Chapter 1 -- Resurrection Pond

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

RESURRECTION POND
BY
JACK WILHELM

CHAPTER 1 – WHO’S THE GUY IN OUR BACKYARD?

Joey Murphy looked out the kitchen window as he did the dishes. Joey was 10 years old. Old enough to know his Dad was dead and his Mom had to work real hard to keep their house and put food on the table. Joey was a red haired, freckle faced kid who mowed neighbors’ lawns and helped his Mom around the house. Doing real well in school and interested in sports.
He was a good kid but this didn’t prepare him for the sight of the man walking around their backyard looking at the orange trees.
“Hey, Mom,” he yelled, “there’s a funny looking guy with a steel helmet, rusty metal vest, baggy shorts, and stockings on. He’s walking around like he doesn’t know where he is.”
Betty Murphy knew her son didn’t play pranks. On some of his pals maybe but not on her! She peered out the window and saw the same thing.
“Must be a sales promotion of some sort.”
“You mean like the stupid guy in the Burger King commercials?”
“Yes,” his Mom replied. She looked closer. The man had a full, neatly trimmed beard, a swarthy complexion and medium build. Betty had always liked history. The man’s helmet, armor, and dress reminded her of drawings she’d seen of Spanish Conquistadors.
If it was closer to Halloween, the man might have been going to a party. But, his garb was faded, corroded. He looked to be in a daze – drunk maybe. In any case, he shouldn’t be wondering around in their backyard.
Joey came to the same conclusion. He charged out the door.
“What are you doing in our backyard,” Joey asked?
The man let loose a very long string of something sounding vaguely like Spanish. Joey was taking elementary Spanish but this didn’t sound like anything he’d heard in school.
He turned to his Mom. “The only word I recognized was de Soto.”
Betty couldn’t even understand deSoto.” Ask Mrs. Vasquez to come over here? She might be able to understand him.”
Joey trotted over to the neighbor’s house and brought Mrs. Vasquez back with him.
Mrs. Vasquez had somewhat better luck. “As far as I can tell, he’s crazy. Claims to be one of de Soto’s men. He said he just climbed out of the pond.”
“I don’t blame him,” Joey said, “I wouldn’t be found dead in Resurrection Pond.”
“Actually, the Pond’s so badly polluted he’d be dead if he even went for a dip,” Betty laughed. Then, almost choked as the words came tumbling out, “If he came with deSoto, he’d have to be over 500 years old. Impossible!”
“Then, how do you explain the get up,” Joey interjected.
“I have no idea,” his Mother admitted.
*****
The Murphy’s house bordered on the Pond. It had been a prime location when Joey’s Mom and Dad purchased the lot and built a modest three bedroom house. Now, you couldn’t give it away because of the polluted pond. Betty and Joey didn’t care; it was home. They didn’t want to sell anyway.
The Pond, itself, was one of Florida’s many springs like Homosassa, Crystal, Rock, Juniper, Alexander, Blue, and de Leon to name just a few. Unfortunately, Resurrection Pond did not stay pristine.
Developers moved in, built a sample home then cloned several hundred more. They weren’t bad homes; just crowded together; all on septic tanks and drain fields. A nine-hole golf course added to the attractiveness of the development and the fertilizer runoff. A community pool helped, too. The combination brought in loads of senior citizens who all tried to out-green-lawn each other. A new shopping center with loads of paved parking added more runoff. Resurrection Pond became a cesspool; not a spring. None of the residents cared. They had their highly chlorinated pool.
The Pond, of course, was named after the town. Resurrection was originally an old cow town with a Main Street and one and two-story shops. There was a food store and a hardware store. A church, school, and movie house were added. Of course, most of the stores were vacant now; victims of the new shopping mall.
There are three tales of how the name of Resurrection came about.
One indicated the developers, cleaning up after the land bust debacle of the 1920s, named the new town, Resurrection.
A second held the church pastor named the town Resurrection because it sounded so biblical.
A third claimed the developers wanted to name the town Restoration but didn’t know how to spell.
Anyway, like much of the rest of Florida, cattle range and orange groves gave way to development. Focus groups indicated the name had a certain appeal to northerners who craved a new beginning – a resurrection, if you will – away from the rust belt and the terrible winters. So, Resurrection remained the town’s name.
******
The man in the Murphy’s yard, whoever he was, was becoming more excited; almost frantic. Mrs. Vasquez tried to calm him down. She turned to Betty. “He says he has to find Hernando de Soto. He’s afraid of Indians. He doesn’t want to end up captured and tortured like Juan Ortiz, whoever this is.
Later, Mrs. Vasquez went to the internet and found Juan Ortiz, who came to America with Juan Pizarro, was captured and tortured by Indians, and saved by an Indian maiden. Much like the tale of Pocohontas and Capt. John Smith in Virginia. Mrs. Vasquez surmised Indian maidens must be enamored with white bodies. Ortiz was freed and joined the de Soto expedition. Back to the story.
