Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 01 - Peril in Paradise Page 13

  “Here’s the turn,” Nora exclaimed.

  I yanked the wheel to the left and the back tires skidded, causing the flatbed part of the truck to fishtail. I compensated by jerking the wheel to the left and, somehow, we held the road.

  “Dang, that’s some fancy driving,” Nora commented.

  “I spent a couple of months operating the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World.” What that had to do with driving a car, I don’t know, but it seemed relevant.

  “Pete and I honeymooned there” She sighed. “It was so romantic.”

  I had no response to that. I was working hard to keep the truck on the shell road and see through the rain so we wouldn’t end up ditched.

  “Slow down and steer around to the left”

  I peered through the windshield and spied the saw palmetto.

  “Okay, now veer down that dirt track,” she said.

  “Where?” I couldn’t even see anything that resembled a raccoon track, must less a road.

  “Over there” She pointed at a break in the strand and I steered the truck in that direction.

  The poor truck lurched and bumped its way along the rough road while the rain pelted down on us. I eased up some more on the gas pedal, but we were still going forty-five. I hit the brakes, but nothing happened.

  “Nora, I can’t slow down.”

  “Oh, it’s that dorky gas pedal. It sticks. Just give it a couple of stomps and it’ll behave”

  Knowing I couldn’t go much faster and keep control of the truck, I pumped the gas pedal. Finally, the speedometer inched back down.

  I still couldn’t see much of a road, so I just followed along the trimmed area. It seemed almost like a tunnel with pine trees and melaleuca arching around us from either side.

  We emerged into a clearing and lumbered over a sand and shell track that took us onto Little Coral Island. The wheels stuck a few times, but I refused to stop now we were so close.

  “Does anyone live on Little Coral Island?” I asked.

  “Not now. But at one time, Pete’s grandpa homesteaded around here with his partner, Pappy. I think Pappy ran the still and Grandpa tried his luck with a citrus grove”

  “Nice combo”

  “They made a living till Grandpa died. Pappy stayed-then he died. The last couple years, you could see him if you went by in your boat, half naked, holding a jug and waving people on in.”

  “What is it with Coral Island men and clothes? Do they all go around bare-chested or what?”

  “I don’t think so. Pappy was the only one I know who did it regularly. And gosh, he was near to ninety before he expired-and looking like a scrawny chicken, if you ask me”

  Too much information. I thought seeing Hillman and Everett bare-chested was traumatic. Pappy must’ve had them beat to all getout.

  “We should be there in-” She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, no”

  I followed her glance. Detective Billie’s truck was parked in front of the shack and he stood next to it, soaked from head to toe in the rain.

  Cautiously, I applied pressure to the brakes, and miraculously, the truck slowed down. Small miracles.

  We climbed out and went to join Detective Billie. The rain immediately plastered our clothes to our bodies. When he saw us, his mouth tightened into a straight line. “What are you doing here?” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “We thought we’d work on our suntans,” I quipped.

  “Very funny. Now get out of here so I can do my job.”

  “Are you going to arrest Pete?” Nora blurted out.

  “I have to,” he said, wiping the rain from his face. “His fishing knife was found near Hillman’s house. It’s unmistakable-carved handle with Pete’s initials-and it fits the size of Hillman’s chest wound”

  “But that doesn’t mean he killed him.” She clutched at Detective Billie’s shirt. “He didn’t, I know it. Please don’t arrest him. He said he couldn’t go back to jail. Please. He’s got an alibi. He was out fishing when Jack was killed.” Her voice reached a high pitch, close to a wail.

  Something flickered behind Detective Billie’s eyes. Sympathy? Regret? I couldn’t make it out because my vision was blurry from the rain.

  “Nora, his alibi said Pete asked him to lie about where he was the night Hillman was murdered. I have to take him in.” He gently removed her hands from his shirt.

  “I’m not coming out,” Pete shouted from inside the shack.

  “Yes you are, Pete,” Detective Billie shouted back. “Come on and make it easy. The other way makes you look more guilty.”

