Read Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Online

Authors: Marty Ambrose

Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Journalist - Florida

Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue (16 page)

“How ya doing?” I asked.

He looked up at me, his eyes sad-too sad for a boy
his age. “Everybody keeps asking me these questions like I know what happened to my dad. But I don’t. I fell
asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone. I don’t know
anything.” He stood up and threw the book down.

“I believe you, Kevin.” I kept my voice soft and soothing. “Grownups like to have answers, and your dad’s
falling overboard is kind of a mystery. People want to
know why.”

He slumped on the bed. “I wish I did know. It would
make me feel a whole lot better.”

I settled onto the bed next to him. “It wasn’t your
fault, you know.”

“Mr. Billie thinks so” His mouth trembled. “He
asked me if I was mad at my dad. If I ever yelled at
him.” He hung his head. “I did get mad at him sometimes. Still, I wanted him to live here with Mom and
me….

“That’s pretty normal to want your dad to live with
you. I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry with him.”

“But Dad told me when we were out fishing that he
was moving back in. That he had to take care of something first, but he loved me and Mom.” Kevin sniffed.

“Did he explain the `something’?”

“Nope” Kevin dropped his head into his hands. “I
wish I had stayed awake. Then maybe I could’ve stopped
him from falling overboard.”

I slipped an arm around him. “You can’t think like that,
Kevin. Accidents happen, and no one can prevent them”

“My daddy wasn’t drunk! I told Mr. Billie that.” His
head snapped up, and he looked at me, tears in his eyes.

“I know,” I said in a quiet voice. “You told the truth,
and that’s so important. But let me ask you something:
Is it possible that someone else came aboard the boat?
Someone who wanted to … uh … talk to your daddy?”

His eyes widened as he looked up at me in surprise.

“They would’ve come up in another boat,” I continued, keeping my arm around him.

“I … I thought I heard a boat engine!” he exclaimed.

“You did?”

He jerked his head up and down. “It was right before
I fell asleep. I thought Dad started up the engines to
throw off algae. But maybe it was another boat”

“Maybe so. Did you tell this to Detective Billie?”

“Uh … yeah. He didn’t say much about it.”

I didn’t respond, but puzzlement nagged at me.
Wouldn’t Nick have pushed for more information?

Kevin gazed up at me again with solemn eyes. “It’s a
good thing I remembered, isn’t it?”

I hugged him. “It sure is.”

As I let myself out of his room a little while later, I
weighed the possibility that another vessel had approached Tom’s the night he was murdered. If so, it
could’ve been Jake Fowler or Frank King. Both were experienced boaters, and both had motives to kill Tom. If
Nick Billie didn’t think so, I’d nudge him along to see it
my way pronto. Anything to clear Kevin.

Feeling pretty good about my hypothesis, I strolled
into the living room just in time to see Frank and Sally
Jo spring back out of each other’s arms. It was more than a comfort hug. They’d been kissing. Passionately.

Not knowing what to say, I muttered a hasty goodbye and got the heck out of there.

Oh, yeah. Frank King was a suspect, all right.

 

it took me about five miles before I could shake off
the upset of seeing Sally Jo and Frank wrapped in a
passionate embrace. In those moments, she sure hadn’t
seemed like the grieving widow I’d comforted only two
days earlier.

What had happened? Had she found out about
Tom’s rumored affairs? Or was the whole distraughtwidow thing a phony act to disguise something more
sinister? Maybe she and Frank had been lovers and
plotted together to kill Tom. And where did that leave
poor Kevin?

I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck. I was
tired. Between hauling Madame Geri around all day,
digging up clues about Tom’s death, and dealing with
his son’s sadness, I was worn out.

Being the kind of person that others could count on
was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe too much for
me. It was so much easier to have only a teacup poodle
to answer to.

