Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 03 - Murder in the Mangroves (4 page)

“Sure. I just might.” I flashed a phony smile as I took a tiny
bite of the mango. The rest would be tossed into the pond the
moment Gina turned her back.

But mid-chew, I was amazed to find my taste buds melting
under the delicious onslaught of flavors-hardly bland. Clove.
Cinnamon. Coconut. Fig. Wow. Manna from heaven. “This is incredible.” I had eaten a mango only once, and it had tasted
nothing like this one.

“Told ya” Gina passed me the Baggie. “Here. You can have
the rest”

“Thanks” I grabbed the largest slice and gobbled it down
in one swallow. “I’ve never tasted anything as sweet outside of
doughnuts”

“It’s a variety developed on Coral Island,” Gina said with a
touch of pride in her voice.

“Come on, ladies. This is a hike, not a picnic.” Angela fluttered
past us with the birders, and we fell into formation once again.

I placed the mango slices in my canvas bag and heaved it onto my shoulder. The respite was over-back to the sun,
bugs, and scat. Oh, well, at least I’d had enough of a sugar rush
from the mango to jump-start my flagging energy.

Eventually, the interminable hike ended back where we’d
started. I checked my Mickey Mouse watch-courtesy of my
short, undistinguished tenure at Disney World. Amazingly, only
a couple of hours had passed. It had seemed like ten.

While we stood near the parking lot, panting in the heat and
thanking Angela, everyone produced water bottles. My mouth
dropped open, too parched even to drool. Of course I had no
water, and I needed it-desperately. My mouth felt as dry as
the cotton balls in Marlon Brando’s mouth when he played
the Godfather.

“Here, honey, take mine.” Mae handed me her bottle. “I’ll
share with George”

I couldn’t speak. My gratitude was beyond words. I guzzled
down almost the whole bottle in a matter of seconds.

“You’d better wash off your feet first chance you get,” Mae
observed, eyeing my crusty Keds. “The salt water in the marsh
can strip your skin bare”

“Thanks for the tip.” Mae had turned out to be my fairy
godmother of trail survival.

“I’ve gotta run,” Angela called out as she waved good-bye
and climbed into her Jeep Cherokee. “Y’all feel free to come
back for another hike anytime you want,” she added, her head
tilted out the open driver’s side window.

I watched as she drove off, evaluating her vehicle. Some
people like to psychoanalyze people. I liked to dissect cars.
They told me a lot more about a person than the Myers-Briggs
test. Dented, filled to the brim with hiking gear and environmental books-I didn’t need to push my analysis of Angela’s
Jeep any deeper. It confirmed what I already suspected: Angela
needed an intervention. She was addicted to the outdoors.

After my elderly companions and I bid one another farewell,
they drove away, leaving me with the beauty queens.

“I told you that I decided to wait for Brett,” Gina was saying.

“But Dad said he’d pick us up when we finished the hike.”
Brandi whipped out her cell phone.

“Pleeeeease. I’d prefer to wait for my fiance.”

“It’s stupid to stand in the heat like this arguing. I’ll call
Dad.”

“No” Gina stamped her foot. She produced her own cell
phone and pressed a few buttons in rapid succession. “I just
sent Brett a text message-he’ll be along soon.” A triumphant
smile spread across her lovely face.

Brandi flipped open her cell phone and hit the speed-dial
button. “Shoot-all I got was Dad’s voice mail.” She snapped
the cell shut, glaring at Gina. “I’m going to walk up to the main
road and try again.”

“I’m staying right here.” Gina folded her arms across her
chest.

“Fine” Brandi spun on her heel and strode away.

Gina gave an exclamation of disgust.

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, the dueling island girls’ dispute lingering like a dark cloud.

“You want me to drop you somewhere?” I finally spoke up.
“Maybe I could interview you along the way.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait here. I’m out of water and kinda
tired.” Gina removed her straw hat and wiped a hand across
her forehead. “Brett never keeps me waiting long.”

I didn’t doubt her. “How ‘bout I get us some water and check
back for a quick interview? If your fiance picks you up in the
meantime, I’ll call you later with some questions.”

“Great.” She gave me her cell phone number. “I’ll wait in
the shade”

I jumped into Rusty and revved off, windows open, trying for a bit of a breeze. My air conditioner puffed out meager
breaths of cool air at best.

I rolled past Brandi. “You want a ride?”

She averted her head and motioned me on. I shrugged and
turned onto Coral Island Road. I drove straight to the Circle K
and bought four twelve-ounce bottles of water-two for me and
two for Gina. Downing one at the checkout counter, I let the
cool air in the store drain some of the heat from my body.

The newly hired, potbellied cashier, Benny, who always
smelled of cheap, woodsy aftershave, handed me my receipt.
“Sweetheart, your nose is the color of a beet”

I touched it. It felt warm. “Oh, no”

As I climbed back into Rusty, I checked my face in the
rearview mirror. My eyes widened in horror. My skin was almost the same color as my hair. I drove to the drugstore, and,
after a brief discussion with the pharmacist, I bought a small
jar of healing aloe lotion. I slathered it on, using a mirror in the
cosmetics department.

After purchasing the lotion, along with an extra bottle of
water, I checked my watch. Close to forty-five minutes had
passed, but maybe Brett the Fiance had been held up.

