Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue (7 page)

“Is something wrong with Kevin?”

“I’m not sure. His dad picked him up from school
yesterday, and they never showed at Sally Jo’s house.
Nor was Kevin at school today” I rooted around in my
canvas bag for my Official Reporter’s Notepad. “Everyone seems to think they took off for a fishing trip…

“They’ve done it before. Tom lives to fish, and Kevin
loves it too, from what I’ve heard”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I turned on my computer. I had more important things to concentrate on
right now. Like finishing the Town Hall story and finding an angle on a jump rope marathon that would make
it worthy of front-page reportage. I sighed and started
flipping through my notes.

I finished both stories by late afternoon. Luckily,
Anita hadn’t returned, so I could make my escape before she had the chance to do her usual hatchet job.

I set hard copies of “Town Hall Meeting Approves
Park Equipment” (the title didn’t thrill me, either) and
“Island Hoppers” (a little more creative) on her desk.
Needless to say, neither story was Pulitzer Prize material. But Pulitzer never lived on little of Coral Island
either.

Sandy had already left to get a cup of coffee with
Jimmy, so I locked the office door behind me.

Slipping into my Windbreaker, I hurried toward my
truck. While I was en route to my rust bucket, a shiny
black Ford F-150 pulled up behind it.

The driver’s window rolled down with a smoothness
that screamed “automatic power.” I tried not to drool
with envy.

Detective Billie poked his head out. “I wanted to let
you know that I questioned some of the guys at the
Trade Winds Marina. They told me that Tom took his
boat out late yesterday and said he was taking Kevin
fishing.”

“So they didn’t disappear after all.” I wrapped my
arms around me in a vain attempt to keep the chilly wind
from sapping away my body heat.

“Nope”

“Did any of the other fishermen hear where Tom was
going? I’m sure Sally Jo would like to know.”

“Little Coral Pass”

My teeth began to chatter. “Do you want me to tell
Wanda Sue?”

He nodded. “I’ll stop by Sally Jo’s house and let her
know.”

“She’ll appreciate that” Something tugged at the back
of my mind; the whole “fishing trip” thing didn’t feel
right. “But-“

“Don’t you own a decent coat?”

“This is Florida” I hiked up the collar of my Windbreaker. “I not supposed to need a coat.”

He laughed-a rich, throaty sound that made my
toes curl. “You’ll need that and more if this cold snap
keeps up”

“Oh, no. You mean it could get even cooler?” I
rubbed my hands together. I didn’t own a pair of gloves
either.

“Maybe down to freezing.” His glance locked on my
curls, and his mouth turned up slightly on one side. “I
might have to warm myself on your hair.”

“Thanks a lot.” Sue me, a spark ignited inside me.

“Anytime. See ya” He drove off, a sleek, dark man
in his equally sleek, dark truck. Wow. I had to take a couple of deep breaths and force my heartbeat to resume its normal rhythm. For once he had sought me out
to give me information, but I needed to play it cool and
not badger him. That meant, most certainly, I needed to
restrain myself from running after his truck to express
my doubts. But going off half-cocked was my specialty.

Maybe I should get Madame Geri to do an astrological chart for me. Then I could figure out why I always
seemed to sabotage things when they were going well.

Another arctic blast drove all philosophical musings
right out of my mind. I hopped into Rusty and cranked
up the heat. As the warmth penetrated my body, I
vowed that I wouldn’t ruin the good thing I had going
here on Coral Island by always looking for trouble and
pushing the island cop for more information. I had a decent job, a tiny but regular paycheck, and a place to call
home-sort of. I couldn’t blow it.

A short while later I drove to Mango Bay and turned in
at the Twin Palms RV Resort. I slowed down to the requisite 15 mph and glanced around for any sign of Wanda
Sue. But she was nowhere to be seen. Like the rest of the
islanders, she was probably indoors huddled under a quilt
and drinking hot chocolate until the thermometer edged
back up to seventy degrees.

