Read Online Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 03 - Murder in the Mangroves by Marty Ambrose - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marty Ambrose
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mentally reviewed the list. Aunt Lily thought Brandi
did Gina in for the Mango Queen title. Gina’s partner, Isabel,
agreed. Gina’s brother, Rivas, however, thought Brett’s parents
had gotten rid of her so their precious son could find a more
suitable bride. All were plausible.
“Poor Gina,” Sandy commented.
“I did learn a couple of things: I had no idea the Mango
Queen thing was such a big deal or that Coral Island has its own
snobby social scene” I plopped my canvas bag onto my desk.
“A lot of people didn’t like that Gina was elected Mango
Queen,” Sandy concurred. “You haven’t been here all that
long, but I grew up on this island, and I’m telling you, there’s
a class pyramid here just like everywhere else. At the top are
the wealthy people at Sea Belle Isle Point; then you’ve got the middle class like Jimmy and me; then the fishermen who barely
eke out a living; and at the bottom are the migrant workers.
Gina’s family raised their position a little when Mama Maria
opened the restaurant, but everyone remembers that Gina’s
grandfather picked mangos for a living.”
“I can’t believe that would matter in this day and age-“
“To a snooty family from Sea Belle Isle Point?” she asked,
her eyebrows rising. “You’d better believe it matters”
“What matters?” Butthead Bernice appeared in the doorway to “her” office.
“Nothing,” I muttered as I switched on my computer. “Turns
out my lead didn’t know anything about Gina’s `secret life.’”
“You wasted a whole afternoon and got nothing?” She
placed both chubby hands on her hips.
I swiveled my crooked wooden chair around and faced her
with a bland expression. “Sometimes journalism is like that. You
track down leads that go nowhere. Anita would understand.”
“My sister is an idiot. I intend to get the lowdown on Gina.
In the meantime .. ” She reached into her office for something. “I know how to turn a buck. In fact, I just landed another
advertiser myself. Here” She handed me a white T-shirt.
“I refuse to promote the Bait Shack.”
“You don’t have to” A grin overtook her features. “I said I
just landed another advertiser.”
I held up the shirt. Blazoned across the front were the words
Feast with Me at the Frozen Flamingo. A large pink flamingo
curved around the slogan, holding an ice cream cone in one of
its claws.
My heart sank.
didn’t have the energy to argue with her. I just grabbed the
offensive T-shirt and made a quick exit, mumbling something
about working on my story at home. Of course, I had no intention of doing that, but I had to get out of that office before
I said something really dumb, like “I quit.”
I couldn’t leave-not now.
I’d been at the paper for over a year. My longest record for
holding down a job had been my eighteen-month undistinguished tenure at Disney World, where I sold Epcot passes, sang
“It’s a Small World” until my throat ached, and swept up
cigarette butts after the nightly fireworks display. If I could
stand that kind of labor, I could stand anything. Besides, I had
Kong, my teacup poodle, to consider. He couldn’t take another
move.
Bernice would not defeat me. If she wanted me to be a walking billboard, so be it. There were worse things in life: like being
broke and unemployed.
Absolutely not an option.
With renewed determination, I drove toward Mango Bay, my air conditioner turned off and my truck windows open,
letting the hot air blow the panicked thoughts out of my brain
like loose sand in a summer breeze. It didn’t matter that Rusty
was only a few degrees cooler than a sauna without the air conditioner chugging its meager puffs. I needed the calming whiff
of humidity.
As I pulled into my spot at the Twin Palms RV Resort, I
heaved a sigh of relief. My gleaming silver Airstream with its
blue and white striped awning seemed invincible, all 4,225
pounds rooted in its familiar
did Gina in for the Mango Queen title. Gina’s partner, Isabel,
agreed. Gina’s brother, Rivas, however, thought Brett’s parents
had gotten rid of her so their precious son could find a more
suitable bride. All were plausible.
“Poor Gina,” Sandy commented.
“I did learn a couple of things: I had no idea the Mango
Queen thing was such a big deal or that Coral Island has its own
snobby social scene” I plopped my canvas bag onto my desk.
“A lot of people didn’t like that Gina was elected Mango
Queen,” Sandy concurred. “You haven’t been here all that
long, but I grew up on this island, and I’m telling you, there’s
a class pyramid here just like everywhere else. At the top are
the wealthy people at Sea Belle Isle Point; then you’ve got the middle class like Jimmy and me; then the fishermen who barely
eke out a living; and at the bottom are the migrant workers.
Gina’s family raised their position a little when Mama Maria
opened the restaurant, but everyone remembers that Gina’s
grandfather picked mangos for a living.”
“I can’t believe that would matter in this day and age-“
“To a snooty family from Sea Belle Isle Point?” she asked,
her eyebrows rising. “You’d better believe it matters”
“What matters?” Butthead Bernice appeared in the doorway to “her” office.
“Nothing,” I muttered as I switched on my computer. “Turns
out my lead didn’t know anything about Gina’s `secret life.’”
“You wasted a whole afternoon and got nothing?” She
placed both chubby hands on her hips.
I swiveled my crooked wooden chair around and faced her
with a bland expression. “Sometimes journalism is like that. You
track down leads that go nowhere. Anita would understand.”
“My sister is an idiot. I intend to get the lowdown on Gina.
In the meantime .. ” She reached into her office for something. “I know how to turn a buck. In fact, I just landed another
advertiser myself. Here” She handed me a white T-shirt.
“I refuse to promote the Bait Shack.”
“You don’t have to” A grin overtook her features. “I said I
just landed another advertiser.”
I held up the shirt. Blazoned across the front were the words
Feast with Me at the Frozen Flamingo. A large pink flamingo
curved around the slogan, holding an ice cream cone in one of
its claws.
My heart sank.
didn’t have the energy to argue with her. I just grabbed the
offensive T-shirt and made a quick exit, mumbling something
about working on my story at home. Of course, I had no intention of doing that, but I had to get out of that office before
I said something really dumb, like “I quit.”
I couldn’t leave-not now.
I’d been at the paper for over a year. My longest record for
holding down a job had been my eighteen-month undistinguished tenure at Disney World, where I sold Epcot passes, sang
“It’s a Small World” until my throat ached, and swept up
cigarette butts after the nightly fireworks display. If I could
stand that kind of labor, I could stand anything. Besides, I had
Kong, my teacup poodle, to consider. He couldn’t take another
move.
Bernice would not defeat me. If she wanted me to be a walking billboard, so be it. There were worse things in life: like being
broke and unemployed.
Absolutely not an option.
With renewed determination, I drove toward Mango Bay, my air conditioner turned off and my truck windows open,
letting the hot air blow the panicked thoughts out of my brain
like loose sand in a summer breeze. It didn’t matter that Rusty
was only a few degrees cooler than a sauna without the air conditioner chugging its meager puffs. I needed the calming whiff
of humidity.
As I pulled into my spot at the Twin Palms RV Resort, I
heaved a sigh of relief. My gleaming silver Airstream with its
blue and white striped awning seemed invincible, all 4,225
pounds rooted in its familiar
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