“How should we handle this guy,” she asked?
Joey’s actions made the decision for them. He was as inquisitive as any normal ten-year old. He touched the man’s armor. The man said some threatening words in Spanish. Joey wanted to try on the silly helmet. He thought the man shook his head “yes.” He reached for the helmet.
The man reached for his sword. It wasn’t there.
The man reached for his dagger. It wasn’t there, either.
The man’s fist hit the top of Joey’s head like a pile driver. Joey went down. He started to whimper and rubbed his head.
Betty leaped to Joey’s defense.
Betty went down, too.
The guy was small but obviously mighty.
Mrs. Vasquez took out her cell phone. “I’m calling the police. She dialed 911.”
The man looked curiously at Betty and the small instrument she was holding to her ear. The sound of her voice also noticeably increased his anxiety. He obviously had heard some type of English before; or, at least, realized her speech was foreign to him.
A car went by, stereo blasting. A business jet came in low, engines screaming, as it made its final approach to the local airport.
The man went wild-eyed with terror.
Mrs. Vasquez explained the situation to the police. She recommended several officers. At least one should speak Spanish. The dispatcher thought one was enough. Wrong!
Naturally, the police car pulled up with lights flashing and siren screaming. This only heightened the fears of the already terrorized man. The uniform didn’t help. It was blue with red stripes, much like Marine dress blues, running down the sides. This was set off by red shoulder epaulets and a dark blue cowboy hat.
Danny Gonzalez was a young, large, well-built Spanish-speaking policeman. He also was well trained. He had been a Miami cop who decided Liberty City was not a good place for his wife and three boys to live. Here, he could be the coach of the Ressurection Little League team. His boys, naturally, all wanted to grow up to be a combination of Albert Pujols, Alex Rodriguez, and Manny Ramirez. Not bad goals for young ballplayers.
Danny was a college graduate majoring in Political Science and Psychology; which qualified him to become a politician. But, he had joined the Army, taken Ranger training, and joined the Special Forces. He did a tour in Bosnia and the First Gulf War.
He was thoroughly trained and ready. He noted the man’s high anxiety level. He tried to appear non-threatening as he approached the man. He quietly told the man he would have to take him to get help. He meant jail, of course, or the hospital. The man understood the Spanish but wanted none of this; he wanted to get on de Soto’s trail. He also wanted nothing to do with a police car. He had never seen a car up close. Danny didn’t know this, of course.
Danny had tried his best; he realized he would have to use force. He grabbed the man. A bad move. The man showed him what the helmet was for. He pulled Danny toward him and applied a vicious head butt. The helmet’s crest sliced Danny’s head like a knife. Blood spurted in every direction. Not serious but a bleeder. Danny went down then tried to grapple with the man. It’s hard to see, let alone grapple with, an opponent when blood is running down your head and into your eyes.
The man looked at the bleeding stranger, then turned and ran up the street apparently on de Soto’s trail.
Betty rushed for the first aid kit and applied a bandage and pressure to stem the flow of blood.
Danny rose to his feet woozily and headed for the radio in his patrol car. The dispatcher couldn’t believe his ears. “You want me to issue an all points for some nut in a helmet, armor, and funny shorts, running down our streets. You all right, Danny?”
“I need stitches,” was all Danny could manage. “Be careful; he’s dangerous.”
*****
Eventually, the town’s whole police force – all 12 of them – found and subdued the man. It took mace and a stun gun followed by a strait jacket. There were a lot of cuts and bruises before this happened. He was one tough son of a bitch.
At the jail, the man kept spouting off about de Soto. Aside from assaulting an officer, actually several officers, and two civilians, disturbing the peace, and masquerading there were no other charges. These were bad enough.
The police chief, Hector “Heck” Thompson, was about as wide as he was tall and he was plenty tall; well over six feet. He, too, had been in the Army then joined the Florida Highway Patrol. Tired of being on the road, Heck jumped at chance to be a small town police chief. Very little crime; only the need to stop shouting, shoving, and wildly swinging senior citizens once in a while. Lots of time for golf and fishing.
Life was good; now this! The whole episode was embarrassing. “One little guy roughed up all you big, tough cops.”
Someone countered, “Easy for you to say. You didn’t get head butted or break your damn nightstick on body armor.”
Heck thought it over. He wasn’t looking forward to keeping this maniac in a cell either. He wisely counseled, “He needs a psychiatrist and a mental institution; not a jail.”
The police chief breathed a sigh of relief as the man was placed in a strait jacket and carted off to the Regional Medical Center.
“Let them handle it,” he said and headed for a cup of coffee, a doughnut, and an aspirin.

