The Saltworks Murders

At two-thirty in the morning, Chester Samuels sat in his airboat and rubbed mosquito repellant on his face, neck, and arms. He had stopped under a massive cypress tree approximately ten yards from the boat ramp to rest before loading his boat on the trailer and going home. He had killed the engine and turned off the boat lights. An overcast sky kept the stars from shining through. A waxing gibbous moon glowed dimly, the only light showing through the clouds. Exhausted and sleepy, Chester had been out since dark the previous evening. He leaned back comfortably and sipped on a soft drink. He shook his head. A few years ago, ‘bout this time I’d of been sipping on a bottle of bourbon. But gave all that up. Been sober for over three years now. Chester thought about his daughter and smiled with pride. Melissa’s the reason. What a beautiful, smart girl she is. Graduating high school this year. Already has a full scholarship over at Deland University. She’s the only reason I’m sober now. When her mother left us both, it shook me up. She’d always been a good child. I hadn’t been that good of a father. When it hit me I was completely responsible for ‘er, it gave me something to hang on to. A reason to get me off the booze.

Chester made his living guiding fishing charters, running a string of crab traps, and occasional trips at night to catch frogs. He smiled and looked down at the squirming bag beneath his feet. Tonight’s trip had been very successful. I’ve got over fifty pounds of sweet butter frogs and a few big bullfrogs. This’ll be a profitable night. After cleaning his frogs, Chester sold the legs to the Redfish Bar & Grill, which offered them on their menu as a local Southern delicacy. Tired from being awake almost twenty hours, he decided to take a short nap before loading his boat and driving home. He leaned back against his seat, folded his arms, and nodded.

An hour later someone talking woke Chester. He sat up. What the hell? Who’s here at the ramp this time of night? He leaned up and peered around the tree toward the landing. With the subdued moonlight, he could make out silhouettes of three men standing on the dock talking. He started to speak up, but something cautioned him to be quiet. He listened.

“It’s been a very profitable month,” a voice said.

“That’s good. That’s good,” another voice said, then laughed.

Holy shit. I know that voice.

“We have another shipment coming in next Wednesday night. Make certain we’re not discovered,” said the first voice.

“No problem. I have it handled.”

The first voice continued, “Here is your payment for this month. We’re most grateful for your cooperation.”

“No problem. No problem. This’s a good deal for us both.”

Another voice spoke up. “Please let’s get on with this. I don’t know why we had to meet this time of the morning in such an inconvenient location.”

Son-of-a-bitch. I know that voice too.

The first voice said, “Please calm yourself. It’s for our safety. Where would you like to meet? At midday in downtown Cartersville?”

“No. No, of course not. A place like this gives me the creeps. It makes me very nervous.”

Louder, the first voice said, “For what you are being paid, you can afford to be nervous. Now let us discuss the main reason for our meeting."

The men continued to talk for several minutes, and Chester had trouble believing what he was hearing. Damn. I’d never of thought it about those guys. If what they’re talking about gets out, it’ll blow this county wide open. Holy shit.

Chester shifted in his seat and knocked over his empty soft drink can. It clanked loudly as it hit the bottom of the metal boat.

“What was that?” the first voice asked

“Oh my God. There’s someone there,” the third man exclaimed.

Chester panicked. He started his engine and spun the airboat around. With lights off, at full throttle he disappeared into the darkness.