Chapter 18:

Frenemies

As time slowed to a horrifying crawl, Trixie could hear Honey whistling "bob-white, bob, bob, white" from off in the distance. For the briefest of moments, she glanced away from her attacker's glistening fangs only to see the color draining from Jim Frayne's face. Then came the sharp crack of gunfire. And Trixie crumpled to the ground in a heap.

The trembling girl wasn't sure whether she'd been bitten by the cottonmouth or perhaps struck by a bullet. She was numb from head to toe. Then Trixie spied the dead snake lying next to her. It'd nearly been blown in two. And Miss Belden was ricocheted back to her senses.

"You're lucky that thing didn't getchyoo," Sure-shot Shelly said, shouldering her rifle. "It didn't, did it, girl?"

As Jim rushed to Trixie's side, Honey came flying through the brush.

Tackling Ms. Foret from behind, the slight girl took the unsuspecting woman to the ground. "Weren't you listening?! I told you! They only wanted to see the boar!" " Honey shrieked with hysteria. "If you shot my friend…why, why…."

"Honey, Trixie's fine," Jim called out as he inspected Miss Belden's calf. "Ms. Foret shot a cottonmouth. Let the lady up. But watch where you step. The snakes frequently bear young in September. There could be babies."

Sure-shot Shelly chuckled as an embarrassed Miss Wheeler rolled off the top of her and then arose, scanning the overgrowth for hidden dangers.

Jim and the other boys in the Bob-Whites had been warning Trixie and Honey about the poisonous vipers since day one. Mart had said the snake's venom was hemotoxic, which Jim explained meant it broke down blood vessels, which in turn could cause internal bleeding, organ damage, and gangrene. Doctors had developed antivenom. And in reality, few people died from cottonmouth bites. But still, it was no wonder Honey lived in fear of the semi-aquatic snakes.

Only as nervous as Miss Wheeler was about stumbling across a cottonmouth, she also knew she was being rude, and she extended her hand to the some-what-humored woman looking up at her from the marshy ground. "I hope I didn't hurt you, Ms. Foret," Honey said as she helped the lady to her feet. "I have no idea what got into me. I'm truly sorry."

Sure-shot Shelly wiped off the seat of her camo cargo pants. Her olive tee was stretched out at the neck, and she wore rubberized boots. Ms. Foret looked like she'd just come in from a morning of rough-and-tumble gator hunting.

"Forget it," the smirking lady returned. "Can't blame you for wantin' to protect the ones you love, Miss Priss. Takes a lotta guts to do what you did."

Honey's hazel eyes popped. "Guts?" she mumbled with disbelief.

Ms. Foret walloped the dumbstruck girl on the back. "Not many have the gumption to take on Ol' Sure-shot when she's got her gun," she revealed with a cackle followed by a cough. Ms. Foret then paused and removed a pack of smokes from one of her many pants pockets. "'Specially when those love'uns of hers have been nosin' 'round where they ain't supposed to be, "she emphasized, stuffing a long, slim cigarette between her un-painted lips.

Going for her lighter, Ms. Foret tossed a glare in Trixie and Jim's direction, and Miss Belden returned the woman's glower. Sure-shot Shelly's cancer rod was too thin to have produced a butt like the one the young detective had found near the freezer.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Foret," Jim said as he pulled Trixie over to apologize. "We shouldn't have been trespassing. You have my word, ma'am. We won't do it again." The sincere young man extended his hand in greeting. "I'm Jim Frayne, and this is my friend Trixie Belden. I take it you've already met my sister, Honey?"

Sure-shot Shelly nodded, then removed the cigarette from between her lips and blew a puff of smoke in the young people's direction. "Stayin' at Angler's Landin', are you," she said matter of fact, rejecting the young man's shake. "Would have thought ol' Lucas or one of those boys of his would've warned you to keep out of these parts? Worse things lurkin' here abouts than Water Mocs," Shelly added darkly. Cottonmouth snakes were also known as Water Moccasins.

"Like Rougarou?" Trixie jumped in boldly.

Sure-shot dropped her cigarette and snuffed it out with the toe of her boot. "Best we be goin'" she said, motioning the teens toward the road with her rifle. "Let's just say this ain't no place to be playin' 'round at night," she added darkly.

