Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue

by Marty Ambrose

  “Then he started saying things. Like my dad was a no-good so-and-so who cheated his dad. And that nobody would … miss him.” Kevin sniffed and swiped at the film of tears that threatened to spill onto his cheeks.

  “And that’s when you hit him?” Nick inquired gently.

  Kevin nodded.

  I pressed my lips together in a tight line to keep from adding my two cents’ worth. Who wouldn’t have struck out in anger? Kevin had been pushed beyond what a young boy could take.

  “I get the picture.” Detective Billie sat back in his chair, studying Kevin. “It’s tough when the other guys taunt you. Trust me, I know. A lot of kids used to make fun of me because I was half white and half Indian-“

  “Did you get mad?” Kevin asked.

  “Sure. And it hurt inside. But you’ve got to be bigger than they are. Nothing is ever going to be fixed through violence. That only breeds more violence. Losing control like that makes them win every time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kevin said in a small voice.

  “After you tell your mom what happened, she and I can talk about getting you some anger-management counseling at school.”

  Kevin’s mouth drooped. “Do I have to?”

  “Yeah, you do”

  At that point, Wanda Sue swept in like a mini maternal tornado, arms flapping, high heels clattering. “Kevin, are you all right? I heard Robby Fowler and you was in a brawl” She folded him into her arms for a quick hug. Then she scanned him and patted him down. “No black eyes, no broken bones”

  “I’m fine, Nana” Kevin wriggled like a fresh-caught fish. “It was just a fist fight”

  “Boy, you’re gonna give your nana a heart attack” She placed a hand against her ample chest. “No fighting. Haven’t your momma and I told you that often enough?” She looked at Detective Billie. “Are you gonna arrest him for disturbing the peace?”

  I heard Kevin draw in a quick gasp.

  Detective Billie’s mouth quirked, but he kept his expression stern. “We’ll let him off this time with just a warning. But have Sally Jo call me. We need to talk.”

  Wanda Sue drew her palms together in a prayerlike posture. “Thank you, Nick. I’ll have her call you Monday morning.” She reached down to take her grandson’s hand. “Let’s go home”

  Kevin started to go. At the last minute he turned back toward Detective Billie. “I’ll tell my mom about the fight when I get home”

  “Good idea. It’s best she hear the details from you first”

  The boy nodded and shook hands with Detective Billie.

  I observed this solemn exchange but waited until Kevin had left before I said anything. “Don’t you think you were a bit hard on him?”

  “Nope” He drank some more of his hot chocolate, looking rather cute with a faint foamy mustache on his upper lip.

  “Boys do that kind of thing all the time. That’s what they do. They fight,” I pointed out as a took a long swig of the hot beverage. It wasn’t coffee, but it still chased away the chill.

  “An occasional fight is okay. But Kevin’s temper has gotten out of control. Beverly Jennings has called me several times over the last couple of months. It started with the usual kind of thing-pushing and shoving on the playground. But then the incidents escalated” Nick frowned, wiping his upper lip clean.

  My eyes narrowed in suspicion as I set my cup down. “Has something happened to implicate Kevin?”

  He set his cup next to mine. “Tests showed that Tom was hit in the back of the head with an oar.”

  My nerves tensed. “Did you find any … fingerprints?”

  “Several. They were all smudged” He toyed with his cup. “Except for Kevin’s.”

  “But … but that could mean anything.” I placed my hand on his arm. “Kevin could’ve picked up the oar to … to shove off from the dock. Or he might have … uh … put it into the water to check on the depth. Or maybe-“

  “I know. All of those are possibilities. That’s the reason he’s not under house arrest”

  “He didn’t murder his father. I’m sure of it.”

  Nick’s silence spoke volumes. He had doubts. He might be doing everything he could to question other suspects, but Kevin wasn’t in the clear. Not by a long shot.

  I withdrew my hand. “Have you questioned Jake Fowler or Frank King about Tom’s death?”

  His face immediately shuttered down as if a shade had been drawn over his features. “I might have.”