######

Index of Posted Novels

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Resurrection Pond – A polluted pond begins spewing out its jetsam -- A Conquistador, an Indian, a Runaway Slave, a Florida Cracker, a Prostitute, and a Gangster among others. They are all transported into the world of today from their own era with resulting confusion and problems. (Chapter 1 downloaded next week.)

Only One Thing Wrong – A young genius has brilliant ideas but always forgets one thing leading to disastrous results. (Click on November 2008 archives.)

Katrina II – Is there a government agency that can control hurricanes? (Click on April 2007 archives for original or April 2008 for second edition.)

The House of Pain – A poor young man deals drugs to support a younger brother and sister. Meet the denizens of his house.
(Click on May 2007archives)

The Hunt for Secret Agent 000 – A college professor disappears on a trip to the former USSR. Is he a secret CIA agent? (Click on
June 2007 archives)

The Devil’s Rock -- A young man is hooked on drugs. Follow his life through women, jails, institutions, and, finally, to killing. Is the killing self-defense or a murder for revenge? (Click on October 2007archives)

Epilogue - Only One Thing Wrong

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

ONLY ONE THING WRONG
by
Jack Wilhelm

Epilogue

“Sweetie,” Patsy purred as she nestled up to Vaughn, “you’re going to be a Daddy.
“A what,” Vaughn shouted, “a Daddy! How! When! Where! What wonderful news. Vaughn hugged Patsy so hard she almost had to ask him to stop.
“Well, you ought to know how and who by now,” she stated sternly. The Regional Hospital is the where and about seven months from now is when.”
Vaughn was so excited he forgot all about hare-brained ideas and just began treating Patsy like a china doll.
Patsy, of course, told him stuff all the babying or save it for the baby. Over Vaughn’s objections, she told him she was going to work as long as she could.
******
A month later, the doctor told her she was having twins. They had to give Vaughn smelling salts.
******
Betsy delivered the twins without too much hard labor which was remarkable considering she was a paraplegic.
Vaughn had to have smelling salts.

*****
When he revived, he looked at their two twin girls both with red hair. He knew their eyes would be green with gold flecks in them.
Vaughn had to have smelling salts.

*******
Vaughn was a good father and devoted house husband. Patsy, after all, was wheelchair-bound although this never seemed to stop her. She went back to work.
Vaughn received his full professorship and still consulted on the side.

******
Every Fourth of July, Patsy let him put on the neighborhood fireworks display. It was the only time Vaughn handled explosives and the only time he let his imagination run wild. His fireworks displays were the best in the state.
Patsy admitted he was the world’s foremost propulsion engineer…and the best husband and Father. Vaughn could hardly believe he relished the latter two accolades more than the first.
Even the staid, McCorry’s agreed.
Vaughn lovingly placed Abby and Becky on Patsy’s lap and joined in a group hug. He whispered in Patsy’s ear he hoped a “Carolyn” would be next.
“Well, Patsy cooed, “if you’ll put the twins to bed, we’ll see what we can do about it.”
“Don’t go away; I’ll be right back,” Vaughn whispered as he hustled the twins off for their baths and bedtime stories.

######

Chapter 26 - Only One Thing Wrong

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

ONLY ONE THING WRONG
by
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 26 -- Goodbye Reef