Trixie gulped. Ms. Foret was an odd one, for sure. But the surly woman had saved her life – or at least her limb- and Miss Belden owed her a vote of thanks. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't killed that snake," Trixie admitted as Sure-shot escorted the young people to their bicycles. "I can't thank you enough, Ms. Foret. You're very good with that gun of yours."

Ms. Foret grinned. "They don't call me Sure-shot for nothin'," she said. "Taught that grandson of mine to shoot before his father turned him against me, I did. Beau fill his tags yet? You do know Beau Benoit, don't you? His mother says he's been stayin' at the resort."

Trixie giggled. "Everyone knows Beau," she said. "And yes. He finished filling his tags yesterday, Ms. Foret. "

"Beau would been done sooner if someone hadn't tampered with his lines," Jim added, kicking up the stand on his bicycle with more force than was necessary.

Sure-shot Shelly looked off in the direction of Anglers' Landing and then spat in the ditch. "Lots of folks in that boat," she huffed. "Strange how the monkey business stopped when ol' Luke got laid up. Guessin' we owe that Rougarou a favor," she added with a creepy laugh.

Trixie and Honey exchanged glances. Ms. Foret was implying Mr. LeBlanc was behind people's troubles. Only that couldn't possibly be true, could it? Someone was still stealing alligators around Bayou Chevrette. Uncle Sam and Jim had found three cut lines the day before.

And that's when Detective Belden gasped. Those same three cut lines meant Uncle Zach likely wasn't the manipulative monster she'd been making him out to be. With Papa LeBlanc at home in bed, his son couldn't exactly pin the vandalism on his father. So the big question became, who was working to ruin the LeBlanc's alligator season? Bernie and the beguiling Ms. Camille? The Forets?

"Maybe it's Papa LeBlanc folks should be thanking," Trixie told Sure-shot Shelly, musing aloud. "Papa must have put quite the scare in your stepsons, Ms. Foret. How are Augustin and Lucien coming on filling their tags? Having a banner year?"

Ms. Foret pulled out another smoke. "Wouldn't call it banner," she mumbled. "Those boys have got more tags than they've got sense. Was tellin' Marcel, just this morning, we'll be lucky if we tag out this season."

Trixie eyed Ms. Foret suspiciously. Miss Belden wasn't sure she was getting a straight story. "Then how come you're not out gator hunting?" she ventured.

Shelly took a long draw on her cigarette, which ended in a series of hacks. "Just came in from huntin'," she revealed once the fit had passed. "Was on the way to the resort to meet up with our insurance agent when I ran across Miss Priss here snappin' pictures of somethin' in the road with her phone. The insurance company is finally gettin' out to inspect our dock if you must know Miss Nosy. My husband was tempted to tell 'em it could wait until gator season was over. But with the way our luck's been goin'? We'll need the money sooner."

Trixie raised a sandy brow, and Ms. Foret took another puff of her smoke.

"Somethin' got into our bait buckets last night," the woman volunteered, noticing the girl's questioning eye. "Bruce had been hitting the bottle and left 'em sittin' on the patio. Dumb mistakes like that add up, don't choo know."

Honey grabbed Trixie's sleeve with excitement. "Something got into Papa's bait, too!" Miss Wheeler told Ms. Foret. "Sheriff Theriot thought it was a bear! Do you think it might have been the same one, Ms. Foret?"

Sure-shot Shelly snorted. "If I thought it was a bear, I woulda said it was a bear," she said. "Now grab your bikes and climb in the back of my pickup. I'll give you a lift home. Elizabeth was expectin' me fifteen minutes ago."

Trixie wanted to know what the woman thought had gotten into her family's bait buckets. Only Sure-shot Shelly was through answering questions. And Jim motioned for his friend to do as the lady instructed. Ms. Foret wasn't giving the teens a ride back to Anglers' Landing out of the kindness of her heart. She was doing it to put an end to their snooping.

So, wheeling her bike to the truck, Trixie complied and hopped aboard. The young people's investigation into the wild boar's demise had come to a close. And the young detective was mighty glad now that she hadn't dropped the strands of hair she'd recovered from the dead animal's tusk when she'd encountered the cottonmouth. While Honey had been wrestling with Ms. Foret, her half-stunned friend had stashed them in her shirt pocket alongside the lipstick-stained cigarette butt.

