Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 04 - Killer Kool (7 page)

“If you ask me, Marco Santini deserved it,” Wanda
Sue commented when my narrative had ended.

I blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

She sniffed. “That man was mean as a snake-through
and through. He drove his wife, Delores-Beatrice’s
mama-to a nervous breakdown just to hightail it away
from him.”

“How so?” My interest kindled.

“Anger issues.” She pursed her lips. “But to tell you the
honest truth, I think Delores faked the breakdown. Afterward, she moved into town and found herself a new
man-some mystery guy-no one actually ever met him.
Anyway, she was a happy camper until she got Lucas
Disease.”

I paused, trying to decipher her usage. “You mean
lupus?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Poor Delores-couldn’t go in the sun
for years, just like them werewolves. Eventually, she got weaker, and she died a couple of years ago. Tragic. I
liked her. She was a sweet lady and deserved better than
she got in life.”

“And now Beatrice has lost both parents,” I said, almost to myself. A twinge of guilt nagged at me for all
the times that I complained about my own mother. Sure,
she could be controlling, but at least I had both parents
in good health-with a two-thousand-mile buffer. It
couldn’t get much better.

Her brows drawn together, Wanda Sue looked out over
the Gulf of Mexico; the gently rolling waves seemed to
sigh at the story of the Santini family. “At least Beatrice
has Guido.”

“Her boyfriend from the restaurant?”

“Yep.” A small puff of breeze wafted in, and she
tucked an imaginary stray hair up into the massive bouffant. Nothing had actually been blown free, because
Wanda Sue probably used half a can of hair spray a day
to keep that helmet firmly in place. “He came here six
months ago as an exchange student from Sicily and
worked in the restaurant part-time-just a dear boy. He
and Beatrice were an item right from the beginninglike Rodeo and Juliet. So romantic.” She let out a long,
audible breath.

“Guido sounds like a good kid,” I echoed. Obviously,
Shakespeare hadn’t been on Wanda Sue’s required high
school reading list.

“He is, but Marco never liked him-what a surprise.
He did everything he could to keep them apart, ‘cause he wanted Beatrice to take care of him in his old age,
which wasn’t all that far away.” Wanda Sue clucked her
tongue. “I told you, honey: mean as a snake.”

“But Marco kept Guido working at Little Tuscany.” I
didn’t want to tell her that I’d already heard part of this
story from Sandy, because once Wanda Sue lost her train
of thought, it never came back. “That’s strange.”

“Probably so he could keep an eye on him. It wasn’t
out of the goodness of his heart-trust me”

I did. Wanda Sue might not know the names of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers, but she was a good judge of
human nature. Maybe because she’d been managing the
RV park for eons and had seen pretty much every kind
of human behavior. I trusted her gut reaction more than
the regularity of the sunrise and sunset.

We didn’t speak for a few moments, with only the
waves as a quiet background to our thoughts. The afternoon sun had intensified, and I plucked at my cotton
T-shirt to cool off.

“Enjoy the heat, hon. A cold front is coming in off
the Gulf.” She pointed at the gray clouds off to the west.

“Wanda Sue, do you think it’s a little odd that both
Santini men died within two days of each other?” I finally
asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well … Carlos Santini died at home-of an apparent heart attack-and today Marco Santini died in his
restaurant of an apparent allergic reaction. Doesn’t
that strike you as sort of an … interesting coincidence?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “When
you hit middle age, almost anything can snuff you out.
Maude Butterman, who used to live here at the Twin
Palms, caught one of those retroactive viruses and, in
three days-poof! Gone. Of course, she’d had a couple
of mini strokes beforehand, but-you never know.” She
hugged her arms across her ample chest. “She’d parked
her RV for years right here on the spot next to yours.”

I started. “You mean I’m next to a death-cootie RV
site?”

“Oh, no,” she reassured me. “The cooties are gone. I
had Pop Pop clean the site after we had her RV hauled
away.”

Like that was going to help. Pop Pop probably had his
own death cooties seeping out of every pore ever since
he’d turned eighty. He could barely stand, much less hold
a garden hose to clean off a cement pad. I made a vow
to myself to throw a couple of gallon jugs of bleach over
the RV site at the first chance. No death cootie could
survive that.