Billy Joe hastened back to the office so he could make the phone call he was going to enjoy tremendously.
Luck was with him; Vaughn picked up on the first ring. Seems as though he wasn’t afraid an unknown caller might be a telemarketer.
“Hello, Vaughn. This is your old friend Billy Joe McFarland. I’ve got a job you’re going to enjoy.”
Vaughn didn’t think Billy Joe was ever going to give him a job he’d enjoy. Billy Joe had never given him anything but trouble.
So, he was surprised when Billy Joe said he’d been authorized to make Vaughn responsible for blowing up his oyster reef thereby eliminating a hazard to boats using the waterway.
Blowing up! Explosions! Explosives! Right up my alley! “When,” was all Vaughn could think of to say?
Then, a thought struck him. “Why are you actually asking me to do something you know I’ll enjoy?”
“I know you’re the best man with explosives around here. Remember the alligator?”
“Alligators and oyster reefs aren’t exactly the same,” Vaughn replied. “I am the best man for the job, of course.”
“Another thing I like about you,” Billy Joe jabbed. “You’re so modest.”
“Hey, it’s not modesty when you can back it up with action.”
“So stop talking and get working. While we’re sitting here talking, bottoms are getting ripped out of boats on the river.”
Vaughn was already to salute and say “Aye, aye” then remembered Billy Joe was Fish and Wildlife not Coast Guard.
“By the way, I’m not going to get in trouble with the Coast Guard am I?”
“No, in fact they’re the ones who decided the reef must go.”
“I’m your man. How quick do you want it to happen?”
“Quick as possible. Labor Day’s only a few weeks away and the waterways will be filled with crazy boaters.”
Vaughn thought about this. “Sometimes I think all displaced northerners are crazy. We have good weather most of the year but still Memorial Day marks the beginning of the season…”
“And,” Billy Joe chimed in, “Labor Day marks the end. The northerners have been patterned all their lives to accept this and just can’t change.”
“Thank goodness, I’m a Floridian,” Vaughn said.
“Yeah,” Billy Joe kidded, “a Floridian with a New York accent.”
“This is not a New York accent. It’s straight Philly.”
“Whatever,” Billy Joe concluded, “get out of here and get to work.”
As an afterthought, he added, “I want to watch the demolition but please don’t invite Kay.”
Vaughn laughed as he rose to leave, “My revenge will be sweet. Put on your armor! Or, bring along your pet skunk.”
******
The next day, Vaughn recruited some students from one of his chemical engineering classes.
“I need some help on a project you’ll be interested in,” he explained. “I’ll even give you some extra credit for your help.”
He explained the project. Naturally, the selected students were eager to help. There’s not a budding chemical engineer – or a practicing one either – who doesn’t love an explosion. Underwater was even better because geysers of water add to the thrill.
*******
A few days later, Vaughn phoned Billy Joe and told him he was ready
to plant the explosives. He asked which day would be better. Naturally, he suggested a low boat traffic day, if this was possible.
Billy Joe said, “Not to worry. The Coast Guard, Sheriff’s Department, and Marine Patrol will be on hand. They’ll keep the area clear of boats.”
“Right,” Vaughn replied, snidely. “I’ve seen how well they keep boats away from the rocket launches at Cape Kennedy.”
Vaughn remembered going with friends to see a launch. Hundreds of boats descended on the launch site. There was nothing the Coast Guard could do. The boats’ wakes made the water so rough Vaughn thought he would be seasick. In fact, he saw many boaters leaning over the sides of their boats.
