Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 04 - Killer Kool (9 page)

Kyle muttered something under his breath, his body
still tense and ready for another attack from Guido.

Pop Pop then started coughing and doubled over, dropping his oxygen mask on the ground. The two guys immediately rushed to his aid, grabbing his arms and holding
him upright. I tried to take control of the oxygen-tank
equipment, as I fumbled with the mask. Eventually, I
managed to get it over his face.

“Take a few deep breaths,” I said, as I patted him on
the shoulder.

He complied, but one side of his mouth turned up ward, and he gave me wink, whispering, “Geezer power.”

My mouth dropped open. He’d been faking the whole
coughing fit to distract them.

Aging Machiavellian tactics. Cool. I was lost in admiration of Pop Pop’s craftiness-and his acting skills.
Maybe there was something to that whole “not getting
older but better” thing.

“Let’s get him into the truck,” I said, trying to sound
very concerned over Pop Pop’s state of health. That
probably worked better than the old broom at defusing
the situation.

“Don’t forget my burger,” he added in a weak voice.
“And the fries…”

“Sure thing.” It was the least I could do, even if it
would give my truck a funky smell. I retrieved the
basket with the crisped burger, paid the Goth waitress,
who had retreated inside the trailer to put on another
layer of black eyeliner, and reached my truck just at the
point Guido was strapping the seat belt around Pop Pop.

Kyle opened the back door and set the oxygen tank
on the floor. He stepped away as I approached.

“Look, thanks for helping with Pop Pop,” I began,
handing the hockey-puck hamburger patty to my aging
handyman. He eagerly gobbled down half of it before I
could slam the door shut. Shuddering, I turned to the
two guys. “You know I can’t just forget what happened
here-one of you could’ve really been hurt-so I’m going to have to file a report with Detective Billie tomor row. In the meantime, Guido, hop into the back, and I’ll
take you home.”

“What about my bicycle?”

“Throw it into the back of the truck.”

“Okay.” A shadow of fear touched Guido’s face.
“Will I get in trouble for fighting with Kyle? I don’t want
to be sent back to Italia and leave my darling Beatrice’specially not now. She’s all alone.”

I hesitated, chewing on my lower lip.

“Please, miss,” he pleaded.

“Let’s talk about it-I might be persuaded to put in a
good word for you.” Of course, I didn’t add that my stock
with Nick Billie had tanked lower than a Florida sinkhole.

He placed the bike in the back of Rusty and then
climbed in. Kyle ambled back to the trailer, looking over
his shoulder a couple of times. Then he aimed a rude
hand gesture at Guido, who, luckily, didn’t notice.

“Jerk,” I mumbled, as I circled around the front of
Rusty. Kyle might not be a killer, but he certainly needed
a first-class attitude adjustment-and a grill that didn’t
look like an outpost on the verge of Milton’s city of Pandemonium in Paradise Lost.

I cranked up Rusty’s engine and pulled out of the parking lot with my motley crew. After a few moments of inhaling the hideous stench of the burger, I rolled down my
window. Of course, halfway down, it stuck. I gasped for
some fresh air and then reconciled myself to possible
asphyxiation.

As I turned onto Cypress Drive, the island’s main
drag, I noticed the sun had begun to set. Various shades
of red streaked across the sky like blotches of anger and
dark menace.

Blood and fire.

I shuddered inwardly. What did it mean?

Had Marco Santini been murdered? What about his
brother? I didn’t believe in coincidences, so my suspicions had been placed on high alert.

I glanced at Guido in the backseat. Had he been on to
something when he accused Kyle?

“Want a bite?” Pop Pop shoved the burger into my
face. I swallowed hard.

“Maybe a little one.” I took the charred lump from
him and nibbled the tiniest piece I could manage.

I blinked. It wasn’t half-bad. Instead of tasting like
charcoal, it had an appetizing, smoky flavor, much like
you’d get at one of those expensive restaurants where
they cook on a plank. I sneaked another bite-bigger
this time-and savored the crunchy zing of Le Sink’s
main menu item.

“Told ya.” Pop Pop retrieved the remaining burger
from me and gobbled it down before I could come up
with another excuse to get an additional bite.