I headed back toward Little Coral Island, figuring Gina
might still be there. En route, I become acutely aware of a
growing discomfort in my feet. My Keds finally seemed to be
drying out, but they also felt as if they were hardening in the
process. I glanced down and grimaced. The salt water had
transformed the canvas shoes into two solid, sandy blocks.
I tried to curl my toes. Not even the pinky had enough room to
flex.

Gripping the wheel with one hand, I reached down with the
other and tried to slip off my left shoe. It didn’t budge. I’d
need the Jaws of Life to get the darn things off my feet. Great.
Just great.

A few minutes later, I turned into the empty parking lot
near the Little Coral Island trail. Scanning the area for Gina, I
spied her sitting under the black mangrove tree. Grabbing the
water and my notepad, I set out to do the quick interview.

“Gina!” I waved at her.

She didn’t respond.

“I’]] trade you a water for a couple of quotes,” I joked, holding up the plastic bottles.

Still no answer.

Quickening my pace, I rounded the chain-link fence. “Are
you okay? This heat is killing me-” I broke off as I noticed
the total stillness of her body. Her arms lay limp at her sides,
her head tilted back, her eyes set in a glassy stare. A syringe
nestled in the grass next to her hand.

My breath caught in my throat as I dropped the water bottles.

Gina the Mango Queen was dead.

peered at Gina, too stunned to move. She couldn’t be dead.
For goodness’ sake, I’d just seen her laughing and talking with
her friend. She was too young. Too full of life. Too beautiful.

My heart began to thump erratically. I reached for my cell
phone, a crazy mixture of hope and fear rising up inside of
me. Maybe she wasn’t really dead. Maybe she was only resting. I checked her pulse. Oh, yeah, she was dead all right.

I punched in 911 and told the dispatcher where I was and
what had happened. After that, my legs gave out, and I sank
down to the ground next to Gina, my eyes closed to the horrible reality of her death.

That’s where they found us.

The ambulance, fire truck, and Detective Nick Billie all arrived simultaneously.

As Nick helped me to my feet, I watched the paramedics
check Gina’s vitals. After several long minutes, they shook
their heads.

She was gone.

“Mallie, are you okay?” Nick’s familiar deep voice wafted over me like a velvet balm as he touched my arm in reassurance. Because he was Coral Island’s chief deputy, I knew he’d
be the one to answer the call. He’d be the one to take charge
of the situation and make everything okay. But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t bring Gina back to life.

“No, but I’ll survive.” My voice sounded as shaky as my
legs still felt. “You know, I was doing a story-a simple story
on the new Little Coral Island trail. That’s all. Granted, it was
hot as Hades, and my feet got soaked from all the salt water,
but other than that everything seemed normal. As normal as it
can when having to trudge three miles to look at animal dung
and a few pathetic birds and-“

“Okay, I know you’re still in shock, but try to calm down”
He fastened his eyes on me-deep, dark pools of concern. “I
need to know exactly what happened and how you found the
body. Keep it simple and straightforward.” He kept his own tone
quiet and steady.

Still, a dead body sprawled on the grass only a few feet
away. Could I help it that when I got nervous, I couldn’t stop
talking? Some people smoked. Some people drank. I talked
and talked and talked.

“Okay, I’ll try.” I took in a deep breath and began with that
morning, when Bernice had assigned me the story. I spent almost ten minutes divulging the shock of having Anita’s nutty
twin appear at the Observer.

“Could you get to the actual trail hike?” he inquired.

“All right.” I started to fill him in on all the details as briefly
as possible, but I was finding it hard to focus on the sequence of
events. Gina’s motionless body kept distracting me. I tried not
to look at her, but out of the corner of my eye I could see her long
brown hair flowing out from her lovely face. I stumbled over
my words several times yet somehow managed to finish up.

Nick Billie took notes but said nothing until I’d finished. Another deputy snapped pictures of the scene, and then the
paramedics took Gina away. I sighed inwardly. Her image
would be with me for a long time.

“Is that all you remember?” he pressed me.

“I think so…. Can we get out of the sun?” I brushed perspiration from my forehead. We moved under the shade of the
huge black mangrove, but it still felt like an inferno. “Did you
know Gina?” I asked him.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “I’d heard she was elected the
Mango Queen a few days ago, that’s all.”

“Is that really such a big deal?”

“It’s Coral Island’s version of the Miss America pageant.
Women campaign for a solid year to win the title.”

“That’s odd. Anita didn’t have me cover the story last year
or this year.” I felt my lips pucker in confusion. “She’s usually
so dogged about every little thing that happens on the island.”

Detective Billie smiled. “Everything except beauty contests. Anita is a dyed-in-the-wool feminist when it comes to
that kind of thing.”

“Figures” Although I wouldn’t attribute her motives to feminism. She preferred stories that “wrench your gut,” as she so
delicately put it. Not something as warm and fuzzy as the
Mango Queen. Of course, now that a death had occurred, it
was her kind of story-or, rather, Bernice’s type of story.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” he said.

“Now that you ask … on the hike, I noticed that Gina’s
friend, Brandi, seemed a bit jealous. I mean, she appeared to
be happy about Gina’s being the Mango Queen, but I thought
I detected a vibe. And I noticed that syringe near Gina’s body.
Do you think she was into drugs? Could her death have been
an overdose or-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Nick flipped his note book shut. “I’ll be investigating Gina’s death, and you know I
work alone.” He stressed the last word with pointed emphasis.

“Yes, but if you remember, I’ve helped you solve murder
cases in the past, and-“

“No. You interfered in my cases and almost got yourself
killed both times.”