  I plunged on. “Frank King had the flimsiest of alibis the night Tom was killed-said he was at his Fish and Bait Shoppe doing inventory. But what about Jake?”

  “You stopped by his store this morning?” he inquired.

  “Uh … yeah”

  “Are you holding something back? If it pertains to the investigation, you’d better tell me pronto”

  Oh, darn it anyway. He’d find out eventually, and if it wasn’t from me, he’d probably throw me in jail. Reluctantly I filled him in about finding the piece of evidence on Tom’s boat.

  His nostrils flared in anger. “Just when were you going to tell me about the fishing fly?”

  “Today” I hedged. “That’s why I came here-and to cover the fishing tournament for the Observer, of course and-“

  “That’s bull, and we both know it,” he cut in, slamming both arms onto the table. “Where is the fly right now?”

  “Frank snatched it from me”

  “What?” He now looked more incredulous than angry. That was a good sign. Wasn’t it?

  “I went there just to get information about the fly on the pretext that I was doing a side story to go with the fishing tournament. But he seemed so awed by it, I let my guard down. Then, before I knew it, he took it from me, saying he wanted to research who might’ve made it. At that point there was nothing much I could do. At least I had a witness-Madame Geri saw the whole thing.” I tried to put my motormouth into Park, but it resisted. “Sorry. I know I messed up, but I thought the fly might lead me-I mean you-to the killer, and-“

  “Enough already” He thumped the table again with one hand. “How do you know he isn’t at this very moment destroying the evidence?”

  “Good question.” I swallowed hard. It was becoming increasingly difficult to defend my position in the face of his wrath. “Instinct, I guess. Something told me when I showed him the fly that he hadn’t made it. He looked too entranced by the thing. If you could’ve seen the look on his face, you’d know what I mean. He touched it as if it were a holy object or something. Granted, I thought it was excessive, but would he have done that if he’d seen it before-“

  “All right. All right.” He raised his eyes upward, and I could hear him counting under his breath. Did I make him that crazy? I smiled inwardly. At least it was a reaction.

  “So you see, I don’t think he could’ve made it,” I finished with a flourish. “But I’m not totally dismissing him as a suspect.”

  He finished counting and dropped his head into his hands.

  “Detective Billie? Nick? Are you all right?” I tapped him on the elbow.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” he mumbled into his hands, drawing his arm away from me as if my touch burned him.

  I guess I did make him that crazy. Poor man. “Would it help if we drove to the marina and picked it up?” I offered in my sweetest voice.

  “No” His head jerked up. “Yes. What I mean to say, is, I’ll get it. Oh, hell, now I’m talking like you.”

  I tried for a posture of affronted dignity. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I talk.”

  “Except you never stop. Oh, pardon me”-his tone turned a bit nasty-“you do conveniently cut the chatter when you’re interfering with my investigation.”

  “If I don’t come with you, you won’t be able to tell which fly was the one I found on Tom’s boat” I smiled.

  He opened his mouth as if to say something else but then clamped his lips shut. A short nod sufficed.

  We both stood up, and as if on cue, Madame Geri to
ttered toward our table.

  “Are we leaving?” she asked, juggling a steaming cup of java and a dish of smoked mullet. Marley remained on his usual perch atop Madame Geri’s shoulder.

  “We are leaving. Mallie and I have to make a stop-“

  “On official police business,” I cut in.

  He groaned.

  “I figured as much” She cocked her chin at an angle and wagged her head. “I was finishing up Old Man Brisbee’s Tarot card reading-“

  “The coot who pinches my butt?” I pointed at my derriere. “I hope you saw nothing but bad luck in his future”

  “Nope. Sorry to say, he had the sun card in his reading. That’s always a good sign.”

  “Wouldn’t you know?” I muttered in disgust.

  “Ladies, as fascinating as this discussion is, I’ve got an investigation to handle” He gestured toward the front door with both hands. “Can we move along?”

  “Madame Geri too?” I inquired. “I’m supposed to drop her back at the Observer office”

  “Why not?” He sighed. “We’ll swing by on our way off the island.”

