The empty silence of my Airstream answered me.
The next morning I was awakened once again by the shrill ring of my cheapie deluxe telephone. I groaned as I fumbled for the receiver. Two parental calls in two days? What had I done to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment?
“Hello?” I drew out the last syllable to convey my irritation.
“This is Nick Billie.”
My eyes flew open. Yahoo!
“Did I wake you?”
“Oh, no. I’ve been up for an hour.” I peeped at my alarm clock: 7:00 A.M. It was theoretically possible that I could’ve been awake that early. Of course, if he knew me better, he’d realize the actual possibility of that happening was zilch. “I had to take Kong for his walk, make coffee, straighten up my Airstream. You know, morning is the most important time of day. I like to use it to plan my articles. That way, when I get to the Observer, I’m ready to hit the keyboard and run with it. Now, if I had a laptop here, I’d probably get even more done at home, but the newspaper isn’t about to fork out that kind of money. Not with getting the office painted and-“
“Okay, okay. I get the picture,” he cut in, impatience threaded through his voice.
I resisted the urge to place a pillow over my face and suffocate my motormouth. Why, oh, why did it always kick in at the most inopportune moments?
“I thought you might like to swing by the station on your way to work-that is, if you can interrupt your creative marathon.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got Tom’s autopsy results.”
“And you’re willing to share them with me?” I sat up, glad he couldn’t see the loopy smile that spread across my face.
“Consider it payback for helping me rescue Kevin.”
“Even after the rope incident?”
He chuckled.
“Is the coffee on?” I asked.
“Made it myself.”
“I’ll pick up the donuts on the way.”
“That’s a myth, you know,” he said.
“What?”
“That police officers spend their mornings hanging out at donut shops, stuffing their faces.”
“I got you. I’ll make it a dozen of the glazed”
“Good.” He hung up.
Slowly I replaced the receiver. Morning coffee with Detective Billie. Now, that’s what I deemed a wake-up call.
Kong barked and scratched at the front door. Okay, first things first. I threw back the covers and hopped out of bed, a spring to my step.
However, first contact with the cold parquet floor brought me back to reality. I padded to the large window at the front of my Airstream and rubbed at the iceencrusted glass.
Frost blanketed every leaf of foliage outside. The palm trees looked as though the fronds had been dipped in white chocolate.
“Are you sure you want to go out?” I asked my poodle.
He clawed at the aluminum door again.
“All right.” I donned my Windbreaker over my flannel pajamas and slipped into my running shoes. Then I wrapped an old woolen scarf around my head. Fashion conscience, be damned. This was survival.
I fastened the leash to Kong’s collar and led him out of the Airstream.
Teeth chattering, I decided against heading for Kong’s nemesis-the beach. No need to drag out this painful operation. We sped over to a clump of bougainvillea bushes, where he did his thing.
I took advantage of the time by spying on my neighbors in the behemoth RV. Everything was quiet. Blast it. If I had to be up this early, why shouldn’t they?
I scanned their site. Nothing new. Awning still up, picnic table still unused. Except … My glance sharpened. A cherry red Ford Escort rental car stood parked to one side. I didn’t remember seeing that vehicle before. It seemed kinda low end for a famous couple, but maybe that was part of the whole incognito thing.
Very interesting. If they were exploring the area in a rental with Florida plates, it meant they’d probably be here for a few more days at least. I still had time to find out their identities.
I vowed to keep an eye out for the Ford Escort as I drove around the island.
An hour later, I pulled Rusty into a parking space outside the police station. Checking my appearance in the rearview mirror one more time, I tucked a stray red curl behind my ear and removed the lipstick streaks that had smudged my front teeth.
Okay, so I’d put on a little makeup and washed my curls in Kong’s favorite country-apple shampoo. Nothing wrong with sprucing up. Or putting on a pair of neatly pressed jeans and cream colored V-neck sweater. Nothing wrong at all.
I couldn’t wear jeans every day.
As I let myself into the police station, I noticed that the receptionist’s desk was empty, but, true to his word, Detective Billie had a pot of my favorite caffeinated beverage brewing.
“Hi” He stood in the doorway of his office, looking dark and handsome and dangerous. Dark and handsome for obvious reasons. Dangerous because he made my legs wobble every time I saw him.
“Hi, yourself.” I held up the box of donuts.
He grinned. “Grab yourself a cup of coffee, and come on back”
I filled a mug with the steaming black liquid, inhaled the caffeine fumes a few times, and strolled into his office.
“How much longer is this cold spell going to last?” I asked, setting the box on his desk.
He helped himself to a donut. “Don’t know. Last year we had almost ten days when the temperature dipped to freezing. People had to scramble to keep their mango groves heated enough to protect the trees”
Detective Billie took a large bite out of his donut. Then he pulled out a manila folder and flipped it open. “Tom’s cause of death was drowning.”
“So it was an accident?”
“Not necessarily.”
My nerves tensed.
“Tom also experienced trauma to the back of the head,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
His dark eyes turned opaque. “Someone hit him with a blunt object from behind-probably knocked him unconscious. Then he fell overboard and drowned.”
