Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 03 - Murder in the Mangroves

by Marty Ambrose

  “If you insist,” I tossed in with mock reluctance as I backed out of her office. Before she could change her mind, I shut down my computer and made for the door, flashing Sandy a double thumbs-up. I’d won this skirmish through lies and subterfuge. That aging, tackily dressed old bag was no match for Mallie Monroe.

  “Don’t be gone too long, okay?” Sandy pleaded.

  “I won’t. If you promise not to have any more candy bars”

  She held up two chocolate-stained fingers. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you a Girl Scout?”

  ‘No”

  “It’s still an oath.”

  She managed a brave facsimile of a smile. “Don’t forget to take those tennis shoes off. I think your feet are turning to stone”

  “Ohmygod, I forgot” I managed to pry the salt-ridden Keds off my feet and don a pair of beachy flip-flops that I kept at the office. At least I could curl my toes again. I breezed out of the office, into the blazing midday sun. Covering my scorched face from the sun with my hands, I dashed for Rusty and drove off.

  I arrived at the Seafood Shanty within the time I’d promised my great-aunt. As I pulled into the parking lot, I scanned the vehicles. Big black Harleys mixed with beat-up trucks-the usual patrons, then. Aunt Lily would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

  I entered the shabby building, taking a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. As the room came into focus, I beheld the fish netting hanging from the low ceiling, the long bar at one end with leather-clad bikers seated on the stools, and the dirty floor littered with empty peanut shells. Classy place all around.

  Off at a corner table sat my great-aunt, Lily, like a beacon of feminine refinement. She wore a simple lavender silk blouse, gauzy skirt, and silver sandals. As I drew closer, I noticed that she wore large, oval-shaped sunglasses and hid the lower half of her face behind a menu.

  “Aunt Lily? Are you okay?”

  “Sit,” she instructed as she pushed a menu in front of me. “Open it, and keep your head down”

  I did as she requested, taking a furtive glance around the room. “I don’t think you have to worry about being seenunless you’ve been dating some Harley guys on the side.”

  “Not likely.” She removed the sunglasses. Red-rimmed eyes fastened on me.

  “Aunt Lily, have you been crying?” Now I really was concerned, because I’d never seen my great-aunt cry on any occasion. Not at Christmas when we sang sentimental carols. Not at Valentine’s Day when we read Hallmark cards at the drugstore. Not even at a sentimental “chick flick,” when I was reduced to a blubbering mass of tears at some couple separated by time, space, or inability to work a cheese dip together. Okay, maybe the last one was pushing it. “Auntie?”

  “I’ve been a little … teary-eyed, I guess,” she admitted.

  “A lot.”

  “Guess so.” She scanned my face. “Oh, Mallie, what happened to your skin?”

  “Forget that for now. What was your call all about?” I leaned in closer. “Did you know Gina?”

  She sniffed, and her eyes turned watery. “Since she was a baby. I’ve been friends with her mother even longer than that”

  “I’m so sorry.” I reached for her hand. Her smooth but icycold fingers locked around my palm.

  “My loss is nothing compared to her mother’s-Mama Maria’s.”

  “That’s her mom? The woman who runs the Mexican restaurant by the same name?”

  She nodded. “Mama Maria Fernandez”

  “Ohmygod. I’ve been in Mama Maria’s place a hundred times for the chicken quesadillas and never saw Gina there. But every so often I had the beef tortilla-it was just as good.” I paused. “Okay … sorry to get off topic. I had no idea she was Gina’s mother. She doesn’t look … uh … old enough to have a grown daughter.” I broke off, not wanting to sound insensitive. Mama Maria was about six inches shorter than Gina and about ten inches wider.

  “You didn’t know Maria when she was young. She was very pretty.”

  I guess my true meaning hadn’t escaped her.

  “I’m sure,” I said in a soft voice. Then a blast of countrywestern music filled the room. I couldn’t identify the singer, but he was wailing about the usual triad: missed trains, lost love, and unfaithful women. “Have you talked to Mama Maria?”

  “About an hour ago. She was so upset, she could hardly speak”

  “What about Gina’s dad?”

  She stiffened. “He’s been out of the picture for a long time.”

  “Was Gina her only child?”