  “How do know he did it?” I finally piped up. “There are other suspects-“

  “I’m not asking for your opinions, Mallie. This isn’t the time or place for a debate. Either shut-up or leave” His tone was firm, final.

  But I plunged on recklessly. “Isn’t it possible that someone stole Pete’s knife, knowing how much he disliked Hillman because of Nora’s affair-“

  “It wasn’t really an affair,” she cut in. “We were just friends.”

  “Right. Anyway, that person could be setting Pete up.

  That muscle began working in Detective Billie’s jaw again. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”

  “But it’s possible,” I persisted.

  “Theoretically, yes”

  “Then tell Pete that … let him know that this isn’t the end of the line for him.” Our eyes met in the rain. His black as night-that deep, dark obsidian that seemed to lead to places I couldn’t even fathom.

  “Please, Nick, give him a chance,” Nora pleaded.

  He paused, still staring down at me. “All right.” Turning toward the shack, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Pete, I promise that you’ll have a fair shake. You’re innocent until proven guilty. Trust me”

  “No way.”

  “Let Nora talk to him,” I suggested.

  “Oh, jeez-okay” He gestured for her to move toward the shack.

  “Pete, this is Nora. Please come with us. I know you didn’t do it. That’s what I came to tell you last night-“

  “Forget it,” he yelled back.

  “Go on,” I encouraged her.

  “It’s true. There was nothing between Jack Hillman and me when you were in jail. Nothing. You’ve got to believe me. I’ve tried to tell you so many times.”

  Pete was silent.

  “Keep it up,” I said.

  “I’ll stand by you no matter what happens. You’re my husband.”

  “Tell him that you love him,” I prompted.

  Detective Billie groaned.

  “Pete, honey, I love you. I love you so much. Please come out so we have a chance”

  Silence.

  “Tell him-“

  “That’s enough,” Detective Billie interjected as he reached for his gun. “He’s not coming out”

  The door to the shack slowly opened and a thin, brown-haired man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt appeared in the doorway.

  “Pete,” Nora exclaimed as she broke into a run toward the shack. She threw herself in his arms and sobbed against his chest.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’ll all be okay,” I could hear him saying to her.

  The rain kept falling, and Detective Billie and I stood still as if we’d been turned to stone. Finally, he cleared his throat and holstered his gun. “You’re damn lucky things turned out like this or I’d be arresting you for obstruction of justice.”

  “I didn’t obstruct anything.”

  “I ordered you to leave and you refused,” he answered swiftly.

  “I don’t take orders well.”

  “You will when it comes to the safety-“

  “Oh, give it up, will you? You just can’t accept help when someone offers it,” I retorted.

  “If I needed help, I’d hire a deputy”

  “Fat chance you’d get anyone-“

  “Hey you two, time out,” Nora said as she and Pete approached. “The important thing is it
all came out okay”

  “Do you have to cuff me?” Pete held his hands out.

  “No, just get in my truck”

  A slight, sheepish smile touched Pete’s mouth and he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it. I was stupid, I know … “

  “And you two,” he leveled a frown at Nora and me, “follow me back to the police station.”

  I started to open my mouth and he held up a weary hand. “Could you do this one thing without arguing for a change?”

  “All right.” I had to admit, I was a bit tired of standing in the rain. I’d sort of lost feeling in my feet about fifteen minutes ago, and I had to clench my teeth to keep them from chattering.

  “Will wonders never cease?” he muttered, half to himself. Nora and I stumble-bummed back to her truck and I cranked the ignition. The battery was dead. I closed my eyes and lowered my head against the steering wheel. What next?

  After wasting another fifteen minutes in the pouring rain while Detective Billie and Pete tried to jump Nora’s battery, we gave up. I grabbed my canvas bag, and we climbed into the sleek, black truck owned by our fearless chief deputy-Nora and Pete in the backseat, Detective Billie and I in the front seat.