I pressed down Rusty’s accelerator and sped along
Cypress Road toward Mango Bay. No cars passed me
in the opposite direction, and no one was behind me.
I’d learned that when it grew cold, most islanders liked
to stay inside. They said your blood thinned when you
lived in Florida too long. Not so. I think it was because
the basic Florida wardrobe thinned after a few years,
and no one had any decent cold-weather gear, except
for out-of-date polyesters and velour warm-up suits.

My thoughts drifted back to the fishing fly. I’d take
it in to Frank King’s bait shop tomorrow and see if I
could solicit any information from him. Watch his expression. Decipher his body language.

Then I’d tell Detective Billie about my little piece of
evidence.

I realized that I should probably tell Nick about the
deceiver first, but I’d promised Wanda Sue that I would
protect Kevin and try to find Tom’s killer. A promise was
a promise.

Wow. I was taking my duties as a friend seriously.
Maybe there were depths to my character that I hadn’t
suspected. I was curious to find out-

All of a sudden, Rusty heaved forward. My head
jerked backward.

What the heck?

Was the accelerator sticking again?

Thump. My truck lurched again.

No, it wasn’t Rusty. Someone had just hit me from
behind. I glanced into the rearview mirror and could
see only glaring headlights. The vehicle sat a lot higher
on the road than my truck, so I couldn’t make out anything except the lights. And they were on high beam.

Thump. This time the vehicle hit me harder. My whole
body jerked with the impact.

I beeped my horn, rolled down the window, and motioned for it to go around.

The vehicle remained behind me.

Who was it?

I couldn’t take the time to find out. I had to get away
from whoever it was before they drove me off the road
or, worse, flipped me into the ditch.

I floored it. Of course the speed increased only about
ten miles per hour, making the grand total of 60 mph.
The other vehicle easily closed the distance between us
and steadily bore down on me.

Sweat broke out on my forehead as I braced myself
for another impact.

The headlights grew larger in my rearview mirror.

“Hold on, Rusty. This is it.” My hands tightened
around the steering wheel.

Just then another car appeared in the opposite direction, and the vehicle behind me broke off its pursuit.

Realizing this was my chance, I quickly turned off
Cypress Road and took a detour through The Mounds the highest point on the island, where ancient Caloosa
Indians had lived.

I kept a watch in my rearview mirror all the way, but
the vehicle disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

After a few minutes I eased off the gas pedal and
drew in a shaky breath.

Had someone just tried to kill me? Me, Mallie Monroe? Disney World dropout and all-around semiflake?
Why would anyone want to hurt me? Was it the same
person who’d sent me the e-mail? Salty Surfer? If so,
he had just raised the stakes. Now he wanted me off the
case-permanently.

I had a mad desire to call Nick Billie. He wouldn’t be
at the station at this hour, but I knew there was an emergency number. This was serious. Besides, I needed a
strong shoulder and a pair of comforting arms right now.

I flexed my fingers to keep my hands steady. No, I
needed to drive back to my Airstream and get my head
together. I’d report the incident to Detective Billie tomorrow when I had my wits about me.

Somehow I made it back to the Twin Palms RV Resort in one piece.

My Airstream had never looked so good. Without so
much as a glance in the direction of the Wanderlodge, I
let myself in. I scooped up Kong and burst into tears.

So much for willpower.

The next morning, I smiled slowly as I realized it was
Saturday. Thank goodness I had the morning to sleep in before I had to be at the marina to cover the Autumn
Festival fishing tournament. I’d slept fitfully after my
brush with death on Cypress Road last night. I kept replaying the scene in my mind, trying to figure out who
might’ve done it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a good look at the make
of the vehicle. Too bad. My car psychology never failed
me. In minutes I might’ve had a handle on who was trying to kill me.

Someone must feel I’m getting too close to finding
Tom’s killer. And he decided to either scare me-or
worse. If I’d hit a telephone pole or flipped, I could’ve
been seriously injured.

I shivered under my old quilt. Kong snuggled in closer
to me.