  “She’s got a son, Rivas. He’s seventeen and hot-tempered to boot. That’s the main reason I called you” She took in a deep breath and caught my gaze with her tortured eyes. “I want you to find Gina’s killer. You need to get him before Rivas does. I don’t want Mama Maria to lose both of her children.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute. Let’s back up” I folded my menu and set it on the table. “I don’t know for sure how Gina died. Detective Billie won’t have that information until Friday. And even if it turns out to be murder, I can’t just go tracking down her killer. If I interfere with one of Nick Billie’s investigations again, he’ll lock me up for sure.” Not to mention, he’d nix the hand-holding.

  “I’ll help you, I promise.”

  “That’s nice, but I don’t think you can-“

  “Hey, Mallie, is that you, babe?” Nora Cresswell approached us, her baby boy nestled in one of those slings across her chest.

  “Hi.” I pasted a smile onto my face. “I thought you weren’t waitressing here anymore”

  “I’m not. The owner hired me to do the books, since I finished my accounting course” Her eyes widened in surprise as she noticed the identity of my companion. “Miss Lily? What are you doing here?”

  Lily shut her menu and pasted an identical smile onto her face. “Mallie finally convinced me to try the cheeseburger. I love a good burger-yum”

  Nora’s forehead crinkled in confusion as she patted her son’s back. “You do?”

  “Oh, yes. Quarter pound of meat smothered in lettuce, ketchup, and pickles. My mouth’s watering just talking about it.” She smacked her lips.

  “Well, in that case, let me order some up for you gals.” She motioned a young girl over who sported a ponytail, miniskirt, and heavy makeup. “Patsy, these are my friends, and they’d each like a cheeseburger-with the works”

  “Fries?” Patsy snapped her gum.

  “Why not?” Aunt Lily said with a wave of her hand.

  Pasty scribbled a few words onto her order pad and strolled off. When she reached the bar, she turned and shouted, “Whaddya both want to drink?”

  Two of the bikers swiveled on their stools, grinning with interest.

  “Two unsweetened iced teas,” I yelled back.

  The bikers immediately lost interest. I guess they only hit on women who drank sweetened tea-or something even stronger.

  “Will do!” Patsy gave a little salute with her pen.

  Nora gritted her teeth, adjusting her son to the other side. “It’s so hard to get decent wait staff these days. The owner has been training that ditz, Patsy, for almost a month, and she still bellows out the orders like she’s doing cattle calls.”

  “You’ll get her to tone it down,” I assured her. “How’s little Josh doing?” I rubbed her son’s soft, wispy blond hair.

  “Sweet as a spring breeze-and full of joy.” Her face brightened into a sunny glow as she dropped a kiss onto his head. “Not that life runs real smooth anymore. Let me tell ya, he can put up a fuss like you wouldn’t believe. But Pete is such a patient dad, it makes the whole thing a lot easier.”

  “Josh is a lucky little guy to have two great parents” I shook his tiny hand, remembering how different Nora had looked when I first met her. Separated from Pete at the time, she’d worn the weary, tense look of a woman who’d turned down a wrong road and couldn’t find her way back. It took Pete’s being arrested for a murder he hadn’t comm
itted to shock her into remembering how much she loved her husband. Today, Nora’s eyes beamed with happiness and contentment.

  “We’re the lucky ones,” she enthused. Then her gaze fastened on my great-aunt. “Miss Lily, you’re mighty quiet.”

  “Just old age, my dear.” My aunt averted her face. “It’s nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t call it nothing,” I cut in. “Nora’s a friend, and I think you should tell her the truth”

  “What? Has something happened?” Nora’s arms instinctively closed around her baby.

  “It’s Gina Fer … Fernandez” Aunt Lily managed to sputter the name. “She’s … uh … I can’t say it.” A tear spilled down the faded freckles on her cheek.

  “She died this morning,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “Gina!” Nora’s arms tightened around Josh in protection. “I can’t believe it. She was just crowned Mango Queen. And now she’s … gone? What? How?”

  “We don’t know yet.” I shook my head. “She was found under a mangrove tree near the start of the Little Coral Island trail.”

  “Who found her?”

  Aunt Lily extended an index finger toward me.

