I stumbled past him and shuffled toward the open hole, frantically trying to think of something else to say that might convince him not to kill me. Nothing came to mind. Just when I needed it, my motor mouth was in permanent park.
Suddenly, I noticed a movement in the palmetto off to the side of the excavation site. Two wingtip shoes connected to two skinny legs protruded from the long, saw-shaped leaves.
Yippie. We weren’t alone. “Uh … wait a minute. Do you really think you’ll be able to sell those artifacts? Chrissy Anders knows all about them. And she’s got her own blog. That means everyone on the Internet will know, and you’ll have an impossible time finding buyers” I slowly circled around the other side of the pit so Bradley would have to turn away from the wing tips.
“I’ll find a way”
Sirens sounded at the base of the mound, near Hillman’s house. “It’s the police, Bradley. They know we’re up here,” I exclaimed. “You need to give yourself up”
“Forget it.” His mouth tightened and his left eye began to twitch. “It’ll take them ten minutes to make the climb, and by then, I’ll be back down the other side.”
The wingtips edged closer, causing a crunching sound of shells underfoot. Bradley began to turn.
“Please, please don’t kill me!” I flung out my hands, desperate to keep his attention on me.
“Shut up” He focused on me again. His shoulders tensed. Oh my God, he was about to fire the gun.
At that moment, Everett jumped out from the palmetto. Bradley pivoted, but not quickly enough. Everett brought his cane down on the younger man’s head.
Bradley slumped to the ground-unconscious. Seizing my chance, I rounded the pit and grabbed the gun from his limp hand. “Am I glad to see you,” I exclaimed as I stood up and beheld Everett’s grizzled old face. “Did you call the police?”
“I sure did. When I saw your car, I knew you were up to no good,” he grumbled. “All this commotion, a man can’t think straight. And poor Mabel, she’s going to have a nervous fit after all of this.”
“You saved my life … thanks.” I hugged him, sorry that at one time, I’d thought he was a murderer. I didn’t care if he hit me with the cane. I was just so glad to be alive.
“All right. All right. Don’t get carried away, missy.” He pulled back, but I could see a tiny upturn to his mouth.
“How long were you hiding there?”
“Long enough for the rain to soak my underwear.”
I let out a sound that hovered between a laugh and a sob.
“What’s going on?” Detective Billie demanded as he crashed through the palmettos and came onto the scene. He took several long strides toward me, then halted.
“Bradley murdered Hillman,” I said in a quivering voice as I swayed toward him. “He would’ve killed me, too, except for Everett”
Detective Billie raised his arms as though to embrace me, then shook his head and let them drop.
I stiffened, trying to ignore the instant’s squeezing hurt inside.
“I caned him,” Everett said.
“You did what?” Detective Billie’s mouth dropped open.
“Caned him. And I’d do it again too” Everett held up his gnarled cane as if it were a trophy.
“This is the gun Bradley was going to use to shoot me” I produced the weapon. “Can you believe it? He’d already taken aim, but I saw Everett’s wingtips in the palmettos and knew if I could create a diversion, I might have a chance. Everett made some noise, and I-“
“Talked him to death” Everett cackled.
“For goodness sake, give me the gun.” Detective Billie snatched it from my unresisting fingers. “The safety latch is off.” He clicked it on and then glared at me. “You realize your messing around in my investigation almost got you killed?”
“Yes.” I looked down briefly at my sand-encrusted footwear. Darn, I’d ruined my favorite pair of sandals. “But I was right. I told you that Pete didn’t do it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I knew that? I’d been checking through Hillman’s phone records and found he contacted Bradley and an artifacts dealer in Miami on the same day,” he grated out. “I arrested Pete because I had to when the knife was found, but I let him out on bail even though it was a first degree murder charge. It was all part of my plan. Hillman had gotten sloppy in the last few weeks. Some of the dealers were talking-I was tracing down leads. I knew if I could establish that Bradley and Hillman had been selling antiquities and, Hillman was trying to cut out his partner, I’d have a solid motive for murder.”
“You knew about the Caloosa artifacts?”
“Of course. If you had trusted me to do my job, I would’ve been able to expose Bradley on my own.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” I demanded, ir- ritation igniting inside of me like a flame. “If you’d told me all of this, we could’ve worked together-“
“I work alone”
“Well, that’s your problem isn’t it?” I folded my arms across my chest.
“No, you’re my problem-“
“Will you two pipe down?” Everett cut in. “Just kiss her and be done with it.”
Detective Billie continued to scowl at me, and I refused to budge an inch.
This was far from over.
Three days later.
I stood in front of my Airstream, surveying the two spanking-new, fourteen-inch radial tires in satisfaction. They looked ready to take on the world with their steelspoked wheels and trim ring.
Finally, the tropical storm had passed and the sun blazed down with cheery brightness. Jack Hillman’s murderer sat in jail. Kong seemed almost on the brink of tolerating the beach. Everything had turned out just fine.
Except one thing.
Nick Billie refused to answer any of my calls. I’d left him voice mails with long, rambling apologies, but he didn’t respond. Maybe he’d eventually relent once he had time to cool down.
When donkeys fly, to quote Wanda Sue. Still, I clung to the hope and didn’t press it further.
My world had changed. I’d changed during the last couple of weeks. I felt like part of a community for the first time in my life. Risked my life for a man I barely knew. Maybe even grown up a little in the process. This is where I belonged-for now.
Just then, the door to the magnificent RV next to me opened, and my honeymooning neighbors emerged in all the splendor of their matching gold swimsuits.
My eyes widened as I took them in. Both tall and lean, with wrinkles from head to toe, they had to be every day of seventy or more.
“Hi, I’m Ron Clark. This is my bride, Irene,” the man spoke up.
“Hi, yourself,” I managed to get out. “I’m Mallie.”
“Sorry we’ve been kinda preoccupied. We just got married” Irene beamed. She flashed her wedding ring at me. “Did we miss anything over the last week?”
I didn’t know where to begin.
Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 01 - Peril in Paradise Page 16