3 Mango Bay

by Bill Myers

  So they paid their rent even when they weren't living here, just so they had a place in Florida they could return to anytime they wanted to.

  This meant Serenity Cove stayed booked up year round. There weren't many vacancies, except when someone died.

  Polly also told me that before she moved to Serenity Cove she had been a registered nurse.

  “My last job was in the cardiac care center of Tampa General. It was a good job with good pay, but I didn't like the stress of living in a big city like Tampa.

  “Jack promised me that when we retired, we'd move back to Englewood. But that never happened.

  “On his sixtieth birthday, driving home from work during rush hour, he had a heart attack on the Gandy Bridge. It took the EMTs eighteen minutes to get to him. By then, it was too late. He was gone.

  “I was alone after that. Living in Tampa. In a big house, without Jack. Just me and Oscar.

  “After I got over the shock of his death, I put our house on the market, and when it sold I bought an Airstream trailer and set it up here in Serenity Cove. Been living here ever since.”

  “Jack was your husband?”

  “Yes, we were married forty years. He was a good man. And a good father to Lucy. I really miss him.

  “But Oscar here keeps me company these days. It's because of him that I get out and walk around the park. He needs his daily exercise and to take care of his personal business. So I get out and walk with him.

  “And when I'm out with Oscar, everybody wants to stop and talk. They want to know what kind of dog he is, and then after we get to talking, they tell me their life stories.

  “So Oscar is kind of like the ice breaker. Everyone here knows him and most admire his regularity.”

  I laughed.

  Polly laughed as well. “You'll find out that Serenity Cove is a nice place to live. There's nice people here. And there wasn't much crime until recently.”

  “Something happen?”

  “Yes, a few things have gone missing. And a couple of trailers were broken into.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “It started right after PT and Spider showed up. I thought they were part of the Monday mowing crew. But these guys didn't seem to do any work.

  “They drove a beat up pickup truck. Black with dark tinted windows. Busted front windshield. A camper shell on the back.

  “Never saw them working with the mowing crew. They'd drive up to the office, go in with a twelve pack of beer and hang out for a few hours.

  “You'd occasionally see them walking around the park, acting like they were looking for something. Up to no good.

  “I reported them to the park manager, but he said don't worry about them. Just old friends of his.

  “I never saw them do anything illegal, but it just didn't feel right with them around.

  “I even saw them in the park after midnight once. Oscar needed to go out to take care of business, and while we were standing in the grass over there, we saw them driving slowly with their lights out.

  “They pulled up to the dock and parked. Not sure what they were up to, but when Oscar was done with his business, we went back inside and those guys were still there.”

  Two non-residents in the park after midnight did seem suspicious.

  “So Polly, you said these guys names are PT and Spider. Do they have last names?”

  She shook her head. “We don't know their real names, first or last. So we made up names for them.

  “The taller guy has a pony tail. It's kind of funny because his hair is gray, like an old man. But he has this long pony tail, so we dubbed him PT, for Pony Tail.

  “The other guy is covered with tattoos. Everywhere except his face. A big spider web tattoo covers his arms, legs, and neck. So we call him Spider.

  “Of course, we never call them this to their face. They don't seem real friendly and never spoke to me or anyone else in the park that I know of – except for the manager.

  “Of the two, PT seems to be the leader. He always drives the truck.

  “Spider seems more like PT's sidekick. Always a few steps behind him. Maybe it's because he is younger, in his forties.”

  I nodded, thinking about PT and Spider. They certainly didn't fit in with the older crowd living here in the park. But just because someone looked a little different, didn't automatically make them criminals. These guys could have been good old boys who liked to drink beer and hang out in the manager's office.

  Nothing criminal about that.

  “So Polly, when was the last time you saw PT and Spider?”

  She thought for a minute. “I guess it's been about two weeks. Come to think of it, I haven't seen them since that night I saw them hanging out by the dock.”

