Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Page 6

  A strange reaction but not unpleasant. Not at all.

  “Mallie, I need your help!” Detective Billie shouted from above.

  “Stay here where it’s warm” I squeezed Kevin’s arm in reassurance.

  “Okay” He turned his attention to the plate of oatmeal cookies I’d set down next to the hot tea.

  I emerged from the cabin and realized the weather had worsened. A cold, hard rain now fell, and the bay waters churned with small whitecaps, the boat thumping hard on the surface. Somehow Detective Billie, standing at the wheel with his features set in a determined expression, kept the boat chugging in a steady path toward the marina. His hair plastered to his head, hands gripping the wheel, he seemed more than a match for whatever the elements could throw his way.

  My heart beat a little faster.

  “How’s Kevin?” He glanced briefly in my direction.

  “Settling down a bit, but he’s still dazed” I steadied myself by gripping the back of the captain’s chair. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Tom went to all the trouble to take his son on a fishing trip, then drank too much and fell overboard?”

  He groaned. “Don’t start hypothesizing-it’s not the time or place.” Nick flashed me a warning glance. “There’s no point in speculating before we know for sure what happened”

  “I’m just thinking out loud.” I watched the birds overhead struggle to fly against the wind, soaring upward, then dipping low, to find a clear path. “Guess I’m just nervous.”

  He nodded as he steered the boat toward the marina docks.

  “Here-take the wheel” Nick stepped out of the way and positioned me in the captain’s chair. “Look, I know this is a tough situation, but I need you to do as I say for once.” He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “I can’t trust you to handle the line, but I don’t want us to ram the dock either.”

  “Okay.” I tried to push all thoughts of Tom’s death out of my mind. Focus.

  Detective Billie moved to the front of the boat. I throttled back the engine on his command, and when we drew close enough to the dock, he jumped off and retrieved the rope. He then tied up.

  Every movement exhibited his muscular grace and economy of movement. Strong yet controlled. Intent on getting the job done and not making mistakes. That was Nick’s credo-he didn’t like to mess up-whereas I made a habit of regularly messing up. Except this time. Aside from the rope debacle, I’d handled myself pretty well on the boat.

  Permitting myself a tiny smile of satisfaction, I cut off the engine and called down to Kevin. He came up on deck, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

  “Is Mom here?” he asked.

  “If Wanda Sue was able to call her-” Detective Billie began.

  “Kevin!” a woman exclaimed as she came running toward the dock.

  “Mom!” Kevin scrambled off the boat and torpedoed into a petite woman sporting a honey-colored, retrosixties flip hairdo and candy-cane-pink warm-up suit. Had to be Wanda Sue’s daughter, all right.

  She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled the top of his head with her face. “I was so worried about you,” she said over and over.

  I gulped hard, my eyes bordered with tears.

  “Thanks a lot, Mallie.” Nick now stood next to me.

  “I came along for the ride.” I shrugged, turning away, not wanting him to see how much I was affected by the touching scene. I was Mallie Monroe, flaky and carefree, totally unsentimental, not the type of person to start sobbing over a mother and son reuniting. I didn’t let myself get involved like that. “It was nothing”

  “Not to me-or them”

  I didn’t dare look at him. All my defenses were down, and that could be dangerous. The last time it happened was Valentine’s Day in Orlando, after my boyfriend de jour had left to “find himself” out West. I ended up at my Airstream around 2:00 A.M. with a butterfly tattoo on my ankle and my hair dyed with electric blue streaks. Fortunately, the tattoo was a wash-off kind and the dye temporary. A lucky escape.

  “Oh, there’s Wanda Sue” I pointed to my landlady, closing in on her daughter and grandson. Without waiting for a reply, I jumped off the boat and headed toward them.

  “How can Sally Jo and I ever thank you, Mallie?” Wanda Sue gushed as she gave me a long, hard hug.

  “No need. I’m just happy that we were able to bring Kevin home all safe and sound” I smiled down at him.

