“It wasn’t my fault,” I began.
“Later.” Nick waded into the melee, brushing aside the geezer squad and cuffing Travis. “Phone for an ambulance,” he instructed his deputy, who knelt next to Destiny and immediately made the call.
Yanking Travis to his feet, Nick kept a tight grasp on his arm. Disheveled and breathing heavily, Travis swayed back and forth on unsteady legs, glaring at his attackers.
Pepe and Jose held out their bats in a defensive posture.
Nick turned to me. “I’m not even going to ask why Pop Pop and his friends are beating Travis with plastic bats.”
Pop Pop pointed at his union button. “We just formed Local 3218 of the United Tilapia Farmworkers Union today and wanted to take down our oppressor.”
“He was undercover at the tilapia farm,” I admitted, then averted my glance. “And then he . . . just showed up with Pepe and Jose.”
“We followed him ’cause we knew he was up to no good when he emptied out all the cash from the office,” Pop Pop explained.
“Si,” his buddies joined in.
Clearing my throat, I continued, “It was Travis all along.”
“He killed Bucky,” Destiny moaned in a weak voice.
“I know.” Nick’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “I was building my case right after Wanda Sue’s frying pan turned up outside the town hall. She’d told me last year that she left it at Bucky’s house after she tried to attack him. So I knew the killer had probably stolen the pan out of Bucky’s house, then attacked him with it and tried to frame Wanda Sue.”
“Fingerprints?” I asked.
“Fish residue.”
Joe Earl gagged.
“The fish were full of the same bleach as the tilapia near Bucky’s body and the fish at Travis’s farm.”
“You knew about the bleach?” I clutched my broken rib.
A wry but indulgent glint appeared in his eyes. “You sent Liz Ellis to me, and I investigated her complaint.”
“She tried to run us down with her car,” I sputtered.
“Smart woman,” Travis said.
Nick inclined his head at the sentiment. “I figured that Travis had replenished the town-hall tank, carrying them in the frying pan, with fish from his farm. But he put white tilapia in the tank, not red ones. He’s the only person on the island who farms white tilapia.” Nick glanced over at Destiny, who was lying still as the deputy held pressure on her leg. “I knew it had something to do with you since you were the link between the two of them, and I’d been following Travis’s financial dealings at the bank for some time. A lot of small business owners had complained about him.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Travis was blackmailing her into approving bad loans to bankrupt companies that he wanted to buy up cheap,” I supplied, grimacing every time I took in a breath. “Bucky wanted her to confess—”
“Save it,” Nick cut in. “Everyone is going to have to come to the police station and give a full statement.”
I heard sirens approaching. “Maybe you could go easy on me, Nick. I may have a broken rib.”
“She’s trouble,” Travis said.
“Don’t I know it?” Nick escorted him out, flashing me an “I’ll-deal-with-you-later” look.
Mea culpa.
EPILOGUE
“It’s good to be home again at the Twin Palms, and I sure do appreciate all of you risking your lives for me so I wouldn’t be tossed in the clink.” Wanda Sue glanced around the picnic table next to my Airstream, bestowing a smile on Joe Earl, Madame Geri, and Bernice, who were munching on a large plate of stone-crab claws with various dips. “And I’m pleased as punch that I’ve been appointed to the town council without even an election.”
Bernice propped her arm and wrist casts on the table top, dipping her claw into melted butter. “All the other candidates are in jail or dead.”
“That’s not true,” Wanda Sue protested, then she pursed her mouth. “Well, I guess it is. But I would’ve won the election anyway.”
“You bet.” I cracked a claw and dipped the meaty part into mustard sauce. “But your new political career is going to take you away from managing the RV park. Is Pop Pop going to be able to pick up the slack now he’s become a union organizer?” I hadn’t seen him since the plastic-bat attack, but I kept getting Union Now! literature on my truck windshield.
“Not to worry, honey. I’ve got it under control.” She patted my hand. “I hired Coop as Pop Pop’s new assistant. I think he’ll work out just fine as long as he can remember what he needs to do.”
Oh, boy.
I pulled my sweater tighter around my taped ribs, trying not to take in a breath too deeply; it still hurt. A cool breeze was drifting in off the Gulf as the sun was setting in Mango Bay, lighting the sky in streaks of yellow and orange. Happy colors. “I’m just relieved that Travis will be put away for a long, long time. And I don’t have to worry about snakes in my truck anymore.”