Sighing, I contented myself by grabbing a few of his
fries-and found those just as tasty. Crisp and lightly
salted. Yum. Well, at least I’d have some positive aspects for my restaurant review. Le Sink might look like
Le Dump and employ waitstaff who were Le Stupid, but they served a lean and mean burger. I’d be backand without Pop Pop as my date. Then, I remembered
what had happened with my two erstwhile boyfriends
and sighed again.

I’d probably be dining alone.

“Miss, can I explain what happened?” Guido asked
in a tentative voice.

“Sure” I helped myself to a few more fries, thinking
Pop Pop wouldn’t see me. He moved the basket out of
my reach. Damn. “First, tell me where you live.”

“At the island center-behind the Circle K.”

“Okay, so what’s your story, Guido? Why did you attack Kyle?” I glanced at his worried young face, shadowed dark eyes, and tight-lipped mouth. The picture of
anxiety.

“I saw Kyle in the Little Tuscany kitchen this morning.
He used to work for Mr. Santini in the restaurant, but he
doesn’t anymore. So he had no business being there.”
Guido shook his head. “Then Mr. Santini died, and no
one knows why.”

My interest perked. “Why did Kyle leave his job at
the restaurant?”

“Mr. Santini fired him.”

The perk had started to simmer. “Really? Why?”

“I think he was caught stealing money from the cash
register, but I don’t know for sure.”

“So Kyle might be a thief, but that doesn’t mean he’s
a killer,” I pointed out, the perk reaching a boiling point
of curiosity.

“He also said mean things to Beatrice.” Guido’s mouth
thinned in anger. “No one talks bad to my bella Beatricenot even her father. He wasn’t always nice to his own
daughter.”

“Young love … isn’t it wonderful?” Pop Pop commented with a benign smile.

“Lovely,” I echoed, checking on Guido again. A
flicker of rage passed across his features, but then he
got control of himself and resumed his normal nice-guy
persona. Could he have done something bad to Carlos
to protect Beatrice? He was obviously head-overheels, smitten-to-the-core in love with the girl. And, if
she had been upset over her father’s treatment, maybe
Guido had decided to take matters into his own hands
and eliminate the problem.

Was it possible?

I gave myself a mental shake, realizing that the events
of the day must have skewed all my common sense. Guido
was nothing more than a guy in love who’d seen his girl
collapse in grief as her father died in front of her eyes.
That’s all. And that was enough.

I couldn’t take much more myself. The last twenty-four
hours had included a dire prophecy, an agonizing death,
and dashed dreams of actually having two men vie for
my affections. Not to mention that I’d reached a new low
of having a rebound dinner date with a man on oxygen.

I needed my Airstream, my teacup poodle, and a good
night’s sleep. Things would look better tomorrow in the
a.m.

“Oops. My dentures just fell out,” Pop Pop pronounced.

Great.

The morning seemed a long way off.

It had turned dark by the time we dropped off Guido and
made our way back to the Twin Palms RV park. When
we arrived, I had to get a flashlight to locate Pop Pop’s
missing false teeth, which had rolled under the seat. Yuck.

Ready to tear out my curls, I finally deposited him, his
dentures, and his oxygen tank at his cottage and revved
off to my Airstream.

Needless to say, it wasn’t exactly the end I’d imagined
to my big date night. My spirits sank lower than a gator
in the mud, to quote Wanda Sue. And it was nothing
more than I deserved for trying to be a dating diva.

Sigh. I parked in front of my Airstream and took in
the blue-and-white striped awning flapping in the light
evening breeze coming off the Gulf.

Ah. Home, sweet home.

I could hear Kong barking in excitement as I turned off
my engine, and despite my fatigue, a little glow lit inside
me. At least my dog still provided unconditional love,
constant attention, and ankle licking whenever I needed a
boost. As I unlocked the door, Kong came bounding out,
and I scooped him up in my arms. I allowed myself to
revel in his adoration for a few moments before I grabbed
his leash and made for the surf.

After a long stroll along the beach, I headed back to
my Airstream, its shiny hull bathed in the moonlight. Cole’s van remained parked on one side, though his bicycle was gone, so I assumed he was riding in the dark,
trying to forget my two-timing behavior. Couldn’t say
that I blamed him.

My glance trailed to the other side of my RV, and, just
as had happened earlier today, I thought I saw the outline of another Airstream. A light glowed from the inside, but the shades were drawn.

I squinted in the dim light, trying to focus my eyes
more clearly. Then I blinked, and it was gone.

Strange.