  No one spoke on the long drive back to the police station. Nora sniffed, Pete coughed, and I sneezed. Detective Billie sat behind the wheel, his face set in grim lines.

  When we arrived, our motley, rain-sodden group trooped inside. Detective Billie found some towels and we dried off as best we could.

  “Whew,” Nora exclaimed, rubbing the terry cloth up and down her arms with vigorous strokes. Her hair was plastered to the side of her face in long, limp strands, the roots appearing even darker and the blond sections even lighter. “I ain’t never seen so much rain since that hurricane skirted the island back in ninety-seven.”

  “I remember,” Pete echoed, drying off his face. “My boat ended up on shore after the tides went out”

  “And you had to get some of the guys to lift it onto the trailer so you could move it back to the water,” Nora said, laughing. “I’ll never forget the sight of those men struggling to lift a twenty-two-foot with twin outboard engines.”

  “It would’ve helped if you’d removed the engines,” Detective Billie pointed out as he rubbed his dark hair with the towel. “I told you-“

  “They’d had too many beers in them by that time.” Nora snapped her towel against Pete’s jean-clad leg.

  “We needed fortification.” Pete grabbed the towel from her and smiled.

  “Yeah, and it worked like a charm” Detective Billie rolled his eyes.

  “Didn’t mean to drop the boat,” Pete mumbled.

  “Uh-huh.” Nora elbowed him in the ribs. They all chuckled.

  I blinked the last of the water away from my eyes, concerned that I had stumbled out of the rain and into an alternative reality. “I’m sure this trip down memory lane is nice, but we just arrested Pete. And I hardly think this is the time for jokes. Shouldn’t we call an attorney for him or something?”

  The three of them turned to me and the laughter ceased.

  “Just trying to lighten the moment,” Nora offered with a sheepish smile. “And it ain’t like we haven’t been through this before the last time Pete was sent up”

  “But that wasn’t murder,” I continued.

  “She’s right,” Detective Billie cut in, his features resuming their normal granite-like firmness. “Pete, I’m going to have to lock you up”

  He took in a breath and exhaled in a long, drawn-out sigh. “I know.”

  “Can I sit back there with him?” Nora asked. It might’ve been my imagination or that alternative reality thing again, but her face had softened in the last few hours. She looked about ten years younger. “We’ve got some things to talk over.”

  “Sure” Detective Billie led them through a doorway in the back, where the cells were located. Or, rather, cell. I could only make out one.

  I took the opportunity to finish drying off, giving my hair a few quick fluffs with the towel.

  When Detective Billie returned, I pounced. “I still can’t believe that you arrested him. You’re … friends.”

  “It’s my job” He gathered up the damp towels. “Weren’t you reminding me a few minutes ago that I was taking this whole thing too lightly? Well, I’m not. I don’t like it anymore than you do. But I have to uphold the law.” He threw the towels on the sofa in a wet, soggy heap. “Pete’s knife was found with blood on it, he has no alibi, and he hated Hillman. That makes him the prime suspect and he’ll stay in jail until the blood analysis comes back. If it matches with Hillman’s, then . . ” His voice trailed off as he looked down, but we both knew the unspoken words.

  “What about Everett? Or the writers at the Institute? They’re all suspects. And any of them could’ve been the one who’s been threatening me”

  His face jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

  Oops. “Well … I wasn’t going to tell you because I knew you’d make a big deal about it and, you know, I’ve been asking a lot of questions around the island. Probably making people uncomfortable and everything, so it’s possible-“

  “Will you get to the point?” he demanded.

  “I was getting there” It was nice to know the rain hadn’t damaged the engine on my motor mouth. “Friday night, someone put a dead bird on the picnic table outside my Airstream. Then a few hours ago, I went back to the RV resort and found my tires slashed. The front ones. So you see, that couldn’t have been Pete. He was out on Little Coral Island when my tires were cut”

  “And exactly when were you going to tell me about all of this?”

