“Nothing” It was sort of true. All I knew was that Detective Billie was part Miccosukee and had left the reservation in southern Florida under a cloud.
“Did she say that I made a mistake years ago? Was that it?”
“She might’ve said something last summer about your leaving a previous job over an … unsettling case, but nothing else.” My mouth suddenly felt dry. I cleared my throat. “She thinks very highly of you. So do I, for that matter.”
His hands clenched and unclenched on top of the desk. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. It all happened a long time ago, but it’s still there in the back of my mind. My only excuse is that I was young, brash, and way too full of myself-if that can be called an excuse” A shadow passed across his face, and he lowered his head. “You move on, but you never really get over something like that”
Like what? I wanted to scream. But we didn’t have the kind of relationship where he’d reveal his deep, dark secrets to me.
“Enough of that” He looked up again. “Just to play it safe, I’ll check with Sally Jo after lunch”
“You mean we’re in agreement?” I asked in disbelief.
“I guess so.”
“Will wonders never cease?”
A ghost of a smile passed across his face. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you might be a murderer. Then I thought you were a pain in the-“
“I get the picture.” And the part of the anatomy he was going to reference.
“Now, I can’t tell if you just like causing trouble or if it naturally follows you”
“My middle name is Ann, not Trouble.” My throat opened up again, and I could swallow once more.
“I know. You forget that I have a background file on you. Name, birth date, social security number-I’ve got a complete picture of Mallie Ann Monroe”
“Surely not everything.” I was dying to have a peek into that file. Not that I’d done anything all that bad, but, like everyone else, I had had a few youthful indiscretions. Most of them had had to do with rebelling against my parents and their Midwest values. TP-ing a house at Halloween. Stealing apples from mean old Mrs. Mattelbaum’s orchard. Nothing all that earthshaking.
“The only piece of information I’m missing is where you get your hair dyed” His eyes rested on my fire engine red hair.
“It’s natural. You can ask my great-aunt Lily. She still calls me Carrot” He might not believe me, but I knew he wouldn’t question the word of Great-aunt Lily.
“Carrot?” He laughed. “That’s too tame by a long shot. More like Chili Pepper-that fits you”
“As vegetables go, I guess that’s a step up. If I didn’t know better, Detective Billie, I’d think you were starting to like me”
“But you do know better.”
We stared at each other across the desk. Something passed between us. A sensual vibe. A connection. A tentative bond. I don’t know what it was. But it left me shaky.
I murmured something and got out of there as fast as my wobbly legs could take me.
I swung by the Circle K deli and picked up my usual working lunch: a ham and Swiss hoagie, two bags of chips, and a mammoth-sized chocolate chip cookie. I figured I hit most of the food groups with that combo, and what I missed could be made up with two steaming cups of black coffee.
I wolfed down most of the meal in my truck as I drove back to the Observer office. With an ease born of long practice, I could drink my coffee, shift with my sandwich hand, and never lose even a shred of lettuce. I often used Rusty as the setting for a moveable feast during the workweek-not because I didn’t like to sit down to a meal, but because I didn’t want to put undue stress on Sandy as she struggled with her diet, while I struggled with the choice of fries or chips with my triple-decker cheeseburger. Sure, it would catch up with me at some point, but right now I enjoyed guilt-free, fastfood nirvana.
I was savoring the last bite of my hoagie as I strolled into the office. “Sandy, I deserve combat pay for dodging jump ropes-” I broke off in midsentence as I noticed a newcomer seated near Sandy’s desk. I blinked a couple of times, making sure that my eyes were focused correctly. Sure enough, a middle-aged woman with grayish dreadlocks, wearing a sundress and pearls, inclined her head toward me. A Rastafarian homemaker. But it wasn’t her unusual appearance that got my attention. It was the jewel-toned bird perched on her right shoulder.
“I … I thought Anita had a rule about pets in the office,” I stammered, scanning the green feathers and pale yellow head.
“Marley’s not a pet-he’s my familiar.” The woman stroked the bird, who fastened two beady eyes on me. “Otherwise he’s known as a turquoise-fronted parrot”
I kept my distance. I don’t like birds-never have, never will. I was almost attacked by a rogue duck once at summer camp in middle school, and it traumatized me for life.
“Not to worry. Anita is out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. She had to drive into town to meet with Mr. Benton,” Sandy chimed in. “This is Madame Geri. After our talk this morning, Jimmy called her, and she came right over.”
“Who’s Jimmy?”
The painter waved his brush from across the room.
“Right. Gotcha. Madame Geri’s son,” I said. That made sense, I guess. Not wanting to get too close to the beady-eyed bird, I waved a hand in a friendly hello.
“Sandy said you needed an astrological chart for your boss,” the so-called psychic said, arranging the folds of her sundress.
“Yeah … uh … maybe so…” I eased around Madame Geri to reach my desk. “If you have the time, that is.” Please let her schedule be filled.
“I always have time to study the planets. They’re the windows to understanding ourselves and our universe.” She gestured in an expansive arc with her hands. “It’s not always easy to determine the forces working on us in this life. Sometimes they’re complex, sometimes simple. But no matter what, our sun sign is the dominant force in our lives, with our moon and rising signs as lesser influences. Those are the keys to life.”