“Hey, look,” the captain shouted, “break out the fishing poles. The chum in the water will bring in the fish.” He was kidding, of course. Or was he?
“Anyway, safety’s our problem. Your problem is to blow the reef so there’ll be no more bottomless boats or ruined props.”
“Give me a date,” Vaughn said. “I have to get back to class.”
“Make it next Wednesday around seven in the morning. Shouldn’t be anyone but fishermen out then.”
“You got it,” Vaughn promised as he headed for the door.
******
Vaughn and his recruits headed out to the reef on Tuesday evening and laid the charges. The crew had brought sleeping bags and food. There was no sense going back to Orlando for the few hours before morning. The recruits had done a fine job. Vaughn told them they’d all earned extra credit.
*****
The sunrise was spectacular. All the Government boats were positioned to keep boaters out of the danger zone.
Coast Guard commander Jim Lee was on hand, still very formal in a newly starched, neatly creased uniform. Billy Joe McFarland was there looking as though he’d tramped through swamps the whole night.
Vaughn and his crew were there, too, of course. Patsy, Oliver, and Kay arrived shortly before the planned time.
Kay wondered where Billy Joe was but soon spotted Cmdr. Lee. “Who’s the good looking Coast Guard,” she asked Vaughn.
“Jim Lee,” Vaughn responded. “Want an introduction.”
“Don’t worry,” Kay commented, “I’ll introduce myself.” She hightailed it to where the Commander was standing, swaying her booty the best she could.
Billy Joe looked at Vaughn and wiped his brow. “I’m not even sorry for him,” he smiled.
Cmdr. Lee gave the go-ahead
Just as Vaughn was getting ready to push the button, helicopters from the TV stations flew overhead and vans and cars filled with reporters and photographers pulled in to the campground.
“Oh, shit,” was all Cmd. Lee and Billy Joe McFarland could manage to say. “Some sumbitch tipped off the press.”
“I can’t imagine who would have done it,” Vaughn said as he pressed the button. Billy Joe thought Vaughn looked like the guilty party.
Before he had time to make any accusations, explosion after explosion echoed in the morning air. Vaughn had set his explosives to achieve a sequential, ripple effect.
As usual, Vaughn had gone whole hog.
Geysers of water, tire beads, oysters, and fish were thrown high into the air. The safety zone wasn’t wide enough. Coast Guard, Sheriff’s Department, and Marine Patrol boats as well as those of the press and curious on-lookers were bombarded with sharp oyster shells, metal tire beads, and fish guts. The damage was immense although not deadly. There were a lot of cuts and scratches to both the boats and the occupants but no major injuries.
Vaughn had done his job. The reef was gone.
Cdr. Lee and Billy Joe commiserated with each other. Yes, the waterway was open but the press coverage would have all the fishermen, nature lovers, environmentalists, and oyster eaters up in arms.
Then they turned on Vaughn. “Couldn’t you have been a little gentler,” they complained. “This will be a public relations nightmare for months to come.”
“Hey,” Vaughn countered, “My job was to blow up the reef and clear the waterway. Public Relations is your problem, boys.”
He jumped into his car, gave Patsy a kiss and off they drove into the sunrise.
Shots of water, oysters, and fish flying through the air filled the airwaves and the newspapers. As promised, Vaughn had created a public relations nightmare. It was the Governments’ jobs to try to placate everyone. This, of course, was impossible.

