Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 01 - Peril in Paradise (18 page)

“I don’t take orders well.”

“You will when it comes to the safety-“

“Oh, give it up, will you? You just can’t accept help
when someone offers it,” I retorted.

“If I needed help, I’d hire a deputy”

“Fat chance you’d get anyone-“

“Hey you two, time out,” Nora said as she and Pete approached. “The important thing is it all came out okay”

“Do you have to cuff me?” Pete held his hands out.

“No, just get in my truck”

A slight, sheepish smile touched Pete’s mouth and he
shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Thanks, Nick. I
appreciate it. I was stupid, I know … “

“And you two,” he leveled a frown at Nora and me,
“follow me back to the police station.”

I started to open my mouth and he held up a weary
hand. “Could you do this one thing without arguing for
a change?”

“All right.” I had to admit, I was a bit tired of standing in the rain. I’d sort of lost feeling in my feet about
fifteen minutes ago, and I had to clench my teeth to
keep them from chattering.

“Will wonders never cease?” he muttered, half to
himself. Nora and I stumble-bummed back to her truck
and I cranked the ignition. The battery was dead. I closed
my eyes and lowered my head against the steering wheel.
What next?

After wasting another fifteen minutes in the pouring
rain while Detective Billie and Pete tried to jump Nora’s battery, we gave up. I grabbed my canvas bag, and we
climbed into the sleek, black truck owned by our
fearless chief deputy-Nora and Pete in the backseat,
Detective Billie and I in the front seat.

No one spoke on the long drive back to the police
station. Nora sniffed, Pete coughed, and I sneezed. Detective Billie sat behind the wheel, his face set in grim
lines.

When we arrived, our motley, rain-sodden group
trooped inside. Detective Billie found some towels and
we dried off as best we could.

“Whew,” Nora exclaimed, rubbing the terry cloth up
and down her arms with vigorous strokes. Her hair was
plastered to the side of her face in long, limp strands,
the roots appearing even darker and the blond sections
even lighter. “I ain’t never seen so much rain since that
hurricane skirted the island back in ninety-seven.”

“I remember,” Pete echoed, drying off his face. “My
boat ended up on shore after the tides went out”

“And you had to get some of the guys to lift it onto
the trailer so you could move it back to the water,” Nora
said, laughing. “I’ll never forget the sight of those men
struggling to lift a twenty-two-foot with twin outboard
engines.”

“It would’ve helped if you’d removed the engines,”
Detective Billie pointed out as he rubbed his dark hair
with the towel. “I told you-“

“They’d had too many beers in them by that time.”
Nora snapped her towel against Pete’s jean-clad leg.

“We needed fortification.” Pete grabbed the towel
from her and smiled.

“Yeah, and it worked like a charm” Detective Billie
rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to drop the boat,” Pete mumbled.

“Uh-huh.” Nora elbowed him in the ribs. They all
chuckled.

I blinked the last of the water away from my eyes,
concerned that I had stumbled out of the rain and into
an alternative reality. “I’m sure this trip down memory
lane is nice, but we just arrested Pete. And I hardly
think this is the time for jokes. Shouldn’t we call an attorney for him or something?”

The three of them turned to me and the laughter
ceased.

“Just trying to lighten the moment,” Nora offered with
a sheepish smile. “And it ain’t like we haven’t been
through this before the last time Pete was sent up”

“But that wasn’t murder,” I continued.

“She’s right,” Detective Billie cut in, his features
resuming their normal granite-like firmness. “Pete, I’m
going to have to lock you up”

He took in a breath and exhaled in a long, drawn-out
sigh. “I know.”

“Can I sit back there with him?” Nora asked. It
might’ve been my imagination or that alternative reality thing again, but her face had softened in the last few
hours. She looked about ten years younger. “We’ve got
some things to talk over.”

“Sure” Detective Billie led them through a doorway
in the back, where the cells were located. Or, rather,
cell. I could only make out one.

I took the opportunity to finish drying off, giving my
hair a few quick fluffs with the towel.

When Detective Billie returned, I pounced. “I still
can’t believe that you arrested him. You’re … friends.”

“It’s my job” He gathered up the damp towels. “Weren’t you reminding me a few minutes ago that I
was taking this whole thing too lightly? Well, I’m not. I
don’t like it anymore than you do. But I have to uphold
the law.” He threw the towels on the sofa in a wet,
soggy heap. “Pete’s knife was found with blood on it,
he has no alibi, and he hated Hillman. That makes him
the prime suspect and he’ll stay in jail until the blood
analysis comes back. If it matches with Hillman’s,
then . . ” His voice trailed off as he looked down, but
we both knew the unspoken words.

“What about Everett? Or the writers at the Institute?
They’re all suspects. And any of them could’ve been
the one who’s been threatening me”

His face jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

Oops. “Well … I wasn’t going to tell you because I
knew you’d make a big deal about it and, you know, I’ve
been asking a lot of questions around the island. Probably making people uncomfortable and everything, so
it’s possible-“

“Will you get to the point?” he demanded.

“I was getting there” It was nice to know the rain hadn’t damaged the engine on my motor mouth. “Friday night, someone put a dead bird on the picnic table
outside my Airstream. Then a few hours ago, I went back
to the RV resort and found my tires slashed. The front
ones. So you see, that couldn’t have been Pete. He was
out on Little Coral Island when my tires were cut”

“And exactly when were you going to tell me about
all of this?”

“When I felt you needed to know.” I turned my chin
up on a stubborn angle. “Nothing happened, no one was
injured. Why that bird could’ve had a stroke or something and fallen out of the sky onto my picnic table for
all I know.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a real possibility.” Sarcasm dripped
from his tongue. “Even if I believed that, which I don’t,
the tires are another matter.”