“You know … I thought I saw an RV parked next to
me,” I said, “and it looked like an older version of my
Airstream.”

Wanda Sue waved her arm dismissively. “Oh, no,
honey-that site isn’t rented till November.”

Odd. But it had been a long day. “So you don’t think
the brothers’ deaths could be related or … suspicious?”

Wanda Sue’s heavily made-up eyes gleamed in sudden curiosity. “Was Madame Geri with you today?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What did she think?”

“Nothing specific.” I averted my glance briefly, and
then Kong scratched at my leg-that was his
I’ve-desperately-got-to-pee signal. “Sorry, can’t talk now.
Kong needs to find a palmetto bush.”

Wanda Sue blocked me by stretching out both arms.
“I don’t believe you. Something is up. Dish.”

“All right.” I sighed, keeping Kong reined in next to
me; he tapped one little paw in irritation. I revved up my
motormouth. “This morning, Madame Geri popped into
the Observer office in a panic, saying that a killer was
loose on the island who could cause a problem with Jimmy
and Sandy’s wedding. That was right after I started investigating Carlos Santini’s death, which seemed a little suspicious to me; after that, we went to Little Tuscany to
question his brother about Carlos’ demise, and … well,
you know, he died from some kind of allergy-“

“Oh no.” Wanda Sue crossed herself. “If you can’t figure out what happened to the two brothers, something
about their deaths will link back to poor of Jimmy-I just
know it. And then he’ll end up in jail, and Sandy might
meet someone else while he’s locked away-“

“Whoa. Time out.” I made the letter T with my hands.
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself. We don’t even
know if there was anything fishy about Carlos’ or Marco’s
deaths.”

“Lordy, girl, don’t you get it? If Madame Geri thinks
the wedding could be off on account of the island killer, it’s off.” She touched my arm. “Unless you can figure
out a way to make sure it’s back on.”

“For goodness’ sake, don’t repeat the `killer’ part;
it’ll panic every islander with a pulse-and then some.”
Tilting back my head for a few moments, I tried to block
out the image of my aging neighbors in a tizzy with
their walkers and oxygen tanks. This being-part-ofa-community thing had its drawbacks: like I had to get
involved in stuff that didn’t or shouldn’t concern me.

“Please, Mallie, you have to help.”

I paused. “All right. I’ll give it my best shot,” I finally
said in a reluctant tone.

Wanda Sue clapped her hands. “I knew we could
count on you, honey.”

“This could all be Madame Geri’s bunk-“

“Then you can help Sandy finish up her wedding
plans,” she responded with a huge smile. “You’re just a
regular Emily Post-it.”

High praise. Just call me the Queen of “sticky etiquette.”

“I’ll get Pop Pop to tidy up the RV site next to you in
two shakes just in case any death cooties are still hanging around.” Wanda Sue jaunted off after giving me a
big hug and an air kiss.

The only thing that would be “shaking” on Pop Pop
was his arthritic hands, but I guessed it was worth a try
if I left him the bleach in full sight.

“Come on, Kong, I’ve got to get ready for my dates.”
I looked down at him, feeling my excitement build at hearing myself utter the word dates. Oh boy. “Stress
the plural-I’ve got two dinner dates. Can you believe
it?”

He cocked his head to one side, as if to say, “Fat
chance.”

“It’s true, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of the
evening.”

Kong lifted his leg and peed on my Birkenstock. Not
an auspicious sign.

An hour later, after an invigorating shower and some
serious primping in my bedroom, I’d forgotten the
peeing incident, having washed off my sandals, and I
tried to forget what had happened at Little Tuscanyand Madame Geri’s ominous warning about the wedding.

This was “double date” night, which I was hoping
would help to banish the memory of Marco’s deathand all the talk about an island killer afoot.

Taking stock of myself in the mirror gave me the
good and bad news. The good: thick, curly red hair and
a slim figure; the bad: freckles everywhere (even in my
ears) and a flat chest. But with a little tinted moisturizer,
mascara, and pink lipstick, I did the most with my girlnext-door looks.

I peered closer at the massive splattering of freckles
on my face-nothing except cement would cover them.

Then again, maybe I should slather on some of that
bee cream. I’d tried everything else to fade the freckles-

A knock on my Airstream door interrupted my fantasy of a smooth, freckle-free face.

