Murder on the Orient Espresso(42)

The snake did a kind of shimmy, assuming the shimmier was the length and girth of an I-beam. I splashed back into the water. ‘Be careful!’ I called to Pavlik, who was trying to circle behind the snake as best he could, given the narrowness of the railroad bed.

Hertel began talking again. ‘I hear tell that these fellers tire easy. Or at least the Burmese do, though this beauty looks to be one of those bigger devils.’

‘You mean an African rock python?’ I was trying to steady my nerves, though conversing with the engineer might not be the best way to do it.

Pavlik gave a backwards glance at my question, probably wondering how I’d know anything about snake species in the Everglades.

‘The very ones,’ Hertel said. ‘Surprised you’ve even heard of them, cuz we ain’t seen many around here yet. But to my eye, this queen bitch looks pregnant, so I have a hunch that’s going to change.’

Wonderful. If the snake in front of us wasn’t, in itself, a super hybrid between the Burmese and Rock pythons, we were messing with the mother ship.

‘Don’t touch it!’ I yelled at Pavlik, panic rising. ‘Did you hear what he said? If you cut the thing open they’ll all come crawling out.’

‘No, no, no.’ Hertel was practically chortling, like he’d been yanked back to his days of reading The Hardy Boys and Tom Swift. ‘This ain’t no Aliens movie, you know. Snakes lay eggs. All you gonna find inside that one is what looks like the floor of a hen house.’

‘Chicken eggs,’ I managed in a squeaky voice.

Pavlik turned around and put a hand down to help me. His words, though, were more for my psyche than physical well-being. ‘Steady, girl.’

‘You know what you might say?’ Hertel went on. And on. ‘You might say this snake’s done bitten off more’n she can chew.’

Honest to God, if I were within batting distance of the man, I’d have beaten him to death him with his own flashlight.

Hertel laughed at his own sick joke and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Last year, I spent some time with guys that went out on that python hunt. Which is how come I know so much, case you’ve been wondering.’

Slowly the snake stretched and then seemed to coil back on itself, the one leg and both multicolored shoes still protruding. I had a flash of my Uncle Gus after a huge Thanksgiving dinner, sucking on a festive toothpick.

And contemplating dessert.

Pavlik jumped back.

Hertel said, ‘If I was you, I wouldn’t be practicing my dance steps on that—’

‘If you know something that will help, tell us!’ I screamed at Hertel. ‘Otherwise, just … shut … up!’

Instead of being hurt or incensed, the engineer seemed gratified, even complimented. ‘Well, Sheriff, appears to me you’ve got yourself a feisty one there. But yes, ma’am. I guess I will leave you to it. Though they do tell me that these snakes – well, the Burmese, at least, and like I said, I don’t know if this one—’

‘Now!’

Honest to God, it was like I was talking dirty to Hertel in bed. The nastier I got, the more he seemed to like it.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Now he was smiling widely. ‘Well, like I said, these snakes get tired out easy. In fact, the trappers treadmill ’em.’

‘“Treadmill”?’ Pavlik asked, coincidentally saving my sanity.

‘Yup, they hold the tail of the snake and run their hands up along, under its belly. Makes the python think it’s the one moving – escaping – so it tuckers itself out trying. Once that snake’s exhausted, you can grab ’em by the base of the head and dump them in a pillow case.’

I looked at the snake. ‘Would have to be a big pillowcase.’

‘I don’t intend to capture this one, so I wouldn’t worry.’ Pavlik had positioned himself behind the snake once more. Or, more precisely, behind the snake’s head. If he was fully behind the snake he’d be standing another twenty feet down the railroad track. ‘Maggy, try and get his attention.’

I wondered if snakes could smell fear. If so, I figured I already had the python’s undivided attention.

Heart thudding, my legs like jelly, I tried to get a grip of myself and moved to the front of the serpent’s head, but as far away as I could get without stepping back into the water and inadvertently becoming some other critter’s quarry. You know, like the goofball who steps into the street to evade a pickpocket only to be mown down by a truck.

‘Oh, and the other thing I found real interesting.’ Hertel kept spewing his grisly little bon mots. ‘Snakes go dormant when they’re digesting.’