  “When I felt you needed to know.” I turned my chin up on a stubborn angle. “Nothing happened, no one was injured. Why that bird could’ve had a stroke or something and fallen out of the sky onto my picnic table for all I know.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a real possibility.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue. “Even if I believed that, which I don’t, the tires are another matter.”

  “That’s my point. Pete couldn’t have done it.”

  “It doesn’t mean he didn’t murder Hillman.”

  I gritted my teeth. He had me there.

  “Stay out of this investigation. I’ve already made the arrest, and we’ll let the attorneys take it from here” He drilled a stare into me. “You breeze onto the island a few weeks ago, and now suddenly you think you’re some kind of Ms. Fix-it crack reporter, solving everyone’s problems. It doesn’t work that way. You don’t understand what’s happening, and you’re not going to do anything but hurt Pete and Nora by interfering.”

  “Or maybe save them”

  His mouth tightened, but he didn’t respond.

  “Just give me a day or two-“

  “If you need a ride back to the Twin Palms, I’d be happy to oblige; otherwise, your part in this drama is over.”

  “I can find my own way back” I slammed out of the office in what I hoped appeared to be a grand exit. But my canvas bag caught in the door and I couldn’t go far. Detective Billie opened the door again and released me. “Thanks,” I managed to get out before I left and plunged into the rain once more. I’d be damned if I’d ride with him after he basically told me I was nothing but an outsider on the island. That wasn’t true. I felt a kinship with this place and the people who lived here. Heck, I’d just put myself out for the first time in my life for someone other than myself. That should count for something.

  Even more irritating, his behavior showed me for once and all that this attraction thing was one sided. On the wrong side.

  I hunched my shoulders, trying to protect my bag from the rain. Maybe I didn’t understand all the island nuances but, in spite of all the craziness, this was beginning to feel like home.

  I looked up and the rain pelted my face. Oh, goody. I finally found a place to call home and I’d probably get flooded out before the day was over.

  I kept walking.

&n
bsp; Fortunately, Wanda Sue came driving by in her vintage convertible in less than half an hour and picked me up.

  As we made our way back to Mango Bay, she clucked her tongue when I told her about my tires being slashed.

  “First the murder, then the dead bird, and now the tires. What’s the island coming to?” she asked. “I’m going to have Pop Pop patrol twice a night.”

  That’ll be a big help. I didn’t respond, just clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.

  When we pulled up in front of my Airstream, I thanked her and trudged out of her car. My shining silver abode never looked so good, in spite of the flat tires. After I walked Kong, I headed for the shower. As I leaned against the tile and let the hot, steaming water warm me, I began to cry. It all seemed too much. The murder. The dead bird. The tires. Pete’s arrest. Being a part of a community was taxing, to say the least.

  I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head and dropped into a deep slumber. For almost ten hours.

  The next morning, I woke up to a watery dawn. The sun tried to peep out as though it were a flickering flashlight in desperate need of new batteries.

  I was roughly in the same state. And I didn’t know where I could recharge.

  A slobbery tongue licked the rim of my ear, and I laughed softly. Of course, it wasn’t a human and not exactly an energy jolt, but it would do just fine. I slipped an arm around Kong and hugged him tightly.

  I flipped back the covers and padded into the kitchen. Empty fridge. Empty cupboards-aside from the bread and water. But at least I had power again. That meant the rest of the island probably did, too. Hooray!

  What I needed was a pot of coffee and donuts … lots of donuts.

  Fueled by hunger, I quickly dressed in a white cotton tank top and a fresh pair of jeans, giving my curls the merest flick with the brush.

  “Check back with you, Kong” I blew him a kiss and was out the door.

  Half an hour later, I strolled into the Observer office, coffee and half-eaten donut in hand. Okay, so it wasn’t my first.

  “Big doings yesterday,” Sandy remarked. “I heard Pete was arrested and you were the one that got him to give himself up.”

  I shook my head as I seated myself at the computer. “It was Nora who persuaded him. She’s the one that deserves all the credit.”