“When was this argument?”
“The night before Norman’s murder.”
“Maybe he was just telling her to cut it out,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“Do you know where she is right now?”
Esther nodded. “That’s why I came over to talk to you. I think I know exactly where she is. Come over here.”
Esther led us to a spot on the other side of the patchwork tent. We now stood next to a tent that must have been close to brand-new, and she nodded to the right.
“See her?” Esther asked.
I did, and surprisingly, while I was watching her, she suddenly became very animated and loud. My attention was solely on her, so to me she was the one who seemed the loudest.
But, actually, lots of people were screaming right along with her.
Chapter 19
“Gram?” I said before I bolted away from Esther and pushed through the crowd.
The reactions and emotions from everyone were too big for something simple to have occurred, something like a mean snap of oil.
Fortunately, Gram was fine; scared almost as witless as everyone else, but fine. So far.
She’d jumped up from the chair, displacing both it and the table with the fish. In my lifetime, I didn’t think I’d ever heard Gram scream, but she probably had.
“Gram, you okay?” I asked as I found myself next to her.
“Fine. Scared the rotten right out of me, but I’m fine. We need to get this thing killed though.”
The “thing” she was referring to was a snake. It was not coiled, which meant it could move quickly and bite if it was so inclined. Though it was currently facing the other direction, it was only a few feet away.
“Move away a little more, Gram,” I said as I grabbed her arm. “Is that a cotton?”
“I think so,” Gram said.
The snake was mostly brown, which made it difficult to distinguish from other, less wicked snakes, but this guy’s or girl’s head was also triangular, which was a characteristic I’d been taught to look for and then run from. Cottonmouths are one of Missouri’s most deadly snakes; they’re one of many states’ most deadly snakes. They’re usually found in water or very close to it, so it was strange to see it writhe on the dirt around the campfire, far from any water source.
“Step back,” I said to Gram, pulling her another step backward, but she pulled her arm from my grip.
“Someone got a gun? Or a shovel?” she said.
“Gram, come on! You’re not going to kill that snake. Just get back.”
“I got this, Missouri.” Orly appeared from the crowd, carrying a shovel and a shotgun—they’d apparently both learned about the same sorts of snake-killing weapons. I hoped Orly would use the shovel, but cottonmouths are so dangerous that I probably shouldn’t have worried about the weapon as much as just hoped for a good aim.
Cliff was planning on joining us later, but I knew there were other officers roaming the campsite. I wondered where they were and how they’d feel about someone waving and then potentially discharging a firearm. If I’d had my wits about me a little more, I would have been concerned that Orly even had any sort of firearm. Hadn’t all weapons been confiscated by the police?
“Come on, everybody, get back a little,” Orly said when the crowd suddenly turned more curious than cautious.