  We trooped out to his Ford F-150 truck parked next to a deep blue Acura 2.5 TL. Unlike Rusty, Detective Billie’s truck was a late model. Shiny black exterior. Four doors with a full back seat. Spanking-new tires. I didn’t need to invoke my degree in Advanced Car Psychology to tell me that his truck was an extension of himself-dark and powerful.

  Once we settled in, Madame Geri in the rear seat with Marley, me in the front with Detective Billie, I sat back and enjoyed the ambiance of a new vehicle. I’d never trade Rusty. Honestly. But it was nice to feel the comfort of a well-padded bucket seat once in a while.

  “Are you heading to Frank King’s Fish and Bait Shoppe?” Madame Geri asked once we were under way.

  “Yes,” Nick replied. “But you’re not coming along.”

  “Suit yourself.” She folded her hands in her lap. “But I had a bad vibe a little while ago when finishing up Old Man Brisbee’s reading. A shadow passed across Frank’s aura.”

  Detective Billie and I locked glances.

  “Change of plan. Hold on tight.” His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion as he rammed down the gas pedal.

  Detective Billie covered the short distance from Sea Belle Isle Point to the marina at Paradisio in record time. In spite of my low-level anxiety, I couldn’t help but notice the magnificent acceleration of his truck. After so many years of driving with a maximum speed of 55 mph, it was a treat to experience true horsepower. I had truck envy. I admit it.

  As we pulled into the parking area in front of the Fish and Bait Shoppe, Nick cut the engine. It instantly shut down, with none of the chugging and lurching that happened every time I tried to turn off Rusty’s ancient six-cylinder engine. More truck envy.

  “Both of you stay here,” he ordered as he removed the latch that held his gun in its holster.

  My eyes widened, and I nodded mutely.

  He exited the truck and strode toward the front door of Frank’s store. After he disappeared inside, Madame Geri and I exchanged glances and reached for our respective door handles.

  “Is Marley an attack bird?” I asked as we climbed out of the truck and crept toward the building.

  “He can hold his own” She lifted one of his spindly legs and exhibited three-inch talons.

  For once I felt comforted by those mean-looking claws. They could do some major damage and then some. I pointed at the front window. We both peered through the hazy glass.

  “Can you see anything?” Madame Geri whispered.

  “No, it’s sort of dark inside. Or maybe the window is just dirty. I can’t tell.” I tiptoed toward the door and slipped inside, Madame Geri and Marley at my heels.

  It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light that barely illuminated the aisles. The overhead fluorescents were out, making it seem almost like early evening. But a glow emanated from the back of the store. We moved toward it. Unfortunately, along the way I tripped over a plastic tackle box, causing its contents to spill all over the floor.

  “Damn.” I halted.

  But Madame Geri kept moving. She rammed into my back, causing me to crash into a fishing pole rack. As the poles fell with a clatter, Marley let out a shrill squawk, and Madame Geri choked back a shriek.

  “Shh!” I hissed, and I stepped over the jumbled poles. `Be careful of-” I broke off. Rapid, staccato footsteps were moving in our direction. “Oh, no. Get a weapon, arm yourself.” I scooped up a pole and held it out like a sword. Madame Geri picked up a fishing net.

  The footsteps drew closer. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and tightened my grip on the pole.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the truck?” Detective Billie demanded as he rounded a row of life vests, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other.

  Relief flooded through me. “We … we were cold.” Lame. Totally lame. “And worried-“

  “So you decided that the best thing to do was to come barging in here and knock down every item in the store? Good thinking.” Irony threaded through his voice, more leaden than the heavy-duty lures Frank had on a $1.89, two-for-one special. “Will you put down that stupid pole and help me? Frank’s been hurt.”

  “I knew it.” Madame Geri tossed the fishing net to the floor. “Auras never lie.”

  Detective Billie stared at her for a few moments. “I called 911. They should be here in a few minutes.” He turned and strode toward the far end of the store.

  “What happened to Frank?” I jogged in his wake.

  “Looks like someone knocked him on the back of the head with a small anchor, then held his face down in the bait tank with a fishing net” Nick’s voice turned grim as he kept walking. “He’s lost a lot of blood but somehow survived.”