  “I’ll be forever grateful,” Sally Jo joined in. Her face was a younger version of Wanda Sue’s, all right. Same wide mouth, snub nose, and over-plucked brows. “My son means everything to me”

  “Detective Billie did all the work. I just … uh … threw him a rope.”

  “She did more than that,” he said as he approached us, his hard-planed features softened for once. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here, and we need to talk”

  “Where’s Tom?” Sally Jo scanned Detective Billie’s face. He didn’t answer. She bit her lip and blinked several times, her eyes welling with tears.

  Wanda Sue looked at me. I cast my glance downward.

  Silently we trooped into the marina office, our silence telling them what they needed to know. Then Kong’s excited yapping greeted me. I scooped him up and clutched him to my chest. He was the one constant in this crazy, sad day. My canine life preserver.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur. We huddled near the space heaters while Detective Billie took care of the arrangements for the Coast Guard to retrieve Tom’s body. Eventually Kevin fell asleep in his mother’s arms, and my head began to droop like a wilted flower. After the adrenaline rush of Kevin’s rescue, exhaustion hit and drained the energy from my body.

  “Why don’t you go home?” Nick finally said to me. “There’s nothing more you can do here. After Wanda Sue and Sally Jo identify the body, I’ll take them home”

  I turned to Wanda Sue. “You going to be okay?”

  “We’ll be just fine,” she said, her hands trembling. “We got our boy back-that’s something.”

  With leaden feet, I exited the marina office, still carrying Kong. What had started out as your average Coral Island morning had turned into a day fraught with a missing boy, miscast ropes, and a dead man. Major bummer.

  I nuzzled the top of Kong’s head. At least Kevin was safe. But, then again, his father was dead. And, in spite of my fatigue, I wanted to know what had happened.

  The next morning, I awoke to the jangling of my faux leopard-skin Princess telephone. It had cost $19.95 at a discount store and had one of those cheap, shrill rings that sounded like squeaking brakes on a rain-slick road. But since I was still living from paycheck to paycheck, it would do just fine.

  “Hello.”

  “Mallie, how are you? It’s your mother.”

  Oh, no.

  “Are you still in bed? What a sleepyhead.”

  I opened one eyelid to check the clock on my nightstand. “Oh, yeah. It’s almost six-thirty. The day is practically over.” Kong licked the side of my face, as if to reassure me. I held the phone up so he could listen.

  My mom laughed with a high-pitched twitter. “Your sister, Paula, is always up with the dawn to jog before she goes to work. Honestly, I don’t know how she does it. A full-time job, two kids, and a husband who’s a doctor. She’s remarkable”

  I silently mouthed the last two words with her, having heard them a hundred times before.

  “We spoke to your great-aunt last night, and she said you were doing very well in your little newspaper job” She paused.

  “You could say that.” Translated: We’re amazed you’ve kept this job longer than six months.

  “Keep up the good work, Mallie.”

  “Thanks.” Translated: We don’t think you’ll last another six months.”

  She cleared her throat. Translated: I’m about to drop a bomb.

  “Your father and I … uh … were thinking about visiting you on Coral Island.”

  I jerked into an upright position, knocking Kong onto the
floor; he whined in protest. “Oops, sorry.” I whisked him up into my arms and hugged him.

  “Sorry about what?”

  “Nothing-I was talking to Kong.”

  “Oh … well, anyway, we want to visit Coral Island. Maybe check it out along with some other Florida locales.” Her tone was so abnormally chipper, it almost caused sunshine to spill out of the receiver. I looked around in vain for my sunglasses. “Your father and I are thinking about buying a retirement home. Nothing big, mind you. Maybe a four thousand square foot cottage with a swimming pool, cabana, and tennis courtsomewhere on the water with a country club nearby. The kind of place where we can be part of a community of like-minded people.”

  I gasped. My parents on Coral Island? With no buffer? “I … I thought you hated Florida. Said it was full of bugs and displaced crazies.”

  “All the more reason for people like us to move there-we’re dependable, solid, cultured. Just imagine how much we could improve the tone of life. And the warm winters would be nice.”