  I nodded. “Maybe they're gone. Headed back to where ever they came from.”

  Polly smiled. “I hope so. It just felt like they were up to no good. If you are an undercover cop, feel free to check those guys out.”

  I smiled. “Polly, I assure you I'm not any kind of cop.”

  We had walked the full circle around the park and were back at Polly's Airstream. Oscar was tired from the walk, and he promptly plopped down on the small patch of grass in front of Polly's trailer.

  “Walker, do me a favor. Give me your cell number so I can call you if something comes up.”

  We exchanged numbers. And almost immediately Polly's phone started playing 'Lucy in the sky with diamonds'.

  Polly answered her phone. “Hi Lucy, what's up?”

  Stepping away so Polly could talk with her daughter in private, I walked around my motorhome, looking for any issues that needed to be tended to.

  A motorhome is a house on wheels, and like any house, it will need occasional maintenance to keep it in tip top shape. But unlike a normal home, a motorhome is subjected to the equivalent of a continual earthquake as it is being driven down the road.

  Stop and go traffic, pot holes, and taking hills and corners at sixty miles an hour puts a lot of strain on the motorhome's bits and pieces.

  Even if you never drive a motorhome, things can wear out. Especially the rubber seals around the roof vents and windows, which are exposed to the hot sun or driving rains.

  Since I'm living in mine full time, I regularly check the condition of all the components. I want to keep things in good shape – because I never know when I might need to hit the road unexpectedly.

  So that's what I was doing while Polly was on the phone. When I completed my walk-around, Polly waved, beckoning me over.

  “Walker, I want to ask you a big favor. Feel free to say 'no'.

  “That was Lucy on the phone, and she's having a bad day at the car lot. A customer came in screaming about something wrong on his title, and Lucy's boss blamed her.

  “The thing is, Lucy wasn't involved in the sale. She didn't have anything to do with it. But her boss still blames her and she's feeling kind of bad.

  “So here's the favor. Call Lucy and ask her out to dinner tonight. Take her somewhere she can relax, have a drink or two, and forget about work.

  “Just don't tell her I asked you to call. Would you do that for me?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  So I called Lucy, and asked her out to dinner. And she said 'no'. But I persevered.

  “Lucy, we can go to Zekes. We can sit outside under the tiki hut and watch the sun go down over the gulf.

  “We'll eat some shrimp, drink some wine and watch the dolphins play in the bay.

  “You won't have to do anything. I'll come pick you up, and whenever you get tired, I'll take you home. No strings attached.

  “So how about it?”

  Lucy paused, then asked, “Walker, did my mother put you up to this?”

  I laughed. “Of course she did. But even if she hadn't, I would of eventually asked you out anyway. This way, we make your mother happy, and if it turns out badly, we can blame her.

  “But if you don't want to go out with me, just say so and I'll be able to deal with it. It'll mean I'l
l be all alone eating by myself tonight. But don't you worry about that.”

  “Walker, don't try the pity routine with me. It won't work. But if it'll make my mom happy, I'll go to Zekes with you. Just know that I'm not getting dressed up or anything. I'm coming the way I am.”

  Lucy gave me her address on Harbor Drive, and I agreed to pick her up at six thirty. That would give us time to get an outside table at Zekes, one that overlooked Lemon Bay.

  This time of year, the weather in southwest Florida is just about perfect. Sunny, with deep blue skies, temperatures just barely hitting seventy, and almost no humidity.

  In the evenings, it drops down into the mid fifties – a little cool for just shorts and a t-shirt – which is my normal daytime attire in Florida.

  Since Lucy and I would be dining waterside with a good chance of a cool breeze coming off the gulf, I decided to wear jeans and a button up Columbia fishing shirt.

  This is considered 'dressed up' in this part of Florida.

  I arrived at Lucy's as scheduled, right at six thirty. She lived in a small cottage. Local realtors would call it 'Florida chic' – the kind of place tourists from up north would take photos of, but probably wouldn't live in themselves.