  “Sounds … similar to Tom’s murder. Trauma to the head,” I managed to get out breathlessly.

  We rounded the counter, and I stopped in my tracks. Frank lay sprawled on the floor, facedown next to the tipped over bait tank. A thick white nylon fishing net was wound around his head, stained with blood. “Shouldn’t we try to stop the bleeding?” I swallowed hard, eying the anchor, also streaked with blood. I pressed my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from fainting.

  “That’s what I was about to do when you showed up. I wasn’t sure if it was you or the assailant.” He handed me a towel. “Take this and apply pressure to the wound”

  I froze. Was I going to have to touch that red spot on the back of his head?

  “I don’t have time for you to be squeamish. Either use the towel or give it to Madame Geri.” He gently pushed aside the fishing net, so I had a clear view of the wound.

  Stay strong. I refused to let that half-baked phony psychic show me up. I knelt next to Frank’s motionless body and gingerly set the towel on his head.

  “Pressure. Apply pressure!” Nick ordered with some urgency.

  I took a deep breath and pressed down on the wound. A deep red stain immediately appeared on the cloth. I turned my face away and continued to bear down on Frank’s head.

  “Don’t touch anything else. I’m going to secure the premises.” Nick moved away, gun and flashlight still in hand.

  I wanted to scream, “Don’t leave us!” But I knew he had to do his thing. If whoever did this to Frank was still hanging around, we might be in danger.

  “Frank will survive,” Madame Geri said.

  I looked up at her. Her eyes were closed. “How do you know?”

  “The spirit world just told me. It’s not his time yet”

  “I don’t suppose they could give us a clue as to who did it?”

  She was silent for a few moments. Then her eyes snapped open. “Nope”

  “You see, that’s why I could never be a real psychic. Sure, I worked at a psychic hotline, but that was a sham. The thing that bothers me with the spirit world, as you call it, is, if you really need specific answers to questions, you never seem to get them” My motormouth w
as up and running. I was scared and nervous, the two conditions that revved my mouth into overdrive. “If the spirits can’t give you accurate data, what use are they? I’d be so frustrated if I were you…. It’s like being semistarved. They throw you some crumbs just to whet your appetite, but when it comes down to the whole enchilada, you never-“

  “What enchilada?” she interrupted, her forehead wrinkling in puzzlement.

  “I’m not talking about food” Tears sprang to my eyes. This whole scene was intense, and I was rapidly losing control. I had my hand on a wound, and a man’s life hung in the balance. Me-the person who closed her eyes when the vet gave Kong his booster shots. How could I be in this situation? I should be home in my Airstream, trying to figure out whether I wanted to have tuna or macaroni and cheese for dinner. “Where’s that ambulance anyway? Don’t they know Frank could die if they don’t get here soon?”

  Madame Geri placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke in a quiet voice. “It’s okay. You’re doing everything you can.”

  Much to my surprise, her composure seemed to settle my rising panic. I blinked back the tears and focused on stopping the bleeding. I pressed down hard on the wound, no longer averting my eyes from the red blotch. I was doing something. Frank King was going to live if I had anything to do with it.

  At that moment, sirens approached. In less than two minutes paramedics rushed into the store, strapped Frank to a gurney, and hooked him up to an IV.

  “Is he going to make it?” I asked one of young guys who was bandaging Frank’s wound.

  “Can’t tell. He’s lost a lot of blood. But we’ll do everything we can.” His hands moved deftly, covering the wound in a matter of seconds. Then he and another guy wheeled Frank outside.

  Madame Geri and I moved to the front of the store and watched them put Frank into the ambulance. Nick oversaw the whole thing, speaking a few words to the paramedics before they left.

  When they drove off, I kicked a wooden decoy out of the way and leaned against a wall, suddenly aware that my legs were shaking. Remarkably, Madame Geri seemed unfazed by the whole series of events, though Marley appeared somewhat agitated. “I can’t believe you’re so calm,” I commented with some envy.