#####

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

ONLY ONE THING WRONG

by

Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 25 – Trouble with the Coast Guard

Vaughn was behaving himself; sticking to lecturing and consulting. If Patsy wasn’t working so hard, she’d have been happy, too, because Vaughn had no new schemes. Oliver and Kay were being Oliver and Kay. This meant they were happy partying with themselves.
The weekend neighborhood parties were normal; everybody tipsy. They all missed Patsy who was working seven days a week. Her Bobski hadn’t been used all summer.
Everything was calm and serene.
*****
Meanwhile, down on the Indian River, boats began having problems. Seems as if the nautical charts weren’t correct. Boaters were tearing up their propellers or, worse yet, the bottoms of their boats. This was happening where the charts indicated plenty of water depth.
Soon the cries of captains with damaged boats reached a crescendo. Complaints flowed to anyone who would listen; the local governments, the Fish and Wildlife Commission, the U.S. Coast Guard, their Washington representatives, and anyone else the captains could think of.
Everyone was sympathetic but non-committal. After all, ocean and bay bottoms are always changing as the result of tidal and storm action.
The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) Office of Coastal Surveys is responsible for communicating changes to existing charts.
The Office politely but firmly told the complainers the charts would be updated as scheduled although a note of shifting channel depths might be issued within the next six months.
All this changed when a Coast Guard vessel engaged in a high speed chase of a boat believed to be smuggling cocaine. The suspected smuggler’s Cigarette boat roared into Sebastian Inlet—a dangerous undertaking as any boater knows – with the Coast Guard right behind it.
Both turned to starboard into Brevard County; the smuggler hoping to lose its pursuer among spoil banks along the Waterway. The Coast Guard was right in its wake.
Suddenly, the suspect’s boat came to a grinding halt; the driver was thrown into the windshield and two other men were thrown into the water.
A boat has no brakes; the Captain threw the engine into reverse in an attempt to avoid a collision. No luck. The Coast Guard boat plowed right into the other vessel as it, too, came to a screeching halt.
The suspects came to the surface screaming “Sharks, Sharks.” The Coast Guardsmen found the suspects to be badly lacerated but there were no indications of shark bites.
“Looks as if these guys fell into oysters,” a grizzled, old Coast Guardsman commented as he applied antibiotics and bandages to the suspects’ wounds.
The captain soon found out the bottoms of both boats had been completely ripped apart as well.
The NOAA survey team promptly changed its schedule for surveying changes in the Indian River bottom
The team found the Intercoastal Waterway channel completely blocked by …..a solid rock-like, oyster reef.
*****
The Coast Guard convened a meeting with attendees from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission and local law enforcement agencies.
Coast Guard Commander Jim Lee, dressed in his freshly washed, crisply starched, uniform explained the problem. He concluded, “We’ve got to take out this reef before it completely blocks the Waterway.”
Several persons offered the suggestion to dynamite the entire reef.
Billy Joe McFarland asked for the floor. “The problem is the structure of the reef. The oysters were grown on tire beads.”
“Tire beads,” gasped several representatives.
“Yes, tire beads,” Billy Joe responded. “Someone I know –I’m not going to call him a friend – found tire beads make an ideal basis for oyster growth.”
“So, why is it a problem to dynamite the reef,” Captain Lee asked incredulously.
Billy Joe continued his explanation. If the beads were just laid on the river bottom, there’d be no problem. However, they were intertwined. The result is a structure much like reinforced concrete. It’s a solid mass.”
“Does this mean we have to bring in the Army Corps of Engineers” someone queried?
Cries of “No, no,” echoes through the Hall. Seemed as if no one liked the idea.
Billy Joe spoke again, “I know the person responsible for creating the reef in the first place. He’s a leading authority on propulsion engineering and explosives. I move we let him clean up the mess for us.”
Cries of “Hear, hear,” went up.
A representative of the Fish and Wildlife’s Public Relations took the floor and pointed out blowing up the reef would have a negative public relations effect.
This comment led to a great deal of discussion and bickering among those in attendance.
Captain Lee finally took command of the meeting. “There doesn’t seem to be a solution to make everyone happy. If we blow up the reef, environmentalists will complain. If we let the reef continue to grow, boaters will complain. If we blow up the reef, there’s going to be screams of anguish from the fishing community.”
“What do you recommend,” someone in the back of room shouted.
“I say blow up the reef,” the Captain answered “We can’t eliminate the use of a navigable waterway.”
A lot of discussion ensued but the consensus finally agreed with this recommendation.
The Captain turned to Billy Joe. “You’re nominated to contact the person who caused this whole problem and have him solve it.”
Billy Joe grimaced, the thought of running into Kay frightening him. Then the grimace turned into a grin; it was finally time to stick it to Vaughn.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said.
*******
Back in his office, Billy Joe pondered. Would it be better to go to Vaughn’s house and spring the surprise or have him come to the office?
After some thought, Billy Joe decided it would be more fun sticking it to Vaughn in the office. More official and impossible to refuse. Also, he wouldn’t run into Kay.
He picked up the telephone and dialed Vaughn’s number.

