Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue (6 page)

“But this time could be real. Isn’t it possible that Tom
kidnapped Kevin? That happens with separated dads all the time.” I tried not to sound like an alarmist, but I felt
a little peeved that he had dismissed my suspicions as if
they were no more than the foolish ravings of a woman
desperate for any pretext to make contact with him.
Then again, was he that far wrong?

“Theoretically anything is possible, but it’s not
likely-I can tell you that”

“Isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?”

“It’s better to have reasonable certainty than to go
off half-cocked”

“But a young boy’s life could be at stake”

He leaned forward. “If I had any real reason to be
concerned, I’d turn this island upside down to find
Kevin. But I also know that overreacting to every little
complaint that comes in does nothing but panic people.
And that’s the last thing that I want to-“

“But how can you know for sure?”

“I don’t.” His face turned hard. “I have to use my
judgment.”

“But everyone makes mistakes-even you”

His brows leveled into a thunderous line. “What has
Anita told you?”

“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”