  “Oh, Mallie, not again,” Nora protested. Just then, Josh began to whimper, and she slipped a pacifier into his mouth. “You’re like some kind of magnet for bad events”

  “Just call me Mishap Mallie,” I quipped. “It must rub off from working at the Observer with one crazy boss after another.”

  Nora gave me a rueful smile, then turned serious again as she asked Aunt Lily, “How’s Mama Maria taking it?”

  “Not well,” Aunt Lily said.

  “Please let her know how sorry I am about her daughter. I know some island folk didn’t like Gina, but she was always nice to me and Pete”

  My attention spiked. “Who didn’t like her?”

  Patsy brought our burgers and iced teas, suspending the conversation for a few minutes.

  “Well … maybe I shouldn’t say this,” Nora began, “but her prospective in-laws for starters-Bryan and Trish Palmer. They never accepted Gina’s engagement last year to their son, Brett. If you ask me, those people are too stuck-up for their own good” Josh’s whimpering continued, and Nora adjusted his pacifier. “Their daughter, Brandi, pretended to be Gina’s friend, but-“

  “Brandi is Brett’s sister?” I cut in, surprised.

  Nora nodded. “But she’s nothing like him. If looks could’ve killed a couple of nights ago, she would’ve struck Gina dead to get the Mango Queen title.”

  “Really?” I thought I’d detected a vibe!

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Absolutely. You have no idea how important Mango Queen is on Coral Island-it’s like the highest honor, and the contestants are very cutthroat. Women campaign all year to win the title. Usually it’s someone from the old families-the ones who originally homesteaded on the island-“

  “And Gina was an upstart?” I finished for her.

  “Not in that kind of way. Her family has been on the island since the turn of the century-but from the wrong side of the tracks. Her grandfather was a migrant worker.”

  Aunt Lily gave an exclamation of disgust. “I can’t believe that people think like that in this day and age. It’s positively medieval.”

  “I’m not saying I agree,” Nora continued. “Heck, I grew up poor, and we’re not exactly on the Coral Island social list right now. But I understand how some folks can get all revved up about feeling important. If it meant that much to Gina to be Mango Queen, as far as I’m concerned, she was welcome to it.”

  “Now the title will go to Brandi,” I mused aloud.

  “Ain’t that just convenient as all get-out?” Nora pursed her mouth. “Was there something … fishy about her death?”

  I hesitated. “Not so far.”

  “Which means you’re suspicious.” Nora opened her mouth to continue, but Josh decided to make his presence known by spitting out the pacifier and wailing at the top of his lungs. “Sorry, gals, it’s time for his feeding. Let me know if you find out anything else about Gina’s death. And please tell Mama Maria I’m thinking about her if you see her.”

  “I will.” Aunt Lily gave a quick nod.

  I waited until Nora had exited before I turned to my greataunt. “Okay, is that why you think Gina was murdered? Because she had a bunch of snooty future in-laws who didn’t like her?”

  “Sort of.” Her lined face suddenly sagged with every one of her seventy-five years. “Gina refused to accept that she was supposed to be a second-class citizen on the island because her family came from migrant workers. That earned her some enemies…

  “But everyone goes to Mama Maria’s-it’s a landmark. Why would people treat her daughter like dirt?”

  “Oh, sure, they’ll go to Maria’s restaurant, eat her food, and enjoy her hospitality. But when it comes to her daughter breaking into the ranks of Coral Island society, that’s another matter. Gina ran a successful interior-design company, was engaged to the island’s most eligible bachelor, and made Mango Queen. Her very success was a kick in the face to island snobs”

  “Still, that doesn’t mean someone killed her.”

  “Then how do you explain a young woman, in the prime of her life, ending up dead for no apparent reason?” Lily thumped her arms on the table with anger and frustration. Unfortunately, our glasses had been filled to the brim, and the action ended up splashing iced tea across the table.

  I took my napkin and sopped up the mess.

  “I’m only proposing that you ask around, see if you can dig up any information that might show whether or not Gina was murdered. That’s your job, after all. You’re an investigative journalist.” Lily wiped her arms with her napkin.