####

Chapter 24 -- Only One Thing Wrong

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

ONLY ONE THING WRONG
by
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 24 – If You’re Given Fish, Make Fish Fertilizer

Vaughn approached the Fish and Wildlife Management office with trepidation and his hat in hand. Figuratively, of course, because Vaughn never wore a hat. The simile fit, however, because he knew he was in serious trouble.
When he walked in the door, Billy Joe McFarland practically leaped on him. “This is the last straw. You’ve caused me more trouble than any ten other lawbreakers. Dead alligators, illegal fireworks; a speed demon wife, a nymphomaniac neighbor; what else are you going to do to me? Now, dead fish all over the Indian Riveer!”
Vaughn tried to look innocent. “What do you mean, dead fish?”
“You know damn well what I mean. There’s hundreds of dead fish floating in the Indian River.”
“So?”
“I have it on good authority you’re the one responsible.”
“I harvest oysters there but I didn’t kill fish.”
“Don’t play games with me, Vaughn, you didn’t kill fish personally but your dynamite sure as hell did.”
Vaughn knew he was in deep doo-doo. He couldn’t finesse, or even lie, his way out of it. He explained the problem. Billy Joe was not sympathetic. He did admit the operation was economically beneficial to Florida’s east coast.
“We just can’t allow a fish kill. We’ll have all the recreational and occupational fishermen screaming so loud it’ll be heard all the way to Tallahassee. Maybe even to Washington. The fish kill’s got to stop.”
Vaughn scratched his head. “There’s no other way to harvest the oysters economically. We can’t tong the oysters like the big bend oystermen do. Our oysters are solidly attached to intertwined tire beads. They’ve formed one solid reef.”
Billy Joe was not sympathetic. “I don’t care Vaughn; the fish kill has got to stop,”
“I’ll have to shut down the whole operation.”
“Yes, you will,” Billy Joe agreed.
Once again, Vaughn knew his investors would be unhappy to have the profits from their investment halted. He sighed. Then, thought. I’ll give the job to Oliver! One problem solved.
Happily, both he and Oliver had already reaped large profits as well as oysters!
Billy Joe wasn’t finished. “I think I can get you off without a fine or a prison sentence if you clean up all the dead fish.
Vaughn thought about it. He agreed. After all, he wasn’t personally going to clean up hundreds of rapidly rotting fish. He’d hire people to do the actual work.
“I’ll go you one better,” he observed. “Since we can’t harvest the oysters, I’ll turn all the leases back to the state of Florida. The government can open up harvesting to the public. Recreational oyster-gathering will be just as popular as clamming or crabbing.”
It was Billy Joe’s turn to think. He hmmmd, " Why not?" He turned to Vaughn and said. “You’ve got a deal. I’ll talk to my bosses in Tallahassee. I think they’ll go for the plan. Now get out of here and start shoveling dead fish.
******
Vaughn was glad to get out of the Fish and Wildlife Office. He knew he got off easy.
Than he started to think. His thinking was always dangerous. His thought went like this. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of dead fish. Farmers in the third world all used fish as fertilizer. What an idea! Take all those dead fish, dry them, grind them up, and package them. Voila! A whole new product line. The only cost would be in processing. The raw material – dead, stinking fish free.
*****
Meanwhile, the oyster grapevine was active. As soon as Tallahassee headquarters knew the east coast operation was shut down, the word traveled to the Big Bend. There was a huge party at the Big Bend Oystermen’s Hall. Toast after toast was offered to Jim Bob Brown. He did nothing to discourage the idea he was single-handedly responsible for saving the big bend oyster industry. Only his wife felt sorry for the families looking forward to east coast oysters for their livelihoods. She didn’t like her husband anyway. It was one of those relationships where the man worked, drank after work, openly ran around with other women, and often beat his wife. She was stuck with the housework, cooking, and raising the children which Jim Bob regularly sired. So, she jumped at the chance to nickname Jim Bob the “Squealer.” She called him this from then on. Soon all the oystermen started calling him “Squealer,” too. They laughingly thought it was a tribute to the noise he made when he had an orgasm.
******
Patsy had written convincing technical proposals. Her company had been awarded three new contracts; one for a laser designation system for fixed-wing aircraft, one for laser designation for helicopters, and one for helicopter pilot night vision and terrain avoidance system. As a reward, Patsy got to work an eighty hour week splitting her time between all three programs.
Needless to say, Patsy was not in the best of moods when Vaughn came through the door, gave Patsy a hug and kiss and loudly announced, “I’ve got a great idea for another new venture.”
“Just what I need; one more demand on my time,” Patsy growled.
Vaughn, of course, could hardly wait to pop the top on a Natty Ice and explain his idea to Oliver and Patsy.
He pointed to the experience of two folks he knew. They had been amateur orchid enthusiasts. By accident, they found ground coconut husks made great a great potting medium for orchids. While on a trip to Central America, they discovered a major coconut plantation wanting to get rid of coconut husks. Turns out water settling in the husks made an ideal place for the larvae of malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Soon, fellow orchid growers began asking Ann and Jim for some of their potting medium. It was clearly symbiotic. Free raw material. A use for the husks which orchid growers would pay for. Ann and Jim were in business. Sales grew so rapidly the two of them resigned from the aerospace company and became the president and CEO of a lucrative, expanding corporation.
Oliver and Patsy weren’t crazy over Vaughn’s latest brain fart. Oliver sounded off. “It’s one thing to talk about coconut husks and quite another when the subject is dead, rotting fish.”
Patsy agreed vehemently.
Oliver continued venting. “It’s going to be hard enough explaining why we are giving up our oyster venture. I am not going to try to tell our investors fish fertilizer is a better idea. Count me out.”
“Me, too,” added Patsy menacingly.
Vaughn was stubborn but he knew when he was outvoted. Particularly when one of the voters was his beautiful but dangerous, red haired, quick tempered Irish wife.