“Do you know what you’re saying? The only other person on the boat was Kevin-“
“I’m well aware of that” His mouth tightened. “But I can’t hide from the facts or pretend that this is just an accident. Someone deliberately caused Tom to drown, and I have to find out who it was, even if I don’t like it. That’s my job”
“But Kevin is only a little boy,” I protested.
“I’ll do everything I can to protect him. The night we picked him up, I went easy on him and asked only a few questions, but I’ll have to talk to him again-press for details.”
“I know … but it stinks.”
“Tell me about it.” His voice took on a hard edge. “I took this job to keep the community safe, not interrogate kids.”
“Actually, I have a theory about Tom’s death-“
“Based on your many years of studying criminal justice.” The edge became even edgier as he cut in.
“Okay, so I don’t have any formal training. But I did help solve that murder case last summer.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but, as I recall, you were a suspect at first. Then you meddled in my investigation and almost got yourself killed by trying to get the murderer to confess”
“If you start splitting hairs, we’re not going to get anywhere.” I set the mug on his desk with undue force. The liquid spilled over the rim and onto the shiny mahogany finish. “Sorry”
He didn’t make a move to wipe it up. I dabbed at it with my hand, causing the coffee to drip onto the floor. Not wanting to make it any worse, I halted my mop-up attempts. Motormouth and clumsy.
“If you didn’t want to hear my ideas, why did you ask me to have coffee with you this morning?” Okay, I’d put it out there. The ball was in his court now.
A half smile turned up one side of his mouth. “Maybe I wanted to see if your red hair would heat up my office”
The ball was back in my court now, and I doublefaulted. “Has it?”
“Can’t say yet”
I briefly retrieved my mug and gulped down another swig of coffee. Forget the balls and the courts. I’d never win at verbal volleys with Detective Billie. One compliment and I turned to mush-or, worse, a motormouth. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that you’ve been properly warmed by the sight of my hair. How about letting me give you my hypothesis?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Shoot”
“Kevin and Tom were alone in the boat when they left the marina, right?”
He nodded.
“They anchored off the mangroves in the late afternoon and fished until evening. After five or six hours of being on the water, Kevin probably fell asleep early. Not long after Kevin was snoozing, someone could’ve driven up a second boat, come aboard, and knocked Tom unconscious. Simple, huh?”
“That wouldn’t be my word for your theory”
I leaned forward and propped my elbows on his desk. “You don’t really think Kevin did it, do you?”
“I don’t want to” He sighed. “But he’s been an angry boy for the last six months. Mad at his parents, mad at the other kids at school, mad at the world” He stared down at his coffee mug. “A couple weeks ago I had to question him about some vandalism at the island center. Nothing would stick, but I had my suspicions.”
I refrained from relating what Kevin’s classmate had told me. No need to add fuel to that fire.
Nick cleared his throat. “I’m going over to Sally Jo’s house later today to talk to him.”
“Do you mind if I’m present?”
“Yes, I mind. I mind like hell.” His head jerked up. “I appreciate your help rescuing Kevin, and I gave you the autopsy results as a thank you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to interfere with my investigation.”
“Kevin’s well-being concerns me. I don’t want to see him hurt or-“
“Neither do I,” he cut in swiftly. “Which is why it’s best that you leave the police work to me”
“Let me remind you, you’re supposed to share information with the press, and I’m the sole investigative reporter for the Observer.” I was desperate enough to play the journalism card.
“I just did. I told you the cause of Tom’s death.”
Damn. He trumped me. Winning games-mental or physical-was not my forte.
“I’m also Wanda Sue’s friend. I can’t just turn a blind eye when her grandson might be accused of murder.”
“It’s not a `blind eye’ when you let the police do their job” He leaned toward me. “A young boy’s future is at stake, and I can’t let anyone jeopardize the investigation. It could end up hurting Kevin even more.”
“So you’ve already made up your mind that he’s the culprit-“
“I didn’t say that”
“Not in so many words.”
He help up his hands. “Why is it we always end up arguing? Especially when, in this instance, we both want what’s best for Kevin?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we each like doing things our own way.” I sighed. “Still … I thought we were becoming … friends.”
“Is that what you think we are?”
“Maybe” I straightened, letting my arms stretch across his desk.
“I don’t feel like kissing my friends when they disagree with me.” His fingers touched mine.
Whoa! Electric shocks fired through my body all the way to my toes. I snatched my hand back. Little good it did me. I could still feel the charge in every nerve ending.
A dark flush spread across his face, and his features shuttered. “But don’t think that means I have any intention of behaving in an unprofessional way. I have my job to do. People on this island depend on me, and I’m not about to betray that trust”
The electric aftershocks fizzled out.
“Kevin’s family has already experienced one loss, and I don’t want to add to their heartache,” he continued.
“Me, either. That’s why I shared my theory with you” Suddenly I didn’t know where to look. I didn’t want him to see the disappointment in my eyes.
“Duly noted.”
Oh, great. Now he’s back to Mr. Reserved, by-thebook cop. “Is this about Kevin or the other case-the one on the reservation?” I inquired gently.