A couple of new, massive Class A RVs occupied
sites close to mine. It wasn’t quite tourist season yet,
but a steady stream of RVs had been checking in over
the last three weeks. Even though it felt bitterly cold to
me, I realized this was nothing compared to tempera tares in Michigan or Ohio, which is where most of the
seasonal residents came from. They’d be out in their
shorts and T-shirts getting windburn-just to show the
folks back home their faux tan.

As I parked Rusty, my glance strayed to the Wanderlodge next door. Sealed tight, the window treatments
effectively shielded the mystery guests inside from my
inquisitive, prying eyes. I scanned it for any further clues.
Nada.

Maybe that in itself was a clue. The couple inside that
behemoth on wheels was so famous, they didn’t want to
give even the slightest hint of their identity.

Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony? Maybe that jazz
music I’d heard the previous day was designed to throw
me off track.

Could it be?

I slid out of my truck, keeping my eyes on the Wanderlodge. J. Lo was a singer and often traveled in a
plush motor home. A definite possibility.

Letting myself into the Airstream, I reached down
and scooped up Kong. “Did you miss me today?”

He licked my face.

“I’ll take that as a yes”

I sighed as Kong continued to lick my face. I might
not have a male companion in my life right now, but I
had unconditional, unbridled canine love.

“I know you need a walk, but let me check my messages first” The light was blinking on my answering
machine.

I pressed the rewind button.

“Mallie, call me as soon as you get in,” Wanda Sue’s
twang rang out with urgency.

I reached for the phone, but at that moment someone
banged on the door of my Airstream.

“Mallie, Mallie!” Wanda Sue shouted.

Clutching Kong, I swung the door open.

Her eyes appeared wild and frantic. “The guys at the
marina heard from Kevin-he’s out on his daddy’s boat,
and Tom is missing. Kevin is all alone out there, and I’m
afraid something will happen to him. Help me, honey.
You’ve just got to help me!” She burst into tears.

ccWnda Sue, try to stay calm” Not sure how to
help, I patted her arm.

“If anything happens to that boy, I don’t know what
I’ll do. He’s my only grandson and just the sweetest
little guy you’d ever imagine.” She shook her head, swiping at the tears with a white cotton handkerchief. “He’s
never given his family a day’s trouble in his whole life,
and now this….”

“Did you call Nick Billie?” I refrained from mentioning what I’d heard about Kevin’s alleged petty crimes.
Now wasn’t the time. Besides, my info was only a rumor
passed on by a sullen, jump-rope-hating kid with an even
more sullen, rude father. It was always possible that
Kevin might, in fact, be the golden boy Wanda Sue
thought he was.

“Nick is on his way to the Trade Winds Marina right
now. I know he can handle things, but it’s gonna be
dark soon, and I’m just plumb half out of my mind with
worry for my grandson.”

“What can I do?”

“Could you drive me to the marina? I don’t think I
could get behind the wheel right now, and I need to hear
Kevin’s voice.”

“Sure. Let me give Kong a nanosecond walk, and I’ll
be ready to roll” Kong’s little bladder would burst if
I didn’t attend to him.

“Thanks, Mallie.” Wanda Sue dabbed at her eyes
again, mascara coming off in big clumps. “I’m just a basket case right now”

I grabbed Kong’s leash and shuttled him to the areca
palm across from my RV site. He merely sniffed the tree.
“Come on, Kong. This is your favorite spot. Do something. Quick.”

He looked up at me. Nothing happened.

“All right, have it your way. But I’m going to put you
in the truck, so we can finish this later.” I scooped him
up in my arms and strode toward Rusty. “Wanda Sue,
you’re going to have to hold Kong”

“Why, sure, honey”

I deposited him in Wanda Sue’s arms. He started to
whine, but I silenced him with a stern look.

In a few minutes all three of us were speeding down
Cypress Road, heading for the marina. “Did Kevin say
anything about his dad’s disappearance?”

“Not really. They told me he sounded so scared, he
didn’t seem to know what he was saying.” Her voice
quavered. “He just wants to come home.”

