Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue (20 page)

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
tottered 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 was
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?”