Kong looked up at me and didn’t bark-that meant he
knew the knock.

Cole.

I took my time, strolling through the Airstream, taking in deep breaths, and chanting my Tae Kwon Do mantra, muggatoni, to steady my nerves.

It didn’t work.

I’d finally reached the dating zenith after a long, long
drought. Double fun by having two guys, two restaurants,
and two dinners. Who could keep calm at that prospect?

Then, I swung open the door with a beaming grin
and beheld Cole … and Nick Billie.

My heart sank.

The smile faded.

There stood my blond, surfer-dude boyfriend in casual
shorts and a T-shirt holding a spray of wildflowers; and
my dark-haired potential boyfriend in dress pants and
jacket, clutching a large box of chocolates-staring at me
with eyes filled with confusion … and hurt. Oh no.

Could two men appear in greater contrast to each
other? Except now they both wore similar grim expressions.

“Hi.” What else could I say?

Heat rose to my face, and it had nothing to do with
the temperature. Busted.

“I guess I’m late,” Cole said, his voice flat.

“I guess I’m early,” Nick said, his voice strained.

“I … uh, guess I have some explaining to do,” I
stammered.

Both men waited in mute anticipation.

My mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.

Don’t fail me now, motormouth.

“Okay, I know this looks bad, but it really makes sense,
considering what happened today. Anita just assigned me
to be the new food critic for the Observer this morning,
and I have to go to two different restaurants tonight-and
then write blog reviews for both of them. But I didn’t
want to eat alone, and I didn’t want to have to … well,
burden one of you with going to two restaurants in one
night.” I turned to Nick. “And then when you pulled me
over for nearly running down that old guy on the threewheeler-“

“You almost ran over an elderly biker?” Cole cut in.

“He turned in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.” I swung
my glance in Cole’s direction, happy that at least my
motormouth had seemed to kick into gear during my
time of need. “But then Nick mentioned dinner, so I
suggested Pelican’s Grill, knowing I couldn’t cancel Le
Sink-“

“You mean you were going to have dinner at the nice
restaurant with him after taking me to that dumpy place
with all the sinks in the front yard?” The hurt in Cole’s
soft blue eyes deepened.

Okay, it was official. This wasn’t going well.

“Cole, it’s not like that. It’s just that you and I had
already planned on something casual, and I couldn’t
cancel on you just because Anita wanted another food
review tonight.” Mentally kicking myself, I plunged onward. “I know you don’t like to wear a suit-“

“That’s not the point. I thought we were a couple.” He
tossed the wildflowers to the ground. “I would’ve bought
a suit, if it meant that much to you”

Definitely not going well. Even beyond that, I felt like
a consummate weasel.

I turned back to my potential island-cop boyfriend
(though now that seemed a remote possibility).

“Nick, I didn’t want to turn down your invitation since
you were so kind to ask-and Anita wanted me to do a
review of Pelican’s Grill.” I swallowed as if a boulder
blocked my throat. Who had I been kidding? I wasn’t the
type of girl who could handle dating one guy, much less
two.

He lifted one dark eyebrow, handed me the box of
chocolates, and left without a word.

Cole followed and retreated into his van.

I stood there, chocolates in hand and wildflowers at
my feet, with no one to blame but myself. Kong nuzzled
my ankle, picking up on my dejection, but this once, my
pooch’s affection couldn’t remedy my downcast mood.

I felt like a wrung-out dishrag. How could I have
been so stupid?

Just then, Pop Pop zoomed up in his golf cart, taking out a bougainvillea bush before he could apply the
brakes.

“Hiya, Mallie.”

I tried to summon a smile but managed only a slight
twist of my lips.

“Wanda Sue said you needed the site next to you
cleaned.” He slowly heaved his skinny legs out from behind the wheel and grabbed his cane and a bottle of Windex. Of course, he couldn’t juggle both at the same time,
and I had to rush up and grab the Windex.

“Be careful.” I rubbed my forehead in frustration. “I
think she wanted you to use Tilex.”

“Darn it, I thought Wanda Sue said Windex.” His
wrinkles deepened as he looked at the bottle in puzzlement; then he tapped his left ear. “My hearing aid batteries must be running low again.”