  I parked my Jeep behind a late model Toyota 4Runner in her driveway. I presumed it was Lucy's.

  Walking up onto her porch, I rang the bell and shortly, Lucy opened the door. She was wearing faded jeans, a loose white shirt, and a smile on her face. In one hand she had her house keys, and in the other her cell phone.

  “Walker, right on time. I like that in a man.”

  Without inviting me in, she walked out onto the porch and locked her front door behind her. Pointing at my Jeep, she said, “We're taking yours, right?”

  “Yep,” I said. “That's the plan.”

  I walked over and opened the passenger door and Lucy climbed in without saying anything. Unlike her mother, she didn't tell me to never open the door for her again.

  When I got in on the driver's side, she said, “Nice Jeep you got here.”

  I nodded. “I hope so. The salesperson said it was in good shape. But you can't ever trust them. They'll tell you anything to make a sale. Could be the wheels fall off tomorrow.”

  Lucy laughed. “Maybe you should have bought the extended warranty.”

  Then she pointed at her car. “I've got your tow bar in the back of my 4Runner. I'll drop it off tomorrow morning before I go to the beach with Mom.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good. But there's no hurry. I probably won't need it until late this summer when I move out of Serenity Cove.”

  “Doesn't matter. I don't want it rolling around in the back of my 4Runner, so you're getting it tomorrow.

  She continued. “I'm picking mom up for yoga on the beach at eight in the morning and I'll drop it off then.”

  “Yoga on the beach?”

  “Yeah, they have it every morning. And I try to go at least three times a week, depending on my schedule and the weather. Mom likes to come with me whenever she can.

  “I'd invite you to join us, but you don't seem the yoga type. And the class is mostly women.”

  I smiled. “So you're telling me there will be a bunch of women on the beach in the morning, without many men around, and you don't think I'd be interested in being there? It sounds like something I shouldn't miss.”

  Lucy laughed. “Great, I'll expect you to be ready at eight in the morning. Be sure to wear your yoga pants.”

  Yoga pants? What had I gotten myself into?

  Zekes on the Bay is a small open air cafe perched on a seawall behind Royal Palm Marina in Englewood. To get to Zekes, you drive down Wentworth Avenue until it dead ends at the large boat warehouse.

  You park in the dirt parking lot, walk around the marina, and when you see the building with a tiki hut, you've reached Zekes.

  When you walk in, you'll be asked whether you want to eat inside or out under the tiki hut. We chose to eat outside and found an empty picnic table overlooking the intracoastal waterway and Lemon Bay.

  A young woman wearing cutoffs brought us menus. “Welcome to Zekes. What can I get you to drink?”

  I nodded at Lucy. “You first.”

  She shook her head, “I haven't decided. You go ahead.”

  “I'll have an unsweetened iced tea.”

  With a quizzical look, Lucy asked me, “You're drinking tea? Not wine or beer?”

  “Yeah, if that's okay with you. I'm not much of a drinker, and since I'm driving tonight, I figured I'd play it safe.”

  Lucy smiled. “Well, that's one point in your favor. I'll have unsweetened tea as well.”

  The server nodded and said she'd be right back.

  Turning to Lucy, I asked, “You said that's one point for me. That means I'm on a point system? And I get a point for asking for tea? How many points do I have so far?”

  She shook her head. “Not anywhere near enough.”

  When the server returned with our drinks, she asked for our order. Lucy suggested we share a pound of steamed shrimp, and I agreed.

  While we waited for our shrimp, we sipped tea and looked out over Lemon Bay as small fishing boats returned to the marina. Dolphins followed some of the boats, surfing the wakes they left behind.

  The sun was still above the horizon, but it wouldn't be long before we'd see a spectacular sunset over the gulf.

  Our steamed shrimp arrived in a tin bucket and we were provided with paper plates, a roll of paper towels and fresh shrimp sauce.

