahatchee. Maybe I should explain. The Caloosahatchee is a bigger river—more of a canal, really. It runs from—”
    “I’m a fishing guide not far from here,” I said, giving him a pat on the wrist to apologize for interrupting. “Mostly out of Captiva Island. I fish the mouth of the Caloosahatchee some, but I’ve never been farther than the locks above Fort Myers. I’d love to read one of your books.”
    Belton, a roly-poly man in his late seventies, was delighted. “Carmelo,” he called, “I’ve met my second native Floridian in a week.”
    Carmelo gazed at the moon while he chewed peanuts. “That very cool, Mr. Matás.”
    I hadn’t said I was born in Florida, but it was okay. I have a slight accent, I’ve been told, the Florida accent being milder and different than others who are raised in the South. I continued to listen, after a glance at the picnic table where, within shouting distance, the two witches and Lucia tended to my friend. But where was Theo?
    Belton noticed, picked up on my uneasiness. “People come and go here. It’s worse than a bus station.”
    “It’s an unusual place,” I agreed.
    That gave him confidence. “At the risk of offending, I’ll just come out and say it. Three nights here is more than enough for me. I don’t mind people using drugs, it’s none of my business. But the smell is so strong, I think everyone goes a little crazy after sundown.”
    “A little earlier, I felt sort of strange myself,” I said. “But I did have a rum drink.”
    “It’s not your fault. Something’s in the air. Night before last, I made a wrong turn—didn’t see the
Serpentarium
sign—and this
animal
came charging out. I’d swear to God it was a chimpanzee or, I don’t know, some crazy person in a costume.”
    I sat forward.
“What?”
    “It couldn’t have been, I know. I’d been driving for twelve hours, so it was probably a big dog—a Saint Bernard or mastiff. Something that size. Then an old man with a flashlight came out, screaming at me. Have you ever tried backing up a rig like that in a hurry?” He meant the RV camper.
    “Did the man threaten you?”
    Belton, on a roll, didn’t hear the question. “Then, last night, thegentleman who lives there”—he indicated Tyrone’s single-wide—“went galloping off when I said hello. It was dark, I must have surprised him. Truthfully, I felt like running myself when I got a look. Today, I found out he works in a sideshow. But when you’re unprepared for a face like his—my lord.”
    “His face is that . . . unusual?”
    “It was dark. I don’t want to be cruel, but . . .”
Yes
is what Belton was implying.
    “It can’t be an easy life for him,” I said. “Is he a tall man?” I was wondering about the Peeping Tom.
    “Hard to say, but I can’t get out of here soon enough,” he said and cleaned his glasses, his expression humorous. “If I want to get high, I’ll hop into a nice dry martini. And you’d be welcome to join me. Hannah, I think we might be the only normal ones around here.”
    I laughed, but it was nervous laughter as I sipped my tea.