“That’s my point. Pete couldn’t have done it.”

“It doesn’t mean he didn’t murder Hillman.”

I gritted my teeth. He had me there.

“Stay out of this investigation. I’ve already made the
arrest, and we’ll let the attorneys take it from here” He
drilled a stare into me. “You breeze onto the island a few
weeks ago, and now suddenly you think you’re some
kind of Ms. Fix-it crack reporter, solving everyone’s
problems. It doesn’t work that way. You don’t understand what’s happening, and you’re not going to do anything but hurt Pete and Nora by interfering.”

“Or maybe save them”

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“Just give me a day or two-“

“If you need a ride back to the Twin Palms, I’d be
happy to oblige; otherwise, your part in this drama is
over.”

“I can find my own way back” I slammed out of the
office in what I hoped appeared to be a grand exit. But
my canvas bag caught in the door and I couldn’t go far.
Detective Billie opened the door again and released
me. “Thanks,” I managed to get out before I left and
plunged into the rain once more. I’d be damned if I’d
ride with him after he basically told me I was nothing
but an outsider on the island. That wasn’t true. I felt a
kinship with this place and the people who lived here.
Heck, I’d just put myself out for the first time in my life
for someone other than myself. That should count for
something.

Even more irritating, his behavior showed me for
once and all that this attraction thing was one sided. On
the wrong side.

I hunched my shoulders, trying to protect my bag
from the rain. Maybe I didn’t understand all the island
nuances but, in spite of all the craziness, this was beginning to feel like home.

I looked up and the rain pelted my face. Oh, goody. I
finally found a place to call home and I’d probably get
flooded out before the day was over.

I kept walking.

Fortunately, Wanda Sue came driving by in her vintage
convertible in less than half an hour and picked me up.

As we made our way back to Mango Bay, she clucked
her tongue when I told her about my tires being slashed.

“First the murder, then the dead bird, and now the tires. What’s the island coming to?” she asked. “I’m going to have Pop Pop patrol twice a night.”

That’ll be a big help. I didn’t respond, just clenched
my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.

When we pulled up in front of my Airstream, I thanked
her and trudged out of her car. My shining silver abode
never looked so good, in spite of the flat tires. After I
walked Kong, I headed for the shower. As I leaned
against the tile and let the hot, steaming water warm me,
I began to cry. It all seemed too much. The murder. The dead bird. The tires. Pete’s arrest. Being a part of a community was taxing, to say the least.

I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head
and dropped into a deep slumber. For almost ten hours.

The next morning, I woke up to a watery dawn. The sun tried to peep out as though it were a flickering flashlight in desperate need of new batteries.

I was roughly in the same state. And I didn’t know
where I could recharge.

A slobbery tongue licked the rim of my ear, and I
laughed softly. Of course, it wasn’t a human and not exactly an energy jolt, but it would do just fine. I slipped
an arm around Kong and hugged him tightly.

I flipped back the covers and padded into the kitchen.
Empty fridge. Empty cupboards-aside from the bread
and water. But at least I had power again. That meant
the rest of the island probably did, too. Hooray!

What I needed was a pot of coffee and donuts …
lots of donuts.

Fueled by hunger, I quickly dressed in a white cotton
tank top and a fresh pair of jeans, giving my curls the
merest flick with the brush.

“Check back with you, Kong” I blew him a kiss and
was out the door.

Half an hour later, I strolled into the Observer office,
coffee and half-eaten donut in hand. Okay, so it wasn’t
my first.

“Big doings yesterday,” Sandy remarked. “I heard Pete was arrested and you were the one that got him to
give himself up.”

I shook my head as I seated myself at the computer.
“It was Nora who persuaded him. She’s the one that deserves all the credit.”

“That’s not what the Jordan sisters said.” She smiled
and snapped the rubber band on her wrist.

“What’s that for?”

“A little cognitive diet therapy. Every time I have a
food craving, I snap the band.” She gave a little demonstration. “Eventually, I’ll come to associate food with
pain and I won’t want to eat anymore.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Hey, kiddo. When are you going to get started on
the story of Pete’s arrest?” Anita stood in the doorway
to her little cubicle, bony arms folded across her chest.

Leave it to Anita to understand that I might need
some down time to let yesterday’s events sink in. “He
was arrested, but I don’t think he did it.”

“Not your problem,” she continued.

“It is when I was part of the arrest”

Her thin lips grew even thinner. “Your job is to report the news, not make it. Pete was arrested. He’s the
prime suspect in Hillman’s murder. That’s your story.”

“I understand” Do the story, or I’m fired. Anita always reduced things to the simplest level. “But first I
want to do a little digging this morning on a couple of
loose ends. I don’t need to have the article done for a few days, and I want to make sure that I’ve followed up
on all the leads on Hillman-“

“Suit yourself, but I’ll need time to edit your copy.”
She ambled back into her cubicle. “I’ll be working on
a story about the tropical storm damage, so unless
someone charges in here with a gun, don’t disturb me”

I had a sudden, childish urge to stick my tongue out
at her, but with my newfound sense of adult responsibility, I figured that was out. I satisfied my urge by giving her a surreptitious and extremely rude hand gesture
under the desk.

“Sandy, can I use your phone? I need to make a call
to Miami.”

“Sure. It’s time for my morning meditation.” She
pulled out the iPod, clamped it over her head, and began
doing that “ommmmmm” sound. I never could figure out
what was relaxing about sounding like the signal on an
emergency broadcast band, but who was I to argue with
success? She wasn’t wearing any visible price tags this
morning, so something was working.

I dialed the Miami number of Hillman’s “Little
Brother” and a woman answered.