####

Chapter 24 -- Only One Thing Wrong

Copyright 2009 John R. Wilhelm

ONLY ONE THING WRONG
by
Jack Wilhelm

Chapter 24 –Here We Go Again

Little did Jim Bob Brown know just how much trauma he was going to cause when he walked into the Fish and Wildlife Office in Orlando. He knew this office was also responsible for Brevard and Indian River counties. He introduced himself to the man in charge.
“Hi y’all, I’m Jim Bob Brown and I represent the Big Bend Oystermen’s Association.”
“Glad to meet y’all. I’m Billy Joe McFarland. I’m the head of the office here. What can I do for y’all?” This guy looks like a lobster that’s been half eaten. Jim Bob did look awful. He had drunk more than his fill the previous night. He could hardly wait to tell his tale and high tail it to bed at his home in the big bend. First, he had to fink on Vaughn.
“We hear there’s been a fish kill over on the River and we know why, or rather, who.”
“You mean it’s who not why,” Billy Joe responded.
“Yessir, there’s a guy there growing and harvesting oysters. He’s created a reef so heavy he has to literally blow it apart in order to raise pieces to the surface and harvest the oysters.”
“You mean he’s using explosives?” Billy Joe almost exploded himself. “This is illegal as hell!”
“I know it,” Jim Bob snickered. He almost blushed as he lied, although you couldn’t tell it from his permanent sunburn. “Us boys felt it was our duty as sworn conservationists to let the proper authorities know.”
Billy Joe managed to keep a straight face. “Do you have a name of this responsible person?”
“Sure do. It’s a guy named Vaughn Brown. Claims to be a professor at the University.”
When Billy Joe heard the name, he almost went off like a Space Shuttle. “I should have known,” he bellowed.
Joe Bob cowered in his chair, “You know him?”
“Hell, yes, I know him. He’s blown up an alligator. His wife has soaked me with a Bobski contraption. To top it off, he sicced some dizzy old broad on me. She’s stalked me ever since.” Steam was rising out of Billy Joe’s collar; he was so hot.
Jim Bob smiled smugly. “I guess you know where to reach him then, don’t you?”
“You bet and I’m headed over there as soon as you leave.” Jim Bob couldn’t wait to get home. He knew he’d have all the free beer he could drink and the Big Bend Bar and Grill. If only he hadn’t drunk so much the night before. He sighed. It’s a tough life being a stool pigeon but someone’s got to do it.
*****
Billy Joe jumped in the agency’s car and headed for a place he knew only too well. The longer he drove, the hotter he got, and the faster he drove.
Only the flashing lights and the siren on the car behind him brought him to his senses. Oh my gosh, this is all I need; a ticket from a smoky bear, he thought. He had reverted to his old slang from when he was an over-the-road trucker before becoming a conservation officer.
He pulled over and the trooper recognized the Florida state license plate and the fellow state employee.
“Goin’ a little fast weren’t you,” he asked?
“I may have been a little,” Billy Joe replied. “I’m on my way to apprehend a violator and I forgot how fast I was going.”
“Well, us gov’ment boys got to stick together. I won’t give you a ticket this time but don’t let me catch you again.”
Chastened, Billy Joe swore he’d not speed again. “If I can ever return the favor, just ask.”
The smoky bear thought this one over. “Well, if you ever see me jacking deer down around Yeehaw Junction just look the other way.
Billy Joe grimaced but a deal was a deal so he shook his head “yes” and quickly pulled away.
*****
The closer he got to Vaughn’s home, the more his stomach started to churn. He realized the thought of Kay was causing it. Then the thought of Patsy soothed his stomach slightly but this led to the thought of Vaughn. He knew he was going to have an ulcer if not a stroke or heart attack. His head began to throb.
He practically dashed inside the house when Patsy opened the door.
“Do you have any aspirin or Tylenol? Better yet, how about a Percoset?
“Sorry,” Patsy purred, “We don’t have any of those remedies around here. “How about a nice glass of warm milk instead? It will calm your nerves.”
“Don’t you have anything stronger,” Billy Joe replied.
Patsy smiled. “Sure we do. What’ll you have? You’re too young a man to have headaches and stomach problems anyway.”
“A glass of Jack Daniel’s, please. That’ll cure me or kill me.”
Patsy smiled knowingly. “You’re just afraid of Kay, aren’t you?”
Billy Joe blushed but nodded. “Of course, Vaughn riles me up pretty well, too.”
“How can you say this about my calm, loveable husband,” Patsy teased.
Billy Joe snorted. “He may be calm and loveable to you but he’s just a perennial pain in the ass to me.”
“What’s he done this time,” Patsy questioned?
“His oyster business or, really, his dynamite is killing half the fish in the Indian River.”
Patsy smiled, “Whoever told you this. Vaughn doesn’t like to kill anything. I even have to kill roaches for him.”
“Oh, yes,” Billy Joe retorted. “How about the alligator he blew up?”
“You know it was a mistake. Anyway, this was years ago.”
“Sorry, but I’m a busy man. Is Vaughn here?” He threw down his three fingers of Jack Daniels.
“No, he’s not,” Patsy replied. “He’s at the University but he should be home soon. Why don’t you wait for him? He’s always glad to see you.”
“He won’t be when I cite him for causing a fish kill. I’ll expect him at my office tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have him there,” Patsy promised.
“By the way,” Billy Joe asked, “is it okay if I go out the back way?”
Patsy snickered, “Don’t want to face Kay, do you?”
Billy Joe blushed and didn’t reply. He headed quickly out the back.
A second later, Patsy heard a racket and wheeled out to the back to see what had happened.
There was Kay draped around Billy Joe. “Quit fighting me, you handsome hunk. Try it; you’ll like it.”
“Some other time, lady. Right now I’ve got important business to take care of.” Billy Joe disentangled himself and ran to his car. The official vehicle roared out of the driveway in a cloud of smoke.
“You’ve just got to stop scaring the poor man,” Patsy laughed “Come on in and have a drink. It’s got to be happy hour somewhere in the world.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kay responded. “Where’s your handsome husband.”
“Now just don’t you worry about my husband,” Patsy glowered.
“He’s going to have his own worries when he hits the Fish and Game Office tomorrow.”
“Well, then,” Kay queried, “where’s Oliver. Whoever heard of a Martini without an Oliver…I mean olive.”
“You’re an incorrigible senior citizen,” Patsy sighed.
“You got that right,” Kay laughed. “I’ll still be chasing men when I’m lowered into the ground.”
Patsy chuckled. “You’ll probably be cremated and have your ashes thrown into the lake.”
“Not a bad idea,” Kay replied thoughtfully. “Then they’ll be there with the ashes of all the other old farts on the island. What an erection; I mean resurrection that’ll be!!
Patsy raised her eyes to the heaven.

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