Marty Ambrose - Mango Bay 02 - Island Intrigue by Marty Ambrose

Mom, she’ll help.”
    “Thanks” I tried to summon a degree of enthusiasm,
knowing full well I had no intention of putting myself
in the hands of some half-baked, phony, island fortuneteller. I could get to the truth on my own. In spite of what
Anita thought, I knew how to follow up on leads.
    I grabbed my printout, shoved it into my canvas bag,
and left.

     

In spite of Anita’s suggestion that I skip lunch, I
swung by the Circle K and picked up yet another ham
and Swiss hoagie with a Coke (regular, not diet) to eat
on the road. As I took a couple of swigs of my drink, I
made for Heron’s Landing-a tiny mobile-home community not far from the island center. A few of the local
fishing families lived there, including Sally Jo-my
first lead.
    Nestled among the pine trees and mini citrus groves
stood a smattering of trailers firmly affixed to permanent sites. They weren’t luxurious by any means, but,
freshly painted and landscaped with lots of native vegetation, they represented proudly the modest but hardworking lifestyle of the local fishermen. Canals stretched
behind them so the men could dock their boats in the backyard and deposit their “island Reeboks” on the
back porch.

    I looked for Wanda Sue’s ancient, powder blue Cadillac convertible with its vanity plate-HoTTIE-no deep
psychological delving needed there. It stood parked in
front of a double-wide mobile home painted the color
of a wild flamingo and trimmed with butterscotch yellow shutters.
    My own silver Airstream with its black and white
striped awning seemed tame in comparison.
    I hopped out of Rusty and staggered against the wind
gusts. Before I got within thirty feet of the front door,
it swung open, and Wanda Sue poked her head out.
    “Honey, we were just talking about you. Come on in
before you freeze your buns off.”
    I didn’t know if my behind would actually disconnect from my body, but it felt as if it was getting close
to doing so.
    As soon as I crossed the threshold, I welcomed the
blast of heat. One thing about mobile homes-they might
be small, but they had furnaces that could heat up the
North Pole and then some.
    “How ‘bout a nice cup of hot cocoa?” Wanda Sue
asked as she closed the door behind me. In spite of her
cheery tone, the red-rimmed eyes told me she’d been
crying.
    “Love some”
    I started to unzip my Windbreaker but halted as I
took in my surroundings. Sally Jo’s interior decorating taste ran somewhere between overstuffed Victorian
and Southwest kitsch. A huge pink leather sectional
dominated the living room, offset by glass end tables and
matching coffee table with bases made of carved wooden
horses. Rodeo pictures adorned every wall, illuminated
by lamps with pink-fringed shades. A deep rose shag
carpet completed the decor.

    My mouth dropped open.
    “It’s really something, huh, Mallie? Can you believe
that Sally Jo fixed this place up all by herself?”
    “Uh … yeah” I had the urge to reach for some
Maalox.
    “She was all set to get her AA degree in interior design, but then she … got married … and had Kevin.
And now .. ” Tears slid down Wanda Sue’s face, and
she brushed them away with an impatient swipe of her
hand. “I’ve got to stop this. It ain’t doing Sally Jo any
good. She needs me to be strong right now, and that’s
what I’m gonna be” She took in a determined breath.
    “How’s she doing?”
    “Pretty much like you’d expect. Plumb near to crazy.
She got her boy back last night but lost her man. It’s a terrible thing to happen, just terrible” Wanda Sue lowered
her head and closed her eyes for a few brief moments.
“But Kevin’s okay…. We have to keep reminding ourselves that some good came out of last night.”
    “Where is he?” I finished unzipping my Windbreaker.
    “Asleep in his bedroom” She motioned down a narrow hallway. “Poor little thing was all tuckered out after the commotion-what with being left out on