His hands balled into fists. “That case has been over for years, I can’t go back and fix it.”
“What happened?”
“Why should you care?”
“Call me a glutton for punishment, but I’d like to know.”
A tiny muscle began working in his jaw. I’d known Nick Billie long enough to realize, when he clenched his jaw like that, something big was going on inside him.
“There isn’t much to tell. I was working as a tribal police officer on the Miccosukee Reservation. I’d been there a couple of years, covering routine crimes. Petty theft. Disorderly behavior. Occasional domestic disturbances. Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. I thought I was the king of the walk, keeping the reservation free of the type of crime that was everywhere in southern Florida. Then a boy went missing. The parents seemed really torn up about it, doing everything they could to help me find him.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “To make a long story short, turns out the father had his son doing drug runs through the Everglades. A dealer got mad and shot the boy. When his body finally appeared, the father confessed to everything.”
I shuddered. “How awful”
“Yeah. Turns out a drug ring was operating right under my nose, and I was too conceited to see it. Even worse, I never did find the drug dealer who killed the boy” He shook his head in regret. “I couldn’t stay there after that. I took a job with the Naples police department for a couple of years, then I came here”
“You can’t blame yourself for that boy’s death. How could you have known-“
“It’s my job to know what’s going on” A fist came down on the desk-hard. “If I’d been paying more attention to the subtle clues around me, I would’ve found out about the drug ring. I was stupid, and I made mistakes that cost a young boy his life.”
“Seems like his father was the one to blame”
“He got a jail sentence-eight years. Can you believe that?”
“He should’ve gotten life. I still think you’re taking responsibility for events that were out of your control”
“I’ll be the judge of that”
I was suddenly torn by conflicting desires. On the one hand, I wanted to put my arms around him in comfort, but on the other I wanted to shake some sense into him. Not knowing which would be best, I did neither.
He flipped the manila folder shut and, with it, the door to his past. “I’ll issue press releases at appropriate times as the case develops”
I stood up. His words clearly signaled dismissal. “I can’t promise you that I won’t try to find out who killed Tom Crawford.”
“And I can’t promise you that I won’t lock you up if you get in my way.”
“Friends?”
He smiled. “Of course”
I set the empty coffee mug on his desk and left.
I drove the short distance to the Observer office, weighing the whole structure of events that had just occurred. I now knew two things.
Tom Crawford’s death was no accident. And if I was going to help Wanda Sue, I had to find out who came aboard that boat and knocked Tom into the water. Whatever tiny doubts I had that Kevin did it, I squashed immediately. That terrified little boy I’d comforted in the boat cabin couldn’t have hurt his father.
I also had learned why Detective Billie took his job so seriously: He didn’t want to repeat mistakes from his past. Just knowing that made him seem more human, more vulnerable, and more compellingly attractive.
And don’t forget he said he’d like to kiss you.
I started, causing my foot to ram down the gas pedal. It stuck, of course, and I almost plowed into a Volvo station wagon
with a DOG ON BOARD sign. I jammed on the brakes, and, luckily, they worked. Still, I narrowly missed rear-ending the vehicle with its slobbering black Labrador hanging out the passenger window.
I took in a long, calming breath.
Don’t forget: Nick also immediately regretted saying it. He’d shut down when he realized what he said, just as I’d pulled back when he touched my hand. I sighed. Maybe neither of us wanted that kind of pulse-pounding, heart-stopping, breathless, in-your-face relationship. It was too messy. Too tempting. Too life-shattering.
Right now keeping my life on track was taking up all my energy. One wrong move and I’d lose my job. I’d be Mixed-up Mallie again, roaming the highways, looking for the bluebird of happiness-and never finding it.
Get a grip. Keep your focus. That had to be my mantra.
I parked Rusty and strolled into the office. But I stopped in my tracks when I came face-to-face with the beady black eyes of Madame Geri’s bird, Marley.
“Mallie, look who showed up” Sandy pointed, quite unnecessarily, at the island psychic. As if I could overlook a woman with gray deadlocks wearing a fifties poodle skirt and cardigan and sporting a parrot on her shoulder.
I leveled an accusatory glance at Sandy, who spread her palms in an it-wasn’t-me gesture.
“I called Mom,” Jimmy piped up. “I thought you might be able to use her spiritual guidance.” He and Sandy were seated at her desk, paging through our latest edition of the Observer.
“I don’t need that kind of help to-“
“You want to find out who killed Tom Crawford?” Madame Geri asked.
“How do you know he was murdered?”
“Was he murdered?” Jimmy and Sandy blurted simultaneously, heads swiveling toward me.
“Can’t really say” I fastened my glance on Madame Geri. “Where do you get your info?”
She looked affronted. “The spirit world tells me what I want to know.”
“If he was murdered, I don’t suppose the spirits told you who did it,” I inquired, trying not to let sarcasm creep into my voice.
“Doesn’t work that way. Some things in life have to be figured out on their own. Then people learn the lessons they’re supposed to”
Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue Page 8