Trixie would compare the hair sample with the one she'd retrieved from LeBlanc's chicken coop when she returned to Camp. She would have liked to have done so now. Detective Belden had the strands she'd taken from the hen-house with her. But the trip back to Anglers' Landing was bound to be bumpy, and losing them in the jostle would be too easy.

Trixie could tell Honey was dreading the rough ride from the tight look on her friend's face as she settled in beside her. Miss Wheeler hadn't wanted to ride in the back of Beau's pickup, and it'd had seats with safety belts. But as Jim slammed the tailgate behind his sister and joined the girls via a tire, Sure-shot Shelly started up the engine, and Honey let out a resigned sigh.

However, once they were headed down the road, Miss Wheeler admitted riding in the back was actually pretty fun. It turned out Ms. Foret was a very skilled and cautious driver. And Trixie wondered if Sure-shot Shelly had taught Beau to drive as well as shoot.

"It's a shame the Forets and Benoits are feuding," Honey said, reading her partner's mind. "Once you get to know her, Miss Foret seems rather nice, don't you think? It's obvious she's very proud of Beau."

"Ah, you just like her because she thinks you've got gumption," Trixie said as Sure-shot Shelly navigated a downed tree limb.

Honey would have crossed her arms in protest if she hadn't been using them to cling to the side of the truck bed. "That's not true!" Miss Wheeler argued angrily. "And I would think you, of all people, would agree with me, Trixie Belden. Have you forgotten Ms. Foret rescued you from that horrible snake?!"

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Gleeps, Honey, I haven't forgotten," she returned. But don't you think it's rather suspicious that Mr. LeBlanc's freezer gets broken into on the very same morning something stole the Foret's bait? I believe Ms. 'Rather-Nice' could have swiped Papa's meat to refill her family's bait buckets. Don't tell me you've forgotten the cigarette butt I found lying by the boathouse?"

Honey huffed. "That silly thing? Why it isn't even the same brand Ms. Foret smokes," she insisted.

The large pickup may have been swaying, but Trixie sat firm in her belief. "People bum cigarettes off each other all the time, Honey," she said. "And before you point out that Ms. Foret wasn't wearing lipstick, let me remind you, lipstick wears off."

Jim didn't like that the two best friends were squabbling. "You know, Trix," he said. "Miss Foret could just as easily be thinking the LeBlancs stole her bait. But let's be realistic. It's more likely a bear got into both. Wouldn't you agree?"

Trixie harrumphed. "Ms. Foret certainly wouldn't," the stubborn young lady insisted.

Jim leaned back against the truck's diamond plate toolbox. He was getting nowhere. "At least you can't deny I was right about one thing," he said.

Trixie had copped an attitude. "And what might that be?" she sniffed.

The red-headed boy grinned and gave Miss Belden's foot a playful nudge. "That you'd get yourself into a nest of cottonmouths," he teased.

Trixie slouched down, wishing she'd been more careful. Miss Belden had promised herself she wouldn't need rescuing this trip. "One snake hardly constitutes a nest," she grumbled.

And Honey smirked.

"That's very true, Jim," Miss Wheeler agreed. "Besides, I believe your prediction included something about a Cajun Casanova, didn't it? Let me see, what was it, dear brother?"

As Trixie grinned, Jim grunted and then fell silent. Maybe he had put a stop to the girls' little tiff, but now he felt like they were ganging up on him. Mr. Frayne was all too aware that Beau Benoit had been showing interest in his best girl. And he didn't like it. Trixie and Honey had made their point just as much as he had his. Mr. Frayne should have been worried about both kinds of snakes in the grass.

Aunt Liz, Renee, Bernie, and Papa were standing on the boat launch, talking with a slender woman in an expensive suit, when Ms. Foret and the New Yorkers pulled into Camp. As the teens unloaded their bicycles, Sure-shot Shelly joined the adults.

"Looks like Papa's rounded up the posse for a hanging," Trixie observed as she and her friends put their bikes back in the rack under the carport. "I sure wouldn't want to be Ms. Foret right about now."

Only as Papa let out a hearty laugh Jim noted that the gathering sounded more like a party. "I wouldn't worry about Sure-shot Shelly, Trix," he said. "She can take care of herself, from what I've seen. Besides, I have a hunch the LeBlancs are celebrating. Having their boat launch blocked has been a huge pain in their tochuses, as Papa would say."