  “It does get cold here,” I felt obligated to point out. “Almost frigid at times.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes”

  Silence. Translated: I know you’re lying, but I’ll just pass over that for now and wound you very deeply later.

  “It doesn’t matter, Mallie. We still want to visit.” Her tone was firm, final.

  Kong hid his head under my pillow. I wanted to do the same. “All right. Let me know when you’re coming,” I managed to get out between clenched teeth.

  “It may be sooner than you think.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Look for us when you see us. Ta-ta.” She hung up.

  Ta-ta? I stared at the phone, then fell back onto my bed in defeat.

  It took me three donuts and two twelve-ounce black coffees to get my equilibrium back after the phone conversation with my mother. Not to mention the “Ta-ta.” Where did that come from?

  By the time I breezed into the Observer office, I was able to suppress the dread over her possible visit and even manage what I thought passed for a cheery greeting to Sandy.

  “Did your mother call this morning?” she inquired after one look at my face.

  “Does it show?”

  Her eyes grew openly amused. “You get this trappedanimal look, and your lips freeze up.”

  I flexed the corners of my mouth up and down to get them to relax again, but the whole lower half of my face felt as stiff as cement.

  “You need to talk to my mom,” Jimmy the Painter chimed in. Dressed in his white, paint-splattered overalls, he was perched on the side of Sandy’s desk, apparently taking a water break. “She specializes in family problems. Helps you to clear the negative energy.”

  “I appreciate the offer. But I think I’ll do it the old fashioned way-bury my anger in work and then kick the dog when I get home”

  Jimmy looked so taken aback, I hastened to assure him that I was joking. I’d never take so much as a pinkie toe to Kong.

  “We heard about what happened last night,” Sandy said, tucking the price tag into the sleeve of her soft beige angora sweater. “Too bad about Tom. He was a good guy.”

  My mind went back to the scene yesterday, when I saw Tom’s body splayed against the mangroves. I shuddered inwardly.

  “Detective Billie thinks he was probably drinking too much, fell overboard, and drowned” I sat down at my desk and flipped through my notes. “What do you think?”

  Sandy tapped her chin. “It’s possible. Tom liked his beer, but so does every other red-blooded guy on this island.”

  “Not me,” Jimmy said, holding up a bottled water with a wink.

  “You’re special.” Sandy flashed a smile at him, one of those soft, feminine, I’m-stuck-on-you, intimate-as- a-kiss smiles. Good for her. At least one of us had a decent male prospect.

  “Tom would’ve had to drink an awful lot to fall overboard,” I pointed out.

  “True” Sandy turned her attention back to me. “And I don’t think he was the type to drink that much when he had his son on the boat. Tom was a good father. He loved Kevin a lot”

  My eyes met hers. “If it wasn’t an accident, that means someone deliberately knocked him overboard.”

  “But who?”

  “I don’t know. Kevin was the only other person on the boat…

  We stared at each other for a few moments, unable to say the words aloud.

  “It’s time to get Mom on it.” Jimmy stood up and shook out his tattered overalls. “She’ll be able to tell if there was foul play.”

  “Give her a call, Mallie,” Sandy urged. “Oh, and tell her to hurry up with Anita’s astrological chart while you’re at it.”

  “I just might.” Hah.

  “Might what?” Anita asked as she breezed into the office, chomping on her gum with loud smacks.

  “Uh … I might take an early lunch,” I lied.

  “Nobody is going to lunch today when we’ve got a dead body waiting to make the front page” Anita cackled, or it might’ve been a cough. I couldn’t tell; it hadn’t been all that long since she stopped smoking, and her lungs no doubt still contained soot the consistency of old asphalt. “By the by, nice move last night, Mallie. Making sure you were on the boat that rescued Kevin. Got some firsthand coverage there. And you were there to see his father’s body-even better.”

  “I didn’t plan it that way. Nick Billie asked me to go with him, and I did.”

  “Pffft” She waved a bony hand. “You’re a reporter now. Anytime something happens, you have to think about how you’re going to get the story. That’s the important thing. If you pass an accident, slow down and check it out. If you see a bank robbery, chase down the culprit and interview him. If you see a body-“

  “Call the police?” I offered.