“I howled at the moon once. Does that count?” I offered.
Madame Geri studied me as if I were some type of alien. “You’re an Aquarian. You like to be different. Always restless, always on the move. Looking for the next adventure. But recently you’ve found yourself putting down roots, wanting a home. Your big fear is that life will become one big, dull routine, so you work here for variety.”
“Wow. Have you been talking to my mother?” Anyone could’ve guessed that about me. Especially someone plugged into the island grapevine. It was common knowledge that I lived in an Airstream trailer and had worked my way south with a string of temporary jobs.
Madame Geri gave a contemptuous laugh, causing her dreadlocks to shake. “I don’t need to”
I tried to think of another joke, but I couldn’t come up with anything witty. Besides, Madame Geri was now looking at me with the exact same expression as her bird, and it was making me uncomfortable. I turned to Sandy. “Did you dig up Anita’s birth date?”
“Sure did.” Sandy grinned as she held up an employment application form. “I found this little nugget of history in the files” She scanned it for a few seconds. “Says Anita was born on January 14, 1945”
Madame Geri closed her eyes. “Hmmm. A Capricorn, with maybe a Virgo moon sign. Interesting combination. She likes control, order, runs a tight ship. She can weather a lot of storms, has a dry sense of humor, but her big fear is emotional hurt. She’ll do anything to avoid that. And the Virgo moon creates a tension between her needs and desires. She may even have a secret longing for …”
“Another job?” Sandy inquired.
“A man in her life?” Jimmy the Painter had abandoned his job and stood behind his mother.
“Nontoxic cigarettes?” I couldn’t resist adding.
Madame Geri kept her eyes shut, then opened them and took in a deep breath. “I can’t tell. I need to do her chart. Then I’ll know for sure.”
Damn
. I was curious in spite of myself. The image of prune-faced Anita bubbling up inside with a cauldron of hidden desires had piqued my curiosity.
“How long will it take?” I gestured toward the sloppy mess in Anita’s office. “You see what we’re up against here. She’s given up cigarettes, stopped cleaning her office, and is barking out orders like a drill sergeant.”
“I need a few days” Madame Geri shrugged. “These things can’t be rushed” She rose to her feet, her sundress falling around her rather trim figure in flattering folds. Aside from the dreadlocks, she was sort of attractive in a New Age-y kind of way. “I’m doing this to help Anita find her true path. She’s blocked from it somehow. Find the lost dream, and she’ll be back on track”
“‘Tell me not in mournful numbers, life is but a dream,’” I began. “`For the-”’
“`Soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not as they seem,”’ Madame Geri finished the quote. “Longfellow. Not my favorite poet, but he’ll do in a pinch.”
I blinked in surprise. “You like poetry?”
She didn’t answer, merely picked up her leather tote bag and repositioned Marley on her shoulder. As she swept past me, I caught the scent of lavender. Surprisingly soft and subtle. I expected her to be wearing one of those patchouli perfumes that clung like the sickening, overpowering scent of something buried in a bog for a couple of centuries.
“Oh, I almost forgot: The boy you seek is missing, but not in the way you think,” she murmured under her breath to me.
“What did you say?” I caught her elbow. Marley squawked and raised his wings. Inside the green feathers appeared red and bluish markings. I instantly drew back.
Madame Geri pivoted. “You heard me,” she replied with a wink. Jimmy then escorted her out of the office, bag, bird, and all.
I remained rooted in my spot until Marley had safely exited the office.
“Criminy.” I dropped into my desk chair, not sure if I should break out a lucky rabbit’s foot or say a prayer. “Is she a piece of work, or what?”
Sandy folded her arms across her ample chest, her face tightening in disapproval. “Be careful. Madame Geri is well respected on Coral Island.”
“Sandy, her newspaper column is ridiculous. All she ever says is stuff like, `Organize your thoughts, and you’ll have a productive day.’ Who can’t forecast that?”
Sandy looked affronted. “Madame Geri does more than just write a column for the paper. She gives Tarot card readings, does astrological charts, and makes predictions about the future”
“I hate to ask this, but have any of them come true?”
Sandy nodded with a vigorous jerk of her head. “She predicted the early-season tropical storm last summer.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“That’s ‘cause she made the prediction before you came to the island. We were all prepared because Madame Geri told us about the storm in April. Then, when it hit in June, when you had moved here, no one panicked. We knew it was coming.”
“I think I’ll stick with the weather channel”
“Suit yourself.” Sandy shrugged. “Believe it or not, Madame Geri is psychic.”
Not. “Then again, she did say something sort of odd to me when she left about a missing boy” I laughed at my own foolishness. I knew better. Not because I doubted Madame Geri, but because one of my previous jobs had been with a psychic hotline. Okay, I’m not proud of it. I did it only for a couple of months. Mostly I listened to callers who wanted to talk about boyfriends who never called back, kids who called their friends constantly, or parents who couldn’t remember to call. People just wanted to talk-to anyone. But they already knew the answers. I was no more of a psychic than Sandy was a voodoo queen. Still … how did Madame Geri know about Kevin? “Chances are, Wanda Sue told Madame Geri that she was worried about her grandson”
“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 hud
dled 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.
Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Page 4