"I imagine it's been just as inconvenient for the Forets without a dock," Honey pointed out, smiling. "And I really doubt Ms. Foret was expecting a warm reception, Trixie. But whether it's a party or a lynching or going on down there, I'm afraid it's back to the laundromat for our weary souls."

"Oh, Honey, can't that wait?" Trixie moaned as her friend reached for the insect repellent she'd forgotten in her bike basket. "Why, when we left this morning, there were hardly enough dirties to make another load. I'm dying to find out if the new hair samples I found match those from the chicken coop. I thought we could take them over to the shelter house and take a peek before putting our noses back to the grindstone."

"Oh, Trixie, I'm dying to know, too," Honey replied. "But like your mother always says ..."

Jim laughed, pushing the squabbling pair into the beating sunlight. "If the two of you were to die as many times as you claim, the grim reaper would quit his job from overwork," he interrupted. "I'd like to hear what the insurance agent has to say about the Foret's dock before we do anything. Even if we find the strands match, Trix, it won't prove what kind of animal they came from."

Trixie admitted, at least on this occasion, that when Jim was right, he was right.

"Maybe Dr. Guidry would be interested in running some tests on the hairs?" Honey suggested as the young people made their way towards the boat ramp. "I hope Aunt Renee will be able to put us in touch with the professor."

As the teenagers merged with the older crowd, Trixie noticed Sure-shot Shelly giving Papa's amble belly a pat. "Surprised to see you up and about, Lucas," Ms. Foret was saying. "Looks like you've been eating well, too?" she laughed darkly.

Bernie coughed and then spat in the reeds. "Surveillez votre bouche, vieille femme!" he growled, giving his estranged mother the evil eye.

Mr. Benoit looked and sounded like the devil himself, and even Trixie found herself shrinking back. "Do you have any idea what Bernie just said?" she whispered in Honey's ear.

"I believe he was warning Ms. Foret to watch her mouth," the pretty girl returned with a gasp. "Bernie called his mother an old woman, Trixie."

"Nothing like respecting your elders," Miss Belden scoffed quietly. "So, what do you make of the Foret's insurance agent, Hon? A little overdressed, don't you think?" Miss Klondike of Fisherman's Home and Motor had gone out on the teetering dock in her stiletto heels to snap pictures of the damage with her camera.

Honey was about to comment on the woman's inappropriate attire when Papa called out, "Better watch yourself, Miss Klondike. That thing's topsy-turvy. It'll dump you in the bayou."

Tropical Storm Deloris had left most of the Foret's dock beached on the LeBlanc's boat launch. But a small portion of its ramp stretched over the water like the plank on a pirate's ship. As the unheeding woman stepped onto the slip to get more of her photograph in frame, she let out a piercing shriek, which was followed by a loud splash.

The next thing Trixie knew, Miss Klondike was floating face down in the water, showing no signs of movement. Jim instantly stripped out of his white tee and flung it at Miss Belden as he dashed to the woman's rescue. Trixie surmised the foolish fashionista must have struck her head when she fell. And like most of the worrying people, Miss Belden rushed to the shoreline as Aunt Renee ran in the opposite direction to call for help.

Meanwhile, Miss Klondike's body was slowly sinking. But mercifully, the unconscious woman had landed in the shallows. And as Mr. Frayne reached her, the husky young man was able to lift Miss Klondike's limp form out of the water.

Jim then began lugging Miss Klondike to the bank. But before he could step foot on shore, the reeds at the water's edge began to rustle. As Honey turned white and Trixie gasped, Chip-Tooth Chucky emerged from his grassy hidey hole.

The commotion in the water had awakened the grisly gator. And its keen sense of smell had picked up on the scent of the blood dripping into the bayou from an ugly gash in the Insurance agent's chin. All that was visible of the mammoth monster were the bumps of his two eyes as the big alligator slipped into the murky bayou and stealthily made his way toward Mr. Frayne and his burden.

"Jim, look out!" Honey screamed, clutching her head in panic. "Hurry, hurry! It's Chip-tooth Chucky!"