  “Take pictures.” Anita motioned for me to follow her into her office.

  Groaning inwardly, I rose to my feet and grabbed my notepad. Sandy gave me an encouraging smile as I trailed Anita into her glass-encased cubicle.

  “Close the door,” she ordered as she tossed her coat over the top of a battered file cabinet.

  I complied, eying the gum wrappers littering the floor and hoping yet again that I wasn’t stepping on anything gooey.

  “Okay, what happened last night?” She folded her arms across her chest. Wearing a faded olive sweater and plaid polyester pants, she competed with me for the Cheapest Clothing To Keep Warm Award. “Did you get interviews?”

  “Not really. But I did jot down some general notes.” I held up my notepad.

  “That’s something, I guess. Let me see” She snatched it from my unresisting fingers and flipped through the pages. “This is a start. You can write about Kevin’s rescue-that’s got real human interest. Local boy and everything. Talk to his mother-she lives at Heron’s Landing.”

  “What about finding Tom’s body?” I eased into the plastic chair across from Anita’s desk.

  “That’s your lead, kiddo. Knocks those mediocre Town Hall and Autumn Festival stories to page two. Death is big news. If you finish it by tomorrow, we’ll make the Friday deadline for next week’s edition.” Anita tossed my notepad onto her desk. “Then you can do a follow-up story this weekend. By that time, cause of death should be determined, and we’ll know if there was foul play”

  “Detective Billie thinks that Tom got drunk and fell off the boat. Then he probably drowned” I ignored her criticism of my writing topics. Could I help it that not much happened on Coral Island that was particularly newsworthy?

  “My instincts tell me that’s off base.”

  “How so?”

  “For one thing, the weather was miserable, the water choppy. Tom would’ve been extra careful when taking his son out in those conditions. And even if he did have a few beers, I can’t see his being so drunk that he’d fall out of the boat. Tom grew up on boats. He could anchor or dock ‘em in his sleep.” She looked at me, her features growing amused. “Which is more than I can say
about you from what I heard this morning. Did you actually throw the bow line off the boat?”

  “I might have” Heat rose into my face, and I shifted in my chair. Well, it was official: The entire island knew about my boating ineptitude.

  She guffawed-a rough, raspy sound. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kiddo.”

  “I’m trying.”

  She folded her arms across her bony chest. “Well … get to work.”

  I nodded, my embarrassment turning to annoyance as I exited Anita’s office. Would it kill her to give me a word of praise or encouragement now and again? Sure, I was a rookie when it came to news, but I was developing a reporter’s instinct. Sort of.

  Sandy threw me a sympathetic look as I trudged toward my desk. “Hang in there, Mallie. We’ll get that astrological chart done and figure out how to make Anita a human being.”

  “Fat chance” I turned on my old Dell desktop computer that I shared with Sandy. First, I checked my e-mails. One by one, I opened them. Nothing special. Just a couple of press releases from the elementary school about the upcoming Autumn Festival events. I yawned. Then I noticed that the last e-mail was from an unfamiliar name: Salty Surfer.

  Huh?

  I clicked on the message, and the words jumped out at me.

  You’re an outsider. Don’t mess with things that ain’t your business.

  I blinked as I read it again. “Sandy, look at this.” I swung the computer screen in her direction.

  She gasped. “Is that some kind of joke?”

  “If it is, it’s in bad taste. Not to mention the poor grammar …”

  Jimmy set down his paintbrush and joined us. He read the e-mail and let out a long, low whistle. “Heavy stuff.”

  “I’ll say,” I said. “It’s probably just another disgruntled reader or something. Anita told me she gets them all the time. But who the heck would call himself Salty Surfer?”

  “It’s local jargon for a fisherman” Sandy’s eyes clouded with uneasiness.

  “Speaking of local fishermen, I had an unpleasant confrontation with Jake Fowler yesterday at the elementary school. He was angry because I’d interviewed his son, Robby, for my story.”