  “I’m not so sure Bernice would agree with you. She’s running the show until Anita returns, and all she wants is some kind of sensationalized expose on Gina’s life.”

  “When is Anita coming back?”

  “I don’t know-maybe a week. Sandy and I are trying to find out where she went, but it’s as if she fell off the face of the earth. I still can’t believe she put Butthead Bernice in charge”

  “That’s Anita for you. She’s always done things her own way.” Aunt Lily folded her napkin and lay it on the table. “Just talk to Mama Maria. Please, Mallie.”

  “How could I ever say no to you?” I gave her a quick pat. “Besides, I’d like to know the truth”

  She sat back in her rickety wooden chair. “Good enough.”

  I picked up my hamburger, dripping in grease. “Now, dig in.”

  “Oh, dear.” Dismay touched Aunt Lily’s face. “Do I actually have to eat this thing?”

  “It’s the price you pay for going incognito.” I took a large bite out of my own burned beef on a bun. “Dig in.”

  “All right.” Lily slipped her fingers around the burger and raised it to her mouth. “But I don’t have to like it.”

  Someone spiked the volume on the country-western music even higher. We abandoned trying to talk over the throbbing steel guitar and finished our lunches in silence. There was nothing else to say. She had piqued my curiosity, and she knew it. I wanted to know what had happened to Gina Fernandez.

  A little while later, I pulled up in front of Mama Maria’s restaurant. A small stuccoed building neatly painted white with yellow shutters, it stood to one side of Cypress Road-the island’s main drag.

  Mama Maria’s late-model Buick occupied the normally crowded parking lot. A serviceable vehicle. Midsized, midpriced, mid-everything. And all alone. It spoke volumes.

  As did the empty parking lot.

  Word of Gina’s death must’ve gotten around most of the island by now.

  I slapped another layer of aloe lotion onto my throbbing, sunburned nose and then headed for the entrance. Potted palms and dwarf hibiscus bushes graced either side of the front screen door. A CLOSED sign with a frowning Disney character greeted me. flkes.

  Hesitating for a few seconds, I knocked.

  No a
nswer.

  I banged on the door with more force. “Mama Maria? Are you in there?” Raising my hand to shield my eyes, I strained to see into the small restaurant. All I could make out were empty tables. It felt sad, forlorn.

  “Hello!” I shouted.

  A muffled voice responded, but I couldn’t make out what it said.

  “It’s Mallie Monroe. My Aunt Lily asked me to come over and talk to you. She’s very concerned” Growing a bit alarmed, I swung open the screen door and glanced around the homey dining room. A dozen or so tables were set with linen cloths and silver flatware. But no mouthwatering smells assailed my senses. The whole place felt deserted, like a ghost town built on a dream that had come and gone. I shuddered.

  All of a sudden, the sound of breaking glass and a muttered curse came out of the kitchen.

  “Mama Maria?” I crept toward the kitchen.

  “Madre de dios.” Another sound of shattering glass echoed through the restaurant.

  I tiptoed into the kitchen-no small feat with flip-flops snapping like elastic bands with every step.

  Mama Maria stood in front of a large chopping block, a crystal goblet in each hand. She raised each hand high and slammed the glasses onto the tile floor. They smashed into hundreds of jagged pieces. From the amount of broken glass on the floor, it looked as if she’d been at it for quite some time.

  “Hi, it’s Mallie Monroe,” I repeated.

  She looked up at me with unseeing eyes.

  “Remember me? I’ve been in with my great-aunt, Lily, several times. We had the vegetarian tacos last week, with refried beans, a side salad, and iced tea. I meant to tell you, it was a fabulous meal. I had to stagger out to Rusty-that’s my truck. I named him on account of the rust. Of course, you wouldn’t care about that, and I don’t blame you. What with everything that has happened. I’m just so sorry about Gina. I only met her today, but she was beautiful-and not just on the outside. She must’ve really been quite a remarkable person to make Mango Queen…” Okay, I was at it again. Motormouth extraordinaire babbling on and on. But the sight of Mama Maria, defeated and desperate in her kitchen, wrung out my heart. I didn’t know what to say, so I said everything.

  “She was the light of my life. The kind of daughter every mother would want. My poor chica.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t believe she’s gone. How can that be?”