Only the terrified boy was moving as fast as he could. The muddy bottom of the bayou sucked at his feet. And though Miss Klondike was light as a feather, she was gangly, and her long limbs dragged in the water, further slowing the young man's progress.

Worse, Trixie realized there was nowhere for Jim to go! The alligator was now between the young man and the shore. Miss Belden knew she had to do something fast, or Chip-tooth Chucky would have Jim and Miss Klondike for lunch!

That's when Trixie was struck with an idea. Wadding Jim's shirt into a ball, she heaved it over ol' Chip-tooth's head into deeper water.

Thinking the flopping white missile was an injured egret, the hungry gator slapped his great tail and switched course in hot pursuit.

Jim, meanwhile, was able to get Miss Klondike to safety. And as the heroic young man laid the corpse-like woman on a comforter Aunt Renee had brought from the office, the agent coughed, bringing up water. That's when Trixie noticed Miss Klondike's done-up pink lips. And Miss Belden couldn't help but stare.

In fact, she was still staring at the dermal-filled beauties when the Emergency response team arrived. The shade of the woman's creamy lipstick matched that on the butt in Miss Belden's pocket. And Trixie scolded herself for being more concerned with her case than she was with the woman's current state of well-being.

Miss Belden's cool detachment would make her a top-notch detective one day. She wasn't proud of it. But that's how Trixie's brain worked. And right about now, it was reminding the young lady that pink was a popular color this season. Besides, Trixie didn't even know if Miss Klondike smoked. And those long fake nails of the agent's certainly weren't designed for ripping open frozen meat packages.

"Will Miss Klondike be OK?" Honey asked, touching Trixie's arm to get her attention.

"I think so," Trixie replied as the paramedics loaded their patient onto a gurney and rolled the woman to their ambulance. "But how are you doing, Hon?" she added. Miss Wheeler was trembling and as ghostly white as Miss Klondike had been when Jim had carried her out of the water.

Honey smiled. "I'm fine," she insisted.

Only Aunts Renee and Liz certainly didn't think so. And they poured the fragile girl a cup of hot tea from Papa's thermos.

"Here, drink this," Aunt Liz said.

"It'll calm your nerves," Hallie's mother maintained.

As the two doting ladies tended to her partner, Trixie went to check on Jim, who was sitting on top of a picnic table down by the bank, drying off in the sun.

"Scary one, huh?" she called out as she waded through the flooded grass to reach the table.

"I'll say," Jim returned as he continued to stare at the seemingly peaceful bayou. "Talk about seeing your life flash before your eyes. I guess I owe you one this time, Trix."

Trixie laughed and hoisted herself up beside the sheepish young man. "Hardly," she said. "The way I figure it, it'll be the year 2050 before I've paid off my debt to you."

This time, Jim laughed. "How about we just call it even-stevens," he said. "That was pretty slick the way you threw my shirt in the water, Trix. How'd you know Chucky was going to go after it?"

"Honestly, I wasn't sure he would," the young lady confessed. "But I'll tell you one thing, Jim. I think Dan's got a pretty good chance of catching Houdini using those goofy white grocery bags of his."

Mr. Frayne grimaced. "Let's hope so," he said. "It might be the only thing that saves Mr. LeBlanc's season at this rate."

As Aunt Liz called, asking the young people if they'd like something to eat, Jim took Trixie's hand and then led her back to the boat launch. There, the teenagers saw Papa LeBlanc standing at Sure-shot Shelly's idling pickup, telling her goodbye.

Approaching the pair of seniors, Trixie and Jim heard Ms. Foret say, "That darn alligator's mighty lucky I left my gun in the truck, Lucas. One day, the big nuisance is gonna find a tag in his tail."

"Chucky?!" Mr. LeBlanc roared with laughter. "That ol' boy's got hoodoo on him, Shell. I wouldn't be takin' him down, oh no. Not even if Clete was to give his permission."

Shelly blew cigarette smoke in Papa's face through her rolled-down window. "Oo, like I'm shakin' in my boots," she chuckled. "The only cursed one 'round here is you, Luke."

Mr. LeBlancs pinched his lips so tightly Trixie was sure he could have snapped a nail in two. "Thanks to you," she heard the man grumble. "Better watch your step, Ms. Shelly. You wouldn't want the Rougarou to get you."

