That was his true fault: greed. Somehow, he thought that trapping gators would make him rich or famous. Which was absurd. As Dad used to say, humane trapping was a public service and a way to honor wildlife, not a route to fame or money.
Gene was the reason I’d referred all trapping queries that came my way to the guy in Sunny Shores these past six weeks while I was getting my act together. Sending any business to Gene was out of the question.
The sound of heavy footsteps reached my ears, followed by the smell of fish wafting into my nostrils.
“Good afternoon, girls.”
It had been ages since I last heard Gene’s voice, but as soon as he spoke, it came rushing back to me like an unpleasant blast from the past. Phlegmy, just as I remembered it.
“Oh. Gene. Thought I heard the clown car pull up. What do you want?” My sister clutched her tea glass, probably readying to douse him. Yikes on bikes. She disliked him more than anyone in town. I’d learned patience since I last saw Gene. I wasn’t sure if Vera had.
This situation needed a peacemaker, fast.
Gene grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table, not even asking the diners if he could take it, which made them stare in disbelief. He set it against our small square table and straddled the seat backwards.
His tan fishing vest was open, revealing a black T-shirt with white lettering that saidI’m not a gynecologist but I’ll take a look.
I visibly grimaced at both the grammar and the sentiment.
Ever since I could remember, he had been skeevy, sexist, and surly. Usually all three at once. Dad used to say that “the cheese had slid off Gene’s cracker,” and it was hard to disagree with that assessment. I simply thought he was a pimple on the ass of progress.
“Gene,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?”
“Not long enough,” Vera muttered.
“Truth,” I murmured back.
“Cut the BS, Margaret. I know you’re home for good. Couldn’t hack it in Boston, could you? That fancy biology degree you got didn’t amount to a hill of beans, did it?”
That set my teeth on edge. No one called me Margaret except for Mom and Dad, and they were gone. And exactly what had Gene heard around town about me? Asshat.
“What do you want?” The frostiness in my sister’s tone lowered the temperature in this place by ten degrees.
“You know why I’m here. You stole that gator from me.” He stabbed a porky finger in my direction.
I batted my eyelashes innocently and stared at his brown hair, which was styled in something resembling a pompadour. Gene was about ten years older than us, which meant he was around thirty-five. A memory of him offering to buy us beer and “party” when Vera and I were sophomores in high school surfaced, and I fought back nausea.
“What gator?”
“The one at Osprey Landing.”
The tops of my sister’s cheeks had flared pink, and her fingers around the sweet tea glass were white.
I held up my hand. “The homeowner said he left a message for another trapper but didn’t hear back, then called me. He was in a panic. If he called you first, well, you snooze, you lose.”
“I thought when your father passed—may his soul rest in heaven—that I’d be done with your family.” He sucked on his teeth. Or what was left of them.
“This gator wasn’t up your alley, anyway.” I stirred my tomato soup. “It was only a two-footer. Under state regulations, you would’ve had to let it go. Not like you pay attention to the law, though.”
He glared at me with eyes the color of dirty denim.
Gene wouldn’t have released the baby gator into the wild. Everyone in town knew he ignored the state’s rules about relocating small alligators, opting to sell them to clandestine hide processors. Or so the rumor went. All we knew was that he was extremely competitive for the reptiles, whose skins were worth more than the fifty-dollar trapping stipend.
Since baby gators had those distinctive stripes, they were prized by the illegal processors, who made them into belts and small purses.
“There are enough gators to go around. Don’t be ridiculous,” my sister piped up.
“Don’t you two have a dirty bookstore to open?”