  We were both hungry and we dug right in.

  It didn't take long before we had a tower of discarded shrimp shells and a mountain of wadded up paper towels in the center of the table.

  Between bites, we talked about the weather, the snow birds, which boats in the marina we'd like to have, and made general small talk.

  The friendly server returned several times, refilling our glasses and removing the discarded shells.

  After we'd finished most of the shrimp, we took a break from eating to watch the sun slowly disappear over the horizon. Lucy patted the bench on her side of the table and said, “Come over here, so you don't have to strain your neck.”

  I moved over, and we sat side by side as the sun went down and the sky above changed color.

  When the sun finally disappeared over the horizon, there was a smattering of applause from the growing crowd of diners and wait staff.

  Our server returned. “Would you like some dessert?”

  I looked at Lucy, then asked the server, “Do you have Key Lime Pie?”

  “We sure do. Made fresh here every day. It's really good.”

  Looking at Lucy, I asked, “What do you think? A slice of Key Lime Pie?”

  She smiled, “Yes. Please.”

  After our server walked away, Lucy said, “That's another point for you.”

  I was still sitting beside Lucy and had no intention of moving back to the other side of the table unless she asked me to.

  On this side, not only was I closer to Lucy, I had a better view of the marina below and the waters of Lemon Bay spread out before us.

  There was a row of small live-aboard boats docked in the marina. Most were unoccupied, stored here by wealthy snowbirds who rarely used them, but were able to tell their friends they had a yacht in Florida.

  To the left of the live-aboards were slips for much smaller fishing boats. And further back, the pumps for the marina fueling stations.

  At this time of the day, with the sun having set, there wasn't much going on in the marina. Most of the smaller boats had already come in from the gulf. But there was still some activity.

  I noticed two men loading what looked like medium sized black suitcases into a small cabin cruiser. This didn't seem too much out of the ordinary, but what caught my attention was the men themselves.

  One had a long gray pony tail. The other had tattoos on his arms and legs.

  “What are you looking at?” asked Lucy.

  I nodded toward the dock and whi
spered, “Down there, those two men. They fit the description of PT and Spider. The men your mother told me about.”

  Lucy looked in their direction. “I can only see one of them. The one with the pony tail. It could be PT, but I can't tell for sure.”

  As we watched, the man that looked like Spider climbed into the boat and quickly went into the cabin. After a few seconds, the inboard motor on the boat came to life, and the tall man with the pony tail cast off the line that held them in the slip.

  The boat moved away from the dock and slowly headed out into the Intracoastal waterway, heading north toward Venice.

  Lucy shook her head, “Probably just going out fishing.”

  I nodded. “Probably.”

  But I wondered why fishermen would be loading black suitcases into a boat.

  Our server returned and we turned our attention to the two slices of pie she placed in front of us.

  After her first bite, Lucy smiled. “This pie is amazing. Best I ever had. Wait till I tell Mom.”

  I smiled. Lucy was happy. And that made me happy.

  After we finished our meal, our server returned, picked up our plates and asked, “Are you staying for the live music? It'll be starting in about twenty minutes.”

  I looked at Lucy and she shook her head.

  “No, I think we'll be going.”

  Our server returned with our check and placed it on the table. I paid for it with cash, leaving a twenty dollar tip.

  When we stood to leave, Lucy grabbed my hand. “Let's not go right away. I want to walk around the marina for a bit, look at the boats.”

  I nodded. “I was hoping you'd say that. I'd like to get a closer look at those live-aboards.”

  The docks at Royal Palm Marina are well lit and we had no problem finding our way around. We strolled up and down the metal walkways looking at the large boats and checking the prices on the ones with 'for sale' signs.

  Lucy pointed to a forty foot Mainship. “I like that one. If I win the lottery, maybe I'll get something like that.”

  “Yeah, that one looks big enough. Plenty of room for two people. Probably nicer inside than my motorhome.”