Mr. LeBlanc then cracked a smile, and Sure-shot laughed hysterically. "The Rougarou?!" she repeated, throwing her truck in reverse. "Now, who in their right mind believes in the Rougarou, Luke? Happy hunting, ol' man!" she called as she wheeled her truck around.

"It was really weird listening to Papa and Ms. Foret talk," Trixie told Honey after lunch as they rolled the boys' clean socks in the laundry room. "I couldn't tell if they were worst enemies or two old friends giving each other a hard time."

"I imagine they're a bit of both," Honey said with a yawn. "Some people are funny that way, Trixie."

As her friend yawned again, Miss Belden suggested Honey go to the cabin and lie down. "Honestly, Hon, don't mind at all," she said. "Jim and Aunt Renee should be back anytime. Your brother will be glad to help me finish the laundry."

Jim and Aunt Renee had taken the resort's ATV side-by-side out to the site where the wild hog had been killed. When the teens had shown Ms. Belden the photos Honey had taken of suspected wolf tracks with her phone, Trixie's aunt had become very excited and wanted to see them for herself. When she and Jim returned, Aunt Renee planned to email the pictures to Dr. Guidry.

As Honey miss-matched a pair of Mart and Dan's white socks, she admitted she could hardly keep her eyes open. "If you really don't mind, I think I will go take a nap," she said. "I don't know why, but I'm absolutely exhausted, Trixie."

"I did keep you up awful late last night, Hon," Trixie pointed out, "But did you ever stop to think it's Mrs. Robert's ginger tea that's making you sleepy? It smelled as if it had more chamomile than ginger in it. Chamomile is a known sleep remedy, you know."

Honey decided her friend could be right. "I must have overdone it," she sighed. "But the tea was so sweetly delicious, Trixie. I begged Aunt Liz for a second cup. It's positively addictive."

Trixie laughed and went for an ice cube in the noisy ice-maker as its tray spilled. And as she rubbed the dripping block across her wrist, hoping to bring down her body temperature, Miss Belden knew she'd never be able to nod off in Honey's place. Between the heat and the poison in her system from her numerous bug bites, Trixie was a tortured mess. She doubted even Mrs. Robert's ginger tea could bring her some relief.

"I guess we've discovered why Aunt Renee's been sleeping so much," she told her droopy-eyed partner. "It got to be the tea, Honey. It's no wonder you're tired. So go get some rest. I'll wake you up when it's time to help with dinner."

Later that afternoon, as Trixie, Honey, and Jim reported to the outdoor kitchen, the teenagers discovered Deviled Crab Cakes were to be the plat du jour. Two humongous boxes of coleslaw from the Dinky Pinky's Deli Department were in the refrigerator to serve with them. And several crusty loaves of French bread from the store's bakery sat waiting on the counter to be sliced.

After handing Jim a bread knife, Aunt Liz sent a still-drowsy Honey to set the tables. That left Trixie with the messy job of forming the crab patties out of an aromatic mish-mash filled with the Cajun holy trinity of green bell pepper, onion, and celery. Once Miss Belden had finished forming the cakes, Aunt Liz planned to dredge them in saltine cracker crumbs and then fry the patties to a rich golden brown. As she completed a batch, Mrs. LeBlanc would place it on a tray in the oven to stay warm until supper.

Trixie's mouth was already watering. Only the hungry girl knew dinner wasn't far off. The mighty gator hunters had just come through the front gate, blaring their truck horns. That meant something was up. And Aunt Liz sent the young people to find out what it was while she monitored things in the kitchen.

As the girls and Jim raced toward the boathouse, Mart hopped out of Maxine's compact pickup before it stopped. If Daddy had seen, the young Mr. Belden would have received a stern lecture for doing something so dangerous. But as it was, Mart got off with a disapproving glare from his sister.

"Have you heard the big news!" the anxious boy called as the teens ran up, panting out of breath.

"Oh, Mart! Don't tell me?!" Honey cried gleefully, throwing her arms around the young man's neck. "You've caught Houdini, haven't you?! I just knew you would with that magic marinade of yours!"

Mart's face might have been sunburned to a crispy red, but his sister could still make out the tell-tale blush spreading across her brother's cheeks. "Don't I wish," the grinning boy returned. "We hardly caught a gator all day, Honey. But that's another story. There's a hurricane headed straight for St. Estelle!"