“Me, too.” Joe Earl popped a piece of crab in his mouth.
“I also heard from Nick that Destiny will probably get a reduced sentence for embezzlement because she’s agreed to testify against Travis,” I added. “All good news.”
“So our island cop isn’t mad at you?” Wanda Sue asked with a tiny grin.
“We’ve declared a truce.” I glanced over at the empty site where Cole had parked his van, then down at my right hand where I’d removed the engagement ring. My decision had been made. Detective Billie was the man for me.
I’d miss Cole. He’d been part of my life at a time when I didn’t know what I wanted or if I’d ever find it once I knew. But that was the past. We’d parted as friends the day he left, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a tiny pang of loss inside. No regrets, though.
Anita would be back in a day or two, and I could have some extra time to settle into a new relationship with Nick.
Life was really looking up.
“Let’s not forget to thank the spirit world. They were advising us all along through the Abe Lincoln violin.” Madame Geri produced the battered old instrument and set it next to the crab-claw platter. “It pointed us to the bridal magazine cover with the pond, a symbol of the fish tanks at Travis’s tilapia farm. We just couldn’t figure it out at the time. Also, it warned us that Mallie was in danger.”
The violin started to vibrate wildly, and we all sat back.
“Old Abe is riled up again,” Wanda Sue exclaimed. “Maybe it’s a new prediction.”
Madame Geri placed her fingertips on the violin and closed her eyes briefly. Then she shrugged. “A big surprise is coming. That’s all I’m getting.”
Exhaling with impatience, I picked up the violin and shook it. Something clunked. Turning it upside down, I caught Marley the Parrot’s pet pager as it dropped out.
“He must’ve dropped it in there during Bernice’s first bicycle accident.” Madame Geri took it from me and slipped it into her purse. “Silly bird.”
“That’s why the stupid violin was vibrating.” Bernice gave an exclamation of disgust.
“A coincidence,” Joe Earl said.
Just then, a Toyota Camry pulled up and parked in front of my Airstream. Moments later, a young guy with a crew cut and suit strolled over. “Which of you is Mallie Monroe?”
I raised my hand.
He set a folded piece of paper on my table. “Ms. Liz Ellis is suing you for defamation of character, intent to do her bodily harm with your vehicle, and theft of a pair of hedge clippers.”
“What?” I sat back in shock. “She’s the one who tried to run me over. And she threw those clippers at us.”
“I can’t comment. I’m just a legal assistant in her attorney’s office.” He gave a little salute. “Have a nice day.”
After he drove off, I tore the paper in half. “That’s what I think of this big surprise. Can you believe the gall of that crazy woman?” So much for my happy colors.
“Don’t worry, Mallie, you
’ve got friends in high places—me and Nick Billie.” Wanda Sue thumped her chest in pride. “We’ll protect you.”
Ah, yes . . . Nick.
As relief spread through me, the lyrics of Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” blasted out from my neighbor’s fifth-wheeler RV. It was the type of melody for . . . newlyweds.
Aha!
It wasn’t a famous singer parked next door, but a person who liked famous love songs.
Instantly, I rose to my feet and slid out from the table’s seat, careful not to jar my ribs. “I know who’s over there. It’s Anita and Benton in an RV rental from Miami, and she’s probably been spying on us like she did once before.” I marched over to the RV and banged on the door. “Come on out, you honeymooners. Right now!”
An exotic, dark-haired woman appeared, wearing a cream-colored sweater and matching silk pants.
Not Anita by a long shot.
“Oh, sorry.” I offered an apologetic smile. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Hi, I’m Ramira Billie. Nick’s wife.”
My smile froze.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marty Ambrose is a multi-published mystery author. At present, she is living the dream on an island in southwest Florida, dividing her time between writing and teaching English at a local state college.
Marty began her writing career in romantic suspense and published two novels with Avalon Books and, later, three novels for Kensington. She then moved into her real love, stemming from the time that she first read Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple books: cozy mysteries. She published four books featuring her quirky amateur sleuth, Mallie Monroe, in the successful Mango Bay Mystery series with Thomas & Mercer; Coastal Corpse is the fifth in the series.
And so the dream continues . . .
Coastal Corpse Page 21