“Don’t worry-he will.”

“I hope so” Fear laced her voice.

“If there’s one person I’d trust to bring him home
safely, it’s Nick Billie. He won’t rest till he’s made sure
that Kevin is all right.”

“I know that. It’s just so … so hard to imagine my
grandson out there in the Gulf all by his lonesome. He’s
only ten years old. Barely old enough to bait his own fishing pole”

“But he figured out how to work the radio, so he’s not
completely helpless,” I pointed out.

Wanda Sue contemplated that for a few moments,
nuzzling the top of Kong’s head. “You’re right. He’s a
smart boy. He won’t do anything foolish.”

I reached over and squeezed her hand. We drove
the rest of the way in silence, except for the sound of
Kong’s staccato breathing. For a tiny dust mop, he could
vie with his larger canine brothers when it came to
heavy breathing.

At the island center, we turned onto Coral Island
Road-the lone exit that led off the island-and headed
for Paradisio, where the Trade Winds Marina was located. A fishing village that separated the island from
the mainland, Paradisio wasn’t much more than a smattering of bait shops, T-shirt/flip-flop stores, and fresh
fish markets.

As we pulled up to the marina, I pointed at the black
Ford F-150. “There’s Detective Billie’s truck”

We climbed out of Rusty and headed for the main office. She passed Kong to me as if he were a football and
I was headed for a touchdown. Kong tucked his head under my armpit, and I charged forward with Wanda Sue.

She flung open the door to the marina office. “How’s
Kevin? Are you still talking to him? What are you going to do? Is he-“

“Wanda Sue, take it easy” Detective Billie rose from
his position near the two-way radio. He moved toward
her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Kevin is
all right. The boat is anchored-all safe and sound at
Little Coral Pass. I radioed the Coast Guard to tell them
we’re going to take a trawler out there to pick him up”
He spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. “Right now he’s
still on the radio. You can talk to him, but you’ve got to
pull yourself together. Kevin needs you to be strong”

She took in a deep breath and nodded. “I’m okay”

“That’s the spirit.” He led her to the marine radio.
“Just keep him talking. It’ll give him something to focus on” He showed her how to use the radio.

Wanda Sue looked at it for a long moment. Then she
clicked it on. “Kevin? This is your nana. How ya doing,
sonny?”

“I’m okay” A boy’s voice came through the static.
“I … I miss you”

“I know. But you’ll be back here in two shakes of a
lamb’s tail.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Nick Billie is going out there to pick you
up. So all you need to do is sit tight and wait.”

“Okay. But I’m cold, nana.”

“I know. Bundle up with blankets.”

Detective Billie motioned me to a corner. “Thanks
for bringing her. It’s just what Kevin needs.” His dark
eyes fastened on me with approval. “I couldn’t get hold
of Sally Jo”

“Just trying to help.” Could my legs keep me upright
if he continued to look at me like that?

“I see you brought some backup.” He rubbed between Kong’s ears.

Kong peeked at him. Much to my embarrassment,
shameless teacup poodle that he is, Kong nuzzled Detective Billie’s hand.

“That’s odd. He doesn’t normally take to strangers.
And he can be downright fierce when it comes to unfamiliar men.”

“Maybe he’s having a change of heart.” I could swear
Detective Billie’s voice had lowered to a husky murmur.

“I guess that can happen.” What was he saying?
Whose heart was changing? The dog’s? His? Maybe I
did need Madame Geri-pronto. My radar was askew
right now.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but at
that moment Pete Cresswell blew in.

“Hi ya, Mallie.” He gave me quick hug, careful not
to crush Kong.

“Hi, yourself.” I grinned. Pete was the local fisherman who’d been accused of murder last summer. My
finding the real killer had gotten him off the hook, and
since then he and his wife, Nora, had been beyond
grateful as they put their lives back together. Pete was
managing the marina, and Nora worked part-time at the
Seafood Shanty. Needless to say, they’d become good
friends of mine.