I turned my face into the pillow, not wanting to think
any more about my mysterious attacker last night.

Kong tunneled his nose toward me and started to lick
my face. After reveling in his canine adoration for a few
minutes, I threw the Windbreaker over my pajamas,
hooked the leash onto his collar, and swung open the
door to my Airstream.

I jumped back with a gasp as I beheld Madame
Geri standing there with her trusty bird perched on
her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to get out.

“Your life is in danger. If you don’t act now, you’ll
be dead”

Kong stared up at Marley and growled low in his
throat.

“Come on in.” I sighed. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

I took Kong for a brief walk and then rejoined
Madame Geri, who’d parked herself on my sofa and was
sipping coffee out of my Epcot stoneware mug. Actually,
it was my only stoneware mug-courtesy of my tenure at
Disney World.

“Make yourself at home,” I muttered.

“I had to come,” she pronounced, slipping Marley
off her shoulder and onto a cushion. This morning she
had donned a retro print dress, long sweater, and dangling earrings. The dreadlocks were pinned up with a
large bow. Interesting look.

“How did you find me?”

“Sandy-she and Jimmy drove me here” She stroked
Merlin. “Last night I was finishing Anita’s astrological
chart, and I felt a cold draft-“

“The wind?” I poured myself a jumbo cup of coffee
and slid into a chair a safe distance from that bird.

She shook her head. “My windows were closed. It
was a warning from the spirit world. They told me a
malevolence was after you.”

A tiny chill ran down my spine. “What time did you
get this … uh … warning?”

She looked affronted. “I don’t keep clocks in my
house. Time is irrelevant.”

“Can you estimate?”

“About nine forty-six.” She patted the bottom of the
sofa, and Kong inched toward her, keeping a canine
watch on Marley.

“That’s a pretty specific guess.”

“I could tell from the position of the stars in the sky.
That’s much more reliable than anything manmade like
a clock.” She reached down and stroked Kong’s apricotcolored fur. Surprisingly, Kong permitted the intimacy.

“He doesn’t usually take to strangers-except Nick
Billie,” I said, waiting for him to nip at her fingers. But
nothing happened.

“We’re not strangers, are we?” She smiled down at
him, and he wagged his tiny tail.

What that meant, I didn’t bother to inquire.

“It’s an odd coincidence, but a car almost drove me off
the road last night about the time you had your psychic
`warning,”’ I revealed reluctantly. I didn’t want to encourage Madame Geri’s nuttiness, but, then again, I was
in no position to ignore her predictions. My life had been
threatened.

She waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no such thing
as coincidence. The spirit world wanted me to know
that you were in danger.”

“Did they tell you who was after me?”

She shook her head. “Not specifically.”

I gritted my teeth in frustration. “You can tell the spirits for me that I think they’re annoyingly vague. What’s the use of all these feelings and visions if they’re not going to lead to answers?”

She stroked the top of Kong’s head with gentle motions. “Maybe they’re clear, and it’s we who cannot understand the truth”

“Mumbo jumbo, if you ask me.”

“No, the danger is real, and you need help.” She
reached into her leather bag and pulled out a silver chain
with a tiny ball on it. “Wear this amulet at all times.”

I stretched out my hand. She dropped it into my palm
and closed my fingers over it. “Marley and I will stick
close to you”

Oh, great. I’ve got a crazy psychic, her beady-eyed
bird, and a piece of jewelry to protect me from a murderer. I’d be safer waving a rubber chicken over my
head and reciting some kind of protection chant. “We’d
better bring in a professional,” I said, slipping the necklace around my neck.

“An exorcist?”

“A police officer.”

“Oh” She sat back, disappointment etched in her face.

“Let’s go see Detective Billie after I take a quick
shower.” Even though it was the weekend, I didn’t need
a psychic to tell me that he’d be working. The man practically lived at his workplace, and, right now, that was
comforting. He had a murderer loose on the island and
wouldn’t let up until he’d made an arrest.

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