I gave myself a mental shake. Somehow it must have
been a reflection of my own Airstream, but … not exactly a twin image.

“I’m either losing it,” I said to Kong, “or I need
glasses.”

He barked.

“Okay-maybe both.” I hurried him along, taking one
last longing glace at Cole’s van before Kong and I retreated inside. I fixed myself a bowl of soup, gave my
poodle a gourmet doggy treat, and powered up my laptop
to work on my restaurant review of Le Sink while I ate
my dinner-for-one (person, that is).

Needless to say, my evaluation was mixed: a one-trick
menu, surly waitstaff, and ghettolike ambiance. But I
had to admit, the burger tasted scrumptious-thick, juicy,
and smoky-flavored-and the French fries were crisp and
salty. I gave it two out of five stars-one star deducted
because of having to break up the fistfight with a broom.

Thinking about that part of the evening made me sit
back in my chair and reflect on the events of the day. My
mouth also began to water, remembering the brief taste
of Pop Pop’s burger in my truck. Instantly, I dumped the
soup in the garbage and heated up some leftover pizzaserved with a side of potato chips.

That’s more like it.

As I munched the thick cheese and pepperoni, I tried
to get back into the Le Sink review, but I couldn’t. I
stared at my computer screen, but the image of Marco’s
death, Beatrice’s reaction, Guido’s fight-and Pop Pop’s
dentures-kept reverberating through my mind. They all
had to be connected (except the false teeth), but I didn’t
know how.

And how did these events relate to Carlos Santini’s
death a few days ago? Two brothers within a week? It
just couldn’t be a coincidence.

“What do you think, Kong?” I asked my canine companion, but he had curled up on my sofa and fallen
asleep.

I mulled over the events one more time, but nothing
occurred to me. Maybe Madame Geri knows.

Okay, now I knew it was time to pack it in and get
some rest, but first, I had to finish the review.

Once I knocked it out, I scooped up Kong and headed
to the bedroom part of my Airstream, feeling a sudden
chill.

Was it all this contemplation of death? I shivered
again and then slid into bed and flipped on the TV.

A perky blond weathergirl in a low-cut top and tight
skirt appeared, pointing at a map of Florida. “A cold front
is dipping down into southwest Florida, and the temperature might drop thirty degrees overnight,” she said,
smiling into the camera with a flash of even white teeth.
“Time to get out the sweaters and scarves.”

I flipped my thermostat to HEAT and cranked up the
dial.

Nothing happened.

The Florida winter had begun early, and my heater
was on the blink.

Yikes.

By the time morning arrived, I awoke under my heavy
layer of quilts, aware that Kong had snuggled under the
blankets with me-and that the temperature inside my
Airstream had taken on a distinct chill.

Reluctantly, I slid out of bed, easing Kong onto the
floor and wrapping the quilt around me for warmth. I
picked up my cell phone and dialed Sam-the island’s
handyman. If there was one person who could figure
out how to get my heater working, it was Sam.

My fingers drummed against the cell phone with impatience as I waited for Sam to pick up. But he didn’t. I
got his voice mail instead.

“Sam, my heater is broken, and I’m desperate. I can’t
call Pop Pop to help out because we had a date last night
at Le Sink, then there was a big fight, and I ended up
taking Guido home, and Pop Pop later lost his dentures in my truck.” Okay, despite the cold, my motormouth
hadn’t officially chilled out. “Anyway, I’m freezing my
patootie off in the Airstream.”

I clicked the cell phone shut, debating whether or not
I could manage a shower without getting hypothermia.
Then I heard a knock at my door.

I swung it open and beheld Pop Pop, wearing a blue
flannel shirt, baggy sweatpants, and gloves. He looked
like a scarecrow. “I thought you might need this, since
the cold front came through, and I know your Airstream
is kind of old.”

Holding up a space heater in one hand, he managed
to balance the oxygen tank and a bouquet of flowers in
the other.

I grinned at the sight of the heater and seized it as if
it were a lifeline.

“I have to take care of you now that we’re dating.” He
held out the flowers.

The grin faded. Huh?

“We most definitely are not a couple, but I will take
the heater.” I closed the door on him quickly. That’s all I
needed: a geriatric suitor to fill in the gap left by the hasty
departures of Cole and Nick last night. I wasn’t that desperate. Besides, they’d be back-or so I hoped.